#what happens when you have to write a fic after one sentence in another one of your fics

[sixosix]

can you do an aether x reader lil one shot please!!! my baby gets no love ;( I'm fine with any story or plot but maybe one where they've been travel buddies for a while and his feelings have just been bottled up over time and he just explodes in to a confession and then some cute fluff from there!!!!!!

a/n wc 1.6k there are tears in my eyes as i write this i love aether sonmuch. also sorry if this is all over the place i was trying so hard not to turn it into another 10k word fic…. ft. lyney

aether doesn’t vividly recall the moment his feelings blossomed. there was no pinpointed moment, only all of it growing restless inside him.

he likes to keep his team to four people maximum, oftentimes none at all—just him and paimon to worry about as they move from region to region, friends made yet no proper strings attached. it’s for everyone’s sake, as aether doesn’t plan on staying too long in one place. that’s how it should’ve been.

you appeared one day, demanding to take you in his team. just for liyue and then you can separate ways, you said.

“i’m visiting my awfully quiet lover to break his silence. i need to figure out why i’ve stopped receiving letters,” you explained, blinding him with your bigger-than-life personality.

and because aether is a weak, weak man to people who don’t know how to back down, he agreed, albeit hesitantly. “alright,” he said in defeat. “just liyue?”

“just liyue,” you affirmed, beaming as he’s accepted you probably easier than you expected.

just liyue is a lie, and he should’ve known it the moment he had to confirm it. he didn’t bother with formal introductions and keeping conversations, knowing he wouldn’t see you again anyway. it didn’t help that paimon adores you, expressing her loud disappointment when you have to part ways with them.

paimon floated lower than usual. aether sighed. “should’ve known you’d grow to love someone who spoils you with sweet madame more than me.”

“hmph! y/n’s nicer to paimon than you!”

but he does see you again some time later, facing a large tree, kicking it out of frustration. it’s pouring heavily; your clothes are soaked.

“am i scary?” you asked when aether and paimon approached you, staring ahead, fists trembling.

“what’s wrong?! did something bad happen?” paimon fluttered around you nervously, unsure if she could touch you.

“he’s not dead, at least,” you said bitterly. “just too cowardly to tell me that he doesn’t love me anymore. i suppose it was better breaking up face-to-face than through letters.” you sighed bitterly, shoulders hiked up to your ears as a fresh wave of quiet tears washed over you, muted by the rain. “this is embarrassing, getting dumped because i was too much.”

“it’s not. you came all the way from mondstadt just to see him. didn’t he at least care about that?” aether asked, which might’ve just been his longest sentence yet. why were you out here soaking? if it were him, he wouldn’t have been so rude to leave you astray during a thunderstorm.

“i can’t force him, if he doesn’t want to see me. i’ll be alright, i promise.” you rest your forehead against the bark of the tree, water sliding off your cheeks—aether isn’t sure if it’s the rain or your tears.

he understands, possibly more than anyone.

and aether—still a weak, weak man when it came to people breaking down in front of him, knowing what it’s like to lose someone so dear to you—gently says, “xiangling told us there’s an event holding place here later. you’re coming with us.”

just liyue was already a warning in itself that it would never be just as that.

you weave yourself in his life as if you were always there, fitting in like you haven’t met him and paimon just a few days ago. he tries to convince himself that he’s doing this to cheer you up, but you’ve been making him smile more than they do to you.

he would turn to his side and see you feeding him a chicken-mushroom skewer after a short battle, insisting even when aether says he’s not as injured as you may think. he would turn to his side and see you and paimon laughing over something he missed and find himself grinning as well.

he would turn to his side when you tug on his sleeve, shyly asking if he’s willing to take you to inazuma as well because you didn’t want to stay in liyue if they weren’t here anymore.

“sure,” aether would say. he’s a weak man, and you were holding on to his cape, looking so adorable that aether wanted to melt on the spot. but that’s a normal reaction to cute things, probably.

taking you to inazuma turns into bringing you along to sumeru, then eventually fontaine, until everyone is convinced you’re a staple in aether’s adventures: aether, paimon, and y/n.

this is what it’s like to have a good team, aether persuades himself. a good team, a useful asset, aether reminds himself sternly as you slice a ruin cruiser off of existence with fierce anger in your eyes and a stick of tricolor dango in your mouth. you wave at him after, beaming, and his heart does something weird.

and now, when some of his friends suggest that he lays you off even just for a day so he can have three other people who work together seamlessly with him, he dismisses it quickly—without thinking. he already works best with you by his side. if they want to come along with him, they have to accept they’re coming along with you just as well.

“thanks for letting me join you,” you whisper one night, lying on the grass and watching the stars with him. you turn your head and meet his eyes, smiling softly.

“of course,” aether says. of course, because now he can’t imagine what it’s like to not have you with him. “i’m the only one who can handle how scary you are.”

you scoff, gently punching his arm as he laughs. “shut up, idiot. you know what i mean.”

i know, aether wants to say. but would that be too much? aether doesn’t want you to think he’s trying to replace someone important in your life this quickly.

you are scary. you’re terrifying him with all these unwanted feelings he doesn’t know what to do with. but aether wasn’t lying, either—he can handle fear just as well.

and now, as aether watches lyney grin and kiss the back of your palm, aether’s chest burns with something unpleasant, sitting in his stomach and urging him to take action. a rock under his shoe. he does not like it, not one bit.

“uhh,” paimon shifts nervously mid-air. “paimon thinks you should stop glaring daggers into lyney before he notices.”

“glaring daggers? i’m not glaring daggers,” aether hisses. his fingers are starting to ache with how painfully he’s clutching his sword. “no daggers here…” he curses as he watches you grow increasingly flustered.

the sight startles him. not your expression, not lyney’s clear provocation, but aether’s stance towards it.

“i thought we’re friends with lyney again?” paimon asks, terribly confused.

“the best of friends,” aether says, marching over to the scene. paimon makes a disbelieving noise.

lyney smirks knowingly as aether gently tugs on your arm. “oh,” lyney says, all sly, more of a fox than a cat, “i didn’t know you were already spoken for. i do apologize for the misunderstanding.”

you glance between an amused lyney and an irked aether, dazed. “i’m not…?”

“your jealous boyfriend says otherwise,” lyney snorts as aether bristles.

aether glares heatedly at lyney, even as the latter backs away with a smug grin. “y/n, let’s go. there’s nothing else to do here.” he’s being rude. he doesn’t care. his mind is blank—or maybe it’s running miles per minute, and he struggles to keep up.

and because you always listen to aether, you let him drag you off, nearly failing to wave goodbye to a chuckling lyney. lyney calls for paimon, distracting her as aether continues walking away from the scene.

you turn to aether, barely able to keep up with his hurried steps. “whoa, whoa, hey, aether—aether, are you okay? your face is so red.” you touch his cheek, and he crumbles. “aether.”

he halts, frowning at the ground. frustrated.

“aether, is there something wrong?”

that’s the thing. aether doesn’t know what’s wrong. he was content with watching you from afar—content with your stars slowly aligning with his as he stands back and watches it happen. he was content with not doing anything about it. but not doing anything about it would mean everyone else thinks you haven’t got aether wrapped around your finger.

“sorry,” aether says. to the painful beating of his heart, restless with unexplained fury. “i didn’t—”

“…idiot.” you always tell him that. you’re the only one who calls him that, but he knows that were they to try, he wouldn’t let it slide so easily. “it’s okay to admit you’re jealous. it’s cute.”

it is not lyney’s flirtations that tip aether over; it’s the sweet smile you give him, the gentleness of your gaze, and your face so close to aether’s that you and him share the same breath. what tips him over is all of it crashing down on him, as daunting as a fight, as abrupt as the beat of his heart:

oh. oh. is that it?

aether doesn’t vividly recall the moment you wormed your way in. maybe it was the moment you jumped down from a tree branch and scared the wits out of paimon, only to demand nervously he take you. maybe it was the moment he softens when your shoulders shake and rain pours relentlessly overhead. maybe it was the stab of jealousy seeing someone else try to steal you away from him when you so obviously belong to him as he belongs to you.

it doesn’t matter.

“i want you,” aether says, then blinks when you do a startled take. “no—no. i mean. i… like you. and i want you to stay. here. not with them. not anyone else.”

“stay right in front of you?”

“in front, beside—doesn’t matter.” aether grows weak, limp as he presses his forehead against yours. “i just want you.”

“okay,” you smile, tipping your chin to kiss his cheek. his heart soars. “that’s all i needed to hear.”

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #aether x reader #aether x you #aether x y/n

[fiendishfables]

hii i just saw ur request page and thought i'd give it a try! soo, can i please have an nsfw oneshot w/dom! lucifer x reader ? i've just been thirsting after him sm...

anyways can it be about like him going down on reader, or just being talented with his fingers, cus we know what he can do with em 🫣

thanks so much!!

a/n: ahh, yes, thank you so much, my lovely, for sending in this request! This is my first attempt at responding to a request, so I hope its to your liking and doesn't disappoint. We love Luci!

warnings: nsfw, sex, cursing, use of pet names, first time as a couple, Luci being a complete dork

word count: 1.2k+

characters: 6646

notes: This is my first fic on here, as well as my first attempt at writing smut, so I apologize if its not any good. But nevertheless, enjoy!

Dom! Lucifer Morningstar x GN! Reader

Oneshot

Going down on you was something Lucifer had wanted to do the day he first laid eyes on you.

Don't get him wrong, he was a gentleman at heart and would continue to be until the day someone replaced him as King (which you both knew would never happen), but by the fiery skies of Hell- he wanted you. You. No other soul.

Lucifer had met you through Charlie, his own daughter and Princess of Hell. Your kindness had lead you to offer your services with helping his daughter with her whole idea of a rehabilitation hotel, meant for the sinners who wanted a second chance at life; wanting to fix their mistakes and be evolved into a better version of themselves. He had met you there when she had invited him to visit and see her progress. Its safe to say you two hit it off perfectly fine.

Now, exactly how you two hit it off doesn't really matter- all that mattered to you right now was the fact that his cock was buried so deep inside of you, that you could barley form a coherent sentence, let alone a singular word.

The room was dark, making the moonlight that filtered through the curtains the only source of light; the only thing that allowed for you to see the beautiful fallen angel hovering over you, both of your bodies sweaty and hearts pounding rapidly against your ribcages, as if trying to silently connect with one another through rapid pumps of blood. To express your emotions to one another through anything other than what he was doing now, which was stuffing you to the brim with his cock.

When you first saw it, staying quiet had become a big concern to you in your mind, what with the other residents of the hotel potentially being able to hear you both.

But that fear had quickly flown the coop as soon as he entered you for the first time.

Fuck, it was absolute heaven.

You were convinced that somehow, Lucifer had managed to descend the heavens down upon you in that exact moment; your most intimate moment. That any second, angels would be surrounding the pair of you and begin serenading you with a specific love song just for the two of you, or pointing angelic spears at your throats. Now, that thought did cause some momentary fear to shoot through your body, because the last thing you wanted was for some random angels (especially if they were exorcists, or Adam) to randomly appear in the room, just to be greeted with the sight of you, a moaning mess underneath Lucifer, drunk off of his length as it stretched you so wide you were afraid he might break you. But when you opened your eyes after the so slow, yet so delicious insertion of his cock...the room was still pitch black. No holy light. No angles. No song. Just you and him. You and Lucifer.

And that was the way it was supposed to be. No other soul, no matter angelic or demonic, could compete with what you two had. It was special; a connection that had to reach from the deepest pits of Hell, to the brightest place in all of Heaven.

For being one of the most powerful beings, Lucifer was being very careful with you; his fingers gripped your sides and hips, holding you in place securely as he rutted into you. Those fingers were sure to leave marks tomorrow. Neither of you minded.

"Oh...you're the best choice I've ever made, lovely- fuck..~"

Lucifers words only helped to fuel the fire that burned within your heart; the fire that represented your eternal, undying love for him. The tightening in your abdomen became much more noticeable too, coiling and constricting like a snake fighting to escape its confinements, or the talons of a predatory bird.

Except in this scenario, Lucifer was the bird, who held you oh so tightly in his sharp talons, and the last thing you wanted to do was escape. You'd allow him to devour you to his hearts content; until you passed out, fainted, or hell, till your heart stopped. He had you right where he wanted you and the smug little smirk on his lips whilst he turned you into this blabbering mess, was enough proof to show he knew it too. And he enjoyed it. Every. Single. Second.

His hands stayed perched seriously on your hips, as if you might just disappear if he so much as dared to loosen his hold. Not that you minded. You could hardly think straight.

"L-Luci..-"

Your attempt at saying his name fell flat, his next thrust replacing the messy words with a desperate moan from you, making your eyes roll back into your skull and a tremor of pleasure trailing its way through your body. He could reach places inside you that no one else had ever even dared to try. He was special in that way. Although he did lessen his movements after your butchered attempt at speaking. He looked genuinely worried and the sight did just enough to melt your heart.

"Are you alright, love? I didn't hurt you did I? Do you need anything? Do I need to stop? I can get you-"

He started to ramble, which he often did. His worst nightmare was hurting you; even just thinking about it made him shudder, as if he had just been doused with cold water.

But all it took was a weak smile from you and a kiss on his cheek to calm him and get him back in the movement again. You assured him that you were feeling the best you've ever felt in your entire life, both in living and in death, that all the pleasure you were feeling was making it hard for you to speak properly.

"I'm okay, Luci. You're just making me feel so many things-"

A finger then found its way onto your plush lips, slightly moisturized by your saliva having been produced by your fucked out state.

"Shhh, spare your breath, darling. I'm just glade you're holding up so well. Such a good beloved, you are."

Then: "You'll want it for when I make you scream."

Seeing you an absolute wreck because of him- because of his actions- his cock- it was almost better than the orgasm that ripped through him shortly after you came undone due to his words and continuation of his previous actions.

Ropes of his seed shot into you, stuffing you like you've never experienced before. His pale blonde hair stuck to his forehead, both your bodies damp with a light sheen of sweat. Your heavy breaths mixed together, as did the small chuckles that came from both of your lips. Thankfully, he kept his promise about making you scream.

Hell, meeting you had to have been the best thing to ever happen to him. To both of you.

No one would ever find themselves as to be so lucky, to know that the King of Hell found the taste of them the most enchanting out of all the souls both above and below.

Just try and doubt his love for you. He will be sure to give you a night that you won't ever forget, as many times as he needs to, until you're begging him to stop.

You are his, and he refuses to ever let you forget it.

#lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin #luficer morningstar x reader #dad beat dad #i love luci #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #x reader #xreader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #charlie morningstar #reader #gn reader

[lizzieisright]

omega abs ? 😣

oh my fucking god yes

female alpha!reader x omega!abby

Palestine: what can you do

Summary: Abby is sure she will never meet her dream alpha after what happened with Owen. And then she meets you.

Tags: dead dove: do not eat. a/b/o universe (female alphas have dicks), modern AU, descriptions of smut (heats/ruts), Owen is a piece of shit, reader is a sweetheart. Also I'll always make Ellie and Abby friends because their dynamic cracks me up every time.

Notes: this one is genuinely weird in terms of my writing style. It's 6k long for no reason except that I wanted to see how everything will play out and build some kind of omega!abby lore. Also it was meant as a bullet point thingy like hcs, but then it got too long, so the sentences might sound weird.

If you guys want something specific with omega!abby, reqs are open.

Me: *slaps the title of the fic* this bad boy can fit a whole multichapter in it.

/-/-/-/-/-/-

There's one thing Abby knows for certain when she turns 19: she is not a typical omega.

Abby's scent is not too sweet: she smells more like fresh roses than vanilla. All other omegas have more prominent scents, and Abby sees how alphas favour them. She is insecure about her scent, and she is not too prideful to admit she wants alphas to like her. Like any other omega Abby feels pressured by society to look a certain way - and she is already tall, so she starts going to the gym to get fit, to look more attractive, to grow that bubble butt everyone's talking about. She just started university and she wants to be cool.

(Ellie tells her it's all bullshit. Ellie is her biggest supporter and she is the one who growls at other alphas when it's needed. It's hilarious, because Ellie is fucking tiny. "I'm still an alpha, Anderson!" Ellie whines usually and Abby flicks her forehead.)

The gym works: she gets more attractive. Her butt is round, her arms are toned and her shoulders balance her hips, making her waist look thinner. Abby meets Owen and she thinks he is the one. He is the first alpha she spends her heat with. And well, maybe it's not how she imagined it would be, but Abby doesn't complain. After all, perfect alphas only exist in books and movies, not in reality.

(she dreamt about feeling safe and protected with her alpha, feeling loved and taken care of. Owen is all growls and bruises.)

Ellie hates Owen's guts. There's always some sick smell when they're in the same room, and Abby is doing all she can to manage it and make two of the most important alphas in her life like each other. Owen tries to convince Abby that alphas and omegas can't be friends - and it works. Abby stops spending too much time with Ellie, tricked into thinking that Ellie actually has feelings for her. Ellie lets it happen.

(Owen is so much more violent during ruts. Abby knew this too: alphas are ruthless in ruts, but she didn't expect being borderline assaulted. Again, she doesn't complain. She is in love, and Owen knows better.)

Abby keeps going to the gym, and in time her muscles grow and show more. Abby is happy - she put so much work into her body and it shows now! She is so much stronger now, and she doesn't mind that her waist is not so tiny anymore. Abby feels powerful.

Owen, however, gets grumpier with every pound of muscle on Abby's body: he doesn't like it. He doesn't support her when she shows how much progress she made.

Then he starts joking about it. He tells her it makes her look less like omega. That she is almost as big as he is. That people won't be able to tell who is the alpha in their relationship. Abby swallows everything and starts doing more cardio. She wants Owen to be happy. She wants to be his mate one day.

And then one day Abby catches Owen with another omega.

She is small and smells like coconut, she is everything Abby isn't.

Abby wants to die.

Abby calls Ellie for the first time in months, sobbing violently. Ellie picks her up and spends the night soothing Abby, and the next day beating the shit out of Owen. Yes, she is tiny, but alpha strength is alpha strength, and Ellie is furious.

Abby doesn't really recover from this. She thought Owen would be her first and her last, but now her dreams and her self-esteem are in ruins.

Abby blames herself for Owen's cheating. She blames herself for building her body, for not being omegy enough, for having a weak scent, for not being what he wanted. 

So Abby grows distant, believing she has no worth as an omega. She avoids alphas, she doesn't recognize when someone's interested. She doesn't let herself smell other people. The only alpha she still talks to is Ellie, because Ellie is Ellie. Her best goblin friend who doesn't even react to her heats, because she is so used to Abby.

(it actually breaks Abby's heart a little: is her scent so weak it doesn't affect alphas at all?)

Her younger brother, Lev, moves to the city for university when Abby is in her graduation year, and Abby puts her energy into taking care of him. She comes to his place from time to time, bringing food or snacks for him. They have movie nights as well. It makes Abby feel less alone. Less useless.

One day Lev asks her to come to the party with him: it's his first time going to a party and he has no idea what to do, especially since there'd be really cool people who are his seniors and he doesn't want to have an egg on his face. 

"Can you ask Ellie to come as well? Please? I need more cool people on my side."

Abby laughs and makes sure Ellie is going to come. Ellie adores Lev, so she agrees immediately.

This party is on another level, Abby thinks. It's not frat bros and awful alphas like it was when Abby went to parties with Owen. This party looks like all smart and successful people in the uni decided to get piss drunk, and it is as cool as it is hilarious. Abby knows some of them - she waves at Nora and hugs Manny when he sees her: they're only people Abby kept in contact with after breaking up with Owen. They stopped being friends with him the moment they found out what happened.

Lev is very nervous. He clings to Abby's arm and she laughs kindly.

"Hey, relax. You're supposed to have fun."

"Yeah, I know." Lev says, a little irritated, but it makes Abby and Ellie laugh again.

Ellie takes everything in her hands and comes back with three beers, opening them for Lev and Abby. Abby chuckles at her typical alpha behaviour, but doesn't tease her. They share a drink, and Lev is still nervous, so Ellie takes him to the dance floor and he finally relaxes next to his second favourite person and his first favourite alpha.

Or so Abby thinks.

She watches another person come to them, and by the way Ellie tenses Abby guesses it's an alpha. Abby tenses too: the protectiveness kicks in.

But the alpha smiles and hugs Lev like Abby does: like if this alpha was Lev's older sister. They talk for a bit and then Lev points in Abby's direction. The alpha nods and waves at Abby. She waves back, confused.

And then this alpha makes her way to Abby.

Abby is caught off guard: the alpha is hot. She is also friendly judging by the smile and the way she treated Lev, and Abby can’t decide how to behave around her. She is not bitter after what happened with Owen, but she is definitely out of practice of talking with hot alphas.

You watch Lev's sister's face go through a variety of emotions, and it makes you chuckle - you too would be confused. But you want to meet her and make sure she knows Lev is taken care of: he is under your wing. He is a sweet kid, shy one, and you know how nervous he is about everything, so you want him to have this safety net.

"Hi!" You say cheerfully and give your hand for a handshake. You try not to think of how beautiful Lev's sister is, how much her blue eyes hypnotise you. She is fucking adorable, that what she is. 

"Hi?" And her voice is soft too. You blink to clear your mind and tell her your name. You can’t smell her, but you’re pulled to her like a magnet.

"I'm Lev's student guide." Abby nods, not sure if she is okay with an alpha around her baby brother.

"I'm Abby, Lev's sister." You beam at Abby and she feels her stomach flutter. Abby quickly tries to kill the butterflies, but you seem so genuine. She can't smell you when there's so many people around, and maybe it's a good thing.

“Lev gave me your number as an emergency contact, and I just wanted you to know if an unknown number texts you that Lev is puking after doing beer pong, it will be me.” Abby can't help her chuckle: you do sound genuine. Abby feels like you really care about her brother and it makes her feel better. 

Lev and Ellie come back and Abby looks at how Lev's face lights up when you smile at him. Oh no. He has a crush on you. It breaks Abby’s heart: she sees how you treat him like a baby brother, and Abby knows Lev has no chance. She also thinks if she looked like this when she met Owen, all star-struck and hopeful. At least you look like a better person.

Abby also feels how tense Ellie is around you. Another alpha thing, but this one is annoying - Ellie’s protectiveness is borderline territorial, so Abby glares at her. Ellie glares back, but some of the tension goes away.

You ruffle Lev’s hair and ask him to enjoy the party and find you if they need anything. Ellie only fully relaxes when you’re lost in the crowd.

“She is the coolest.” Lev tells them and Ellie huffs. “She always helps me around. Saved my ass a few times as well.”

“Well, kid, I don’t want you to get hurt by her, okay?” Ellie says and Lev blushes. 

“Don’t worry, Ellie. I know nothing will happen.” Lev smiles. “She likes people on her level. Someone like you, Abby.”

Abby’s heart skips a beat in pain. There's no way an alpha like you would like an omega like her. 

Or if there is, then there's something wrong with you and you shouldn't be around her brother. 

“She doesn't seem too bad.” Ellie says almost through her teeth; she is as annoyed at her nature as Abby is, but she tries to have a clear head. “But if she hurts you, I'll kill her.” 

Abby would laugh, but the image of Owen's bloody face and a broken wrist don't let her. It's a good thing he didn't press charges, too humiliated to admit he got his ass kicked for cheating. 

Abby forgets about you until she is getting ready to sleep tonight. She puts her palm under her cheek, blissfully unaware, and takes a breath that is full of your scent. It shakes her, having an alpha scent on her, and Abby can't control herself.

Abby's cheeks burn, her heart picks up speed. Her cunt throbs. 

You smell amazing. It has an edge, like any other alpha’s scent, but it's not suffocating. Well no. It is, but it doesn't feel bad, it makes Abby bury her nose in her palm and take a deep sniff. It makes her feel safe. 

And Abby is terrified. She can't like your scent. It's dangerous, she can't risk herself like this, it's stupid. Lev has a crush on you, for god's sake! And even if she could, you'd never look her way. You're a good alpha and good alphas like pretty, small, sweet smelling omegas. Not Abby. 

She doesn’t know that she also left some of her scent on your palm. She doesn’t know you’ve been smelling it the whole night, addicted to the smell of fresh roses and memory of pretty blue eyes. She doesn't know that you struggle to control your eyes from changing to alpha red the whole time. 

You're ready to claw walls after meeting the prettiest omega of your life that you know is sweet and kind and smart: Lev really can't shut up about his sister. It's fucking eating you alive. 

And you have no idea when you'll meet her again, but then you remember that both of you are in the same university. So you start trying to figure out her schedule. You know she is a med student, so you take a chance at going to the library. 

And you're not wrong: Abby is there, looking miserable as she takes her notes. Your instincts kick in and you try to think of a way to make her feel better, but you get your shit together: it would be creepy. 

So you just walk over and ask to sit next to her. Abby is surprised, but she lets you anyway. 

It's awkward. You both are trying to not inhale too much, but the scents are respectively addictive: you smell her fresh roses and she smells your spice and safety. You want to bury yourself in her neck and mark her, scent her, make her yours, but you push these thoughts away.

“How's Lev doing?” Abby asks, not being able to concentrate anymore. It's even more embarrassing that you both smell of attraction, but it doesn't really mean anything: it was proven to be an instinct thing, therefore not reliable in human society. It just makes everything awkward for everyone.

“He is excellent, honestly. He got interested in charity work and I think he will soon be cleared to volunteer at animal shelters.” 

“Good. Thanks for looking after him. I don't want him to get hurt, you know?” Abby didn't mean to say this, but you catch the meaning of her words anyway. She can smell a faint hurt coming from you, but it's not big enough. 

“I'll do whatever I can to make sure he is safe.” You promise Abby and her attraction grows. You blink, but get back into conversation, trying to find more about Abby. 

Abby is.. reluctant. She is polite, but her answers are short, and you're not an idiot, you can take a hint, so you apologise for taking her time and go. 

Abby watches you go and gets filled with sorrow. You seem so sweet, and it scares her. She can't understand what is your angle and why are you bothered with her. She is sad because she wants you to be bothered with her. She wants you to like her; but Abby's brain doesn't even entertain the idea of it. Plus, Lev is crushing on you, it would be absolutely unfair of her to like you. 

The sour smell of sadness makes Ellie restless when she gets to the library half an hour later for their study session. She looks Abby over and tries to piece together what's wrong. 

“Did something happen?” 

Abby is also reluctant to tell Ellie, but she does it anyway. Ellie frowns the whole time, not pleased with another alpha upsetting her baby. Abby is quick to defend you and say that it's she who is the problem. Ellie kicks her under the table. 

“You are not a problem. It's Owen in your head again! Let go of this asshole. There are better alphas than him, fuck, any decent alpha is better than him. Don't assume shit.” Ellie tells her and Abby nods. 

Abby decides to try. Maybe at least she can make a friend. So the next time you see her in the library, she actually smiles at you. 

You swallow. Hard. Abby is gorgeous. 

So you sit next to her and surprisingly, the conversation flows so much better than the last time. You think she was just super busy back then.

Abby is so fucking oblivious it's not funny. She talks to you like she'd talk to Ellie: she doesn't believe your scent, convinced it's just nature and alphas are like this sometimes, so she is relaxed. You can be friends, she thinks. You're great and smell amazing, so you can be friends. 

You're almost salivating the whole time. Abby is cute as fuck, and she is hot as fuck: she takes her hoodie off and stays in a tight crop top, and you ogle at her arms and shoulders. She is incredible. 

“I know we've just met, but I can't leave without asking. Would you go on a date with me?” 

Abby's scent spikes in surprise, and then anxiety. An awful, sick smell that makes you back off. 

“Oh. Oh, I'm sorry.” You tell her, eager to get rid of this stench, to keep Abby calm and safe. 

“Are you sure?” Abby asks, not really believing her ears. 

“I mean, I really want to get to know you better.” You admit. 

“Lev has a crush on you.” Abby blurts and you laugh kindly. 

“I know. We talked about it with him. I don't let this stuff slide when it happens.” It makes Abby feel a little easier. “But if you're uncomfortable, I totally get it. I'd love to be your friend as well.” 

“...I need to talk to Lev first.” Abby admits, her cheeks feel hot. 

“Of course. Let me know then.” You smile sweetly, your scent is so full of attraction it's hard to find an excuse for it, so Abby just ignores it. 

She smells excited now and you beam. “You’re so pretty.” You blurt before you can stop yourself, but Abby starts to smell so sweetly and her cheeks are rosy now, you feel on cloud nine. 

“Thanks, I guess.” She says, shy, and you nod. You say your goodbyes and leave Abby to study. 

Abby thinks she's gone insane. Or you've gone insane. There's no way you actually asked her on a date. 

But Abby wants to go so much. She didn't admit it, but she was getting lonely, and then suddenly you came along and made her heart beat faster. 

So she gains courage and talks to Lev. He gets sad, but not the sour kind, the faint lavender of regret. 

“I told you she would like you.” Lev smiles and Abby hugs him, trying to comfort him. “She is good, I promise.” 

“I'm sorry, Lev.” 

“Don't be.” Lev chuckles and they spend the evening watching the movie. 

Next day you text Abby to find out if everything worked out and she gives you a positive. You grin like an idiot the whole day and plan the date.

You don't get all romantic on your first date, since you feel like Abby might get anxious, so you two just go to a bar and have a game of pool. 

It's perfect: you both are competitive, you get to see Abby bend down and you get to flirt a lot after a drink. Abby is wearing high waisted jeans and her bubble butt looks amazing in them. You don't know this, but Abby was desperate to make herself look more like an omega, and even if she couldn't hide her shoulders and biceps, she wanted to compensate for it, showing off her butt. 

Abby is oblivious to your hungry eyes when she takes a hit, but you're struggling. Abby is sweet and she smells so fucking good. You're itching to touch her, but you keep yourself in check. So instead you compliment her. A lot. 

Abby is flustered: no one ever talked to her like this. No alpha made it clear to her that they found her this attractive. But you keep your mouth running. “Your shirt looks so good on you.” “Sorry, I can't stop staring at your shoulders. They're very nice.”

Abby laughs at this one and feels more comfortable in her own skin. So she opens up. “My ex didn't like that I work out so much.” She chuckles, and you look at her in mock offence. It makes her laugh. 

“What a fucking idiot. Only cowards don't appreciate muscle mommies.” You scrunch your nose and Abby laughs harder. 

“God, what is this nickname?”

You get flustered and Abby feels all giddy. She didn't expect any alpha to get flustered, especially not because of her. “You know. When girls, especially omegas, build up a lot of muscles? People really dig it.” 

“Do you?” Abby asks, coy, and she sees the red flash in your eyes. It makes her press her thighs together. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” You say and there's a hint of an alpha voice. Abby's chest is going to explode. 

You don't kiss Abby properly tonight, instead opting to kiss her hand: you like her, and you don't want to rush it. Abby gets flustered and you can't help the spike in your scent that makes Abby's cheeks red. 

(No, you don't get off on her scent when you come home.) 

(No, Abby doesn't fuck herself on her fingers when she comes home, burying her nose into her palm where she can catch your scent.) 

You both take it slow. You kiss her for the first time on your third date and Abby folds in your hands while you purr and knead her sides. 

Abby starts spending more time at your place, where you just cuddle and watch something. You start catching her scent all around your apartment, and it's driving you crazy. You want Abby to be yours so desperately, but you make yourself think with your head and not with your dick, so you don't rush.

You're in your class when you get a call from Lev. You don't pick up the first one, but when he calls for the second time, you walk out of the class and take the call. 

Lev is crying. 

Turns out his heat came during his class and now he is scared of going home on his own. Your instincts kick in and you grab your shit at a lighting speed before storming to Lev. You text Abby while you're running, and then your mind shifts into protective mode. 

It's hard being around an omega in heat: it's hard for the both of you. Lev clings to you while you wrap your arm around his shoulders and walk him from campus to his place. You know your eyes are red and you're low-key growling, but you keep comforting Lev. 

“It's okay. I'll get you home, and Abby is going to be here, okay? I'll keep you safe, don't worry. You're doing great, just a little more, can you walk a little more for me?”

Your voice soothes Lev and you make it to his place where Abby is already pacing in worry. 

She takes a look at you and her breath hitches. Your eyes are red and so hungry, Abby feels horny and sorry for you: she doesn't know how much willpower you need to keep your head straight when there's an omega in distress and in heat. 

You both get Lev inside his apartment and you retreat to the kitchen while Abby takes care of Lev. She fusses around, gives him pills and sends him to take a shower. You sit straight, your firsts tight as you watch your girlfriend being all motherly. This mixed with the smell of heat makes you feral. It gets harder to control, especially when Abby stands in front of you, her gorgeous scent in your nose. 

“How are you?” She asks, compassionately. And you grit your teeth. 

“Can you-” You start with a growl and you smell Abby's arousal. “Fuck. Can you come here?” You pat your lap.

The moment Abby sits down you grab her and bury your nose in her neck, your arms are tight around her back. Abby yelps when you press her closer and her scent spikes with arousal, making you growl. 

“I'm not- I'm not going to do anything. I just need a moment.” You growl and Abby swallows. Her arousal tickles your nose and you growl louder, pressing your nose closer to her scent glands.

Abby is so wet in her pants she is afraid she will leak on you, but she can't help it: you're usually so sweet, hiding your nature, and now you're acting so alpha-like, and it does things to her.

“Shit. We can't-” Abby's arousal gets mixed with anxiety and you want to sneeze to get it out of your nose. 

“We're not doing anything. Not like this. I just need a redirection.”  You take a deep inhale full of Abby's scent and you finally settle down. Your voice returns and you feel like you can control your eyes again. You ease your hold on Abby and the anxiety goes away. “Did I scare you?” 

Abby is baffled. It's such a big contrast to how Owen treated her before, she is lost for words. You're worried if you sniffing her scared her while Owen didn't care if he left bruises.

The air gets filled with the smell of fresh bakery - the scent of love and affection - and you almost tremble under Abby in excitement.

“A little. I was worried if you'd stop.”

“I have excellent self-control, baby.” You wink at Abby and she slaps your bicep.

She moves a certain way that makes her pelvis move against yours and you grunt: the scent of Abby's arousal got you half-hard already, and you're kinda sensitive now. 

Abby also feels it. She grows red and you giggle, kissing her cheek. 

“Lev is going to be out of the shower soon, I should go.”

“Okay.” Abby gets up from her seat on your lap and you pout. “Do you want-” Abby shakes her head. It's a stupid idea. 

“Do I want what?”

“Something with my scent?” 

You swallow and nod. Abby stands for a second, thinking, and then just takes her shirt off, letting you see her in a bra. You see her small tits covered by her lacy bra and adjust your pants. She is so fucking hot and this is so not the time, but your cock twitches and gets harder with every second while you stare at the most beautiful omega in your life. 

“You're a fucking menace.” You growl again and kiss Abby with hunger, the rumbling in your chest resonating in hers. Abby goes pliant and kisses you back. 

It takes you two tries to get away from her, but Abby is so delicious it's insane. 

You spend the evening in your apartment, getting off on Abby's shirt, fantasising about her going into heat and how you would take care of her and how good you would make her feel. 

You're together for a few months now when Abby's heat comes. You can smell it on her the day before, when she is all whiny and tired, sleeping for the bigger part of the movie on top of you. Her usual rose scent is getting stronger. 

“Are you close to your heat?” Abby hums in agreement and you swallow, staring at the ceiling. “Okay. I can smell it.” 

“Oh.” Abby is surprised. She doesn't have a very prominent scent so she didn't expect you to notice. “Oh I didn't think you'd smell it.”

“Your scent is my fucking heaven, of course I would.”

Abby blushes. Deeply. And you feel her press her thighs together. It makes your dick twitch. 

“I think it'll start tomorrow.” 

“Do you want me to be with you?” You ask innocently and Abby chuckles. “I mean, we haven't done anything yet and I understand if you want to wait and have normal sex first. Well, if you even want to have se-”

Abby cuts you off with a kiss and you relax. “We can try normal sex now.”

And you do. It's slow and sweet and you both laugh when you bump heads and knees and when you have to fumble around for lube since you're messy, but it's perfect. 

You're not aggressive, but you still growl and claw at Abby's soft thighs, and it's a perfect balance of care and pure animalistic want, and Abby feels wanted. She kinda wants to see your control break. 

And then you dip down between her thighs and Abby yelps and pushes your head away, shy. “You don't have to-”

“I really fucking want to. But if you don't want me to, it's okay. I won't.”

“I've never done it before.” Abby admits, embarrassed. She asked Owen to do it once but he looked weirded out by her ask, so Abby felt ashamed to ask again. You stare at her in shock - a good-natured one - and Abby hides her face. 

You slow down and get on her level again, gently moving her hand away. “Hey, it's cool. I didn't mean to belittle you, I just- you're so pretty and so gorgeous, who wouldn't want to go down on you?” Abby looks at you, so deeply touched by your care she feels her eyes water. She smells of love again and you giggle, burying your nose in her neck. “We don't have to do it.”

“I kinda wanna try.” Abby murmurs, smiling, and you beam at her. 

“I'll go slow, okay? Tell me what feels good and what's not, yeah?”

That's how Abby ends up being eaten out for the first time. She loves the feeling of your mouth on her and how your fingers curl inside her. She loves how your eyes gradually become alpha red the closer she is to cumming. 

She comes down from her high and looks at you, half naked and red-eyed, like a predator you're meant to be, and her cunt throbs. 

Abby rides you until you're a grunting mess under her as she massages your tits and clenches around you. You growl, but you don't grab her or hurt her, just let her have fun, and Abby is so fucking happy. 

“I can't wait to spend my heat with you.” Abby moans and you cum immediately, filling her up. 

This time Abby gets to feel safe and taken care of during her heat as you attend her every whim, every request, from “cum inside me” to “I really want some chocolate ice-cream”. You do everything, and Abby can't be happier. She texts Ellie as much when you're out to get her ice-cream and Ellie just sends vomiting emojis. 

Of course then she tells Abby she is happy for her and that she is going to be a best woman at your wedding. 

Abby doesn't want to admit, it scares her, but she wants to be your mate one day. 

You come back not only with chocolate ice-cream, but with some junk food as well. Abby can't help but to drop to her knees right in the hallway. 

You also help Abby recover after the heat, bringing her snacks and letting her nap every chance you can, and Abby knows she is in love with you. She doesn't even need to tell you: she constantly smells of love and lust around you now, but she decides to do it anyway.

You're balls deep in her while she pinches your nipples and nibbles at your scent glands, making you whimper in her ear. “Fuck, you feel so good around me.”

“I love you.” Abby says sweetly and you shudder on top of her, and Abby feels how your cock twitches when you cum. Abby feels your fangs scraping her scent glands and she cums too, milking you. 

“Fuck, baby, shit! I love you too, I love you so fucking much, shit-” You pant and Abby grins. 

Abby likes making a mess out of you. 

For some insane reason, Abby's excited for your rut. She didn't like spending ruts with Owen, but you're so gentle and patient, Abby is sure she'll be okay. 

Your rut comes after a month after Abby's heat. Abby likes how possessive you get in pre-rut, even though you start growling at Ellie, which doesn't end well with Ellie's explosive temper. You get along well any other time, but the constant stare down irritates Ellie to the point when she tells Abby, “go fuck the crazy out of your alpha, she is so fucking annoying. Yeah, you.” Ellie stares at you while you tug Abby closer on your lap, scenting her. “Oh my god, get a fucking room. I know Abby is like, your Jesus or whatever, but it's too much.”

Abby just giggles and enjoys how your growling changes to purring. Abby turns to you and cradles your face. “My alpha.” She murmurs and Ellie groans.

“I fucking hate you guys.”

“Not our fault you fell in love with another alpha, Ellie.” You chuckle. 

“Fuck off.” She growls and two if you laugh. 

Abby stays at your place and you get to fall asleep with her in your arms.

On the next day you wake up with a heavy head. You're already hard and Abby is right there, soft and sleeping. You think about how her wet hot pussy feels around your cock and your pheromones spike up so high Abby wakes up. 

She can tell right away that you're in rut. Your scent is suffocating. It's not soft, safe suffocating scent that Abby likes, it's the one that gets stuck in her nose and makes her cunt clench around nothing. She wants nothing more than to get on her fours and present herself for you - this is how much power you have over her. 

“My rut-”

“Yes, I-”

“If you don't want to be here, I think I can hold off for 10 minutes and let you leave.” You growl and it only turns Abby on. 

So she does what she wants - she gets on her knees, her cunt right in front of your face, and arches her back. 

“Knot me, baby.” 

All your restraints break. You're rough and you make Abby take everything: if she is not cumming on your cock, she is cumming on your fingers as you fuck your cum back into her, or she is sitting on your face. Abby struggles to keep up with you, since she is not in heat, but she can't wait to take your knot, and she tells you as much. You growl and fuck her harder, feeling your release building up. Abby is so pretty under you, covered in marks, her tits red from your mouth. She spreads her legs and you pin her thighs by her sides, watching your cock disappear in her pretty little pussy. You finally push your knot into Abby and she whimpers, tries to adjust to your size, but you rub her clit and she clamps on you.

“Mine. My omega. My girl.” You growl loudly while Abby clenches around your knot, thrashing on the bed. It's too much pleasure and she knows you're far from done.

And Abby is right. You make her cum on your knot four other times, and only after she makes you cum again - which means she cums st least three times more - you give her a break. You're still sweet, but now it's possessive sweetness. You don't let her do anything, bathing and feeding her, but she is so exhausted she doesn't even notice. 

“I wanna nap.” Abby tells you when she is snuggled against your chest. It's a small break before you would get horny again. 

“You should. You did so well.” Abby giggles and nuzzles your neck. 

“Don't wait if you get horny again. It would be a nice way to wake up.”

“I fucking love you.”

“You better. You're my alpha. It's a requirement.”

“You call me your alpha again and you're not napping, babe. Go the fuck to sleep.” You kiss her forehead and Abby laughs.

Abby doesn't know if it's luck or destiny, but this time she is sure: you are the one for her.

(and she is right.)

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #omega!abby #written on a knee

[iateyourparents]

HII, i was wondering if you could do another jake fic where he is streaming or someone is filming him when he’s drunk and he’s just like “look at my beautiful gf” and all soppy and that, thanks! 😁

my girl | j.w.

pairing: jake webber x fem!reader

summary: jake is drunk and in love.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry, english isn’t my first language)

an: thank you! i loved writing this and i hope you like it <333

pictures are from pinterest :)

You had no idea how this all happened.

One minute you were peacefully watching Criminal Minds in your bed and next minute you were standing in front of gas station next to your apartment waiting for Jake’s friend to drop him off.

You still wondered how he got drunk, he was supposed to be filming a video that had nothing in common with an alcohol.

Finally, after standing there for ten minutes, in only your pajamas and sneakers, you saw familiar car pulling into the parking area next to where you were standing.

You quickly walked to the car while the driver, your and Jake’s good friend, got out of the car and opened back door where Jake, drunk and half asleep, was sitting next to Johnnie, also drunk, who was playing with his phone.

“Hi boys.” you turned their attention on you and you could see how Jake’s face lighted up when he saw you.

“My baby.” Jake babbled to himself still smiling widely at you “My future wife. I love you.”

As much as you wanted to smile and coo at that you stopped yourself and kept your stern face.

“How was recording. Were you by any chance making a ‘let’s see how drunk I can get without giving my girlfriend any signs I’m alive?’ video?” you asked raising your brow.

Jake was looking at you for a moment, thinking about something and then said “Sorry baby, we didn’t plan on getting drunk.” he was pouting and his voice was kind of slurred and you could see he was having problems with forming sentences.

“Yeah but we had to celebrate Jake finally getting his balls.” Johnnie added still doing something on his phone “I think I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

“What? What did Jake do?” you asked worried that he did some stupid shit and he will regret it in the morning.

“Nothing yet, don’t worry love.” Jake assured you and unbuckled his safety belt. As much as you wanted to question him more, you knew it was no use while he was drunk cause he would just be saying whatever came to his mind, so you gave up deciding you would remind him of it in the morning.

Jake slowly got out of the car with Johnnie carefully following him with his phone, so you just assumed he was making photos of your boyfriend.

When Jake was fully out he quickly walked to you and hugged you tightly, kissing your cheek.

“My love.” he murmured and turned you both so he was facing Johnnie “Do you see it bro? My pretty girl is here. My girl.” he had dreamy face and you smiled slightly at that.

“Yay!” Johnnie cheered silently.

“We should go on a date.” Jake declared.

“We will think about it.” you assured him and he kissed your forehead.

“Let’s go!”

“Like right now?” you asked amused and he nodded vigorously.

“Yeah, wherever you want to go.” he said and in this moment, he reminded you of a little puppy.

“Let’s just go home now and we will go on a date on saturday hm?” you offered.

“Alright.” he again nodded and your friend who drove Jake here looked at you.

“Help you with getting him to your house?” he asked.

You looked at him with small smile “I’ll be okay, thank you. What will you do with Johnnie?”

“I will just let him sleep on my couch.” he laughed quietly.

“Good luck with him.” you smiled at him.

“To you too.” he nodded to Jake who currently was trying to pick up imaginary flowers for you.

“Thanks.”

You took Jake’s hand and started walking toward your apartment building doors.

“You have to be quiet pretty boy, people are sleeping.” you reminded him to behave.

“For you everything, I will be like Kim Possible.” he slurred and you laughed quietly.

“Sure.”

For the rest of the night Jake was extremely cuddly, like always after drinking. And you found it really adorable but at the same time you were mad at him for not giving you any signs that he’s still alive, just drunk. You were worried about him.

Next morning you woke up to your phone blowing up. You had many mentions on twitter and you were confused what happened for Jake’s fans to go crazy like that.

And then you saw Johnnie’s instagram story. It was posted at night and it was video of Jake sweet talking about you while still sitting in the car and then video of you and Jake when you were about to take him home from the gas station.

After seeing this, you opened twitter app to see what people were saying about it.

And let’s just say, your heart melted at how much they loved your and Jake’s relationship.

#jake webber x reader #jake webber #johnnie guilbert #jake #snc #sam and colby #colby brock #sam golbach #tara yummy #tarayummy

[feistyfreaks]

that recent miguel fic was so hot omg now I want to request one 😳. Imagine dbf!miguel sexting us while away at a business trip or while reader is out with friends or something (..or even over the dinner table while out with our dad.. maybe..) he’d definitely be writing the most poetic, romantic yet filthy and disgusting texts ever, like ones you’d have to take breaks after each sentence because oh my god..

& with his ancient ass hed most likely send nudes via email as well 😔 but we’ll eat it up every time!

HIDDEN CONNECTIONS ┈ ! ✶

₊❏❜ content⋮ dbf!miguel x f!reader. huge age gap. readers aged up (18+). dirty talk. sexting. porn w not much of a plot.

note⋮ i love reading through these requests, i love y’all so much 😭!! yet again, sorry for the wait, procrastination has been eating me alive lol. but without further a do, i hope you enjoy 🙈.

dividers by @cafekitsune.

you sighed, pushing a few strands of hair behind your ear as you browsed through the websites catalog, eyeing all sorts of styles. you wanted to up your relationship with miguel and try something new, so you decided to go lingerie shopping.

you scrolled through the petite section, bored out of your mind as you tried to look for something interesting and more erotical. you took a glimpse at the time, noticing that it was past midnight.

you raised a brow, "already? could've sworn it was eight a few minutes ago." you murmured to yourself as you glanced back at your screen, a baby pink set stood out to you and your eyes lit up, clicking on the link without hesitation.

the price was pretty expensive, but you marked it into your cart - just then a notification from gmail appeared at the bottom right of your screen.

it was from miguel.

miguel was your dads best friend, and you grew smitten by his charm growing up. at first you believed that it was a silly little crush that you’ll eventually get over, but that never happened.. instead your relationship with him began developing throughout your young adult years.

you sensed the irresistible tension and you started to question what the two of you were, and your question was answered when one thing led to another, both your clothes being discarded as things became heated in such a short amount of time.

but you struggled with your feelings, torn between your blossoming desires for miguel and the guilt associated with betraying your father's trust; but the age difference between the two of you only added a sense of excitement to your relationship, and both of you fell into the temptation of your desires, initiating an intimate connection, and that’s how you two got yourselves into a secret affair.

as you opened the email, the subject line immediately caught your eye. 'mi luz,' it read. miguel was about twice your age, and for some reason he always stuck to emailing no matter how many times you taught him how to regularly text — he believed emailing was better because they were more formal and easier to navigate.

you quickly opened the email and giggled, “esa linda sonrisa tuya ilumina mi día, y esos ojos tuyos iluminan mis noches."

a small grin curved upwards onto your glossed lips, it sounded kind of corny but you strove to decipher the meaning and intent behind each word. your hands flew across the keyboard as you quickly replied. “pfftt, you’re flattering me miguel. what’re you even doing up so late?” you pressed on send, and not long after you received a new notification.

“i’ve been thinking about you, i miss you. n' what's your excuse for being up so late hm? it's past your bed time nena.”

you could sense his teasing tone over the damn screen, and you couldn’t wipe off that cheeky grin of your face. your fingers hovered over the keyboard, you wanted to keep it a surprise, but the excitement got a hold of you first.

"well.. i was online shopping.. and came across this, what do you think of it?" you messaged along with the picture of the lingerie attached.

you waited eagerly for his response, like a puppy wanting to receive validation from its owner. maybe you should've waited, but you couldn't keep surprises a secret.

"why? are you planning on seducing me with that little outfit, chiquitita?”

a mischievous grin plastered onto your face reading his reply.

“maybe, maybe not, but you didn’t answer my question. do you like it? y'know, easy access.”

“the lace is pretty. yea i like it, and you're right. it does have such easy access. i’d love to see you in that.”

you chuckled, switched tabs and clicked on the checkout option. you filed in the credit card information along with the address, admitting the final 'confirm payment’ button.

“well you’re in for a surprise when you get back from your trip mister." you typed, "how much longer do i have to wait until i get to see you, you know i don't like waiting, i really miss you.”

“aww, getting needy aren’t we? i’ll be back home around this week darling. can’t wait to see you all dressed up for me. i’m looking forward to splitting those pretty legs of yours open and play with that pretty pussy until your soaking wet on my fingers.” he wrote back as you overlapped your legs to feel your clit pulse in your panties.

“i really miss you mig. just want you to sink your fingers into my hole and tell me how much of a good girl i am. i need you to come home n’ fill me up, fuck me into this damn mattress.”

“i want to come home just as badly as you want me to, but we both know that this business trip is important. but i promise you that i’ll bully my cock into your weeping pussy and fuck my cum into your tummy.”

your heart raced and you squeezed your legs tighter as you read email, as you and miguel continue your fiery exchanges, the emails become more explicit.

his filthy words made you palpitate, and he never failed to noticeably make an impact on you, you always found yourself drenching your undies. “fuck yes. use me, want you to pound your cock into me, m so wet at the thought.”

“yea? que putita eres mi amor, show me how much of a slut you are, show me how wet you get from telling you how good i’ll fuck you chiquitita.”

you sat up eagerly, slipping your sleeping shorts down to your thighs as you clicked on the small camera icon. slowly but lewdly you spread your legs, your hand came down to rub at the wet patch on your panties. your cursor hovered over the white button as it snapped the photo, and with another click you hit send.

your grew hot and impatient as you began pressing on the sticky nub over the drenched fabric. it was ridiculous how you were sexting using via email, but it only served to make you beyond hornier with the new adjustment.

“shit baby, look at how you’re fucking dripping. why don’t you go and hump your pillow, yea? tease your little cunnie for me, wanna see your cute pussy wetting the bed. i just know you’ll be letting out the most cutest noises while thinking of how i’ll fucking ruin you when i get back.”

heat raced through you and towards your core, you had to pause to take a deep breath.

holy shit.

you felt your cheeks go hot, and you reached for the pillow as you happily obliged, eagerly kicking off your panties and thighs cradling the soft silk as you settled your warmth into the pillows edge.

you let a soft moan feeling your clit pulse again. you bunched up your blanket and placed it underneath your abdomen as you leaned forward, stomach pressed up onto the bed sheets and the comfort of your blanket.

your page refreshes and your met with another email from miguel, this time there was a few images attached to his message.

you opened it and you feel your cunt clench around nothing. his belt was undone and you could visibly see the pink leaky tip sticking out of the confinements of his boxers, the second image displayed the underside of his fat girth and you felt yourself beginning to drool, the third photo portrayed his thumb rubbing on his slit as a string of his arousal stuck onto on his thumb, showing you just how sticky he was and the caption overall made you bite your lip.

“gonna put you on all fours, y te voy a poner al reves, te veras tan rica mientras te lo hago por detrás.”

you slowly roll your hips, your slick dampening the fabric and you effortlessly slide against the cushion. you moaned, tilting your head to the side and drifting deeper in thought. you start to think of him atop of you, his body fervid against yours, his heated lips attached to yours, his pelvis snug into yours as his cock splits you open — your hips hump the pillow faster and you whine out in euphoria.

your thighs tensed around the soft pillow and you feel your pussy practically flutter. with another rough roll of your hips you stutter, clit pulsing as you gush onto the bed sheets.

#ff⋆reqs 🧁 #ff⋆inbox 📬 #hornyhour #feistyfreaks #dbf!miguel #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #smutmas 2023 #xmas #kinkmas

[gumycandyyy]

Heyo I'm here to request that Male Reader x Winter King you wanted-

Anyways, can you write for a male Reader that used to be Simon and Betty's friend before the crown and the Mushroom War, who randomly shows up in the Land of Ooo? As in, Simon thought that they had died a long time ago, alongside Betty, but the Reader had survived through some odd means and got reunited with him?

Lol, if that's too much, then I'm sorry. It could be a fic or Headcanons, whichever you prefer!

⠂"ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴏʟᴅ."⠐

⠂"ᴡᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ."⠐

AHJFHJGSKHA HOW DID YOU KNOW I WANTED TO WRITE ABOUT SIMON?? I LOVE THIS WET CAT.

Winter King actually isn't this one, because I wanted to focus on Fionna and Cake ver. Simon

Male reader

Platonic/Romantic (I'm leaving it ambiguous, because I mean, c'mon. It's Simon.)

Type: Headcanons (With a drabble and oneshot mixed in)

Summary: An old friend shows up after a bunch of time-related shenanigans, and is finally ready to settle back down in Ooo. Though this sudden happening is quite a shock to Simon.

⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂

-You used to be an old family friend of Betty's, and met Simon through her.

-Y'all were really close, and they invited you over for dinner every other weekend.

-But one day, you just...

-Vanished.

-Everyone thought you were kidnapped, and Simon and Betty were heartbroken.

-However...

-Through some odd means, you were kept alive for a thousand years.

-It all started one weird day when you bought a little doodad from a garage sale.

-the next thing you knew, you were in a big yellow cube with a pink wall guy.

-Apparently the little thing you bought was an item from another universe, and it was janking up Ooo.

-Aaaaand technically you just committed a serious crime by purchasing the little thing.

-And whether intentional or not, you now had to go on trial for this little accident. You tried to explain what happened, but you were found guilty.

-You were sentenced to a thousand years in some donked up time jail.

-Apparently, you wouldn't age in there, and a thousand years would pass on Ooo before you were set free.

-It was the worst thing that could've ever happened to you.

⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂

-The time jail kept you from losing your sanity, and a thousand years later, you were released.

-You were teleported back to Ooo, which looked quite different than how you remembered it.

-It felt like an eternity since you've seen rolling green hills and a clear blue sky. An eternity since you've breathed familiar air.

-You heard something, about a hundred yards from you.

-You approached the loud noises to see some buff dude with a sick beard and robotic arm beating up some one-eyed monster.

-He punched the creature, and it was sent flying towards you.

-You ducked, and the dude noticed you.

"Ah, sorry man! Didn't see you there!"

-You assured him it was nothing.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂

You shook your head, then blinked confusedly. Well, technically you were. It had just been 1000 years. You tried to get your story straight, then told the guy.

"Woah, so does that mean you're technically a time traveler?"

You shrugged. Time travel hadn't been proven yet, has it? You weren't sure. You asked the guy his name, so you didn't have to refer to him as just 'the guy.'

"Oh, yeah. Name's Finn. Good ol' Finn the H."

"The H.?"

"Y'know, the Human?"

But you were human too. With all due respect, you asked him about his strange surname.

"Oh, uh.. My real last name is Mertens, but I like 'the Human' better. It's only recently other humans have started living in Ooo. So I'm kinda seen as 'that one human' y'know?"

You nodded, trying to make sense of what he said. what had happened that caused humans to leave Ooo? How was that even possible?

The two of you talked for a short while, and you learned a little bit about Ooo. You were used to knowing a lot, but you barely even recognized this place.

"Oh, you're from the 20th century, right?"

You nodded.

"I've got a friend from then, maybe you'd like to meet him? He's one cool dude."

⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂

-You agreed politely, wondering if this 20th century man would help you adjust to life in whatever century this was. What century was this anyway? 30-something?

-Finn ended up taking you to a scrappy little bar filled with people that looked to be made out of candy.

"Anything you'd like to order?"

"Nothing for me, Dirt Beer Guy. Maybe he'd like one, but we're just waiting for-"

⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂

"Simon?"

You stared in disbelief at the face of your old friend, who looked at you with the same expression. He was carrying something under his arm, but he dropped it in shock.

"No way, you know him? That's awesome!"

Simon slowly walked up to you, as if afraid you'd disappear at any second. Tears welled up in the both of your eyes, and you had to suppress breaking down right there. It hadn't occurred to you that this 20th century man could've been Simon, but now that you were seeing him, you realized you subconsciously wished it would be him.

He spoke your name softly, not much more than a whisper, as if anything louder would cause reality to shatter, or one of you to wake up from a dream.

"You... You're really here, aren't you?"

You nodded softly, not daring to say a word. Tears spilled out of your eyes, and Finn looked slightly confused.

"Do you guys, uh.... Wanna step out for a minute?"

You agreed, still quietly, saying it would probably be better to not make a scene. Finn gave you a thumbs up and shooed you out, saying he'd wait for you when you got back inside.

You stepped out of the little bar with Simon, realizing it got dark out while you were inside.

"So..."

"How about we take a walk?"

You nodded, falling into step with Simon as you walked into a nice little forest. The small stream rushing by provided ambient noise.

"How are you here..?"

Simon asked, with an air of disbelief. He blinked, wiping his glasses and rubbing his eyes. As if you'd disappear once he'd open them. You explained what happened, and suddenly gasped.

"If you're here, that means Betty must be here too, right? Where is she?"

Simon sighed, bringing his arms up to hold himself.

"She's..."

"She's not."

You decided not to pry, but you couldn't help but notice the sinking feeling in your gut. She was one of your best friends, and she was gone. But she was Simon's fiancee. It must have hit him harder, whatever happened to her. You'd ask later, when the emotional turmoil between the two of you wasn't so fresh.

You walked in peaceful silence between the two of you, listening to the sounds of the stream, or chirping crickets.

You took that time to study Simon, how his appearance changed, and things that stayed the same.

Same fashion sense,

same goofy circle glasses,

even the same walk you remember.

There was a white streak in his hair now.

Wrinkles on his face.

Something about him just seemed so...

Sad.

"You've gotten old."

Simon smiled, though it seemed bitter.

"We both have."

"I missed you, Simon. Not a day went by that I didn't think of you, Betty, or any of our other friends."

Simon stopped walking, and you copied. He seemed as if he was about to cry again. To be honest, you were too. Talking about all of this while looking him in the face didn't fare well for your emotional state.

He took off his glasses, wiping at his eyes. Simon smiled bitterly through it though. He seemed to be so lonely. You wondered where he lived now.

". . ."

He wiped his eyes again, then looked straight at you with an unwavering gaze.

"You have no idea how much we missed you. Even years after you disappeared, we still looked. Even when the police failed, we still-"

He inhaled sharply, breath shaking. He turned his head away, as if ashamed of his emotions.

You placed your hand on his shoulder, trying to provide comfort. Simon suddenly wrapped his arms around you, pressing his face into your shoulder. You returned the embrace, holding onto him just as tightly.

Simon's breath shook, and you softly rubbed his back. You had no idea what he's gone through, and you were genuinely unsure whether you were helping or not.

"Simon..?"

His grip on you loosened, and he looked up at you.

You said nothing else, but you gently rested your forehead on his. He sniffed, then took a deep breath. Your hands fell to his waist, while his rested on your shoulders. Simon closed his eyes, cherishing this small bit of comfort.

After a few moments, Simon pulled away, bringing his fist up to his mouth and clearing his throat.

"W- well, today was certainly... Eventful."

You laughed softly, agreeing with his remark. The two of you walked back to the little bar, realizing you'd gotten farther from it than you thought you did.

Simon cleared his throat yet again, once you reached the outside of the bar.

"Yeah, Simon?"

He thought for a moment, then spoke.

". . .Thank you."

⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂

Thanks for reading! I absolutely loved writing this, and Simon needs a hug.

Your complimentary artwork ^^

reblog for a beginner writer?

#no beta we die like Jake #simon petrikov x reader #fionna and cake #fionna and cake x reader #pre fionna and cake events #simon petrikov #simon petrikov is a wet cat #fandom #brainrot #finn the human #adventure time #simon needs a hug #fanfiction #selfshipping community #simon petrikov x male reader

[bluerthanvelvet444]

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚𝓓𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓮˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚

Kit Walker x fem!reader

tags: smut!!

warnings: murder, blood, fingering, p in v.

summary: reader and kit get paired up in the kitchen. Kit comforts her anddddd...you can imagine what happens next.

character count: 11k. yes. 11k. lost track of length while writing the plot.

full fic under the cut ↓

➽───────────────❥

May 14th, 1964.

People always said you were meant to be a teacher, that it was your role in the world, since kindness and patience have always been your best qualities. This is how you ended up in that pre-school in Massachusetts full of little sunshines that were absolutely fond of you and saw you as their older sister. It was the best job in the world in your eyes, and you were sure you were going to spend most of your days doing it. If only you knew.

That fateful day you were wearing a trendy but simply cut canary dress, slightly accentuating your waist, perfect for the warm weather of spring. Birds’ faint singing could be heard through the open windows, The kids were sitting around small tables while doing their drawings, and you looked at them lovingly while leaning your back on the chest of drawers that kept the children’s bags.

“Teacher! Teach-!” one of the little boys exclaimed to get your attention, but you cut him off.

“Joseph, I'll be there for you in a second, let me change the song first, alright?” You turned around to put the other vinyl in the player, and the tunes of ‘Hit the road Jack’ started playing. You waited a few seconds before turning around…and that was probably the biggest mistake of your life.

Hit the road Jack-BANG!

You quickly turned around as you heard that loud noise. What you saw next permanently changed your life. A tall man, all dressed in black, was holding a gun in his hands and had just shot one of your little kids. Before you could process anything, the gun was pointed at you, and…BANG! You fell to the ground. The bullet missed you and instead carved a little hole in the wall. You couldn’t feel anything, none of your senses worked, except for hearing.

Don’t you come back, no more-BANG!

no more-BANG!

no more-BANG!

no more-BANG!

Hit the road Jack-BANG!

You woke up by the police violently shaking your body. You were confused, and all around you was red. Red blood everywhere.

➽────❥

At first, the police was doing a fantastic job by trying to identify the killer. You had to do so many interrogations, but you felt like with your descriptions and help, the searching for the murderer was close to an end. The case was on all the TV channels and news, the whole state was thirsty for truth. It was when the police started looking into your past that things started to go wrong. You had a previous “arrest” for gun possession. Nothing too crazy, your uncle gave you one when you first started living alone, you realized your mistake, and you were released after a few days anyways. Then the moms of the poor little angels started to spread rumors about how you were “mean” to kids. That of course wasn’t true, they have always been pretty jealous of a young woman who got along with their children better than them. And you tried to explain that to the police, but they just seemed to get more suspicious. They believed that you randomly went crazy and shot all the kids, that would’ve explained how you were the only one who survived too.

Before you could know it you were charged of murderer, and your life sentence was to spend your whole life in an asylum. As bad as the situation was, you were hopeful that you were going to be treated better in an asylum than jail.

You were wrong. Briarcliff Manor was just another way to say hell. Nuns treated you horribly-except Mary Eunice- god bless that poor soul- and Dr. Arden was a living nightmare. You tried to stay as far as possible from him once you heard all the stories of his victims. People were REALLY crazy there…except one. Her name was Pepper. Sister Jude had introduced you two, insisting that you could bond over “baby murder”. You thought she really did it at first, so you kept distance. Pepper insisted on interacting with you, repeating the word “friend”. You glared at her, spitting words harshly.

“I'm not a murderer like you.”

Pepper frowned and started crying. Now she was saying the word “baby.” It was weird but, you felt sorry for her…something in you told you that she may have been not guilty. She dragged you into the library, then she showed you a magazine with the face of the popular star “Elsa Mars.”

“Mom.” She said, you looked at her confused, then Pepper pointed at the sentence written in the magazine “Elsa used to own a Freakshow before…” it was clear to you then.

“Did she put you here?” You asked. Pepper shook her head and mumbled the word “Sister”.

After a few weeks of befriending her, it was clear to you that Pepper was the living representation of “never judge a book by its cover”.

➽────❥

Two months later.

You were playing-at least trying to play-chess with pepper in the common room.

“Pepper, you can't move two pawns together…only one.”

She laughed and moved another one. Your attention was now brought to a woman who seemed new in that place.

“Uhm…you know what, pepper? You win! Congratulations!” You said a little white lie so you could meet the mysterious woman. Pepper smiled and laughed happily, and started wandering around. You got up and walked towards the new presence. She looked lost, confused, angry but definitely not crazy. You sat in front of her and tried to put on a friendly smile.

“Hi… I noticed you from across the room. Who are you?”

The woman looked at you. You couldn’t help but feel judged and studied by those piercing eyes, in a quiet voice, she replied.

“Lana. Lana Winters.”

➽────❥

Time passed. Every day was the same as the one before, torturing and boring. You bonded with Lana too after you acknowledged her story, and she told you about the secret tunnel and how she planned to escape. The occasion came soon when unexpectedly, one random night, cells opened. You insisted on bringing Pepper with you in the escape attempt, and you three ran for your lives. While running, though, pepper decided to take another path. You stopped and whisper-yelled at her to come back, but she didn't listen to you. As soon as Lana noticed you stopping, she dragged you with her, telling you to not waste time, and while you were running, Kit walker caught up with you two. You didn’t know much about him, so you didn't really mind him trying to escape too, but apparently Lana did. You heard her yelling.

“HELP! He’s escaping! The killer is escaping!”

You tried to shush her, but before you knew it, you were captured.

You and kit were then bent over Sister Jude’s desk, while she praised Lana and allowed her to choose the cane you were going to be punished with. You were surprised when Kit took the blame on himself, letting you free and gaining more lashes for himself.

➽────❥

After a few days, you found yourself paired up with Kit on kitchen chores. You stood there in silence, lost in your thoughts while kit prepared the dough.

“You okay over there, suga’? You haven’t said a word.” You were brought back to reality at the sound of his deep voice and smooth accent. You gulped.

“Yeah… I-I’m fine. Just thinking…” You heard him sigh.

“It’s because of what they say about me…ain’t that right? I’m many things, darlin’, but I’m not a murderer. So, don’t be scared.”

You looked at him furrowing your brows and shook your head.

“No…it’s not because of that- I don’t think you’re a killer- I just… I’m just worried. Worried about Pepper. She’s nowhere to be found, a-and I feel guilty. So guilty. I should’ve followed her and brought her back.”

He chuckled lightheartedly.

“Oh, don’t say that, suga’. I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably out there livin’ her best life.”

You sighed and replied nervously.

“You and I both know that isn’t true. She’s wearing a fucking gown, and her looks don’t help either. If she actually managed to get out, she’s already got caught.” You looked down, fidgeting with your fingers. You jumped slightly when you felt his hands touching your shoulders. He gently caressed your arm from behind and spoke with a kind tone.

“Hey-hey- calm down, suga’. Whatever happened to Pepper, it’s not your fault. Don’t be so harsh with yourself. You tried to stop her, there was nothin’ else you could do.”

You sighed and leaned into his gentle touch.

“I just hope she’s fine. She’s an innocent soul…I could never live with it if something bad happened to her.”

He took your hands in his.

“You don’t belong here. In Briarcliff.”

You sighed and let yourself relax in his arms. He whispered in your ear.

“You need a distraction, suga’.”

you then felt his cold hand on your exposed inner thigh. You looked up at him, your cheeks slowly turning red.

“Shhh… Just relax. It’ll feel good, I promise.”

You nodded slowly and looked down as his fingers made their way to your exposed folds under your gown. He sighed as he ran a finger over your slit, and peppered gentle kisses on the side of your face. He started slowly circling your clit. His big hands felt like heaven on you and you couldn’t help but buckle your hips towards his hand, sweetly whining for more. He flashed you with a tender smile and pressed a sweet kiss on your lips. His fingers shifted position, so his thumb was now grazing your clit while one of his digits made its way to your entrance, gently pushing in. You gasped and let out a soft moan, muffled by his mouth making contact with yours. He inserted another finger in, stretching you and slowly thrusting inside.

“Ah… Faster Kit…please…” you whined softly.

“Whatever you say, suga’.”

He started moving his fingers faster, making your back arch as he hit that sweet spot perfectly. He kept going until he felt your whines grow louder, and right before you could cum, he suddenly stopped and pulled his fingers out.

“mhhhph….w-why did you stop?”

He chuckled and have you a loving kiss on your lips.

“I wanna be inside of you…suga’…is that okay, mh?”

You nodded eagerly, and he picked you up to set you on the counter. He grabbed your waist with his veiny hands and leaned in to crush your lips together. His tongue swirled around yours as you sloppily made out. You pulled your lips away from his and whispered.

“w-what if they catch us?”

“They won’t. I’ll be quick, love.”

He lifted your gown once again and settled between your legs. He groaned as he rushed to lift his gown, and he hissed while lining up your entrance with his needy cock. He immediately began pounding in your poor cunt. His thrusts were fast and sloppy. As you whined for the sudden roughness, he whispered right next to your ear in a hoarse voice.

“Sorry suga’. Been too long since I've touched a woman.”

You moaned as your legs clung to his body, and you had to adjust to the new position. Not long after, between dough and adrenaline for the fear of being caught, he sped up his thrusts until you came with a loud moan that he tried to muffle with his hand. At the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, he cummed inside you right away with a deep groan. You panted for a few seconds before getting off the counter and regaining your decency. He pressed a loving kiss on your lips and gently caressed your hair. You allowed yourself to melt in his embrace, and while thinking about everything that had happened so far, a sudden thought came to your mind.

“Kit…why did you stand up for me when Sister Jude wanted to punish us?”

He put his chin on your head, and with a sweet smile plastered on his face, he spoke.

“I followed your case on the TV before gettin’ locked up' here. I always thought ya were innocent…”

He chuckled and pressed gently his lips on your hair.

“…and cute.”

➽───────────────❥

a/n: aaaahhh!!! this is my first smut. I'm really proud of this one. lemme know if you like it!!!🧡🧡

join my taglist!!

all rights reserved!!

#Spotify #kit walker #kit walker x reader #kit walker x y/n #smut #american horror story #ahs asylum #evan peters #lana winters #sarah paulson #ahs fandom #tate langdon #ahs murder house #kyle spencer #violet harmon #james patrick march #kai anderson #taissa farmiga

[rrxnjun]

blondes are done with fun ✲ h. renjun

pairing. journalism student! renjun x journalism student! fem! reader starring. huang renjun, lee donghyuck, yoo jimin, huh yunjin genre. college au, acquaintances to lovers. angst, fluff, smut warnings. alcohol consuption, swearing, renjun is a dick at the beginning, sexual content (fingering, unprotected sex) word count. 31k (31.320) a/n. awsten knight please stop making music so i can stop writing fics about your songs thanku. also this is my first smut please be gentle with it also if you're my friend please don't read the smut parts orif you do dont tell me abt it or i will literally kms

playlist. cherry red - waterparks ; fake happy - paramore ; heaven angel - the driver era ; blonde - waterparks ; disaster - conan gray ; raspberry - grouplove ; black butterflies and déjá vu - the maine ; fuck about it - waterpakrs, blackbear ; robbers - the 1975

a rumor has it that the popular couple in town broke up after years of being together. having to share your favorite seat in class with the male part of said relationship, you try to find out how to make your heartbroken project partner warm up to you— or— huang renjun goes blonde when he's sad.

✲ PART 1 OF THE SIMPLIFY ROMANCE SERIES ✲

“A rumor has it Huang Renjun and Huh Yunjin broke up,” is the first sentence that lands into your ears when your feet cross the imaginary border of the school premises one early morning, a cup of coffee in your hand as your best friend Jimin breaks the news to you, walking by your side into the university building.

Snapping your head around to look at her in shock and surprise at the news, eyes wide in question, you’re already invested in the love life of your classmates more than you probably should be, but due to multiple reasons that could explain it; one of them being the ordinary human curiosity– mainly created in your brain thanks to the fact that these two had dated for as long as you can remember– another reason being the gossip-oriented side of your personality– the part of it you like to explain through the fact that you’re a Journalism major and the love for gossip is just another part of your (hopefully) future occupation– and the last reason, the one that is probably the most harmless of them all (or maybe the most, depending on how you look at it) is the mere fact that while Huang Renjun had been a taken man for as long as you remember, he is also insanely attractive, and you’re just a simple woman. The idea of him being finally attainable is irking something in your brain, and even though you would feel embarrassed to admit this out loud, you can’t help but wonder what happened between those two after such a long time that made the legendary couple– iconic, even– break up. 

“What happened?” you ask, walking alongside the girl as you round the corner of the hall, in a rush to get to your morning class. The two of you slept in by accident, watching too many episodes of Keeping up with the Kardashians last night to notice the clock striking well past midnight, and now the journey to school was more difficult than it already is, with your dorms situated 30 minutes away and the class starting at 8 o’clock sharp. The time is now 7:58AM and while you’re already in the building and yours and Jimin’s classes are different, they are both on the fifth floor– and with the frequency of your visits to the gym, the way up there is hard not only because of the time pinch, but also because of the shortness of your breath when you rush to walk up there in less than five minutes before you have to take the walk of shame to your desk, watched by the professor with passive aggressive eyes.

“Nobody knows,” Jimin heaves out, taking two steps at once now, “I just heard from Yizhuo that Yunjin deleted all of their Instagram posts together and she supposedly stopped wearing that necklace he got her for their anniversary. Oh and also, Renjun didn’t drop her off at school on Friday, so something must be up.”

Humming in agreement, you rush up the stairs, the halls already emptied out because all of the students are hidden in their respective classroom. You manage to keep your voice down in case anyone’s listening in on your insensitive gossip, now that your voices aren’t drowned out by any other noise. “That’s weird. They’ve been together for so long, I’m starting to lose faith in real love if they really broke up.”

“No, yeah, I know,” Jimin squints as the two of you finally reach the fifth floor, the girl checking the time on her wristwatch huffing out at the sight of already being late, “something bad must have happened, if they really broke up, because the two of them didn’t seem like they’ve had any problems, you know.”

“Definitely,” you nod, pacing along the hall as you finally reach the door to your classroom, waving your roommate off with a tight-lipped smile, still trying to catch your breath. “I’ll see you after class?”

The girl doesn’t even turn around as she agrees with you, long legs striding down the hall into the last classroom on the left, waving at you with her right hand. “See ya!”

Silently opening the door to the classroom, you notice the professor already standing at the very front of the class, turning around to look at your figure once the almost unhearable noise of the door cuts through the silence in the room. Offering her a shameful smile, you hurriedly scan the space, feeling the eyes of everyone glued to your sweaty and out of breath body, as you try to find a place to sit. Your usual seat is right at the corner of the room, at the very back– it has the window in close accessibility, so you don’t have to worry about being too hot or too cold, depending on the weather, because you regulate the freshness of the air in the classroom. The window also provides a good distraction to you once the class gets too boring to listen to, so you’d say with 100% sureness that the desk you chose to sit at the very first day of your Journalism class was the best option. 

However, when you look at the usually empty desk for two– one of the chairs, the one closer to the corridor being your handy armrest as well as a place to put your coat and bag on as you sit on the other one, the one closer to the window– you notice a man sitting at your usual place, eyes glued to the whiteboard. Feverishly scanning the classroom once again, realizing in terror that there is no other empty space for you to sit at, you sigh in annoyance as you near your usual desk, cursing the intruder in your brain for breaking the unwritten seating plan. 

Taking the bag off your shoulder, you softly land it to the ground, afraid of making any noise that would interrupt your professor’s lecture again. After sitting at the chair and trying to listen to the words coming out of your professor’s mouth, trying to see what she’s talking about, you find yourself drifting off into the mess of your thoughts, choosing to daydream about the amazing lunch you’re about to have once your classes are over for the day, your eyes knowingly moving away from the whiteboard to their place out of the window. It’s a little harder to gaze out of it in the different position– you tell yourself you’ll come earlier next week so the intruder doesn’t take away your spot again and you can go back to your usual plan of watching people walking through the campus and making up fake stories about them in your brain– when your periphery vision takes notice of the side profile of your seatmate, the curve of his nose and the slight pout of his upper lip sparking interest in you as your brain finally connects the dots.

Only slightly moving your head to the side, so your seatmate doesn’t notice you staring, you observe Huang Renjun sitting at your desk. The image in front of you (or beside you, to be precise) surprises you to an extent nothing has ever surprised you before (no, not even the birthday parties Jimin has thrown you have made this effect on you– but that’s probably because she can’t keep a secret and always spoiled the surprise), and once again, there are multiple reasons for your surprise. To list a few, you’d start with the fact that Huang Renjun almost always sat at the same desk with his girlfriend Yunjin– the desk was at the very opposite corner of the room, leaving you to occasionally observe the couple as he landed a hand onto her thigh or let her put her leg into his lap, away from the eyes of the professor– but due to the news that were broken to you just a few minutes prior, maybe this is the only reason that shouldn’t surprise you with the sight of Renjun sitting by your side. Continuing the list, you’d state the fact that the boy looks lifeless– his eyes lost their usual spark and there are dark circles adorning his lower eyelids, the sick look making you feel almost sorry for your classmate. And to finish the list, you’d state the fact that takes you by surprise the most– the one that shocks you to your core, for it’s the reason why you didn’t recognise the boy when you first sat down in the first place. His hair is now bleach blond, and while the look definitely suits him, it’s something different, something new– because for as long as you can remember, not many things changed in Renjun’s appearance over the years, and you’re not so sure if you can consider this as the side effect of his breakup, or if he really just wanted change.

Blinking at the male, as if to make sure that you’re not dreaming, you take notice of the dead strands falling into his eyes, contrasting well with the darkness of his eyes. Once again noting that you’re just a simple woman and Huang Renjun is simply put, a very attractive man, you can’t help but gaze at him with a newly found interest, everything you’ve learned about the male this morning irking you with undeniable curiosity.

The sad and embarrassing reality of it all is, though, that you’re not the only one who gets that weird feeling of someone staring at you in public sometimes, only for that feeling to be true as you turn around and see someone with their eyes burning through your skull; Huang Renjun gets them as well, it seems, as he turns his head to you with his eyebrows furrowed, as if to silently ask you why the hell you’re creepily staring at his side profile in the middle of your Journalism class. The two of you were never close, despite sharing multiple classes over the course of multiple semesters, and so being caught only made you feel more embarrassed as you sharply turn your head towards the front of the classroom– so much for being subtle and nonchalant about it, erasing all the possibility of playing it off in the process– feeling heat creeping up your neck. 

This is not how you imagined your morning to go.

Trying hard to pay attention to the class instead, in order to both learn something and also forget about the events happening only a few seconds prior, there’s no use as your brain now decided to replay the moment over and over again, making sure you never forget about it and randomly think of it in the middle of the night 5 years from now, still not moving on from the shame. In the process of trying so hard to focus, you actually do quite the opposite– as if your brain decided to turn off from the essence of humiliation instead to protect you– and before you notice it, the class is over and everyone is scattering out of the classroom with their things and bags hung over their shoulders. At least it’s finally over, you think, when a voice lands into your ear, shaking you out of it.

“We’re doing the project together,” he says, and as you turn around to face the owner of the saccharine voice to inquire him on what the actual fuck he’s even talking about, before you get the chance, the man is already out of the room, leaving you standing in full dumbfoundance.

Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to the class, after all.

Next week, even though you arrive to class earlier than the last, it seems like your designated seat in the corner of the classroom is now your and Renjun’s designated seat in the corner of the classroom, and if you’re being totally honest, this is exactly the thing you did not expect to come up on your Junior year bingo card. Talking over the whole interaction with Jimin right when you got to dorms– alongside with the takeout you ordered in the restaurant that’s at the corner of the street– the both of you stared into your plates with a newly found sense of absolute, utter confusion. 

You also had to shamefully text one of the only classmates from your Journalism class whose number you have– Osaki Shotaro, who you had a thing with in Freshman year because you thought he was an exchange student and would go back to Japan after summer, surprising you with his smiley face in the class in your Sophomore year (and this year, once again) as you had to be reminded of making out with him at a party every time your eyes landed on the poor boy– about the assignment. The truth is, you could just ask Renjun when you got into class, but you also wanted to spare yourself the embarrassment of that action. Through your fling from Freshman year, you learned that you have to work in pairs on a magazine of some sort– and while the assignment still wasn’t clear to you, after Shotaro ended the text message with ‘i’m sorry tho, i already have a partner ://’, you didn’t have enough dignity in you to pry him for any more information.

Clearing your throat as you step inside the classroom with an encouraging slap to your bottom coming from your roommate walking along to her usual class at the end of the hall, you walk over to your seat and put your bag onto the ground, silently sitting on the chair next to the corridor– the thing that makes you the most furious about this whole thing– as you prepare for the next lecture. From what you’ve gathered, the assignment was 70% of your final grade, and you really didn’t feel like failing your most favorite subject, especially if it’s something you could see yourself doing in the future. Working on something like this with someone you’ve hardly ever spoken to was a scary feeling, though. 

The class starts as soon as the noise of footsteps fills your ears, your professor standing at the very front of the classroom announcing her arrival with a heartfelt smile on her face. Sometimes you wonder if it’s her cheery demeanor that makes you like the class so much, but then again, you’ve always been interested in the topic– her character is just a bonus.

“Hello class,” she greets, full of energy despite it only being 8 in the morning, “I decided that instead of following with the lectures today, I will leave you some space to plan out your final project for the class. It has the weight of 70% of your grade, so it’s kind of important, so make sure you plan it well and come up with something original and interesting. The contents are 25-35 pages and you have until the end of the semester to complete it, so I hope you all put in some effort!”

Nods and hums of understatement are shared along the class, the pairs turning to each other in soft murmurs as some even take out a journal to note down all the things they come up with. You think it’s not a bad idea to at least brainstorm a little, but with how awkward you feel at the moment with your project partner sitting right next to you, you don’t think you can start. And the thing is, Jimin told you you could just pick a different partner– but as you look across the filled classroom, you really don’t think working with anyone else is possible, since you don’t have many friends in this class and everyone seems to be paired up already. Huang Renjun is your only choice, and although it doesn’t fill you with relief, you wonder why he chose you, when in reality, he’s the popular one– he has many different choices to pick from. Maybe he was just too lazy to ask anyone else. Who knows.

Clearing your throat again, you avert your gaze from the front of the classroom and try to sneak a look on your seatmate. The platinum blonde hair neatly styled on his head doesn’t fail to make you shocked again, but you figure you must start to get used to it now, because you can’t keep living with the constant urge to stare at the boy just because he dyed his hair. Waiting for him to look at you or give you any sign of the fact that he’s willing to work on the project, you continue your little staring contest with his side profile– it seems like he’s in the mood to ignore you today, so you gotta bring out the big guns and actually talk to him instead.

“So… how do you want to work on this?” you mumble out, nervously bumping your knee up and down. Human interaction isn’t your favorite thing in the world, mainly because you don’t like things you’re not good at– this includes sports, but mainly volleyball, drawing, knitting and mixing drinks as well– but you’d say with full confidence that making friends and talking to new people is truly the worst thing you could ever imagine. 

You notice that your seatmate finally recognised your efforts to spark up a conversation– he rewards you with a shrug of his shoulders as he not only does not look at you, but also decides to lay on the desk instead, closing his eyes as if this was the perfect time for him to catch up on his lost sleep. “Dunno,” he says, “we have plenty of time, let’s not do this right now.”

Blinking a few times at the male, you are once again struck by lightning that is his weird attitude to things. If this was how he behaved with Yunjin, you can’t blame the girl for breaking up with him– everything about the smug look on his face and the fact that he chose to take your favorite seat in the classroom makes your blood boil with annoyance. 

“W-what?” you stutter out, still not quite believing your ears. 

The man doesn’t reply to you– it’s too much effort, it seems– only making you angrier. Why did he even choose you as his partner if he didn’t want to work on the project in the first place? You’re no stranger to procrastination and leaving work for last minute, and you’re also not really a fan of the feeling of stress creeping up your back whenever you give in to the inevitable action of procrastinating; so if it comes to a project that is quite literally 70% of your grade, you would rather not do everything the week before.

Seeing that you’re getting ignored again, you put on your brave face as you fold your hands on your chest, determined to do something about the issue at hand. “Can’t you just put in some effort, man? I’d rather not do this last minute. I know that you probably don’t give a shit, but I do care about my grades, y’know,” you get out, seeing as the man next to you finally straightens his back and looks at you sharply– as if he has any right to point you with the killing look in this dark eyes– before he squints in mock agony.

“Do you really have to be such a fucking perfectionist?” he snaps at you, taking you by surprise. 

This is not how you imagined Huang Renjun to be. Looking at him over the course of the years, more often than not, you always saw the boy with a welcoming smile on his face. Whenever he was around Yunjin, he was all sweet words and gentle touches, erupting laughter whenever he was around his friends. When you were a freshman, somewhere in the back of your brain, you even envied the circle of friends he had around him, daydreaming about fitting in with them when you were lonely at lunch break. That was before you met Jimin at volleyball practice– the extracurricular you lasted in only for a week with the intention of making some friends (at least it worked) – and moved in with her in your second semester when both of your roommates decided to drop out. The girl provided you with undeniable love and care, and while you no longer desired to fit into a circle like Huang Renjun’s, talking to him now makes you feel like a child with crushed dreams.

“I’m sorry?” is all you get out as you stare at him with shock. If you were in a better mood, you would’ve searched through your brain to find a snarky remark to bite back at the boy. It’s too early in the morning and you weren’t prepared for his attitude, though, so you only opt to stare at him as he sighs in what you presume is annoyance– or defeat– as he scatters through his backpack and takes you a notebook, opening it to the first page and clicking his pen he found somewhere in the depths of his bag so he can write with it.

Too taken aback from his sudden change of mind, you wait for him to initiate any other action. You really don’t feel like getting screamed at again, so you chose to play it safe as you watch the man scribble the words Final project at the very top of the paper, underlining it two times and circling it five, the weird ritual making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“25 pages. We split half and half, so you can come up with whatever you want. We can do the design together and I really couldn’t give less shit about who works on the cover, so if you really want to do it, you can. Good?” he says, not once looking at you as he writes the words down on the paper. 

“Amazing,” you bite back with irony, shuffling your chair closer to the table so you can take a look at his notes, “the magazine has to have a coherent theme, though, doesn’t it? If we work on the pages by ourselves and just do whatever, as you said, it’s gonna be shit.”

You chose to accommodate yourself to the pattern of his speech– a habit you always do with new people, but in this situation, what feels the most safe. Seeing the man sigh again, twirling the ballpoint pen in between his fingers, he shrugs at your point and offers you a half-assed solution.

“We can figure that out later.”

Biting back a chuckle at his comment, it’s now your turn to sigh. Why was he being so difficult? Is it really that hard to make an effort on something important, especially when he was the one who said he wanted to work with you in the first place? Shaking your head in disbelief at his actions, you lean back in your chair and take out your own notebook, set on the decision of brainstorming as much as you can, hopefully coming out with some solid ideas you could incorporate in the magazine.

You have no idea what direction Renjun would go with. You don’t know anything about his interests or hobbies, and you surely don’t know what would inspire him or what he would want to write about. And with his new change of persona, you find him even more unreadable than he’s been in the past– and you can’t say you like the way he treats you right now. It seems like his sudden metamorphosis managed to change his brain synapses as well, because this is not the idea of Huang Renjun that you knew until now.

Chewing on the end of your pencil, you take a glimpse of your seatmate. He is messily scribbling something down onto his paper, seemingly realizing that the sooner you start working on this, the better, and with how full his paper seems to be, you wonder if this project won’t be that hard to complete after all.

“We’re doing the cover together,” you mumble out, seeing as the boy tears his eyes off his paper, glaring at you instead.

Almost expecting him to snap at you again, awaiting his suggestion that you will be the one doing all the work, you’re left with an answer that satisfies you with yet another surprise. “If you really insist…”

“Are you really sure you want to do this right now?” Jimin asks you as you put on your shoes at the door, slinging your backpack containing not only your laptop and notebooks, but also snacks just in case you get hungry. Looking at her through the hair falling into your face that you efficiently get out of the way with a poof of breath coming out of your mouth, you chuckle at her distress. The girl’s been watching you get ready for the last 15 minutes, with her robe on and bowl of guacamole in her right palm, eating up on the tortilla chips every once in a while as she squints at you with disbelief.

“Yeah, why not?” you shrug. “If he’s initiating this, I don’t see a problem. Besides, I think that if I don’t take every chance I get, I’ll end up working on the project alone, and I really don’t like that idea.”

Humming in agreement for the first time since you told your roommate that Renjun texted you if you wanted to work on the project today, Jimin motions to the phone sitting at the entryway table next to the front door. “Well, just make sure to text me if anything goes wrong and I’ll come pick you up,” she suggests, making you giggle at her noticeable worry. 

“Okay, mum,” you shake your head in disbelief, finally slugging the backpack over your shoulder and walking out of the door of your apartment. 

The truth is, you can’t really blame Jimin for her over-protective behavior. Ever since you retold her everything that happened that one time in Journalism class, she’s been wary of Huang Renjun. You would agree with all of her arguments of how much of a dick he is when acting like that, but you also don’t really think you have to put more energy into hating him at this moment, since it won’t really help you with your assignment and you don’t have any other choice. You are stuck with a grumpy project partner and that’s how the rest of your semester will go– you just have to learn how to live with his annoying remarks and snarky comments at whatever you say. Who knows, he may be in his ‘hating all women’ era, considering the breakup and all…

You can’t say you weren’t surprised when he added you on Instagram and messaged you about the project this afternoon, though. Considering that you were always the one initiating the talks about the final assignment over the course of the last few weeks, you weren’t expecting him to finally be the one reaching out. You would be stupid to not take him up on the offer, since you don’t know if it will happen ever again– who knows, he might have accidentally smashed his head into something and get a sudden revelation that is only a one time type of situation– and that’s exactly why you responded to him almost immediately (to which you admittedly, got a bit of an ick from yourself) and agreed to meet him at 6 in his apartment.

You were pleasantly surprised to learn that his place was only a 15 minute walk away from yours when he texted you the address, and after a few more minutes of scrolling through his Instagram that was private– and therefore hidden away from your eyes until now– you set yourself on the difficult journey.

Upon arriving at the apartment building, ringing the door bell and texting him to let you in just in case, so he knows it’s you, you start to feel a bit nervous, though. The truth is, you don’t really know what you’re getting yourself into as you walk into the elevator and press the button that takes you to the fourth floor– as he texted you the moment the door to the complex opened– and you think it’s safe to imagine you could be running out of that apartment at any given moment. Maybe Jimin was right and you should’ve taken at least some self-defense tools with you. You never know these days.

Once the elevator door opens and you step outside of the small space, you get prepared to take out your phone again to text him and ask which door leads to his apartment– the right or left– when you’re surprised with the sight of Huang Renjun already waiting for you in the doorway, loose sweatpants, messy hair and all, expecting your arrival.

Clearing your throat, you tightly smile at the male. “Hello.”

“Hi,” is all he responds as he moves away from the door and disappears into the apartment, seemingly thinking you're going to follow him and get inside, no questions asked. You expected at least an invitation to his premises, even a wave of his hand would be nice, you think, but you guess you can’t really have expectations that high when it comes to men– especially if the man in question is the insufferable Huang Renjun.

Taking your shoes off at the entrance– because even though your host doesn’t have good manners, you still do– the figure of Huang Renjun suddenly appears in the doorway of one of the rooms, watching you put the sneakers into a corner that seems to be designated for footwear. Looking up at him with expecting eyes, he finally breaks the awkward silence as he takes a step inside one of the rooms, calling you to go after him.

“We can work here, I guess,” he mumbles, leading you into what you presume is a living room connected to a kitchen– the place is not that big, but you are a broke university student too, so you don’t have it in you to judge. The place is surprisingly clean and adorned with multiple plants all around the corners of the room and windowsills, the only thing out of place being some dishes at the kitchen counter, waiting to be either used or put away, since they look washed. There’s a sofa in the shape of an L in the middle of it all, a TV sitting right opposite of it on a small TV stand, and when you notice an opened laptop on the coffee table, you presume that this is your work station for the day. You half expected him to invite you to his bedroom, but you guess that you can’t really complain– this feels much less awkward anyway. 

Nodding at his words, you move to the sofa and rest your backpack against the foot of it. Taking out your laptop as well, you sit crossed-legged at the soft cushions as you watch Renjun walk over to the kitchen side of the room, opening up a cupboard and taking out two glasses, bringing them to the crowded coffee table alongside with a bottle of soda. You think this is his way of welcoming you in as your guest, but you don’t have it in yourself to thank him– he’s the one being silent all the time anyway. You won’t put effort unless he does.

The boy silently takes a seat opposite of you, but chooses the carpeted floor instead of the sofa– a sight that almost makes you chuckle in amusement when he struggles to fold his legs in the small space– sighing and bringing the laptop closer to himself, rubbing a palm across his face in presumed tiredness. 

“Did you work on the ideas for the articles?” you ask, voice low, as if you were afraid to speak first, now that you’re in his space. “If they’re too different from mine, we can make like… sections… in the magazine… or something like that. But I think it would be easier if they correlated, you know.”

Renjun hums, not giving you many words this time either. He’s always difficult to work with, but today, it irritates you twice as much– maybe because you’ve gone out of your way to meet him at his apartment, when it was all his idea to work on the project today in the first place. Sighing in disappointment, the boy takes it as a hint that you expect more of him than tired hums and silent nods, and so he opens his mouth to speak, soft voice echoing through the silent apartment.

“I did,” he says, “don’t really know what you’re going for, but I have a short list.”

Satisfied with his answer, you nod. “Can I see it?”

Shrugging, he looks around for a while, eyes searching through the place as he finally finds the paper peeking out from the bottom of the coffee table– so much for the seemingly clean space– and offers the A4 format to you, scribbles in blue ink almost unreadable as you squint onto them, bringing them closer to your face. Once your eyes finally get adjusted to his handwriting, you manage to decipher a few of the words he’s written down; some of his ideas are neatly described, yet, some of them are just a simple word that barely gives you any idea of what he truly meant to say.

The difference between more thought-out ideas like ‘Karaoke songs (history, questionnaire of favorites across the campus…)’, ‘The importance of art in education’, ‘How to really use wikipedia’ and simple words like ‘campus’, ‘festivals’ and ‘soccer(?)’ almost makes you laugh out loud, but you note that the boy actually took the time of his day to work on the project like he promised you he would the last time you spoke about it in class, so you can’t really say anything mean to him, for you truly think it would hurt his pride. Nodding as you finish reading over the list, you offer the paper back to him, noticing him watching you with eyes full of undeniable expectancy.

“Satisfied?” he asks, irony seeping through his voice. 

Rolling your eyes at him– because of course he has to be annoying about everything– you choose to not play by his rules, opting to nod instead and let the tiniest bit of irritation show only through your ironic smile as you reply to him. “Very, actually.”

Seeing as he’s satisfied with himself, you choose to continue to lead this meeting with the same energy as to this moment. You think it’s the safest choice, and it’s also what he seems to be comfortable with, so you don’t beat around the bush and speak up again. “I think it won’t be that hard to combine our lists, since our ideas aren’t that different,” you note, cringing at the suggestion that you and the man in front of you actually kind of think alike, “but I think it would be nice if we chose a few topics and wrote about them together. I bet the professor would like to see some articles written by the both of us, so it shows that we actually worked on it together, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” he mumbles under his breath, taking you off guard. See, maybe you got ahead of yourself when you thought that this afternoon might go by smoothly– you forgot for a moment that Huang Renjun enjoys the idea of being a total ass to the people around him (or you, at least) these days. Huffing at his response, you furrow your brows in disbelief.

“Why not?”

“Just… don’t wanna,” he answers shortly, shrugging in nonchalance.

The sight of him in front of you, not even sharing eye contact as he points his gaze towards his laptop, makes your blood boil. What does he even think of himself? You were starting to think that Jimin was right– you should’ve rethought this interaction over and spared yourself the trouble, because this was surely not going anywhere.

“Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you were clearly the one that told me we were project partners, so I don’t know why you’re being so difficult about this-” you huff, but are instantly cut off by your partner.

“I’m being difficult?”

“Yes,” you jump in, “yes you are! And I don’t get why you even invited me over to work on this, when you clearly don’t have the slightest intention to do so in the first place!” you complete, almost ready to stand up from your place on the light-brown sofa and storm out of his apartment. 

He chuckles at your outburst, rolling his eyes. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not in the mood to work on a stupid project after arguing the whole day on the phone with my cheating ex-girlfriend,” he mutters.

The moment those words come out of his mouth, it seems like the already silent apartment gets even quieter. Staring at him in dumbfoundance, the spark that ignited the anger in you suddenly dies out as you ponder on your next actions. Because what does one do when your project partner suddenly overshares possibly one of the most traumatic and heartbreaking facts about himself so casually, in between snarky comments and a petty argument? Sure, you do feel sorry for him now– because no matter how shitty a person acts to you, nobody deserves to get cheated on– and you suddenly wonder if the whole change of atmosphere in his character isn’t the direct result of this very fact. 

You can’t tell him that you’re sorry– because frankly, you know that Huang Renjun doesn’t want your pity. He doesn’t want to hear that you feel sorry for him and what happened, because you’re not friends and you’re not close enough for you to express such feelings towards him. A question arises in the very same essence, though, making you wonder why he even chose to share this information with you in the heat of the moment in the first place, and even though you could excuse his lack of motivation to work on the project by this fact, it still doesn’t change the reality that he was the one initiating the whole thing, and suddenly, you feel confused. 

He invited you over to work on a project, even though his mood was shitty and he didn’t have the motivation to do so. One would find that ridiculous, but if you really look past the sharp eyes and the bleached mess on his head, you could see the true intention behind his actions– the poor boy just wanted a distraction. And with how empty his apartment seems to be right now– his roommate, Donghyuck (a person that Jimin shares a Finance class with, as you learned this very afternoon) is nowhere to be seen– you only bet you were the last option he had instead of wallowing himself in pity and terror. 

Jimin would argue that you’re stupid for your next actions– you would even agree, because this truly doesn’t feel like you– but still, despite going against yourself in a way, you close the laptop sitting in your lap and reach over to the soda he placed in the middle of the coffee table, pouring yourself a glass. You don’t leave his apartment like you fantasized of doing just a few minutes ago; instead, after downing the sickeningly sweet liquid, the bubbles hurting your throat, you rest your back against the sofa and watch the boy in a new light.

“Okay, let’s not work on the assignment, then,” you calmly say, “wanna watch something on Netflix instead?” you ask, seeing him staring at you with confusion in his expression.

“I don’t-”

“It’s okay if you don’t have it, I can log in with my roommate’s account. She’s probably watching Single’s Inferno right now, but I’ll text her to find something better to do instead,” you don’t let him finish his sentence– because you already know that he’d try to protest to your suggestion– shrugging in nonchalance as you reach over to the TV remote you find sandwiched between the sofa cushions.

Turning the TV on, not even sparing a glance to the grumpy-looking boy sitting on the floor opposite of you, the shuffling of clothes and socked-feet on the ground lands into your ears, a figure taking the remote out of your hand when you can’t figure out how the TV works, a low mumble full of fake offendance masking the shameful, yet clear gratitude in his voice.

You don’t miss it as you look over at him with a tight-lipped smile, though, seeing the Netflix app suddenly come up on the TV, his shoulders relaxing as he settles into the cushions of the sickeningly colored sofa. 

“Of course I have Netflix, what do you think I am, poor?” he grunts.

…and the old Renjun is back.

Arriving at class the next week, you’re finally met with less nervousness than the last few times. After interacting with Huang Renjun more and seeing him break his stone-cold demeanor in front of you as you two watched Netflix– he even made popcorn after the second episode of Unsolved mysteries you decided to watch when you saw the show in his ‘continue watching’ list and gushed about how it’s your favorite (to which he told you that you’re weird, but he’s the one binge watching it too, so you really don’t know why you’re the problem and he's not). Thankfully he doesn’t seem as smug and insufferable as he did before. It’s not like you’re suddenly best friends or anything, but you can feel the ice between you melting with every word he sends your way that isn’t laced with irony– not that there's many of them, since Huang Renjun loves his sarcasm– but it’s progress in your book.

Walking over to your usual seat in the classroom, making your backpack fall to the ground next to your desk with a soft thud, you sit at the chair and take out your things for the class when you notice something standing in the way of your notebook and pencil case in the middle of the table. 

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you move the cup of coffee out of your way, closer to your seatmate’s side. Sighing, you mumble under your breath. “Don’t you have enough space for your things on your side of the table?”

“That’s yours,” he deadpans. Gaze switching between the cup of iced americano from the coffee shop at the corner of the campus (you know it by the plastic cup with their logo on it– it's too tacky for your liking and you even gushed about it to Jimin the day the café opened) and the blonde boy next to you, confusion doesn’t seem to leave your insides as you let out an unfocused hum, showing him that you’re still not following. 

“Do you not like coffee or something?” he hisses, seemingly annoyed at your expression. If you saw yourself in the mirror, maybe you’d understand his frustration– your brows are furrowed and there's a crease in the middle of your forehead from how hard you're racking your brain to come up with answers– but now, you’re just in utter disbelief. Maybe you are a little slow– it’s only 8 in the morning, to your defense– but you really don’t remember bringing coffee to school today. Especially not an iced americano– you don’t like the bitter taste, opting to choose a sweeter drink like a caramel macchiato or the infamous pink drink that Jimin teased you for the last time you got it. So how did this strange cup of coffee end up on your table?

Looking around the space, noticing another half-empty cup of coffee on Renjun’s side of the table, the label on the plastic the same as the cup that was waiting on your side, you finally connect the dots. “Did you get that for me?”

“Yeah,” he nods, not even looking at you as he agrees, taking another sip of his coffee instead. 

Now, you do finally know where the strange cup of coffee came from. Why did Renjun buy you coffee in the first place, though, is still a mystery to you, but you guess with how he’s avoiding your gaze, eyes glued to the white board and an uninterested expression sitting on his face, you think it’s better to not ask him any other follow-up questions. He did something nice for you, and with how your thoughts and rationalization are the only clues you can use in figuring out the reason behind it, you wonder if this was his way of apologizing for being rude to you and thanking you for hanging out with him last week.

“Thanks,” you mumble out instead, smiling at his humming figure that barely acknowledges your spoken gratitude. Taking a sip of the drink, while trying really, really hard not to scowl at the bitter taste, you shift your focus on the class instead, taking notes from time to time. Drinking the coffee as if it was a disgustingly tasting medicine your mother forced you to take when you were little– you hated the taste, but had to get through it anyway– you eventually finish your iced americano somewhere in the middle of the lecture. You feel kind of proud of your acting skills, but there’s also an annoying voice somewhere in the back of your head asking you why you even forced yourself to get through that drink anyway and why is it that you didn’t want to hurt Renjun’s feelings by refusing it in the first place. 

But like anyone in your position would, you shush that voice out of your head.

“Did you finish watching the whole season last week?” you ask instead, suddenly interested in having a conversation with him. After you told Jimin about how your weird hang-out with Renjun went, she practically scolded you for not going home right after he let out the first snarky comment out of his mouth. And maybe she’s right and the whole thing you’re trying to do– but what are you even trying to do in the first place? – makes you seem like you’re out of your mind, but at the end of the day, you did finally progress in watching the TV show after putting it on hold for multiple months because your dear roommate wouldn’t stop begging you to watch all of the seasons of Too hot to handle with you instead, so it’s a win in your book.

“I didn’t,” he replies, his voice quiet enough only for you to hear, not interrupting the rest of the class, “Hyuck, my roommate, didn’t come home until like 11pm and I got too creeped out to watch it alone after you left,” he completes, his face completely serious as he utters out the laughable words.

Chuckling at his response, you see him crack a smile from the corner of your eye. The sight is a rather pleasant one, for you think you've  forgotten how it looks in what seems like ages since the obvious breakup with his girlfriend happened, the reminder of his squinted eyes and full cheeks making you feel accomplished, in a way. “Didn’t think you were the type to get scared so easily,” you tease him.

“Not scared,” he huffs out, offended, “just creeped out. That’s different.”

“Did you wait for your roommate because you were too scared to go to sleep?” you test the waters with more teasing, your tone light and playful.

“No, I waited for him because the last time he got home late and I was asleep, he came home drunk and broke down the door to his room and we had to get it replaced,” he announces, making you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand as you almost burst out into a loud giggle. 

“You know what? Yeah. Valid.”

Your conversation falls silent after that, and it makes your spirit fall for a split second. You don’t even know why you wanted it to continue– you don’t know your seatmate, and frankly, you shouldn’t have the desire to do so in the first place. But the sudden act of service thrown your way, although the coffee was disgusting and he could’ve presented the gift to you in a different, more welcoming way, made you get your hopes up– about what exactly, though? 

Jimin always told you that desperately wanting to be everyone’s friend (despite being socially awkward and kind of nervous around new people), is one of your best and worst qualities at the same time. Best, because it means that you’re nice to people– worst, because you’re nice even to people that don’t deserve your kindness; and you also get too disappointed when people don’t share the same enthusiasm with you. Maybe some friendships are meant to keep at surface level, and if this was the type of relationship you and your project partner are about to have, you’re going to have to let go of that annoying voice in your head that keeps telling you to get deeper than that level.

“Why did you dye your hair, by the way?” you ask him nonetheless, after a few heartbeats of silence, curiosity getting the best of you. The moment this question leaves your mouth, you regret it– thinking you somehow could’ve made the boy uncomfortable, your words annoying to his ears– but instead of rolling his eyes at you or telling you to shut up, he replies instead. The reaction surprises you– he really conditioned you to think that every question of yours is going to be met with spite and tantrum, didn't he?

“Dunno,” he says, shrugging, “they say blondes have more fun, so I think it’s only natural to go blonde when you’re sad. To cancel it out, or something,” he snickers as he looks at you, realizing the implication of his words makes the whole statement kind of embarrassing, his tight-lipped smile being the proof of his internal battle not to cringe at his explanation.

You understand, humming in acknowledgment. You’re just a simple woman, after all– you very well understand the urge to change your hair after a breakup. While it is a visible proof of his mental breakdown, you guess you can’t really blame him for trying to feel like there are things that are under his control; even if it’s just the color of his hair.

Walking along Renjun, the atmosphere is thick and a little awkward. Your bag is heavy on your back and you’re slowly starting to feel a bit of an ugly sting in your bones from it; you mourn the fact that you decided to ask Renjun to walk there with you instead of having to take the bus by yourself, too afraid of getting the address wrong and getting lost along the way. You’d love any kind of transport instead of your own two legs right now, since the walk seems to be never ending and you’re pretty certain that the backs of your feet have calluses from wearing your new shoes that you got from a clearance sale from the Nike store at the corner of the town. 

Clearing your throat, you decide to spark up a conversation. It seems like you always have to be the one to initiate things when it comes to Renjun– it’s kind of ironic, though, when you think of the fact that he was the one that made you be his project partner in the first place.“Why did you wanna do the article about the shelter? I didn’t know you were an animal person,” you hum, testing the waters with a casual question. 

Looking up at you, furrowing his brows, the man offers you an indifferent shrug. “My friend Taeyong works there and he wanted to advertise the shelter a little, so I offered to take pictures for his Facebook page in exchange for me writing the article about it,” he mumbles, “he thinks that would give the shelter more exposure too, but I doubt it. Nobody’s gonna read our fake magazine anyway, it’s just an assignment…”

Humming, you kick the rocks on the pavement, a tight-lipped smile appearing on your face. Huang Renjun must do a lot for his friends, you think. You remember him taking pictures for his friend Xiaoting once– she’s an influencer (a model, if you want) and well known around the campus. When you saw his instagram username in one of the picture descriptions one day, you were surprised at the quality of those shoots (and it also led you to stalking his instagram for a bit, but that’s not the main point of this conversation). You also remember seeing him with his friends Shotaro and Yangyang in a team when it was your school’s annual Sports day (you’d argue that you’re not high schoolers anymore and this day is useless, but your classmates seem to think otherwise) trying his best, despite not really liking sports in the first place– or so you heard and seen from how badly he did in most disciplines except from running– and if that’s not a sign of him doing everything he could just to make his friends happy, you don’t know what is. So to see him doing an article about the animal shelter Taeyong works at, despite being more of a plant person himself, you’re not as surprised as you thought you’d be. He does show affection to his friends, after all– you’re just not one of them to see that side of him often.

Walking some more, you eventually end up in front of a big building painted a light tangerine color, windows decorated with pretty curtains on full display to you. Renjun chimes in like a regular, crossing multiple halls and taking sharp turns before you’re met with the image of a taller man with dark brown hair putting small, pastel colored collars on necks of a few little creatures running around the room, despair clearly written on his face.

“No! Don’t run away, oh god-”

Chuckling at the view of yet another kitten running away from his hands, you admire the fluffy little cats crawling all around the place, your heart quickly softening at the sight of them. It’s been a while since you were around animals yourself– the dog you had back home died the summer before the semester started and you weren’t really in the mood to get a new one, since you weren’t going to be around much anyway. 

When yet another kitten escapes the man’s hold, you find yourself watching Renjun as he crouches to the floor and swiftly takes one into his hands, walking closer to the man with collars in his hands, grinning to himself. “Here you go.”

“Man, the cats hate me… where did you two get here?” he shakes his head in disbelief, putting a collar onto the small cat before he pets it on its tiny head.

“Just a minute ago,” Renjun says, “is that one Poppy?” he asks, reading the name tag dangling from the little band around its head, affection filling his words.

“Now it is. I got confused when they all started running around,” he shrugs, sighing as he looks around the room, counting the last few kittens that needed their collars. His eyes soon land on you, a welcoming smile spreading on his boxy lips. “Hey! I’m Taeyong. You must be Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, trying to make yourself seem as nice as possible. You don’t know what Renjun told him about you, but if they were bad things, you only hope to undeceive the man with your warm attitude. 

Renjun then puts the kitten down, and while you’d expect it to run away from him and join its siblings in the corner of the room, the creature does quite the opposite– it stays by his side and lays on the ground close to him, making even Taeyong himself gasp at the image. “Wow,” he snickers, “you should start coming here every time I need to put these on them, you’re like a cat whisperer.”

While the two of them chat, you stay a little behind, not really wanting to intrude. You take off the heavy bag and take out your camera, deciding to take a few pictures of the shelter instead, so you can say you worked on the interview with him. You think it’s expected of you, since he asked you to come along despite being absolutely fully capable of doing the interview with his friend alone, so you do your work and zoom in on the two of them talking, snapping a few quick pictures. 

After a while, you take a seat on the ground– being the infamous enjoyer of sitting on the hard surface of it, earning yourself a lot of scolding screams from your mother growing up– and fully take in the interior. The walls are the same light tangerine color as the outside ones, and there’s a little enclosure in the corner of the room that would surely make Taeyong’s job much easier if only he had used it. There are bags of cat food in the other corner of the room, and while the shelter doesn’t look very modern or fancy, you think it’s kinda homey and welcoming. You bet kids would love it here– with the colorful atmosphere and the smiley worker running around catching kittens, and after a while of taking pictures of everything your eyes land on, you find your inner child healing, little by little.

The truth is, you always wanted a cat. But you were never able to get one, because your mother hates them. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you petted strays on the street and begged her to take them home, you never won this battle– so you had to settle on a dog. And don’t get me wrong, you loved your dog, but at the end of the day, you knew you were more of a cat person anyway.

Reaching forward a little, noticing the kitten waddling your way, you think of petting it– it quickly jumps out of your reach, though, too scared of your touch, and you’re left frowning, the bubble bursts at the rejection from the small ball of fluffiness.

“Taeyong?” you hear a voice of a woman call from the door, the man swiftly turning to her with brows raised in question. “They need your help with the big dogs. They keep dragging Yeri on the leash and she’s too weak to get them to their cages.”

“Oh,” the man deadpans, scratching his neck for a bit before he turns to Renjun again, escaping the room in one swift motion, “I’ll be right back!”

The room falls silent after that, no longer having the background noise of their conversation playing as you observe the animals. You feel the atmosphere growing thicker again, and as time passes by, you find yourself taking short glances at your project partner, wondering what’s on his mind. One moment, he’s crouching down and petting the cats that come his way, the other, he is gazing out of the window with a soft frown that takes over his features like a dark shadow, and you wonder when this expression really settled into his face and made itself the default, and why is it not willing to leave. Not really knowing what to say or what to do to make the boy that’s still so out of your reach feel any better, you opt for silence, even though it does get quite heavy and thick over time– and the truth is, you don’t even know why you notice yourself feeling this way so often around him, when all he’s done was give you the cold shoulder so often and then offer you an iced americano you don’t even like in the first place.

Minutes pass and the silence slowly makes your ears ring; you desperately try to find a good solution in your brain– create a script where hanging out with Renjun is easier and less nerve-wrecking– but still, there’s nothing and you’re left with the awkwardness and hesitance. Sighing when another kitten escapes your grasp, you put your hands into your lap and give up on the task, settling on just watching them instead– there was no use in you trying to pet one when all it wanted to do was run away from you.

Watching the group of fluff jumping at each other and sleeping all around the room, your focus only shifts when there’s a kitten suddenly thrusted into your point of view, its big blue eyes staring you down making you awe. You wonder how it got there in a moment of full stupidity before you look up and see your project partner, the cat magnet himself, holding the cat up to you, waiting for you to take it into your hold and pet it. Gazing at him with mouth agape in confusion, he slowly puts the cat into your lap, petting the creature when it settles, and takes a seat opposite of you all in the span of a few seconds, the action making you smile uncontrollably.

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” he mumbles, watching as you pet the kitten in your lap, cooing at the soft fur. There’s a hint of you that desperately wants to adopt it once you finally pet the small cat, but you know that it wouldn’t be a smart idea– animals are banned at dorms and you don’t think you’d have enough energy to take care of another living creature right now anyways.

“They are,” you hum, “I always wanted one.”

“Why didn’t you get one, then?”

“My mum doesn’t like them very much,” you mumble, pouting at the small creature in your hold, as if to apologize for the words coming out of your mouth.

He hums in acknowledgement, picking up another kitten that waddles his way, putting it up on his thigh– his body now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Watching as the animal crawls up his body and tickles him with its claws, soft laughter erupts out of him, making you smile unconsciously at the boy. 

“I’m not really into animals that much,” he says, further proving your earlier claims. See– in some ways, Renjun is easy to read. Just by looking at him, you could tell he’s not a fan of sweet beverages; you can tell he enjoys black coffee– just like the one he brought you that day– and herbal teas, perfectly matching the image of him in your head that’s surrounded by plants rather than animals, just the bit of greenery you saw around the kitchen very clearly still alive and thriving making you believe you are correct in this assumption as well. One can say a lot about a person by the way they dress, and with Renjun’s casual, yet cozy attire, you can tell he dresses for himself, choosing comfort over style, but still looking effortlessly put together at the same time. You would never strike him as someone that makes spontaneous decisions, rather being more focused on a plan, so to see him dye his hair so randomly is a sign of the fact that there’s something crumbling inside of him– a sense of security, maybe a feeling of stableness– that he tries so hard to grasp. 

“They are into you, though,” you giggle when the kitten purrs at his touch, pointing at the cross-eyed creature. 

“What can I say,” he shrugs, “I guess I’m that irresistible.”

There aren’t many opportunities for you to laugh at his jokes. Mainly because he doesn’t make many, but also because you always notice them being self-deprecating, and you don’t want to support that idea in his head. At this one, though, you send him a soft chuckle and a roll your eyes, showing how you seemingly think the idea is ridiculous and his joke is corny, but deep inside knowing that you resonate with his words.

In a moment of selfishness– an indulgence you try to mask by the fact that you came here because of the assignment and this was your job in the first place– you take your camera and snap a picture of the boy in front of you, his hands holding the small kitten up in air and snickering when he sees you pointing the lens to him in order to capture him playing with the creature. You don’t know what it is that makes your heart warm up at the image that comes up on the screen shortly after, but you figure that’s a problem of future you and there’s no use in pondering about it now.

You don’t know how many minutes pass with just the two of you playing with the kittens, but when Renjun takes his phone out of his pocket and checks the time, you furrow your brows before he hums. “He’s taking so much time,” he says, sighing. 

All while playing with the fuzzy small balls, you didn’t even notice the time passing by so quickly. You don’t know how much time it’s been, but you assume it could be more than 35 minutes of the two of you left alone in the room, Taeyong seemingly too overwhelmed with the shelter responsibilities.

“Maybe we should go,” he offers, catching you off guard.

“Oh,” you hum, “well, maybe. But you haven’t even done an interview with him yet,” you mumble, your hands lost in the soft fur of the kitten still laying in your lap.

“I can just send him the questions to his email. Perhaps, I’m sure you’ve taken more than enough pictures of the kittens for his Facebook page,” he snickers, shrugging, “I don’t see why we should be staying here if he’s busy, we’re only putting more work on him.”

“I- I mean…” you mumble, trailing off at the end. You don’t really wanna say goodbye to the kittens, the healing in your heart not quite done yet, when the boy next to you laughs at what you presume is your emotions showing clearly on your face.

“Unless you wanna play with them more, of course. We can stay a little longer, then.”

The autumn season slowly fades into winter, time passing by quicker than you could even grasp. The shock and surprise of having to work on the lengthy project with Renjun morphs into a feeling of ordinarity, getting used to his mood slowly shifting from reserved and irritated to a one more pleasant, full of hesitant smiles and soft words when he notices you feeling down or disappointed with yourself, and a one more close to a brother-like teasing when he watches you arrive to his apartment to work on things. One would say you hit it off, your energies matching as you slowly get to know the boy, but still, there’s a hint of something inside of you that makes you grow nervous around him whenever he is too close to your figure, your body falling limp and your brain working on overdrive. You wonder if it’s the sheer fact of simply not being fully used to his presence; while Jimin says you’re down bad for the man. She’s wrong– or at least you’re convinced that she is– and that’s why you simply think the uncertain feeling of uneasiness that settles in your bones sometimes is the effect of the fact that you never truly know what to expect when you arrive at Renjun’s place.

Some days, when you arrive, there’s a mess waiting for you in the living room, where you usually work on the project with Renjun. There are pots and pans with dried food everywhere and your partner’s hands are foaming with washing liquid when he opens the door for you, and you giggle at the sight. Other days, the apartment is full of people you don’t know and Renjun has to throw them out with a scream saying that the group was supposed to leave two hours ago, and when you come on weekends, he lets you in wearing sweatpants and bed hair, as if he spent the whole day in his sheets. Dare you say, this is your favorite version of him– his eyes are half-lidded and he moves slowly, even his remarks aren’t as harsh as they tend to get. Jimin once argued and told you that you two don’t even need to meet that often for the sake of the project– and on a weekend as well– but you’d say it adds to the value of the magazine if you two can get opinions out of each other and review each other’s writing in real time. 

Some days, his roommate is home, and that’s when you join Renjun in his room so you two get a bit of privacy (not that you’re doing anything that requires privacy. His roommate Donghyuck is just very nosy and he keeps asking you questions you don’t have the time and energy to answer). 

Today is one of these days, with his energetic roommate roaming the halls of the apartment, but this time, you two don’t hide away in the comfort of Renjun’s small, yet very organized room. Sitting in the living room of his and Hyuck’s shared apartment, your bottom meeting the carpeted floor instead of the cushions of their couch, your laptop screen darkening when you don’t work on the device for some time and it puts itself to sleep mode. The reason for said action is your attention being somewhere completely else– on Donghyuck’s figure trailing in and out of the room, each time wearing a different outfit than before.

“What about this one, Y/N? Do I look good?” he asks, posing like a model that didn’t pass an audition in any modeling agency, their dream of flashing a smile on the title pages of Vogue fading out of their sight.

You burst out laughing at the weird combination. You don’t remember Donghyuck ever being bad at fashion from the few times you've met him before he left their apartment to attend a party or go to class– you’re quite certain that his habit to always tuck in his shirts into his skinny jeans, the stylistic choice showcasing his long legs making not one, but many girls, boys and others salivate over him. But when seeing him in a tragic combination of cowboy boots and a cow-print shirt, you can’t help but giggle.

“Hyuck, now you’re just taking the shit. That’s your Halloween costume from last year,” the boy next to you on the ground whines, running his hands through his hair in despair.

“Okay, but what if I really want to wear it?” he asks all innocent, his roommate now faking a cry in response, “besides, I was asking Y/N, so you shut your mouth.”

“I think it’s great,” you nod, wiping the corner of your eyes from the stray tears that fall off from the laughter you’ve been doing at the interaction. Your assignment was long forgotten the first moment Donghyuck decided to pay you a visit in the living room, starting with shitting on his professor for making him study on a weekend (which you argued that he could’ve started with earlier in the week, to which he glared at you and asked if he looks like a nerd), and then proceeding to do everything but study– starting with making a smoothie in the living room– while efficiently making so much noise with the mixer every time Renjun spoke up, annoying the short male– to giving you a make-shift fashion show.

“Do you want me to embarrass myself? See, I wore this to test if you were being genuine, but I see now that you’re on Renjun’s side,” he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief and escaping the living room, making you burst out laughing even more as you hear the door to his room shut with a loud thud.

He’ll come back soon– you’re sure of it.

And you’re right. After Renjun manages to let out a loud noise of despair at the fact that he has to live with someone like Lee Donghyuck– not only now, he complains about it every other day, when the latter drags him to parties only for him to be the designated driver for the night and get him home safely, or how he makes him pay for dinner he orders for the both of them without asking– the other man joins you in the living room again, now dressed casually in sweatpants and a loose shirt.

“Okay, the fashion show’s over. I think I’ll go with the first outfit, just by the way, because it matches my eyes,” he says, quite seriously, to which Renjun only sighs.

“Hyuck, your eyes are brown.”

“Okay and?”

“That what you wore was– you know what, never mind…” Renjun shakes his head as he stops himself mid-sentence, making you snicker at the mental image of the outfit Donghyuck’s talking about, because frankly, Renjun is right with his frustration. The shirt his roommate wore was blue, and while it didn’t clash in the slightest, it surely didn’t match the brown depth of Donghyuck’s orbs, and that’s what makes the whole thing that much funnier.

Turning your head around to watch Renjun’s roommate moving through the kitchen area, opening up the fridge and pouring himself a glass of milk– you don’t even dare to question him anymore– you ask. “What is the occasion anyway?”

“Jisung’s birthday party,” he mumbles, taking a sip, “you know Park Jisung, right?”

“Never heard of him,” you shake your head, seeing as the man widens his eyes at you with surprise.

“No? Well, you’re gonna get to know him soon, then,” he says, shrugging.

“That sounds like a threat,” you giggle, “what do you even mean?”

To that, Donghyuck shifts his eyes to his roommate sitting next to you on the ground, shrugging. “Well, I assumed you were invited…” he says, grinning to himself.

The man next to you audibly sighs– what is the reason behind his frustration this time, you truly do not know, but with Renjun, there’s always something getting on his nerves. He has a problem with having his anger in control sometimes.

Furrowing your eyebrows at the proposition, you shake your head. “Why would I be invited to Park Jisung’s birthday party?”

“Because it’s quite the event! Park Jisung’s turning into an adult, and to that, he’s throwing a big party, which means friends of friends of friends are invited,” he says, as if it was the most matter-of-fact information you’ve ever heard, “and since you’re a friend of a friend, I’d assume you get a pass.”

Shrugging, you mutter. “Well, I wasn’t invited,” you add, not paying the whole party much thought. 

The man squints his eyes at the two of you, eyes drifting from one figure to the other, humming to himself as if he was lost in thought. “Okay, then…” he mysteriously mumbles under his breath before downing the glass and putting it into the sink, completing his visit by exiting the living room.

“Would you come back and wash your dishes after yourself?” Renjun yells into the depths of the apartment, a sneaky remark being thrown his way almost immediately.

“No, thank you!”

And after watching the interaction, you come to the conclusion that if you were living with Lee Donghyuck, you'd turn kind of crazy too. You can’t even blame Renjun anymore. Truth be told, though, you didn’t get much work done that Saturday, and you think his sheer presence might be the reason why.

“What do you think?” you ask, turning your laptop towards Renjun, the two of you currently sitting in the library, working on your project. Originally, you had planned to go to your place– but Jimin texted you last second that she has a guy over, and Renjun said his roommate has a gathering of some sort at his apartment, so you settled on the comfort and silence your university library provides. Not a lot of people are here during this time of the year; the exam season isn’t that close yet and no one’s panicking about last-minute studying, so only a few responsible students are currently scattered across the spacious room on the second floor, working on their essays. You bet they’re humanities students– they always have the most shit to do when it comes to essays. You study Journalism, but your roommate is a Sociology major, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone write as many essays as Jimin in a single semester.

What you’re showing Renjun is an opened Microsoft Publisher document, your shared magazine shining from the blue light of the screen. Renjun sent you his copy of the pages he’s done with the animal shelter interview, and as you were looking at the columns of text and off-centered pictures, the perfectionist in you woke up and forced you to fix the tiny mistakes that didn’t escape your eye.

“It’s different,” he hums, eyebrows furrowing as he examines the two-page spread, resting his head on his hand, plopped up on his elbow, and pushing his rimmed glasses further up his nose bridge. “Did you change anything?”

“I just… played around with it a little,” you mumble, afraid of what he thinks. As far as you know, he could flip out any second and scream at you for doing his work when it was perfectly fine the way he sent it to you– at least the Huang Renjun you met a few weeks ago would certainly do that– and so you don’t think it’s that unexpected of you to be so nervous about his opinion.

“This picture wasn’t here before,” he says, pointing to one of the pictures you neatly slotted into the corner of the page– it was one of your favorites, you must admit with severe embarrassment– with Renjun holding up a baby kitten, looking at it with softened eyes. When you looked at the page spread he sent you the other day, you couldn’t believe he didn’t add that picture. Something about it being your favorite– finding yourself admiring it when you look through the pictures on your camera’s SD card– was enough to make you think it’s surely his favorite as well. It didn’t matter that it didn’t really fit the professional aura the whole spread radiates. For you, the magazine wasn’t complete without including it– think of that what you will.

“It was asymmetrical without it, so I had to add it…” you say, scratching the back of your neck. That’s a partial lie– you could make it work if you moved the pictures around a little bit, but Renjun doesn’t have to know that.

He hums, eyes scanning over the text, shrugging. “It’s nice. As long as you didn’t change the text part, I don’t mind,” he says, relief making your shoulders slouch down, not even noticing how tense you’ve become, “I actually got bored while working on this, so I get that it didn’t really look nice before. Thanks,” he completes, offering you a soft smile as he takes a sip of the black americano sitting on the desk.

“Good,” you nod, shaking off the nervousness from before, “okay.”

Scrolling through the document, moving a few things around, adding better punctuation here and there, the number of pages is still not hitting the criteria for your final grade. That’s okay– you still have a lot of time to complete the magazine and you still have plenty of ideas. To execute them is another thing, but you’re sure you’ll find a way.

“What about your interview?” Renjun suddenly asks, almost making you jump up from the surprise that is created by his voice suddenly cutting through the silence of the library.

“What about it?” you hum, looking at him. His hair is a little tousled– he’s been putting in way less work than you today, laying on the table occasionally when you don’t show him anything on your laptop for a while, acting more as your company than a help. It looks like the coffee on his table is the only thing keeping him awake, and you suddenly feel a little bad for insisting on working on the project even though your initial plans of doing it at your place fell through, because he seems to be exhausted.

“Well, I did the shelter, so you should do something too,” he says, shrugging, “or do something similar, you know… I think it would be nice to have you write about something from a reporter's perspective.”

“Oh,” you nod, “well, I dunno… I had a few ideas, but it’s…”

“Hm?” he motions for you to talk when your voice drifts out, eyes looking at you with patience and genuine interest. The change of demeanor that’s been happening with him lately slightly shocks you, but you welcome the new character in him with open arms. Still, it doesn’t mean you don’t get a little hesitant around him whenever he shows you this side of him– you don’t really know how to react, or what to expect of him anymore. It’s like walking on eggshells, but you can’t say you hate the strange anticipation.

“Well, it’s stupid, but…” you start, seeing him roll his eyes at the beginning of your proposition, “my favorite writer is doing some sort of a fan sign slash q&a thing in the local library next week. She’s coming out with a new book, and I think it would be nice to get an interview with her, but she’s probably very busy and everything, so that won’t work out.”

Looking at Renjun, feeling shy of the sudden revelation of hopes and dreams, you chew on your bottom lip in anticipation. The range of answers he could give you is truly big– he could laugh at you, tell you to go alone, or he could tell you that it’s a stupid idea, a boring one, even, or he could be supportive– the least likely response, you think. Sharing your idea with him makes you a little hesitant again, feeling a little naked in front of him, and you even avert your gaze towards your laptop and aimlessly scroll through the document to avoid his gaze, to seem more nonchalant and not at all bothered by his lack of words, when he gives you a tired hum.

“Well, you could at least do an article about the library, then. To advertise sustainability, and all… And kids these days don’t read much, so I think it’s nice to talk about it,” he says, once again folding over the table and burrowing his face in the space between his folded arms and his chest, half sitting, half laying down on the furniture, “wanna go next week? Maybe we can catch that writer of yours.”

Allowing yourself to look at him, relief once again washing over you at the acceptance, you can’t help but smile at his slurred words of affirmation. “I mean, I’m down…”

Doubting you could get the interview– not even trying to reach out to the writer, already setting yourself up for the expected failure– you make plans to visit the library the said day with Renjun anyway. You’ll get your camera and maybe get some nice shots, maybe ask around for an interview from one of the nice, old librarians instead. It’s not a bad idea, and it fits the vibe of your magazine quite nicely.

Who knows, maybe you could even get your book signed. Doesn’t hurt to try.

You think it was safe to say that you didn’t expect to see a text message pop up on the screen of your phone one afternoon, the black letters shining darkly on the bright screen with a hesitant, yet a little hurried invitation to Park Jisung’s birthday party. The whole interaction you had about it with Renjun and Hyuck was awkward, and so to see getting an invitation for yourself the day of the said event was a shocking concept, leaving you scrambling your things from various places of your apartment and putting them into a handbag before getting dressed for the occasion. 

Quickly learning that Lee Donghyuck is a man of his word– meaning that he never lies, especially when it comes to big parties– your mouth hangs open when you arrive to the address Renjun texted you in the afternoon, the big mension-like building full of people you’ve never seen before, leaving you to acknowledge that friends of friends of friends must have been invited to fill up the whole place, since it’s not possible for poor Park Jisung to know everyone at his birthday party. The fact makes you feel less special; the invitation not really making you feel like you were wanted there, the place breaking in its seams making you internalize a thought that you were there just to fill up the blank spaces and Renjun invited you only for the sheer fact of needing a lot of people for his friend’s party. A little disappointed, yet, still kind of amazed at the size of it all, you walk out of Jimin’s car– she offered to drive you there– and hesitantly set your foot to the  grass that divides the land from the sidewalk. 

Feeling a little lost, turning your head in various directions to try to find anyone you’d know– Huang Renjun being the best alternative, since he was the one who invited you, after all– you start to feel a little out of place when no one pays you any attention and the loud music filling your ears only acts as a distraction that slowly makes you oversaturated with stimulus. Just when you go to take your phone out of your bag to call either Renjun or your roommate to come back to pick you up and drive you to the safety of your apartment, a hand lands on your shoulder and makes you turn around in your tracks, a strange sense of comfort enveloping your insides when you see the short blonde peeking at you from under his carelessly styled bangs, a grin sitting on his face. “You’re here!”

“Yeah. I told you I’d come…?” you mumble, observing Renjun’s sudden enthusiasm at your arrival, letting the man drag you inside of the building. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel all the eyes of the guests on you. While you were a stranger to all of them, you are almost certain the popular Huang Renjun was one of the more known people of the bunch, catching attention of multiple friends of his and also friends of their friends, and suddenly, the feeling of his touch on your wrist as he drags you inside makes your skin burn, your brain almost overheating when you realize this might as well be the first time you’ve had any sort of physical contact with the male. Fixing your gaze on his back, enveloped in an oversized leather jacket, you start to wonder if he’s drunk.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asks, finally turning back to you when you arrive in the spacious kitchen. You wonder if this house is rented, or if Park Jisung’s one of the wealthy kids in the town. You truly have no knowledge on the man, and when you hesitantly look around the room, trying to sort out what alcohol they have in store– while mentally thinking of what would make you the least hammered, considering your low alcohol tolerance– you feel Renjun’s eyes glued to you, heat inevitably rising to your cheeks. “What’s that in your hand?” he asks, making you jump out of your haze.

“Oh,” you stutter, “I brought a birthday gift for Jisung,” you mumble, seeing Renjun’s glossy eyes blink at you a few times, his lips suddenly twitching up in amusement. In this moment, you think he truly must be drunk, his fingers reaching towards the gift bag in your left hand as he peeks inside, noticing the handwritten card and a box of chocolates you brought to the boy you’ve never seen before. Your project partner cracks up as he puts the bag away to the corner of the room.

“You’re too sweet for this world,” Renjun giggles as he looks back at you, making you widen your eyes in surprise at the affectionate words falling off his tongue.

“Why?”

“Nobody actually expected you to bring a gift, you know,” he says as he walks through the half-empty kitchen, eyes roaming over the solo cups filled with alcohol, “you don’t even know him. Half the people here don’t know him and I’m pretty sure half of his actual friend group didn’t give him anything.”

“Oh,” you blink, suddenly feeling stupid. “Well, I didn’t want to seem rude…” you sheepishly mumble, scratching the back of your neck in hesitance. Maybe you did go a little overboard– nobody can really blame you, though. You’re not a big party goer, and since it’s someone’s birthday, you only assumed it’s socially expected of you to bring a gift. And it’s Renjun’s friend, on top of that– one would say you wanted to give off a good impression, as his plus-one to the party, whatever that means. If you were considered that, to be exact– with the amount of people here, though, you were starting to feel a little lost in the situation.

“See, you’re too sweet,” he says, shrugging,  eyes still fixated on the kitchen counter as he seemingly searches for a specific drink. Arm motioning towards one of the red solo cups, he suddenly turns to you and offers you the contents, smiling. “He loves chocolate, though, so that gift’s gonna be his favorite. Well, if it even gets to him in this whole mess… rum and coke?” he asks, and without much thought, you eagerly take the cup from his hand, nodding.

“Thanks,” you say, tasting the alcohol on your tongue. You don’t tell him that rum and coke is your biggest enemy– not because it tastes bad, quite the opposite, actually. You enjoy the mixture too much for you to control yourself sometimes. You can only pray that you don’t get too loose tonight.

The man’s eyes stay strangely glued to your figure as you sip from the cup, and you almost open your mouth to tease him about it– or ask if there’s something on your face, either or– when there’s a chant coming out of one of the rooms outside, incoherent screams slowly forming into one recognisable word– a name, to be exact– the voices calling Park Jisung, tonight’s birthday boy. Renjun’s eyes widen at that, his body moving fast as he tugs you by your hand again, almost spilling your drink in the process, your figure suddenly standing in a living room seemingly bigger than your whole apartment, the sight in front of you making you laugh.

A tall, lanky boy is thrown up in the air by the arms of multiple men– one of which you recognise to be Hyuck– as the whole room chants Jisung's name, the sight  a little comedic in your eyes. Rose tint settles on Park Jisung's face as the whistling only gets louder, a few phones with the flash turned on pointed to his face, the moment captured in time. You wonder what the boy did in his life to get this amount of popularity, but you can only imagine that, as one would say, this could very well be a core memory for him. You only turn adult once in your life, and for some reason, the thought of Park Jisung doing so surrounded by his friends that threw him perhaps the biggest birthday party in the history of your university campus, you get a little emotional for him. Maybe Renjun was right with you being too sweet for this world– in this moment, though, you think you’re too soft instead.

After a while, the men get tired of holding up his weight and the boy slowly comes down from the high, the hollering getting more quiet as it turns into the birthday song, making you join in with the singing. The thought of being an outcast, just a random person in the crowd slowly seeps away when you feel included in the moment, worry leaving you as you watch Donghyuck– the biggest hype man of his friends, or so it seems– shake the birthday boy vigorously by his shoulders before he lets go and plants a sloppy kiss to his cheek, which leads to the two of them chasing each other around the crowded place.

Watching the whole scene unfold right in front of your eyes, you find yourself gazing at Renjun from the corner of your eye, the bright grin on his face making your heart squeeze in a weird way. He seems so happy in this moment, dragging you from room to room excitedly as if he was a regular in this place, the joy of celebrating his friend making his flushed face glow in a healthy way. You got used to seeing his face clouded in a shadow; the worried crease in between his eyebrows and the darkness under his eyes regular visitors in his expression, so to see him seep in the ugly orange lights of the luxurious house tugs at your heartstrings in a way you choose to not recognize or name. 

“Y/N!” you hear your name screamed from somewhere in the room, making you tear your eyes away from the man standing by your side. Looking at the source of the yell, you find Lee Donghyuck striding towards you with his long legs, the action almost threatening, yet, his face beams in an excited aura.

“Hyuck!”

“You came!” he yells back in the same energy as last time, although his body is now only a few steps away from you, making you giggle. You recognise his outfit to be one of the multiple he showed you back at their apartment before he started acting all silly, the memory making you laugh in fondness.

“I did!” you nod, “I got invited,” you say, voice almost sounding proud of the achievement. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says as his eyes drift from you to Renjun, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively before he earns himself a punch to the shoulder from his roommate, a sharp, over-exaggerated scowl escaping his lips at the motion. “Come meet Jisung!” he quickly switches up the topic, dragging you along with himself like a rag doll in an instance. He must be drunk; you think. 

You wonder why you keep being dragged around the house– maybe it’s a sign that you’re too weak and should probably start working out more so you can stand your ground. Nonetheless, you follow the man as you look around, as if to apologize to Renjun for leaving him, when you see the blonde following you to the small group in the corner of the living room, recognising them to be the ones holding up Jisung just a few minutes prior. 

“Jisung! This is Y/N!” Donghyuck utters out as soon as you get to the small gathering, all eyes suddenly glued to you. You wouldn’t say it made you feel comfortable or even invited– quite the opposite, to be honest– but the man that was addressed cutely turns to you, a shy smile plastered on his face when he greets you.

“Ah! Hello!”

You doubt Park Jisung even knows who you are. You doubt any of these people do– with how they’re looking at you in examination, but you still bite through it as you force a smile on your face. “Happy birthday,” you say to him, earning yourself a bright smile from the recipient.

“Thanks!” he beams. “You’re Renjun hyung’s friend, right?” he asks  in response, almost making you choke on your spit in surprise at the fact that the boy knows who you are, which leads you to believe that you were talked about in this circle before.

“Sort of,” you nod, forcing out a giggle.

“Sort of?” the annoyed voice of Huang Renjun himself fills your ears from your right, making you jump up at the proximity of him that you weren’t aware of before, the mock offense on his face making you giggle when you think of the remorse he treated you with when you first met. He looked like he never wanted to speak to you in his life, and now he’s acting offended at you not fully calling him your friend? Yes, you did that to spite him– because if you weren’t friends, you truly don’t know what you were even doing here in the first place– but you still think the whole thing is a little ironic. “You’re at our house at least once a week and we’re not friends in your eyes?” 

“Well, that’s only because I have to,” you argue, when the man only shakes his head at you in disbelief.

“Okay, you’re not allowed to eat our snacks when you come over anymore,” he says, shrugging in nonchalance. Laughing, you find yourself looking over the group you’re standing with, the discomfort slowly fading away when you engage in conversation with Renjun. You catch a few names you can’t really place to their respective faces– mainly because Jisung was the only one formally introduced to you– when you notice a girl staring at you in examination, her figure not noticed by you before. 

The longer you stare at her, the longer you start to recognise her, and before you let panic overtake you– in all honesty, you don’t even know why you’d panic at this fact– you realize it’s none other than Huh Yunjin, your friend’s ‘cheating ex-girlfriend’ looking at you with something resembling spite in her eyes, her jaw clenched and her look glazing from your outfit to your face, as if mentally scoring you on your attractiveness, judging every detail of your body, all while a tall boy hugs her to his side– whom you presume is her new boyfriend.

He looks nothing like Renjun– he is quite the opposite, if you really think about it– and even though you tear your eyes away from her figure, your brain still screams at you with arguments that you look nothing like her; even though it shouldn’t really matter. You’re not Huang Renjun’s new girlfriend– not even the object of his desire, or the new girl by his side– you’re just his project partner, a classmate he’s grown to calling a friend, but still, you can’t help but notice her radiating beauty, the outshining features on her face and the charismatic aura she radiates– the polar opposite to everything you’d describe yourself as; and the comfort you felt while talking with Renjun’s friends is suddenly swept under the carpet, long forgotten when you still feel her eyes burning through your skull, her gaze making you like an intruder, someone who’s not supposed to be here, someone who doesn’t belong. 

And to make things even worse, you suddenly feel Renjun’s hand around your waist, and when your eyes lock with his you swear you see a hint of understatement in them, something that lets you know that he’s aware of his ex girlfriend’s burning stare; his protective side kicking in, yet still making you question the matter even more.

You bet he did it to soothe you. You can even clearly read his intentions in the warm smile he sends you when he squeezes your side, hugging you closer to himself, but the more you’re aware of his burning palm on your flesh, the more uncertain you become, the less engaged in the conversation you get, and the more uncomfortable you feel under the orange lights of the living room.

“Wanna go outside? I’m pretty sure they have a karaoke machine there, if you wanna play,” you feel Renjun whisper into your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin, the hint of vodka in it supporting your earlier claims and that he was at least a little tipsy after all. 

Nonetheless, you nod and find him leading you outside, not before you turn around to look at Yunjin for one last time, though, seeing clear jealousy shading her expression; making you wonder if you were invited just because she was too, and if you just fulfilled your designated role for the night.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” you ask, looking at your companion as the two of you sit on the stairs outside of the university building, your bags carelessly placed at your feet. It’s getting quite dark out, the winter days still being insanely short even though it’s the middle of February and spring is slowly approaching the town. The two of you had worked on your assignment in the library before Renjun told you that he has to wait for his friends Jeno and Donghyuck to pick him up, since they are meeting up with their friends from high school, their friend group living out of town requiring the two of them to take a drive there.

“Of course not,” Renjun shakes his head, “I offered to drop you off, so why would I mind?” 

“What about your friends–”

“If they have anything against it, I’ll make sure to choke them, so don’t worry about that,” Renjun softly laughs at his own joke, trying to ease you. Still, there’s something inside of you that makes the atmosphere heavy and thick, having you crack your knuckles as you sit in silence, chewing on your bottom lip from nerves.

“What’s up? You’ve been acting weird lately,” Renjun hums, looking at you from his place on your left. 

You tried hard to mask your hesitance, especially because you think the worries inside of you are stupid, but you can’t help but feel a hint of discomfort whenever you think of Jisung’s birthday party. Sure, you had a great time– his friends were nice to you, Hyuck even dramatically sang a song at the karaoke with you when Renjun got tired, the two of you taking shots together when you were done. You danced with Renjun after, the music keeping you close, and when you got tired, he walked you home. Everything felt normal between you– except from the weird closeness and occasional touches he sent your way– but you presume that was the effect of alcohol, so you didn’t ponder on it that much.

The eyes of his ex girlfriend on you the whole evening is what made you feel a bit itsy about the situation, and even though there was no hint that would further prove your previous claims, you can’t help but think about Huh Yunjin from time to time, and that’s what makes you feel at least a bit awkward about the whole thing.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you say, trying to play it off.

“Come on,” Renjun sighs, “tell me. Is it something I did?”

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes at his insisting. The shift in dynamic is ironical, to say the least– 4 months ago, he wouldn’t care about what was making you feel so down, he wouldn’t even care about you walking home from university alone in the darkness of the evening hours, but now, the crease between his brows almost makes him look worried about you, and you can’t say you hate it– even though in this moment, you’d rather have him not care at all.

“Okay, so I’ll just play a guessing game, then,” he scoffs, humming, lost in thought. “You’ve been weird since the party. Something happened there?” 

“No,” you disagree, tone of voice almost sounding desperate and harrowing, not really wanting him to keep asking about the reasoning behind your mood.

“Okay, so that’s a yes. Did someone make you feel uncomfortable? Do I need to beat somebody up? Oh god, was it Hyuck? That fucker said something to you, right? I’m gonna lock him out of the apartment, I swear to god–”

“It wasn’t Hyuck,” you giggle at his outrage, deciding to save his roommate’s life.

“It wasn’t?” he asks, seemingly genuinely surprised, expecting his devilish roommate to be the reason behind all the bad things in the world. “Okay, so it must have been me, no? What did I do?” 

Sighing and shaking your head in disbelief at his insistence, you grunt. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jun, can you just stop asking?” you say, the nickname rolling of your tongue automatically, without much thinking. 

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you. It does nothing to help you relax or feel better about the situation, but at least you think Renjun finally dropped the topic and won’t ask you about it again. You’d rather have the ground swallow you whole than to admit what’s been bugging you, especially when it’s Renjun himself you’re talking to about the matter.

You were, once again, wrong in your assumptions. Renjun did not drop the topic– no, he just took his sweet time to hit the nail on the head.

“Was it because of Yunjin?” 

The question opens a pit in your stomach, the embarrassment creeping out of your body and making you heat up not helping your case. Hands clammy as you shake your head and gesture, trying to prove your disagreement with the question to the best of your abilities– but only making yourself look stupid and like you’re trying too hard– your words come out weirdly high-pitched, only further proving Renjun’s point.

“No, it– it’s not that, I– I–”

Renjun scoffs at you, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Did she– did she make you feel uncomfortable? I know she’s been staring a lot the whole evening, I’m sorry about that…”

His words do a little to comfort you. You wouldn’t say you were perfectly fine with the fact that he knows that it was his ex girlfriend that’s been on your mind the past few days– because you two aren’t dating, and realistically, this shouldn’t matter to you– but his understanding eyes bearing into yours make you calm down a little when you sigh and avert your gaze, chewing on the inside of your cheek before you speak back up again.

“It’s okay,” you hum, “I– It was expected, I guess?”

Renjun hums, eyes focusing somewhere into the unknown. Picking at the skin on your cuticles, you think the conversation is over and you’ve done a good job at playing it off, half of your worries now soothed, but Renjun is a man full of surprises, it seems, when he looks at you again, licking his lips in hesitance.

“But that’s not all, is it?” he asks, but he gets no answer from you. It doesn’t matter– your silence is enough of a conformation. “Look, I didn’t… I didn’t invite you to make her jealous, or anything, if that’s what’s running through that brain of yours, okay? I didn’t even know she would be there.”

Blinking a few times at him, not expecting him to read you so well, you let out the breath you didn’t even know you’ve been holding, nodding at his reassuring words. “Oh…”

“I invited you because I thought you’d have fun… and because I kind of wanted you there. And so did Hyuck, actually, he thinks you’re his platonic soulmate, or something–” the man rambles, explaining his intentions to you, the frantic words coming out of his mouth making you giggle. Relief washes over his face at that, noticing the ease in the atmosphere, his hand gently squeezing your knee when your laughs get quiet. “Everything’s good now?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “thanks. It was silly, but– you know,” you shrug, awkwardly grinning to yourself.

“Yeah,” he sighs out, looking back in front of him, the moment of silent sincerity between the two of you having him open up to you, “it wasn’t like that. me and her… it wasn’t quite the same for a while, you know? Like, I knew it was over before it really happened, but nonetheless, I didn’t expect her to… to do what she did to end it.”

You hum, not really knowing what words you could offer him to console him. Not really wanting to ask any more questions, you wait for him to talk by himself, to assure you’re not insensitive or prying too much. You’ll let him tell you how much he wants, and you’ll silently thank him for the trust he has in you when holding up his feelings to you on a silver platter, naked and vulnerable for you to see and examine. 

“It’s like… I wanted to end it, but not with her cheating on me. That– that hurt more than the actual break up, I think. And maybe it shouldn’t matter, because I wasn’t in love with her anymore anyway, but it still… left a scar, I think,” he hums, and by the way he plays with his fingers in his lap, you can tell he didn’t expect himself to open up to you like this– maybe this is the first time he’s even sharing this with anyone, and the urge to protect him and his heart is suddenly stronger than ever before, even though it’s been somewhere there, deep inside of you, all along.

“That’s valid,” you say, “nobody deserves that to happen to them, no matter how your relationship looked at the time. You were still together, and she shouldn’t have done that,” you mumble, hoping to provide comfort to him, but also hoping your words aren’t unwelcome at this very moment.

The blonde looks at you, an appreciative smile appearing on his face. “Thanks,” he says. There’s nothing to thank you for, you think, but perhaps those are the words he needed to hear for a while now. Perhaps your sentences just mended something in him, perhaps you were the voice that finally made him admit that what he’s been feeling about the situation wasn’t stupid or irrational.

In a moment of weakness, a selfish masochism, even, you let out a prying sentence slip out of your lips– a sentence that could hurt you, have you not been prepared for the outcome. And maybe you were going too far, maybe you should’ve stayed quiet, but you can’t turn back time and the words were already spoken. “Do you ever miss her?” 

Renjun thinks for a while– a heartbeat of a second that makes you feel like you’re falling into a deep abyss– before he shakes his head. “Not really. Not her, I don’t miss her. I think that sometimes, I just miss what we had, but… that’s long gone.”

Humming indifferently, you accept his response in a quiet solace. 

You don’t know where this conversation brings you, but you bet it’s a step in some direction.

After a while, with Renjun’s head soundly resting on your shoulder when the silence gets too long, yet a comforting aura still shades the two of you sitting at the stairs, there’s a black Ford Fiesta honking at the parking lot, the two of you jumping to your feet. The boy drags you to the backseat, your bags hitting the floor of the vehicle, as Jeno looks back at you from the front, smiling at you with moon crescents in his eyes.

“Hello!”

“Hi,” you breathe out.

“Is Y/N tagging along?” Hyuck gasps from the passenger’s seat, turning towards you two, a face of a pleasant surprise written all over his face. You know what, maybe Renjun was right and you and his roommate are platonic soulmates of some sort. Or at least that’s how Lee Donghyuck’s been acting ever since the day he met you.

“I’m not,” you giggle, shaking your head in disapproval.

“Jeno, can you drop Y/N off at her apartment?” Renjun hums, and suddenly, the previous worries leave you as soon as the tall man nods and tells you to navigate him to your place. There was no reason why you’d be rejected by Renjun’s friends– for more reasons than one, you just aren’t aware of them yet.

The ride to your apartment is filled with laughter. Squinting at your project partner sitting next to you at the back of the car, you notice that he’s glowing brightly in the reflections of the lampposts shining through the windows of the car, a stolen galaxy swirling in his eyes when your eyes meet when you pay your goodbyes to the guys while getting off at your driveway a few minutes later.

And it’s quite funny. You don’t even live that far.

–

Clapping when your favorite writer completes the little interactive Q&A at the local library on a Monday afternoon– all throughout you didn’t have any courage to ask any questions yourself, even though you had plenty– you stand up from your place at one of the little, lanky folding chairs in the back of the room and smooth your hands over the skirt of your dress, getting the creases out. You’ve learned a lot about the author today– all from how she started writing, what inspired her to write your most favorite novel, and where she finds her inspiration for writing. You have a lot of information, yet, you still bet you could master more questions, if you were to do an interview with her– you wouldn’t even have to try as hard. 

Reading is one of your passions, it’s something that brought you to the love you have for writing, and although you didn’t stick with fiction for long, finding that the world building and creating plot and characters got boring for you after a while, you found your love for writing shining through when you type articles; making sure your headlines are captivating, that your articles are well-structured and bring something new to the table. It’s a completely different branch– some would say a less creative one– but it’s undeniable that the love for it started in you when you first started reading books, when you were little, in the quiet and comfort of your room.

Glancing back at Renjun, the boy follows you like a lost puppy (you bet it’s his first time at the library, despite him owning quite a few books himself– you noticed so while examining his room one time and found classics in his bookshelf), he offers you a soft smile, nudging you to keep walking. There’s a line forming towards the head of the room, where the writer is still sitting, numbers of passionate readers and fans of her work waiting to get their books signed. There’s a little stand in the middle of the far right wall, containing numerous books written by the person currently sitting in the same room, breathing the same air as you two, and you don’t hesitate to buy the latest one, the one you haven’t had the chance to read yet, with the intention of getting it signed.

“Which one’s your favorite?” Renjun asks, standing close to you and pointing towards the stacks of books on the stand.

“That one,” you hum, bringing his attention to the paperback cover at the very corner of the stand, watching as the man takes it into his hands and flips it over, reading through the summary. He looks like one of those Pinterest boards you’d title ‘Dark academia’ with a series of emojis that fit the ‘aesthetic’, with his plaid coat layered on top of a knitted, light brown sweater, the blonde fringe slightly falling into his eyes. 

“I’ll get this one, then,” he looks at one of the ladies behind the stand, smiling at her as he gets his wallet out.

“Don’t you want the latest one?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, smiling at the lady once again when the book is back in his hold, paid for and now in his ownership. His eyes are back at you when he offers you the explanation. “You said you liked this one, so I wanna try it. And you don’t know if the latest one is any good, so at least I’ve heard a good review on this one and don’t have to be afraid of buying a shitty book,” he snickers, making you roll your eyes at the tone of his voice, but still, there’s a little man in your brain screaming at the top of his lungs– screeching, even– at the action, the gears in your brain turning faster and faster as you let yourself indulge and overthink his words. He bought it because it’s your favorite– so he said– and in a split second of delusion, it doesn’t matter to you if it was just because he wanted to be sure the book is good, or if it was just him wanting to read your favorite book as a way of learning more about you.

“As if any of her books could be bad,” you mumble, moving slowly through the line. You’re the last ones waiting for the autograph, and while there’s still a lot of people in front of you, you can’t help but feel a little nervous at the promise of an interaction with the author.

“Well, you can never really know. Everyone has bad days.”

Snickering at his argument, you shake your head in disbelief and move a few steps forward again. You’ve taken a few photographs of the library while you were sitting and listening to the talk; a few of the author– to capture the nice memory– and some of the interior as well, showcasing the numerous shelves filled with books of different genres that the library provides. Still, you take the camera into your hands again, taking a few more– you were sure to get permission from the smiley and welcoming librarians when you arrived– trying to capture the atmosphere and the heartwarming aura of it all. A little selfishly, for your own memory, you turn to your companion and point the lens towards him, seeing as he poses with the book, acting a little silly when you take the picture, and when he breaks into an amused grin after, you take another one– a moment captured in time, his toothy laugh on full display. When you look at the picture again, your heart warms up a little at the image. Maybe you could get it printed out and add it to your memory book alongside the pictures you have from your first university parties and moving into the new apartment with Jimin– just so you have something to look back to.

Soon enough, you reach the front of the room, your bodies only a few steps away from the author. When the last guests in front of you leave, paying their goodbyes, you take a step forward with a little sigh, trying to encourage yourself and also calm down the erratic beating of your heart, ready to face the idol you’ve been looking up to since you were 11. With Renjun on your side, you put on your most picture-worthy smile, clammy hands offering the book to the writer when you reach the long table, choking on your words.

“Hello,” you greet, not really knowing what to say. You would be lying if you said you didn’t rehearse this in your brain seventy different times ever since you talked with Renjun about going to the library last week, trying to make up the perfect scenario and find the best words to use when you finally meet her, but in this very moment, the whole script flies through the window and you’re left silent and hesitant, heat rising to your cheeks when you can’t seem to find the right words to say.

“Hello,” you hear Renjun greet shortly after you, bumping into you a little with his hip when he stumbles to the table, seemingly more calm than you, trying to save the day, “my name’s Huang Renjun,” he says, and you want to kick him in his shin– because who even does that? Who tells their full name to a stranger, an author he’s never heard of before actually attending this meet and greet, acting as if he was an old friend of hers, meeting the famous writer after a long time? You almost thought he’d save you from the embarrassment and lead the way, from the way he approached her, but after hearing those words come out of his mouth, you almost go to scold him for his behavior.

To your surprise, though, the writer’s eyes widen in what seems to be realization, nodding to herself. “So you must be Y/N!” she says, looking back at you, a welcoming smile appearing on her lips. 

“I- I-” you stutter, suddenly feeling really confused. Is this a dream? Are you asleep? Or is your favorite writer suddenly a psychic too? What are you missing?

“Yeah! She’s just a little nervous right now,” he grins, taking a short look at you before he turns back to the author, “so… I take it as you haven’t changed your mind about the interview?”

“Not at all! I’m actually really happy to hear that students are taking interest in my writing and that they want to interview me,” she says, quickly signing your books on the front pages, offering them back to you, “I usually don’t give interviews just to anyone– you know, it would get a little too busy if I did that– but your passion really caught my attention.It reminds me of myself when I was your age… Just give me a few seconds, I have a phone call to make right now, but after I’m done, I’m all yours!” 

“Of course!” Renjun nods, watching as the author stands up from the table and disappears in one of the back rooms, seemingly to take care of the call. Turning back to you, still finding you dumbfounded from the interaction, he can’t help but let out an amused laugh. “Are you okay over there?”

“I- What-” you stutter, shaking your head as if to make your brain reboot, dragging your hand through your hair to get it out of your face, “how did you even manage to- she doesn’t even-” you fail to create coherent sentences, shock and surprise overshadowing your otherwise good choice of vocabulary, confusion spreading over your face like a shadow.

“I have my ways,” he shrugs nonchalantly, as if this was the easiest thing to accomplish, once again breaking into a grin when he sees your stoic face, “maybe try to smile a little? She might think you’re terrified of her if you keep frowning like that.”

“I am,” you mumble, still not quite comprehending the situation.

Rolling his eyes at you, he snickers. “Come on,” he says, “I bet you have plenty of questions for her up in that brain of yours,” he points to the middle of your forehead, shaking his head at your frozen figure.

“I do, but-” you mumble, catching yourself mid-sentence, “how did you even-” the words stream out your mouth, a puzzled expression not leaving your face.

“You can thank me later. Now focus on your job,” he says, turning you by your shoulders and pushing you a little towards the author that has now emerged out of the back room, a welcoming glint in her eye when her eyes land at the two aspiring journalists.

On that Monday afternoon, with sweaty palms and tongue-tied as you stutter out the curious questions, making an interview for your imaginary magazine, you learn that contrary to the popular demand, Huang Renjun is quite full of surprises. 

The longer you know Renjun, the more you hang out without the purpose of working on your assignment together. Truth be told, you started working on it pretty early into the semester, and while others were now aimlessly pulling all nighters to complete the magazine, you and Renjun were pretty much done with it already by now, since you forced the man to start working on it as soon as it was possible. He didn’t say it out loud, but you can tell he was thankful for that– it would kill the both of you if you had to focus on the project now, when exam season is slowly, but surely in reach and you’ll have to start studying soon.

It was a little awkward at first– you still remember the first time you watched Netflix with him in the silence of his apartment, with his mood very apparently below zero– starting with the two of you taking breaks in between working on your assignment, talking about the latest episodes of the anime you two have, coincidentally, chosen to watch at the same time; later progressing into full on sessions of gossip with his roommate Donghyuck joining the two of you at the comfortable couch. You’d say your friendship started a little this way, with you and Renjun running to the convenience store when you ran out of snacks in the middle of your study sessions and the two of you randomly laughing at something in your Journalism class, earning yourself scolding looks from the professor. It was unexpected, but you grew familiar with the antics, flowing through the days together, filling the boring days with texts full of TikTok links and Donghyuck sending you random pictures of your project partner all zoomed in on Snapchat. You even invited Renjun over a few times, Jimin accepting the new man in the comfort of your home when she realized he’s not as bad as he used to be before, as you ate up all of your snacks this time around instead, having impromptu karaoke sessions in your room, trying to quiz each other on the lyrics of your top tracks of the last year on Spotify. 

Everything felt casual, growing more in tune with the man he was, learning his antics and all about his character. You quickly learned that when he’s feeling down, he gets a little snappy– a bad habit you made him recognise and try to eliminate, at least when you’re around. You found out that when he’s nervous, he bites his nails, and you choose to slap his palms from the proximity of his lips whenever you catch him in the act. When he’s annoyed– much like when you prevent him from the action of gnawing at his fingernails until the skin around them  bleeds– he rolls his eyes and sighs, sometimes even shakes his head at you in disapproval. He looks adorable while doing so, but to save both of you the embarrassment, you’d never tell him out loud.

And you’d even dare to say he learns about you too. He’s an observing individual, and you’d even argue that he cares about you at least a little. For one, he’s not rude towards you anymore, the way he was when you two first started talking, and also, he shows his affection towards you in the most Renjun ways possible. He’d argue that he’s not good with words, but he’s always there to affirm you with them in his true love language whenever you’re stressed or overwhelmed with responsibilities. He also remembers your favorite drinks and snacks, opting to save them for you whenever you come by his place, and even slipping some into your bag before you leave his apartment. He’s a caring individual, a big hearted man, delicate in all directions.

You believe it’s impossible not to fall for him at least a little. Not when you really know him– the way you do, from up close, in his most joyful moments and the ones where he tries to battle you away when the ghosts in his brain try to make him shelter himself away from everyone too.

But you wouldn’t tell him that. Never in a thousand years.

“I hate all this fucking snow,” you tell him instead, when you walk by his side with your groceries in hand, the tips of your fingers brittled from the cold. “Why is it even snowing in the first place, it’s the end of February, for fuck’s sake!” 

The two of you decided to go for a grocery run together, and while some would say it’s not a fun activity to do, you think you like experiencing mundane things with your close ones the most. If you enjoy someone’s company, you truly do not care what you do together– you always go pick up packages from the post with Jimin, or drive your little sibling to the store when you’re back home, even though the action itself doesn’t provide you any conventionally ‘fun’ experiences, most of these are a fond memory in your brain, because you got to spend time with someone you love. It’s the same right now– even though it’s snowing heavily and you can’t feel your feet from the cold– you went to buy groceries with Renjun when he texted you about it, realizing you could buy some things you ran out of as well, opting to walk there together.

“I thought you liked winter?” he snickers, seeing your grumpy expression. 

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you said you hated summer,” he says, matter of factly, making you giggle to mask the warmth spreading on your insides from the knowledge that he remembers the random fact you once told him when you were working on your project together.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I like winter either,” you say, shrugging.

“Do you even like anything?”

“No,” you shake your head, totally serious before you burst into laughter, “kidding. I like spring,” you smile at him, eloquently, shuffling your legs along the snowed-in ground, moving closer to the campus, near to where you both live.

“I like spring too, actually.”

“Because your birthday’s in spring?” you snicker, teasing him.

“Maybe,” he admits, laughing with you. “No, but I think spring’s neat for a number of reasons. It always feels… like a new beginning, perhaps? After months of silence, you can finally hear the chirping of birds in the morning, and the sun sets later too, so the days feel longer…” he says, and you find yourself observing him, admiring the love he has for the season.

“Exactly,” you nod, pointing your gaze towards the ground when you notice that he caught you staring, embarrassment creeping up your back before you shudder from the cold, heavy snowflakes falling on top of your head, drenching your freshly washed locks and making your cheeks burn with cold. You can’t remember the last time it snowed so hard– you were in for a couple of warm winters for the last couple of years– and as much as you hate to admit it because of your noticeable aversion towards winter, you must say it looks quite magical.

“Look, I know you hate winter, but you do have windows in your flat, right?” he jokes, making you roll your eyes at the nagging you know you’re about to hear. “Maybe look out of them before you go out, so you could dress for the weather the next time.”

“Very funny,” you snicker, “I’ll let you know, it wasn’t snowing when I was getting ready.”

“Okay then, maybe start using the weather app. It’s great if you want to know how cold it really is outside, and you’re quite good with technology, so maybe you could-”

“Oh, fuck off,” you snap, but feel yourself grinning at the teasing.

The man lets out a sigh– a habit of frustration he does a lot whenever you’re around– before you feel him tugging something onto the top of your head, your ears suddenly shielded by soft fabric. Looking up at your companion in shock, you notice that the beanie that had been sitting on his head until now is covering yours instead; and although you appreciate the gesture with a giddy clench on your insides, you find yourself protesting.

“Jun! You’ll get cold,” you pout.

“Okay, but so will you, and as far as I’m concerned, I have more layers on than you right now, so you need it more than me,” he shrugs, all nonchalant, making you hesitantly smile at him and shut up, keeping the warm wool over your head. 

Next time, you’ll look at the weather app to save your heart some trouble. 

Or maybe you won’t.

Walking closer to your apartment complex, naturally accepting the fact that Renjun decided to walk you home– or just hasn’t realized he’s doing so yet– you fall into comfortable conversation, mostly consisting of you complaining and Renjun finding your tangent amusing.

“My groceries will get all wet! Fucking hell, Renjun…”

“I didn’t force you to come,” he laughs.

“Well, but you have the weather app, as opposed to me, so maybe you could’ve predicted the fact that it was going to snow soon,” you pout, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“And if I did?” 

“Then why’d you drag me out?” you huff, nearing the steps that lead up towards the front door of your building, being careful not to slip on them as you stand on the first one, towering above the man that takes his position opposite of you while you say your goodbyes. 

“Okay, next time get your groceries alone, if you’re just gonna complain the whole way,” he giggles at your fake offendance, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. Snowflakes settle on the tops of his cheekbones, the rosy tint in his face taking your breath away, something in his eyes captivating you and hypnotizing you into doing things you would’ve never dared to do as you reach out towards his hair, now wet from the snow that manages to melt away on his body, brushing your hand through the locks.

“It’s gotten so long,” you muse, “the blonde’s all grown out now.”

He hums, the eye contact making you heat up despite the coldness that’s been trying to seep into your bones. “Maybe I should dye it back to black, then.”

Grinning, you shrug as your hand escapes his scalp. “Yeah,” you nod, “maybe you should.”

“It’s a plan, then,” he says before he grins, poking you in your forehead with his pointer finger as he takes a step back from you, heading towards the direction of his apartment. “I’ll text you,” he adds.

Paying your goodbyes to him, you stumble inside and reach your flat, your whole body on fire even though you’ve been freezing until now as you take off your wet shoes and tug the borrowed beanie from your head. Putting away the groceries, you wonder if there’s a significance in his decision, if the change of hair is the same as the reason why he loves spring; if new things are beginning, or if you’ve just tricked yourself into falling for him too hard.

“You have to mix it together with this first!” Renjun whines, sitting at the edge of the bathtub as he watches you open the box dye you bought together at the drugstore a few hours ago, pointing his finger at the white pack containing the mixing solution.

“Oh,” you mumble, clammy hands flying around and trying to read the instructions instead, too worried to mess up again and accidentally burn Renjun’s hair off. After a few moments of you silently turning the big sheet of paper around in all directions, you hear your companion snicker under his breath, standing up from his position at the edge of the bathtub and mixing the dye with the solution in a little plastic container he got from under the sink himself instead.

“Let me do it,” he shakes his head, “didn’t know you were this useless.”

“If you didn’t want me here, you could’ve just said so,” you put the instruction paper down, crossing your arms on your chest as you take a step back and look at him with an offended pout, watching as he gets everything ready. His hair is sticking all over the place and the shirt he has on is stained with bleach– you suspect he wore this exact outfit a few months ago when he dyed his hair blonde– the fabric hanging loosely down his shoulders. 

“I’m perfectly capable of dying my hair on my own, if you didn’t notice,” he says, “me wanting you here is the sheer reason for your presence.”

Heart skipping a beat at the sentence, masking it off with a fakely annoyed sigh, you watch him take a seat back at the edge of the bathtub when he’s done, motioning for you to take matters into your hands and start dying his hair. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“I’ll do so just to spite you,” you argue back, taking the plastic container with the dye into your hand and standing close to Renjun, parting his hair down the middle as you get the chemical-smelling mixture into his growing locks. Focused on the task at hand, trying really hard not to get the dye all over the place, you almost get lost in the motion of playing with his hair and pay too much attention to each section, your touch gentle not to tug at his hair. It  makes you not notice the way you’re suddenly standing in between Renjun’s opened legs, your skin covered by fabrics of sweatpants touching.

His head suddenly moves, making you almost dye his whole forehead black, when he plops a gummy worm into his mouth and regains his previous position. 

“Stop moving or else it’s gonna look bad!” you scowl, frustrated with the fact that he made you lose your focus.

“Want a gummy worm?” he asks, looking up at you with an innocent smile instead– as if to make you forget all about his actions from before– and you reward him with an annoyed shake of your head that shows him disapproval which he seemingly chooses to ignore as he reaches into the pack of gummies again and holds one up to your lips, fingertips brushing against the skin of your mouth making you feel heat in your cheeks. You didn’t want a gummy worm, but with the proximity of his hand to your face and the starry gaze he offers you when you meet his eyes, you don’t hesitate to take the gummy into your mouth and chew on the candy, earning yourself a satisfied smile.

Turning towards his hair again, the last few strands left undyed waiting for your attention, the man suddenly squeezes your thigh, making you wince. “How is it going up there?”

“Good,” you choke out, suddenly hyper aware of his hand resting on the skin of your leg, as if to hold you in place, his other hand working almost on auto-pilot as he completes the symmetry and grazes your other thigh, his touch on you so gentle you could almost miss it if you didn’t pay enough attention.

“If it’s patchy, I’m blaming you and not the dye,” he teases, drumming against your leg with his fingers, each little gesture making you less and less focused on his hair and more on the way his eyelashes fan over his cheekbones from above, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself from making any sound close to frustration or the sound of perhaps losing your mind. 

“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t have bought the cheapest one.”

“I’m staying on budget,” he says, making you snicker.

Forcing yourself to focus back onto his hair, you finally complete your task of dying the man’s hair back to its original color. Taking a step back from him and putting the plastic container onto the sink, you start to miss the feeling of his hand on your skin; his hair slicked back by the dye makes him look oddly amusing, though, so you let a grin slip out at the sight of your companion sitting at the edge of the bathtub like a scolded child, his legs outstretched right in front of him and a pack of gummy worms once again firmly gripped in the palm of his hand.

After cleaning up the mess you’ve made on the bathroom sink, with Renjun singing to himself as he put up a timer on his phone for 20 minutes, you find yourself in his kitchen, walking around and finding a pot in which you could cook some ramen for dinner. It’s getting quite late and it’s rare that you find yourself alone in Renjun’s apartment with him, his roommate finally getting out after the dreaded exam season to celebrate, and you can’t help but find the domesticity of sharing his space with him– although this is not the first time– overtake you in a deep feeling of intimacy.

Stirring the noodles around with a fork you found in one of the drawers, listening to the low hums of Renjun singing in the bathroom as he cleans up the skin on his forehead and behind his ears with a wet cotton pad, you wonder how you managed to get used to this– how you even managed to find yourself in the presence of Huang Renjun so often, after only hearing about him from gossip around the school halls and hating his presence when you first had to work with him. It’s ironic, but you don’t hate it quite as much as you would think. 

“You’re making ramen?” he asks as he finally reaches the kitchen, big eyes full of thankfulness meeting yours when he notices you getting out some plates to transfer the meal into, since you’re close to being done.

Humming in agreement, you see him lean on the kitchen counter from the corner of your eye, a satisfied smile reaching his lips. “I should invite you over more often.”

“I’m here like twice a week, Jun,” you mumble, focused on not spilling the meal all over the place.

“Well, if it means you’ll cook all the time, you can even move in, if you want to” he jokes, making you shake your head in disbelief as you take the plates and move them to the coffee table you are so used to sitting at by now, since the boys don’t really have a dining table in their apartment, making them (and sometimes you joining) eat all the meals at the coffee table, sitting on the ground.

“And where would I sleep? On the couch? No, thank you,” you shake your head, digging into the noodles and blowing on them to make them cool faster.

“I’ll kick Hyuck out, so you can have his room,” he mumbles in between bites, following you. 

“So you just want me to be your maid, got it,” you nod.

“That’s not what I said,” he looks at you with offense, before digging into the noodles again, mumbling under his nose before taking a bite, “although you would look nice in a maid dress-”

Kicking him in the leg, seeing as he chokes up on the food from laughing, you shake your head in disbelief at his antics. You think it’s the hair dye getting to his brain, so when his timer goes off in a few minutes after you’re both done with the food, you thank god for bringing you out of your misery. 

Listening to the sound of the shower as he washes the hair dye off, you take it upon yourself to clean up the dishes. You’d feel bad for leaving a mess in his kitchen, and you also think it’s a nice thing to do. It only takes a few minutes before he’s out of the bathroom again, hair damply sitting on his forehead, his figure twirling like a ballerina– reminding you of the way you did little fashion shows for your father whenever you came home from shopping with your mum– waiting for what you have to say about his new look, although in true reality, he looks just the same as a few months ago. 

“Does it look good?”

“I can’t tell ‘cause it’s wet,” you say, squinting your eyes at the mess on his head, “go blow dry it.”

“Fuck no,” he shakes his head, protesting, “I hate blow drying my hair.”

“Why? I can’t tell if it’s patchy this way,” you say.

“My hands get tired and I get bored and I just really don’t enjoy the experience,” he simply states, and he wins– whether this was his intention or not– as you drag him back to the bathroom and get out of him where he keeps the blow dryer, plugging it in and moving to do it for him. 

There it is again– that funny feeling in your stomach as you move your hands through his hair, brushing his bangs away from his forehead as you blow dry his locks. The feeling makes you weak in your knees as you look at the boy who now has his eyes closed, seemingly enjoying the motion of your fingers threading through his freshly dyed strands, and when you finally turn the device off and watch him open his eyes, looking at you half-lidded and seemingly a little tired, you once again notice his hands on your thighs as he sits at the bathtub, although now the touch is more firm, pulling you close to him. 

“Are you happy now that your hair is black?” you find yourself asking, your eyes bearing into him as you reference the dialogue you two had when he dyed his hair blonde, when you two didn’t know each other well just yet and he told you the wishful secret of wanting to have more fun as a blonde since he was sad when his hair was black. 

His smile looks a little drunk, despite the both of you being completely sober as he replies, acting as if he was getting tipsy off your proximity and gentle touch. “My hair’s black because I’m happy, not the other way around,” he mumbles, your eyes momentarily drifting to his pretty lips as he talks, their rosy plumpiness making it hard for you to unstuck your gaze from the curve of his smile and focus on other features of his face.

“Good,” you nod, your hands finding their place at his shoulders, almost going for a hug, but never really completing the action. 

“So how do I look?” he asks again, your conversation growing quiet in the intimate atmosphere, voices not wanting to interrupt the calm, yet tense harbor. 

Examining him, you find yourself once again attracted to the boy you see in front of you. He looks exactly like he did before his break-up– yet now, you’d argue and say he looks even better; healthier and more radiant, his features gentle, hair a little longer and his smile reminding you of an angel. Humming to yourself, you brush your hands through his black strands again, letting yourself indulge in your growing feelings for the man for just a second, before the moment is gone. “Really pretty,” you mumble, watching as his smile grows for a mere second before his eyes drift from yours down to your lips, making you forget how to breathe.

Your hands continue to get lost in his hair as you stare at each other for a while, silence in the bathroom making you listen in on each other’s breathing, before your brain fails you and you let yourself operate on auto-pilot, leaning down to his face, surprised to see him meet you in the middle. You kiss him as if you’ve been waiting ages to do so, your lips molding in with his in a perfect harmony, firm, yet still unmistakably gentle contact making you shiver. 

It feels like a century before you pull away, ready to face the consequences of your actions, when he captures your lips in another kiss, drunk on the action. Feeling him standing up from the edge of the bathtub and moving his hands to firmly grip your waist before he walks you backwards against the tiled wall, the coldness of it mixing with the heat spreading across your body makes you gasp into the kiss and invite his tongue into your mouth.

Your hands fall from his hair and find their way around his neck, tugging him close, while one of his gentle palms rests on your jaw, angling your face in a way that lets him take control and have you even closer, two bodies seeking each other’s presence.

“Renjun…” you gasp when his lips move away from yours, leaving kisses down your jaw, slowly reaching the delicate skin of your neck and the conjunction of your shoulder. 

He hums into your skin, a cold hand sneaking under the hem of your shirt making you wince, all of his actions making your senses hyper aware to the touch and feeling of his lips pressed against you, especially when he finds the sweet spot behind your ear and makes you squirm under him, the feeling of his smile against your skin turning you crazy.

Finding yourself tugging his face back to yours, taking back his lips, his hand travels up your side, leaving goosebumps all over your skin with the cold motions of his fingertips, you shiver under his caring, yet teasing touch. The kiss feels as if it’s one step away from heaven, letting out a satisfied sound when he softly brushes the underside of your breast.

Pressing him closer against you, leaving open-mouthed kisses down his neck, you feel him hard against your thigh, neediness overtaking you as you lightly move against him, hearing him choke out a breath. “Is- is this okay?” he asks, voice not louder than a whisper before you continue with your motions, answering with your actions before using your words, breathing growing quicker with the way the friction makes you feel.

“More than okay with me,” you mumble, seemingly encouraging him as he presses you firmer against the tiled wall, helping you guide your desperate movements. Foreheads pressed against each other, breathing mixing in the silent room, you can’t seem to find it in you to stop, completely losing yourself in him and in the way he makes you feel, selfishly chasing down release from all the butterflies and electric stares he’s been sending your way.

Grunting when you press up against him in a way that sends sparks down his spine, his hand reaches up under your thigh, almost on the skin of your butt, holding up your leg to make more room and get you even closer to him, before he heaves out a sigh. “Let’s go to my room?” he asks hastily before you nod and let him plop you up against his figure with your legs entangled around his middle, escaping the cold tiles of the bathroom and walking over to the his room smelling of fresh laundry detergent and vanilla, soft sheets enveloping your body when he lightly drops you into his mattress.

A giggle escapes your lips at the contact of your body with the bed, earning yourself a playful roll of Renjun’s eyes as he leans over you, plopping himself up on one elbow above you, caging you in his embrace. Maintaining eye contact with him, blissful smiles stretching on your lips, you almost think the moment is over, but he quickly brings you back to the neediness you felt before as he leans in again, kissing you painfully slowly while his hand reaches under the hem of your shirt, letting his palm travel against your body. His actions make you shiver as his fingertips softly tickle your side, moving towards the dip of your waist, then back up across your stomach as he traces mindless shapes against your skin, occasionally letting himself travel up towards the fabric of your bra. Cupping one of your breasts into his hand, you let out a soft grunt when he squeezes the flesh softly enough to make you yearn for more.

Mirroring his actions, your hand moves under his loose shirt, hypnotized by the heat of his flesh. Enveloped in his warmth and the smell of him in his bedsheets, you let yourself roam up his abdomen, embracing the way his muscles jolt a little under your touch, before your hand settles onto his back, fingertips dancing up and down his spine.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles, making you break into a blissful smile, before his hand lazily dips down your belly, seeking approval in your eyes, “can I?” 

Nodding, afraid of seeming a little too eager– although maybe he would welcome that with open arms– you feel his fingertips messily dragging down the waistband of your sweatpants a little by little, leaving you in front of him only in your underwear, his lips swallowing your sighs when he hesitantly brushes his thumb against your clit. 

His movements get more confident as he adds more pressure, making you let out a few more muffled sounds he welcomes with a cocky smile, demeanor shifting as he presses a wet kiss against your cheek when he drags your underwear down and gets back to where he was before, but now acting more gently– as if the contact of your bare core with his fingers made him afraid you’re gonna break in his hold. Softly nudging your thighs, opening up your legs and softly tracing his pointer finger down your slit, he makes your cheeks flush from the contact and the feeling of air against your naked bottom half.

He doesn’t say much as he tests the waters, dragging his digits along your folds, examining your reaction when he circles your sensitive bud and sees you crumble under his touch. Your hands grip his pearl white sheets, not really knowing what to do to ground yourself back to reality, the man above you finally finding enough courage in him to insert one finger, then two inside of you, watching you react to his actions.

“Feels good,” escapes your lips, and truthfully, you didn’t even catch yourself saying it. It left your mouth on itself, your tone a little fragile but full of eagerness, wanting more– and seemingly understanding, he moves inside you with more reason now, hitting the right spot that makes your eyebrows crease and your breathing hitch in your throat.

“There?” he asks, as if to tease you. In any other circumstance, you’d find it in you to bark back something full of sarcasm and irony, but now, vulnerable and sensitive to his every move, you only nod eagerly and meet his eyes which are now clouded with lust, a view you’ve never experienced before, but welcome with undeniable curiosity.

Angling his fingers inside of you just the way you need them, you quickly feel yourself reaching your high, one of your hands flying to his forearm as if to let him know or warn him, somehow. Judging by his actions, he got the memo– showing his experience when he continues with the same speed and pressure, keeping still– before he slowly trips you over the edge, having you clenching around his fingers as you let moans slip out from your lips, euphoria taking over your whole body.

His figure leans into you, holding you close as your breathing comes back to normal, his lips press soft kisses to your temple. It’s almost a hint that the act is over, his actions growing more tender as opposed to the way he had you just a few moments prior, but you find yourself not wanting it to end, tugging his shirt up and earning yourself a questioning look.

“More?” you mumble, looking at him, grabby hands helping him take his shirt off. Your please sound almost like a question– they may as well be, for you don’t know if he wants this too– but he reacts to you positively when you have your eyes roaming across his bare torso, hands flying towards your own shirt, taking it off before you chastly press against him, both of you sitting at his bed, meeting him in a kiss as you settle yourself into his lap. 

In this moment, there’s nothing but him. Your head spins with his essence, your brain painfully aware of everything; of your hands holding his cheeks when you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth, chasing after his neck in a desperate need of leaving a mark, wanting evidence of you being there the next morning, so you could remind yourself that this wasn’t just a dream or a product of your own imagination. When you press down against his lap, dragging your naked core against his hard on, his hands grip your sides, sneaky fingers trailing up after a moment as he tugs the straps of your bra down before slipping it off completely, leaving you naked in front of him.

Lifting you by your hips and moving you back against his pillow, laying you into his sheets, he lets you drag his sweatpants down, your fingers dipping below the waistband of his boxers and gently dragging along the sensitive skin, feeling needier at the sounds of satisfaction escaping his lips. Bringing him closer with your other hand, he takes a moment to confirm with you one last time. 

“Are you sure you… want this?” he doesn’t seem to find the right words, leaving you softly laughing at his puzzled expression.

“I am,” you nod, assuring him, “I- I want you,” you mumble, still loud and clear, and he wastes no time in freeing himself of his underwear and aligning himself with your entrance.

He slowly pushes inside of you, his whole length filling you up. He leaves you some time to adjust, checking in with you with a look to your eyes, fingertips gently dragging your hair out of your face before you confirm with him that you’re okay with a soft nod, making him move and gently thrust inside of you; painfully slow at first, but reaching deep, taking in every inch of you. Pleasure builds inside of you as his thrusts become more quicker, finding a rhythm that makes your toes curl and your hands fly to his back, scratching down along his skin when he hits your spot and your eyes shut in a spell of satisfied sighs.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss against your lips, a sentence sweet enough to make your cheeks flush under him– yet you think the heat you feel is more than shyness from his words, but from the contact of his skin on yours, driving you absolutely crazy.

His finger gently plays with your clit, slowly, but surely tipping you over the edge. You hold back a moan, head falling to your side on his pillow, Renjun’s lips pressing kisses into the now exposed areas of your neck, still going at a steady rhythm. 

“Fuck,” you let out when he picks up at speed, the imaginary glass of pleasure in you getting fuller and fuller, making afraid of it spilling out when he keeps going, your hand flying into his hair, tugging at it in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, “I’m close.”

He hums against your neck, softly biting a bruise into your flesh. He doesn’t say much, again– his loving is quiet, only occasionally letting out needy noises out past his lips here and there, grunts slipping out when you feel just right around him. You find it hard to keep up with the silence, blissful sounds escaping you when he takes you over the edge. Your walls clench around him as he’s still thrusting into you, chasing down his climax and making the most out of yours. You swear you can see stars, the tips of your fingers starting to tingle when you get a little too overstimulated, but before you can do anything about it, he slips out of you and warmth spreads on your stomach, his body crashing next to yours.

He doesn’t say much after either. The room falls into silence, your bodies heaving with deep breaths as you try to calm down the erratic beating of your hearts. Mindlessly threading your fingers through his hair, you stare at the ceiling, his arms draped over your middle, occasionally playing with the flesh of your hip, squeezing it with his palm and dragging his fingertips across the soft skin. Looking down at him, not seeing much other than the raven locks falling into his forehead and his closed eyes, you try hard to appreciate the closeness of his body, just in case you don’t get to experience it ever again.

Feeling his nose nuzzling into your skin, you wonder if he’s happy.

Dark, wallowing pit opens up in your stomach, the harrowing feeling you didn’t know you could recognise fills you up to your rim; your vision goes a little blurry at the sight in front of you and after a few seconds of torturing yourself by watching, you feel the bitter taste of blood on your tongue from gnawing at the gentle skin of your bottom lip too hard. That alone wakes you up from the weird transe you’ve been put in, making you turn on your heel and chime outside of the building, the iced americano in your hand thrown in the nearest trash can as you take the short way home, suddenly wanting to hide away from everyone and everything, too fragile to deal with the outer world today.

You open up the door to your apartment with a little struggle, your hand shaking not making it easy for you to put the key inside the keyhole, and when you finally get to the comfort of your little place, you’re met with Jimin’s concerned eyes waiting for you in the hall, her figure hesitantly walking over when she heard you struggle with the door.

Closing the door behind you a little too loudly, careless in your actions from how hard your heart is hammering against your ribcage, your roommate approaches you with gentle words. “What happened? Weren’t you meeting up with–”

“No,” you shake your head, cutting off her sentence before his name manages to come out of her mouth, your throat closing as you choke out the response; the soft gaze she offers you at the stern words of disapproval makes your eyes water even though you already promised yourself you wouldn’t cry over this.

“Oh, sweetie,” Jimin mumbles as her long legs make their way towards your shrunken figure, enveloping you in her arms. You let yourself be comforted, almost yearning for the slow strokes she gives your back, her long fingers threading through your hair. There aren’t many instances where you two had to hold each other in the entrance hall, too afraid of letting go before one of you breaks. You remember her breaking up with her boyfriend Jaehyun– they dated for a couple of months last year before he had to move away and a long distance relationship wasn’t something either of them was willing to put each other through– but that time, it was in the comfort of her bedroom and you watched the first season of Too hot to handle together after it was done to take her mind off things. You, however, don’t have much dating experience. Not a significant one anyway– you only dated in high school, and even though the boy you crowned your first in many things was sweet, you simply fell out of love with him after a few months and called it quits, with no tears shed and no hearts broken.

“I think I was just a rebound,” you get out in between your quiet sobs, the image of Renjun sitting at the cafeteria with Yunjin, his soft gaze offered to her as she leaned over the table and said something quietly to him before pressing a kiss to his cheek only further proving your claims.

And you guess you were the stupid one– you guess you were silly for thinking he was over his ex already, even if it’s been a couple of months since they broke up, even if he told you he didn’t miss her, but was sad to let go what they had– because the sweetness in his eyes when he looked at her hurt you more than you could’ve ever imagined, because you think you remember him looking at you like that the evening you dyed his hair black; you remember him looking at you like you hung up the stars on the sky, and you believed the gentle gaze– you believed there was something more than sex to it, you believed he felt the same feelings as the ones you’ve been harboring for the boy ever since you first hanged out at his place and watched Netflix with him to take his mind off the said girl.

Jimin doesn’t ask any questions– she knows you’ll tell her eventually, you just need comfort right now. Sniffling as you try to come down from the heartbreak you’ve caused yourself, you groggily get out a sentence that hurts to say out loud perhaps the most from the feelings freely roaming around your brain. “I don’t think it meant anything to him– I– I don’t think I meant anything to him.”

As if to torture yourself even more, the images of you two getting closer over the time flash through your brain– and you wonder if you were just lying to yourself the whole time. If his words weren’t what he made them out to be, if his gentle nature that overtook him when you were around was just him treating you as one of his friends. If he hooked up with you only because he was horny, and not because he cared for you enough to want to explore you further, deeper– if you were the only one in it for something more, if he was just keeping himself busy while trying to get over his ex.

And much like that time at the party, where he held you close and spent the whole night pretty much glued to your side, right in front of everyone’s eyes, you wonder if you just fulfilled your purpose in his life. 

“Shh,” the girl shushes you out of your self-destructive thoughts, still not getting any context on what happened, but being there for you anyway, “let’s just watch something, okay? We have the whole day off to ourselves, let’s watch this new anime I’ve been eyeing, what do you say?” she mumbles, seeing as you tiredly nod and she affectionately squishes your cheeks together, leading you towards the living room.

If you weren’t so numb right now, you’d even giggle. Jimin doesn’t watch anime– the amount of reality TV she watches is quite concerning sometimes– and her effort to aimlessly search through the internet for the first episode of an anime she randomly saw on Tiktok one day and thought would suit your watching style both amuses you and makes your heart warm just a little. Indulging in TV series is one of the only coping mechanisms either of you can ever come up with, it seems.

When the opening credits roll, you hear your phone’s notification sound pop up, your hand reaching for the device. You don’t even get an opportunity to look at who is texting you before your roommate snatches the phone out of your hand, swipes across the screen and turns it off with one swift motion, forcing you to focus on the animation going on the TV.

Sometimes, all you need is your caring roommate to take over everything. Today, more than ever, you’re more than willing to give yourself into her hands.

After that, you do what you think anyone in your situation would (or wouldn’t do, to be precise). You don’t text Huang Renjun random things throughout the day like you used to– you no longer laugh at weird memes he finds funny with him and you no longer read his texts that are full of random complaining, mostly about his roommate Donghyuck, throughout the day. You don’t meet him to work on the project together. It’s almost done and you still have time– you are planning on just finishing it by yourself and turning it in on the day it’s due, with no contact with the male. You also don’t call him when you’re walking home alone in the late hours of the evening, scared and yearning to find comfort in his saccharine words. You don’t even look at his messages– he sent you multiple– only letting yourself to check the contact name before you swipe the notification away without giving it much thought, making yourself ignore all of his calls the moment you hear your ringtone go off. Worst of all, you don’t even attend class anymore. You’re glad for the past you that managed to attend every single class, because now, you have more than enough absences to use up before the semester ends and you go on spring break.

You do everything in your power to erase him out of your life. It takes an admirable amount of self-control, you must admit.

And sometimes, it even feels silly. It feels stupid to react so much to seeing him with his ex girlfriend, because frankly, you two weren’t dating. No amount of touches, gentle words, hang-outs after the sun sets and intimacy means that you are a couple; it didn’t matter that you opened up to him so much when neither of you confirmed to this being inclusive. The day before you dyed his hair back, you two were just good friends, after all. Sex didn’t change anything– even though you thought it would. 

And maybe that’s what’s making you feel even more angstier about the whole thing. You gave him every last ounce of yourself you had, every inch of your body, from the inside out– so now, you feel thrown away, as if you were useless.

The cold nights slowly turn into warmer evenings, birds chirping outside waking you up in the mornings even more reminding you of the man you lost somewhere along the way. Spring was the favorite season of you both, but somewhere deep inside of you, you’re starting to dread it. Maybe it’s the fact that you were yearning for a new beginning for yourself in spring; for something to be born seemingly out of nothing– but it seems like you are supposed to bloom by yourself now, and you’re finding it harder than ever. 

It’s the beginning of the second week of March. Warm sunlight makes your feet spring up from your bed in the early morning, forcing you to take a walk. You’ve gotten used to going on these, as many call it, ‘mental health walks’ lately– you read on the internet that they help your mood, and even though it’s a slow progress, you’re willing to try anything, at this point. 

You chose a fixed destination you walk to every other day. It’s on the opposite side of the campus– where the Science buildings are– and you would be lying to yourself and everyone if you said you didn’t carefully craft the journey so you wouldn’t get in contact with the man you’ve been trying to avoid for the last two and a half weeks. It’s far away from your apartment, and even further away from his. There’s no reason for him to visit those parts of the campus, and you find comfort in the fact. 

Finding a bench under a cherry blossom tree– it’s slowly starting to wilt these days– you sit in silence for a while on some days, and on others, you put in your earphones and watch the world around you go by without you moving a single finger, trying to find comfort in the fact.

Listening to the playlist you made in the crack of dawn last night– Renjun always made fun of you for the fact that you once listed ‘making Spotify playlists’ as your hobby– you fall deep inside of your thoughts. When this happens, it’s hard to control your mind and think of something positive. The only thing left for you to do is to hope and pray you don’t spiral.

Why did it even matter so much to you anyway? It was just a kiss to his cheek. It’s not like you caught them in the act…

However, still, the image of them looking so comfortable together broke your heart; because somewhere along the way, you thought he’d always feel resentment towards the girl. She broke his trust, she made him feel worthless, and it was left for you to take all those broken pieces of him and glue them back together. You didn’t realize it back then, but just the fact that you didn’t give up on him back when he was being difficult was enough for the boy to feel at least a little better again. Your nagging, yet silent acts of meeting him somewhere in the middle, even on his worst days, was a source of comfort for him. And after a while, you started noticing that– you started noticing him warming up to you every time you met, you started noticing his gratitude towards you in the little acts of service he brought with himself when he bought you snacks or texted you if you came home safely after your meetings. 

You guess that seeing Yunjin talking so freely with him, seeing her kiss his cheek with such tenderness, made you feel so deeply, easily replaceable in his life. You guess you always feel like that with everyone anyway. It’s a bad habit you find hard to break– maybe you too, just need someone to be patient with you while you heal.

“What are you listening to?” you hear a voice, tone close to honey, ask from the place next to you. It makes you jump in terror, both from recognising it so easily and from not expecting him to find you here, so far away from everything, as you look at him with surprised eyes.

You don’t know what it is that keeps you silent. Perhaps it’s surprise. Perhaps it’s pettiness. Perhaps it’s shame. 

The feeling makes you stiff in silence, everything in you refusing to respond to his sudden casualty. “Okay, I’ll just stalk your listening activity on Spotify when I come home again, then,” he shrugs, his uninhibited demeanor making you boil inside. You feel like your insides are on fire, you feel like the whole world came crashing down on you because of mere seconds of seeing him with someone that he once held so dear to his heart, making you  feel replaced and forgotten, and yet, he comes to you so easily and doesn’t even acknowledge your hurt?

“What are you doing here?” you ask, voice soulless as you turn your music off and put your tangled earphones into your jacket pocket, finally choosing to recognise his presence. 

“Talking to you,” he shrugs, “I… brought you coffee,” he smiles, showing you the Starbucks take-out cardboard holding two drinks together, one iced americano and one caramel latte, the sight making your heart warm up quite dangerously at the thought that after all this time, he got your coffee order down, he noticed you sweetening your drinks, and he remembered.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you scoff. “How did you know I’d be here?”

The man shrugs. “I didn’t, at first. I… I came to your apartment to talk to you, but Jimin said you weren’t home, so after a few minutes of begging her to tell me where I could find you, she gave up and sent me here.”

You guess you’ll have to have a serious talk with your roommate when you come home.

“Why… why are you here, then?” you ask, still feeling the bitter pettines on your tongue when the words escape your mouth.

“Well,” he starts, taking a deep breath in, collecting his thoughts, “at first I thought I’d give you space. I thought you didn’t want to talk with anyone and you kept ignoring my texts and calls, so I texted Jimin to ask if you were okay, and when she told me you were doing fine, I figured it had to do something with me. And then– and then I thought I’d give you some space, since you looked like you needed some, but… but I think I need to face the problem now, since it’s clearly… something big, you know…” 

It’s undeniable that Huang Renjun is quite the smart individual. His ability to instantly sense your emotions and decipher the meaning behind them never fails to catch you off guard, though.

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you suddenly notice the nerves he tried to mask by fake casualty. He keeps chewing on his bottom lip and he’s picking at his cuticles so hard you think they’ll bleed at any minute, his frame small and hesitant as he turns away from you, afraid to meet your eyes. He looks so, so guilty, and you suddenly feel stupid for making such a big deal out of something that shouldn’t have mattered to you in the first place.

“What… What did I do to hurt you?” he asks, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Because you must be hurt, if you’re avoiding me this much.”

Taking a deep breath in, you shake your head at the whole situation. He’s right, though– perhaps it’s time to finally face your problems now, so you can move on. Maybe this closure is what you need, maybe you need to hear it from him– to hear that it didn’t mean anything to him, to hear that Yunjin apologized and he’s gonna get back together with her, because somehow, your brain convinced you this was the case– to finally let him go and stop mourning something that was never there in the first place. “I–” 

Your words fail you.

“Do you… regret it?” he asks, voice so small you almost don’t hear him. 

The sentence takes you off guard. Looking at him, you can’t even bring yourself to speak, confused eyes roaming over his tense features. Opening up your mouth to ask for clarification, he mumbles again before you get a chance to speak. “Do you regret sleeping with me?”

Blinking at him a few times, a crease appearing in between your eyebrows, you shake your head. Is this really what was running through his brain? Is this why he left you alone for more than two weeks? Because suddenly, it makes sense– the way he gave you space and let you avoid him for two weeks before he came to find you in person– but again, this is not at all what was running through your brain all these days. Never once did you regret what you two did, no matter how shitty you’re feeling about it now after your brain convinced you of things that weren’t even real in the first place. “No,” you simply say.

A hint of relief washes over his face, his shoulders relaxing just the tiniest bit– it looks like this was what he’s been scared of the most; it looks like he feared he hurt you in this way. Still, he insists on talking it out once and for all. “What is it, then?”

Shameful to meet his eyes, you point your gaze towards your feet. Convincing yourself that your feelings are valid and that you were right to feel the way you do, the same way you did to him all those weeks ago at the stairs in front of the university building, you confess to your worries. “I saw you with Yunjin the other day.”

Now it’s his time to stay silent, and somehow, your brain can’t find a way to deal with not getting a response from him, so you ramble to cope. “At the cafeteria, I mean. I– I wanted to surprise you, and you said you were getting lunch alone and I was at the campus, so I thought I’d come to keep you company, but then… then I saw you with her, and you two seemed so comfortable together, so close, and then she kissed your cheek and it made me… it made me feel like… like you maybe wanted to get back together with her, or something…?”

“And really, it’s fine, if you want to do that, I guess I just… for the sake of both of us, or maybe just me, I think… I think it’s better for me to keep my distance from you, then.”

Watching as his expression shifts to one full of disbelief, you swear that what you want the most in this moment is to disappear. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me those past two weeks?” he asks.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, suddenly feeling insanely silly and unreasonable when you say all of those things out loud, you avert your gaze from him, pointing it somewhere into the distance. 

“Is this really it?” he asks again, insisting, full of disbelief. “You made me feel like you regretted having sex with me, and this is it?” he chuckles, and you don’t know if it’s because he’s looking down on you, or if he just truly finds the situation funny. 

“Look, I–” 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gets out, looking as if every nerve and stress in his body finally let go, relief washing over his face like waterfalls, “I was so scared, and this is what’s been bugging you?” he asks, shaking his head in disbelief as he runs his hands through his hair. “She came to apologize to me. Not that it mattered something to me, and not that it made any difference, but I didn’t have it in me to tell her to fuck herself, you know? That’s what you saw. She told me she wishes me well and that she hopes I find joy in someone else too. She didn’t even– she didn’t even sit with me at lunch. She went to eat with her boyfriend.”

And here it is– the inevitable notion of shame intensifies. Finally having the explanation you’ve been wanting to hear, but purposefully avoiding for two weeks; finally feeling relief in your chest, your worries escaping out like the summer wind, and even though you should be happy, you can’t even bring yourself to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“No, I mean– it’s just… I’m sorry too, it’s just…” he trails off, making you look at him with examining eyes, eyebrows raised in question. You don’t really know what he’s apologizing for. Maybe for leaving you space even though he was convinced that’s what you needed– had he approached you earlier, you wouldn’t have to avoid him for two weeks.

“It’s just…?”

“I find it ironic how you thought I wanted to get back together with her, when in reality… you were the one I wanted to get together with in the first place, you know?” he asks, and if you squint hard enough, you could still see hints of nervousness in his body when he asks the rhetorical question, soft eyes scanning your face when your eyes meet.

“Oh,” you hum, mouth agape in surprise.

“Yeah,” he nods, lips pressed into a thin line, “cause I like you… like, a lot, actually, so…” he mumbles, the confession reminding you of your first weeks with Renjun– tense and awkward, but with a promise of something new the more you got to know him.

“Oh,” you repeat again, your brain still not catching up to the situation.

Suddenly, the two weeks of avoidance feel even more silly. You don’t know what happened in you to cause this much distress for the both of you, but you’re filled with delight with the fact that even though you expected him to get mad at you– to call you unreasonable, maybe even a little stupid– he seems to be understanding of your emotions. He seems to accept them, willing to put up with them and everything that requires of him; he seems to be willing to find you even at the end of the world and try to get you back into his life. Because only god knows how much he appreciates your presence in it. 

“So…” he mumbles, a silent question hanging in the air, making you realize you were too caught up in your thoughts to really give him an answer.

“I… I like you too, if that… wasn’t obvious,” you snicker, shrugging as a wide smile spreads across your cheeks. The words fall a little bashfully off your tongue, the confession ringing strangely in your ears, but you don’t mind the little uncomfort the shyness in your demeanor brings you.

There are no long confessions, no deep words of love. Once again, Huang Renjun is a man of few words– he shows you his care through actions. 

He finds you when you’re avoiding him. He makes sure you get home safe. He tries hard to work with you on a project he originally wanted to avoid, only because he notices you finding interest in it, your passion slowly sparking up his. 

He keeps annoying the publicist of your favorite author for a week straight to let you make an interview with her, even though he got declined twice over an email with messages filled with bitter and annoyed words. He remembers your coffee order and he invites you to hang out with his friends to show you that you are now a part of his circle, that you are one of his close ones. He lets you make fun of him with your roommate, but doesn’t give you the same treatment he gives Donghyuck when he tries to bully him. He sends you all the cat pictures he gets from his friend Taeyong, sometimes even asking for some when he hasn’t sent you ones in too long, and he also thinks of you any time he sees the snow– because he gets reminded of the walk you two had in the midst of the snowflakes, even though you hate the cold. 

He reads your favorite book and finds pieces of you scattered all across the pages, he feels his love for you in the poetic words and metaphors hidden in the plot. He lets you dye his hair to signify that a part of his life is now over and a new one started– with you being the main actor of the subtle metamorphosis as he slowly shifts back into his old self, yet now a little wiser. 

He is a man of few words, affection coating them only sometimes, when he reassures you over a mug of hot tea in the evenings before you present your assignments in class and when you get too scared of crowded places; but somehow, the words he keeps to himself translate to you despite not being spoken.

In the beams of the warm sun, you gravitate to him like you’re two planets in the solar system, always sharing the same space. And when his smile meets yours in another kiss, you think that after all, you get the kind of new beginning you wanted in spring.

You and Huang Renjun may be the prime example that love, just like cherry blossoms, always blooms in patience. 

#nct #nct dream #renjun #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #renjun x reader #renjun fluff #renjun angst #renjun smut #renjun fic #renjun scenario #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #nct dream smut #huang renjun #renjun drabble #renjun fanfic

[ultraacherries]

Need - jude bellingham 🍒

this is my first time writing a fic so my grammar and spelling is horrible lol i’m open to criticism so feel free to tell me what i should improve on !! if you want to leave suggestion all feel free !!

Him wanting you was an understatement.

He needed you.

He needed to ruin you in every way possible.

He needed to undress the innocence that wrapped around you like a cloth and taint you with every sin known to man.

He needed to break every part of you and then piece you back together with love that is on the edge of consuming him.

The lustful attention thrown at you did nothing to sedate the thoughts of having you to himself, your very being belonging to him. Only him.

Everyone could see it, from his unwavering longing gazes, to his protective touches, everyone but you. Your oblivious nature didn’t mean your feelings towards him were platonic like they once were.

You started to feel a sudden shift when Jude moved to real madrid, his confidence and physique filled you with an indescribable feeling, one you’ve never felt before, his friendship was always something you treasured dearly but now you found yourself craving for something more.

You might be oblivious however he wasn’t. He saw the way you’d blush when he’d hold your hand protectively guiding you through a crowd or when you clenched your thighs together as you watch him working out. But he knew you wasn’t ready, although your thoughts mirrored his, your thoughts were clouded with confusion as to what these emotions were. He was willing to wait for you, rejecting the urge to destroy his years of self control.

That was until he saw you in Rodrygo’s embrace after a match. Jude gathered his things ready to finally see you and sink into your warm presence only to find you with someone else.He was aware that your relationship is nothing more than a “platonic pair”, but his self control cracked as unreasonable rage consumed him.

You felt a hand dragging you out of the stadium, into the parking lot and pulled you into the passenger seat, to then sit on the opposite side without a word.(pretend jude has his license lol)

You were about to question what the hell just happened but his clenched jaw and tight grip on the steering wheel made you hesitate a little. After a few minutes of silence you mustered up the courage to ask.

“Jude are you mad at me” you said quietly. He turned towards you with a dark look that softened a little as soon as he saw the soft gaze directed at him almost forgetting that you where in the arms of another.

He turned away refusing to let your eyes deter him and asked “what were you doing with Rodrygo baby” his calm tone that once offered you comfort now fills you with unease.

“Rodrygo is also my friend Jude i was congratulating him on the win” you tilt your head in confusion you didn’t see why you need to offer an explanation.

He lets out a sarcastic laugh that made a shiver run down your spine but that didn’t stop your frustration.

“ i don’t see why you have an issue with this you don’t-” he cuts you off.

“finish that sentence Y/N go on i dare you”

your mouth clamps shut in submission surprising the hell out of you. He exists the car and walks over to your side and opens it. Even his rage couldn’t stop him from taking care of you and it made your heart flutter in your chest.

He takes your hand taking you up to the hotel room where you were staying until you two return back home from Barcelona. He swipes the card key opening the door and pushes you onto the wall beside it.

“Jude ” you’re silenced by the hand the creeps up to your waist. You can feel the anger vibrate off of him and form into a state of desperation.

“i love it when you say my name baby it drives me fucking crazy, ” his voice filled with a need that mirrored your own.

“jude-” he groans which makes your body fill with warmth and shock.

“did his arms feel this good y/n” he questions as he rests his head in the crook of your neck, his breath ticking the special spot that made squirm.

“n-no” his hands go up his jersey that you were wearing and he rests them on your stomach. The heat of your body clashes with his cool skin leaving your mind hazy.

“you’re already gone, and i’ve barely touched you sweetheart” he chuckles in a way you found so attractive it made you freeze in his hold. This was wrong he was your friend.

“jude ”you whine and his grip on you tightens.

“hmm” he groans into your neck again heightening your arousal.

“friends don’t” you were to shy to carry on, to admit what’s happening between the two of you. However, Jude wanted to hear you say it. He needed to hear you say it.

“best friends don’t what ? i wanna hear you say it baby go on” he looked up at you but his gaze was too much to bare so you look away.

“b-best friends don’t touch each other like this” you stuttered. Deep down he knew you were right but his frustration was clouding his judgment.

Your chest moving with every breath, the slight tremble your body omits is enough for him to bend you over right now and have his way with you.

"okay then ill back away and we will pretend this didnt happen" his voice so soft it sounded like a whisper, he saw the disappointment quickly surround the lust in your eyes. Jude felt his shorts tighten around him begging for release.

"is that what you want y/n you want us to be just friends?" he taunts as he raises those hands further up your body. God those hands drove you crazy you never want him to let you go.

The undiscribable feelings you felt now made sense, you wanted everything he wanted to give you, forgetting and remaining in the comfort of friendship was the last thing you desire.

You desire him. The words you want to say were stuck in your throat, the ability to express them were always denied in his presence, so you look away only for him to turn your head so you can face him again.

" nah baby i want you looking straight at me" his grip on your chin is firm. His eyes overwhelmed with determination. "tell me" he says.

"i-i dont want that jude" he gives you a nod in encouragement telling you to go on, which makes you drip with arousal and confidence which leads you to utter;

"i want you jude" you take step closer even though it was impossible with how intertwined your bodies were.

" i need you jude" you whimper in his hold as he moans at the juxtaposing innocence and lust swimming in your eyes. He brings you into a long awaited kiss that conveying the burning desire and desperation, making you both dizzy.

Jude’s thoughts we’re preoccupied with one thing…

You needed him.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #fanfic #footballer x reader #jude bellingham x y/n #first time writing #help idk what im doing

[tsukimefuku]

✎ᝰ. jujutsu partners au masterlist

mdni | canon divergence | multigenre | nanami x reader x higuruma

cross posting: on ao3 here.

ᝰ summary: ten years after a mission gone bad in which gojo and nanami saved your life, you go — against your will — to work at jujutsu high as a sorcerer. you just never hoped this would elicit working alongside partners, and getting too close to them might turn out messy. this is a sequence of one-shots set in the same canon divergent alternate universe, in which Reader is a sorcerer with a considerably complicated relationship with Jujutsu High.

ᝰ important info: they're all written and posted in a non-linear fashion. To keep some organized way of reading them all, the fics are listed in chronological order. Writing in this is kind of experimental, so writing style might differ from one story to another.

ᝰ a/n: blue for Nanami focused stories | orange for Higuruma focused stories | both for both | stories with other characters have no particular color.

+ Disclaimers

- CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT. Do not proceed unless 18+! - Contains angst, fluff, and slow burn. - There will be more multi chapter short stories. - The one-shots are listed in chronological order. - I write flawed characters — and when I say flawed, I mean FLAWED. They can (and sometimes will) be idiots, assholes, mess up, make mistakes and make up. This is an important one, please don't ignore it. - I called this a love triangle for the sake of simplicity, but it's a V.

+ One-shots, short-stories and drabbles (in chronological order of events)

Stories below will be tagged as follows:

💛 Fluff and/or Comfort | 💔 Angst and/or Hurt | 😂 Crack and/or Comedy | 💋 Romance | 🌶️ Smut and/or clear mentions of | 💥Action and/or canon-typical violence

To be loved is to be changed (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛😂 The day you arrived at Jujutsu High and encountered friends from the past.

These silly little memories (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛😂 You reminisce about the past while chatting with Ijichi and Yuuji.

In my shoes (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💥💔💛 You get severely injured while on one of your first missions with Nanami.

Tea for your thoughts (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛 Soft drabble where you receive tea waking up after a terrible night.

Valentine's Day and dark chocolate (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛 You bought a box of chocolates you don't really like.

Would you let me die? (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💋 You and Nanami have a significant conversation, and you request something of him.

Driving lesson (Platonic Ijichi & OC/Reader) 💛😂 You asked Ijichi for some driving lessons.

Wardrobe malfunction (Light Nanami x OC/Reader) 😂 Your cursed technique isn't exactly clothing-friendly, and when you find yourself in a less than ideal situation, you only had one person you could ask for help.

Photo, motto! (Yuuji, Nobara and Megumi chaotic trio, light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 😂💛 Yuuji, Nobara and Megumi are shocked to learn you have no social media accounts, and decide to change that. However, things don't go as planned.

About witches and villages that hate sorcerers (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💥 What happens when your communication gets cut off during a mission in a village, and everyone knew you went there in the wrong state of mind?

Kikufuku picnic gratitude (Platonic Gojo x OC/Reader) 💛 Your friend Satoru Gojo just had some intense news and needs company.

The search for the man in the black suit (Higuruma & OC/Reader)💥 You were assigned to find and capture Higuruma Hiromi, a curse user sentenced to death by Jujutsu higher ups. You're just not sure if he really deserves to die.

Toxic endeavors (Higuruma & OC/Reader)💥💔 You and Higuruma are on your third mission together, and you save him from getting injured, putting yourself in harm's way as you do so.

Team fighting (light Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛😂 You decided to train team fighting with Higuruma in an unorthodox way.

Short story: Right, wrong and the in-between (Nanami, OC/Reader, Higuruma) 💛💔💥 You and Higuruma were assigned to investigate the disappearance of women around Shinjuku. This led to a dicey situation regarding what place Jujutsu sorcerers occupy in this world and what is their role to play when non-sorcerers get involved. Chapters: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Epilogue

Crooked gardening (light/implied Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛 Higuruma keeps thinking about something you have done for him, and takes a walk to clear his mind.

Kindness and sunflowers (light/implied Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛😂💋 You get a drunk Higuruma safely home.

Short story: Colleagues in arms 💥 Nanami and Higuruma are dispatched to exorcize a curse together, having to conciliate their personal issues in order to get the job done. Chapters: Single chapter

Where does your mind drift? (light Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💋 After you and Nanami get stranded trying to get back to Tokyo, you both end up having a chat about your feelings.

The event, Part 1 (explicit! Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💋🌶️ You find yourself entangled with Nanami in his apartment, and worry where this might be going.

The event, Part 2 (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💋 The aftermath of The Event, Part 1. Nanami needs to have a serious talk with you.

The man who played with fire (explicit! Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋🌶️ After some drinks by yourself and getting frustrated with someone, you stupidly knock on Higuruma's door to test a theory.

The morning after is still last night (Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋 After last night, you and Higuruma share a brief pillow talk.

What if (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💋 What if the world was more forgiving, and you and Nanami never became jujutsu sorcerers?

Short story: Lover's Pass (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💥💋 You and Nanami were sent to investigate cursed activity linked to disappearances in the Lover's Pass. Meanwhile, you both still have to deal with the fallout that happened after the last time you were together. Chapters: Single chapter

Bartender confessions (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔 Nanami is trying to drink himself into oblivion to get his mind off of you.

Tactics (explicit! Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋🌶️ You and Higuruma finally go on your first not-date when you decide to give him an answer.

Human resources, tasukete! (Gojo / Shoko / Ijichi. Fluff Higuruma x OC/Reader, just crack, honestly) 💛💔😂 You're concerned and decide to ask your friends about Jujutsu High's HR policies regarding romantic relationships.

It takes one to know one (Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋 You and Higuruma decide to make a promise to each other.

Tie me up (explicit! Higuruma x OC/Reader) 😂💋🌶️ After failing to make a romantic dinner, you're very upset. Hiromi volunteers to “help you out” with that frustration.

Tea and coffee (Higuruma x OC/Reader, implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💛😂 - You had a sleepless night and needs some caffeine to keep yourself from falling asleep before the day has even begun, so Nanami and Hiromi lend a helping hand.

Short story: Old regrets and guilt ridden pasts 💔💛💋🌶️ After you enter Hiromi's domain and he meets an acquaintance from the past, you both see yourselves confronting ancient ghosts and old regrets. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (10%)

Bread for breakfast (Higuruma x OC/Reader, implied past Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔 - Hiromi decides to walk down to a bakery he likes and have breakfast before heading to Morioka, and ends up bumping into Nanami.

Fixing broken things (implied/soft Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💛 - After you realize that everything you were taking care of just wound up crooked anyway, you're pissed and needs a helping hand in order to not let the anger get the better of you.

Forgiveness is a collective resource (platonic Gojo & OC/Reader) 💔💛 - As you're telling Gojo about your most recent fallout, he ends up telling you in return the last question Geto posed him before leaving.

The letter (coming soon…) 0%

Bar discoveries (coming soon…) 0%

No more patience behind the wheels (coming soon...) 100%

Books and dinner (coming soon…) 40%

Eulogy for the love remained (coming soon...) 30%

How do you say it? (soon) 0%

In-office nap time (soon) 0%

Something’s off (soon) 0%

+ About and P.A.Q. (Possibly Asked Questions)

Q: How did this come to be? This came into my mind as I was thinking about my Jujutsu Kaisen Original Character, Shiori Yamada. She is from my JJK Canon Compliant fanfic, Sand and Snow. I thought: what if she came to Jujutsu High years after the events of Sand and Snow? And that's where it started.

Q: What's the difference between the short stories and the one-shots? Mostly, I usually have a long or dedicated main plot in my short stories, whereas in the one-shots, what is written is much more focused on an excerpt of the characters' interactions.

Q: what is the best way to read this? I wrote it in a way that basically all one-shots can be read as stand-alone pieces (same for each short story). Just read in the chronological order of events, as listed above.

Q: is it the same f!reader in all of these stories? Yes, it is The reader is based off of my Original Character, Shiori. I didn’t intend to make her a staple, but just liked the character too much to let it slide. I’ll eventually make a reference sheet with her story (as soon as I finish Sand and Snow, to avoid spoilers).

+ Relevant updates + Notes

other updates can be checked on the reblog section

Playlist (a.k.a. stuff I listen to when writing these): ♪ Want me too - Mons Vi / ♪ Heart's a Mess - Gotye / ♪ It's gonna rain - Bonnie Pink / ♪ I love you so - The Walters / ♪ Ichigo Batake de Tsukamaete - Sunny Day Service / ♪ Setsuna - Sunny Day Service / ♪ For Emma - Bon Iver / ♪ Break - alex_g_offline / ♪ My love, mine all mine - Mitski / ♪ Babooshka - Kate Bush / ♪ One last kiss - Hikaru Utada / ♪ Tactics - The Yellow Monkey / ♪ Mr. Deja Vu - Naja / ♪ Stuck on the puzzle - Arctic Monkeys / ♪ We’re all eating each other - Julie Ivy / ♪ Head Over Feet - Alanis Morissette (HiguReader specific) / ♪ Nothing in my way - Keane (NanaReader specific) / ♪ I bet on losing dogs - Mitski / ♪ Chamber of reflection - Your Anxiety Buddy (cover) / ♪ Sunny - Yorushika / ♪ Sayonara Bye Bye - Matsuko Mawatari / ♪ Misery - Maroon 5 / ♪ First love/Late spring - Mitski / ♪ Heart skipped a beat - The XX

ׂ╰┈➤ You can listen to the full playlist here (on YouTube).

Update + Mar 26, 2024

I just decided to list all one-shots and short-stories together. Seemed more simple and efficient.

Update + Mar. 23, 2024

There are some things I want to put here because as an anxious writer, I like when other writers do this.

1. this is my COPIUM from the trauma I have endured during JJK (thanks Gege), so no matter what, THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING for all characters. I just like the bumpy road, makes the happiness at the end feel worthwhile.

2. I decided to one-shot the ending. However, the long fic based off of this universe will probably have a slightly different and bigger one. There are many things (protagonist’s power journey, lore, her backstory, actual big plot that I have planned, etc) that I really want to write on the long fic, and didn’t find a way of doing so in these one-shots and short stories.

3. I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but I began cross posting these on AO3. The link is on the top.

4. The Big Sad™ and The Big Feels™ are about to get started. I’ll just finish up some one-shots first and then proceed with them. There will be angst, but a lot of fluff too.

Commentary

Random thoughts and fun facts from the author that absolutely no one asked for but I wanted to write anyway

Themes are... guilt, forgiveness, grief, and life after loss, I guess? Idk, I like writing characters interacting and growing with each other, so I just give them their trauma and let them work through it.

I first got inspired to write HiguReader when I listened to “Loser, Baby” from Hazbin Hotel. They’re both so over Jujutsu High’s shit and vibe on that shared contempt that I just loved the concept of it.

One of my favorite things to do is getting traits from a character and twisting them to be a double edged knife - a quality and a flaw at the same time. Basically, that’s what I did with Nanami’s protective persona, and intend to do (as of writing this on march 24th) with Higuruma’s sense of justice and responsibility.

I was terrified writing my first smut piece (The Man who Played with Fire), and I’m astonished at how well it was received. You guys are the best, seriously.

Nanami’s suffering will end soon (I say as of writing this, march 24th).

I got inspired by some very talented authors on this site to write non-explicit sex scenes, and will try doing it in two or three one-shots, where there is sex involved, but I don’t think smut would fit very well.

Writing smut as a demisexual person is an entire experience, let’s just say that.

From the very beginning, I just found it impossible in my heart to ship or even hint at shipping OC/Reader and Gojo. Also, as a NM person who doesn’t appreciate rigid hierarchy of romantic x platonic relationships, I wanted to write more on becoming friends with Gojo. However, from what I could see when writing these fics and shorts, this will end up mostly in the long fic.

I STRUGGLE with headers so damn much. I don’t like using fanart (shy to ask for permission), and finding good fitting anime frames/manga panels is usually a little difficult without becoming too repetitive. I’ll just try my best making headers for the AU stories moving forward.

I like writing strong, capable, willful female characters who are secure of themselves and have got some rizz iykwim. Dainty female characters are really not my thing when it comes to writing. I’ll eventually try writing more delicate or heart-warming female leads/readers, though, because we should strive to get out of our comfort zone.

Writing in 2nd person is still a challenge for me. I was used to writing in 1st person in a Lispectoresque style when I wrote ten years ago (also, I did it in my native language). “The Letter” will be (or “was”, depending on when you’re reading this) my attempt at transporting my original style of writing into English and reader insert.

#jujutsu kaisen higuruma #higuruma x reader #jjk higuruma #jjk hiromi #hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jjk x you #jjk #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk fanfic #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen #fuku writes

[rorywritesjunk]

No longer locked upon the land but free on the rolling waves

You and Buggy come face to face with himself from the past, and while you’re fully accepting that this is your husband as a child, Buggy doesn’t want to accept it.

Rating: PG-13ish, but just due to some swearing.

Warning: Upset kid, upset husband. Reader is way too nice, doesn’t necessarily take husband’s feelings into account as well. This chapter had one of my favorite moments between the Reader and Kid Buggy which was mentioned in the request, and it was a part I wanted to make sure I got just right.

A/N: A combined request. I did a few versions of this story before feeling like it hit the marks I was wanting to hit. Also, I’m just trying to vibe off what I’ve seen of Kid Buggy. I’m no expert. I’d protect that kid with my life. He’s so adorable. I also like the trope of “Meeting your self from another time” and “gets turned back into kid-self”. This is the former, and I know shit about time travel but I just kind of made something up. Also, kelpies. Are they in One Piece? I honestly don’t know but I love kelpies and needed an excuse to mention them. Additional notes: Holy cow, thank you to everyone who's been reading this! I read every comment and tag and it warms my heart so much. I meant for this to be multi-chapter from the start, but I want to give a heads up that this is a short fic, probably no more than 5 chapters but I'm almost thinking of writing more on Buggy and his wife because I've liked what I started with them and have already been thinking of their story. Title comes from "Sailing Song" by S.J. Tucker.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6/Epilogue TAGLIST (just let me know if you want to be added!): @lostfirefly @misadventures0fdes @sylum @valen-yamyam16 @dohkyu @fluffybunnyu @skyofsteel @lavalampskyy

Chapter 3

Everything was going great after breakfast for a little bit. The kid was fine to follow you around to help you with your own chores, which right now was collecting anything that needed mending or washing. You had Buggy carry the basket of mending while you made your way across the deck and to the kitchen. The crew was out on deck, and while word got around of some kind of shape shifter on board (your husband was still not happy about your guest), this was the first time most of them were seeing their captain as a child. The kid ignored the staring as long as he could, but you could see it was getting to him.

The final straw was when you watched a crewman lean over to another, hearing him whisper, “He even has the big nose.”

You both heard it because no sooner did he finish his sentence that Buggy dropped the basket he was carrying and rushed over to the crewman, delivering a kick to his crotch. The crewman fell to the ground in pain and you managed to grab Buggy before he could kick him in the face, though a part of you wanted to allow it to happen.

“Don’t talk about my nose!” He shrieked, fighting against you as you hauled him away to the kitchen. You passed the captain on the way, giving him a look as you pulled the kid along. Your husband stood there, confused for a moment before turning to see the crewman on the ground. What just happened?

You sat Buggy down on a chair and knelt in front of him. It was a little surprising to see him crying. You expected more anger, shouting, maybe some punches being thrown. You shouldn’t have been surprised, though. He was a kid with kid emotions. Big fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he clenched his fists. He rubbed his eyes, sniffling loudly.

“I th-thought I was the captain.” He choked out; you reached for one of the napkins left on the table from breakfast and put your hand on his cheek as you gently wiped the tears away. “Why would th-they talk about my nose?”

Your heart broke from that question. As an adult, your husband was still sensitive about his nose, had been since you first met him, but you couldn’t imagine going through childhood with those insecurities. And the fact you explained earlier that he became the captain of this ship just to have someone on the crew mention it so cruelly? It was horrible. 

“Because some of them are idiots.” You told him as you draped the napkin over your shoulder. “And I’ll throw them overboard once I make sure you’re okay. Now, do you want a hug?”

To your surprise he nodded, so you opened your arms and he fell into them, letting his head rest on your shoulder. You sat back on the floor, stretching your legs out in front of you as you held him on your lap, rubbing his back slowly as he still sniffled. 

“So… did I miss something?”

You looked back toward the door and sighed when you saw your husband standing there. Kid Buggy ignored him, sniffling as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. You tightened your hold on the kid as you turned your attention back to him.

“One of your crewmen should be thrown overboard, Captain.” You told him, voice calm as you reached up to remove Kid Buggy’s hat so you could stroke his hair. He closed his eyes when you did that, relaxing in your embrace. You knew your husband liked having his hair stroked when he was upset, and you were pleased the kid was no different. “They need to learn when to keep their mouths shut.”

“Huhh…” Adult Buggy scratched the back of his head as he watched the scene in front of him. It was… weird but nice to see you comforting the kid like that. He didn’t remember ever really having that growing up. You were holding the kid so lovingly, not caring that your shirt was getting covered in tears and snot from him being so upset. 

“I’m sorry that idiot talked about your nose, sweetie.” You murmured to the kid in your arms, hugging him tighter. “It wasn’t right of him to do that.” 

Buggy stood there for another few minutes, watching you with him. You even gave the kid a forehead kiss, which the kid seemed fine with. He looked like he felt safe in your arms, and Buggy would know, having been there himself many times when he needed to feel safe and loved. It was just frustrating that he had to wait until meeting you to feel that way, having not ever really had that as a kid on a ship. Yet here you were, by chance now holding his kid self in your arms and comforting him when he was upset. Others would have just laughed about it, telling him to get over it, but you were apologetic to him and it wasn’t your fault it happened.

“Which one?” Adult Buggy asked; you looked up at him. “Which one said it?”

“The one that was on the ground, crying.” You replied as you rubbed Kid Buggy’s back gently. “Throw him overboard.”

Oh, he wouldn’t refuse a request like that from you. He stormed out of the kitchen, and as you tilted the kid’s face up, looking for more tears, you both heard a scream and a splash. You smiled and put your hand on his cheek, thumb stroking gently. You didn’t hear the captain return, but he remained quiet, watching from the doorway.

“No one else is going to say anything like that to you again on this ship, sweetie.” You assured him. “You’re safe with me, okay? I’ll hurt anyone who is mean to you, promise.”

“Okay…” Kid Buggy let his head drop back on your shoulder, sighing as he relaxed. You smiled and hugged him.

“Listen, I think your nose is cute.” You told him; he made a face and glanced up at you. “When I met my husband, it was the first thing I noticed about him and when I told him he was handsome he turned as red as his nose. I thought it was sweet, and to this day I still think it’s endearing.” You giggled at the face the kid was giving you. “What? I swear. I sometimes compliment him just to see how red he’ll get. It’s one of my favorite things to do.”

“You’re so evil.” Your husband grumbled, startling the two of you.  Grinning, you turned to look at him, only to laugh when you saw him glaring at you so you just blew a kiss at him. “Are you saying you only love me for my nose?”

“One of the reasons.” You chuckled. “I also love how passionate you are, and how much you love me. Though your impulsiveness still catches me off guard sometimes, I can appreciate it.”

“I’m not impulsive!”

“You threw Buggy off the ship into the water just yesterday.” You reminded him. To your delight, your husband began to turn red in the face. “But you also stole me flowers a week ago because you saw me wearing a pink dress and you liked how they matched.”

“I’m about to throw you overboard.” He grumbled, crossing his arms as he looked away, his face burning. You knew there was no threat to be had, he just said those things when he was feeling a little too much love from you. Buggy sighed heavily, shoulders dropping. Maybe he would regret offering this, but he was starting to feel a little better about this whole ordeal. “Kid, do you want a proper tour of the ship? I’m pretty sure you’re not a kelpie or anything else, so I think it’s safe for you to see everything.”

Kid Buggy made a face. He had already been around the ship with you, but you nudged him gently. This was at least a start. You wanted the kid to see what he grew up to become. “It’s okay, I think it’ll be fun for the two of you.”

“Can you come with me?” He asked you, clearly not wanting to be too far from you. It was sometimes difficult to think of a child as young as him being on a ship. You just wanted to hold him in your arms forever and protect him from anything that would hurt him, but that wasn’t realistic. Swallowing heavily, you nodded and he stood up from your lap, crossing his arms as he looked at the captain. “Promise you won’t throw me overboard?”

“Don’t give me a reason to.” Adult Buggy shot back, but you gave him that look and he immediately backtracked. “But I’ll fish you out if I accidentally knock you into the water.”

The kid seemed okay with that answer. You got to your feet and smoothed out Kid Buggy’s hair, it was a little smooshed from being against your shoulder. You handed him his hat back next, but when he didn’t take it you put it on his head for him. He made a face when you did that, and all you could do was giggle. You had seen that glare so much recently that you could only find it silly at this point.

The Captain rolled his eyes and started out of the kitchen while Kid Buggy took your hand and followed after him. You let him lead you, and once you caught up to your husband you linked arms with him, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He looked away when you did that, mumbling something about needing to uphold an image around the crew. You weren’t really sure what that image was but you didn’t say anything. Once you got to the helm of the ship, the captain pulled away from you and in a dramatic and flashy fashion, spun around and threw his arms open, gesturing wildly to the kid.

“THIS! Is my ship!” He announced to Kid Buggy. “We are the Buggy Pirates, the fiercest and most dangerous crew on the East Blue! No one survives a meeting with us!”

You watched the entire interaction in amusement. The kid was getting into it, mouth running a million miles a minute as he asked Buggy question after question about everything. How long has he been a captain? What was it like being so feared? Was he going to become the next King of the Pirates, for real? 

It was cute and you trailed after them as Buggy led him down below to where some ammo was stored. The Buggy Balls concerned you a little bit, you didn’t want them to fire one off into the town on purpose or accident, and thankfully your husband did not offer a demonstration (though you thought you heard him say something along the lines of “we’ll fire one after the wife’s asleep”) of their destructive power. 

And your husband was eating up the attention from the kid. Adult Buggy was proud to talk about his accomplishments, flashy battles, everything and Kid Buggy was listening with fascination, occasionally looking at you for confirmation that he was being told the truth, and you’d just nod in agreement with whatever your husband was saying.

Once the three of you returned to the deck, Kid Buggy’s attention went to the Jolly Roger on the ship, looking at it in awe. It had a nose like his and people were scared when they saw that flag. That was so cool. With the brief distraction, you gave your husband a kiss on the cheek. 

“I love you, Buggy.” You said, smiling at him as he put his arm around you and tugged you closer. You were happy that the two seemed to be on even footing now. The kid was sassy, of course, but at least your husband didn’t even attempt to throw him overboard during their entire interaction this time. And it was nice to see your husband excited to show off his legacy to someone, even if it was to his child self. It looked like things were getting a bit easier between the two of them.

Looked like. Because no sooner did you think that, Kid Buggy came back to you two with a frown on his face. You immediately thought something was wrong, wondering if someone insulted him again, but he crossed his arms and looked up at Adult Buggy. 

“Where’s Shanks?” Kid Buggy asked. “As a grownup. Why isn’t he on this ship too?”

Oh shit. You looked at your husband. He stormed away last time he was asked that question, but this time he stood his ground, probably because you were right there beside him. His hand was on your shoulder, you reached up to touch it gently. The look on Adult Buggy’s face was a mix of anger and sadness, and you wondered if you needed to butt in and change the subject, but he finally spoke.

“His life went in another direction.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “He’s not on this ship, he’s on his own.”

“What?” Kid Buggy frowned. “We’re not co-captains or anything?” He paused, looked at you then looked back at his adult self. “Are we still friends?”

The innocent question was a stab to your heart, but you couldn’t even imagine what it was like for Adult Buggy. His expression was unchanged, trying to think of a kid-friendly way to explain what happened, but was it right to tell him everything? Weren't there rules about this kind of thing, you don’t eat a butterfly in the past or something or it would change the future? Telling the kid his future was one thing, but about relationships? If he told Kid Buggy how his friendship fell apart, the betrayal, the hurt, could it end up that he changes this kid’s future, and in turn his own? What if he doesn’t become a captain, get his own ship? What if he didn’t meet you?

Adult Buggy took a deep breath before slowly exhaling. He didn’t know how to answer, but he had to say something. Both you and the kid were looking at him, waiting for him to say something.

“He has his own ship.” Buggy repeated. “That’s all.”

Then he pulled away from you and walked away from the two of you, leaving you worried and Kid Buggy confused by the answer.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #opla buggy x reader #sunny x buggy #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

[mknightgrant]

Silence

Pairing(s): Steven Grant x Reader, implied Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Layla El-Faouly

Word count: 5.1K. Buckle up, folks.

Warning(s): Insecurities and heavy angst. I cried while thinking of the concept, and I’m hoping this does my idea justice. Set after the finale, so there are spoilers! 

A/N: Hello! This is my first time writing a fic and posting it, so please be gentle! This piece is purely based on research and the events of the series. I am not a system, nor do I know anyone who is a system. If any part of this piece offends anyone, please let me know. No offense is intended.

This is also not completely beta-read, so the mistakes are on me.

Summary: You should’ve stopped asking questions. 

Taglist: @s-v-e-l-t-e, @caroldanvours​

Everyone had warned you about the rose-tinted glasses. Your friends, your family, hell, and even your old college professors used to tell stories about how love could be either the best or worst thing that you could ever experience. It was a risk to put your heart entirely into the hands of a stranger, giving them the liberty to do whatever they wanted to it. Love it, cradle it, protect it, sure—but also poke it, stab it, and break it to the point of no return. 

But with Steven Grant? It was a risk you were definitely willing to take. 

You had been friends with him for five months and had been dating for at least eight before he disappeared without a trace. You were confused, to say the least. In the year or so that you have known him, you never would have expected him to disappear and cut all ties with you. But still, you waited. You waited with the hope that maybe he’d come back home to you. 

However, when Steven did return, he was conflicted. He honestly believed that you wouldn’t wait for him, especially since there was no effort on his part to try and contact you after his sudden disappearance. Nonetheless, he felt that he at least owed you an explanation, and his heart squeezed in his chest when you didn’t leave when he told you about everything.

He explained it from the start, his sleeping disorder, how he tried staying up because he had hyper-realistic dreams that scared the hell out of him. You already knew of this early on in the relationship, but then he continued the story, telling you about Marc, about Khonshu, and everything that had happened to him from the day he got fired from the museum to the day he came back home to you. You've noticed that he seemed happier now, probably because he understood why he had been losing days of his life, and he’s come to accept and love his alter despite everything. 

But there was also another reason, wasn’t there?

Maybe it was your fault. You shouldn’t have asked too many questions. You should’ve just taken what he told you, accepted the anecdotes, and moved forward. You should’ve just been happy that he was here and safe. But you just had to ask, right? 

“Who’s Layla?” Your innocent question stopped him dead in the middle of his sentence as the grin he donned slowly faded into a tight-lipped smile. One he had hoped would be a little more reassuring than nervous, and maybe, if he hadn’t taken so long to reply, you wouldn’t have been suspicious. 

“A friend of Marc’s.” His reply was short and simple. “I… She was the one who came over that day, remember? When you dropped off that book you borrowed from me? Before I… Before I disappeared?” 

Oh. Of course, you remember Layla–well, her physical attributes, at least. To say that she was gorgeous was an understatement. She was breathtaking, ethereal, and a goddess at the least. However, you hadn’t heard whatever they were talking about when you knocked on the apartment door that day because they stopped talking before Steven opened the door, enough for him to peek out at you. 

Steven’s heart raced as he studied your reaction to his reply, trying to gauge whether or not you heard his and Layla’s conversation. Surely you hadn’t, right? You had no idea about the scarab before he told you about it when he had returned. So that would mean that you probably hadn’t heard the conversation, and you hadn’t seen the way he looked at her the way he once looked at you. You wouldn’t have waited this long for him if you had, right?

He hadn’t meant to fall for her, but he couldn’t help himself, could he? The second his arms instinctively wrapped around her waist when she drove a little faster towards his apartment, and he was hit with “I’m still your wife,” things changed. His mouth moved on its own accord that day as Layla handed him the divorce papers he–technically, Marc–had sent. 

“I would never divorce you.”

Then everything came crashing down after that. Marc had warned him against showing Layla the scarab, but she got around to it anyway, so it was too late. Steven had begged for her help, trying to explain the whole situation, and the entire thing merely confused Layla even more. 

“You really don't remember why we've been looking for this? Our adventures. Or our life together?”

“Oh, God, I wish I could.”

You had come knocking on the door only a few minutes later, a smile on your face as you held up his newer copy of Marceline Desbordes-Valmore’s book of poetry. “Steven! Hi! I finally got around to reading this, but I have to say that I don’t exactly ge-” 

Your words were abruptly cut off when Steven dragged you into the apartment, shutting the door behind you. None of you were quite sure why he had done that, but now that he’s thinking about it, maybe Marc had been the reason for it all. 

You hadn’t had enough time to properly introduce yourself to Layla, and likewise, because the moment your eyes lay upon her, you froze. Who was she? 

The following events flew by too quickly for you to properly grasp at the time. The police knocking on the door, Steven gently urging you to hide, the police making accusations against him, then just silence. 

By the time you believed that the coast was clear, they were gone. The police were gone. The woman was gone. Steven was gone. You had tried going around the area, searching through the different police stations for him, and you had even gone back to the museum to ask if they had changed their mind and were pressing charges. Sadly, nothing. He wasn’t at any of the police stations, nor did the museum change their minds. So you did the only thing you could do at the time. You waited.

You texted him, called him, and left voicemails for him. Hell, you even resorted to emailing him a couple of times, just to see if your messages would reach him. All your efforts were unanswered, and you truly had no idea of his whereabouts until he came back home to you. 

Sure, you’d seen the news about the happenings in Cairo, but never in a million years would you have thought that your boyfriend was the one donning the white suit. 

“Oh!” A smile graced your lips, having merely associated the name with the pretty girl who once stood in the apartment. “I remember her! She helped you guys out? That’s amazing!” 

You were completely unaware that Steven left out an important detail: that Layla was his alter’s wife. In the short period that he had been gone and away from you, he had kissed her and had fallen in love with her too. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Days passed, and you had been invited to the apartment numerous times throughout the week, but you weren’t complaining. You missed Steven, quite frankly, you also wanted to know more about Marc. You had encountered him a couple times when he had been fronting, but your interactions never lasted too long. Steven was usually requested for control whenever you were around, but you were aware of his alter since Steven had explained that they recently learned how to become co-conscious. That didn’t mean that they knew every waking life of the other, but at least the blackouts and memory gaps have lessened considerably.

On random occasions, Steven would continue to tell you stories about what had taken place in Cairo. Some stories were repeats of what he had told you in previous days, while others were memories he had just remembered and wanted to tell you. Sometimes, he’d tell you his thoughts about the event or other questions he had, only to piece the answer together halfway through asking you.

It was the simple moments like these that made you happy, really. To have Steven beside you on the bed, rambling about anything that came to his mind. You didn’t mind when he would tell you a story he had already told you, and you definitely didn’t mind when he would go into the technicalities of the event. 

Though, there was one thing you noticed to have become a recurring topic: Layla. He would bring her up unconsciously, really, or at least, that’s what you would want to believe. But as the days passed, her name frequented his lips more often, and it felt different. It was almost as if he asked you about her daily, bringing her up as if she was the only waking thought he had. If it weren’t for the accent, you would have honestly thought Marc was fronting. She was his friend first, right? 

“Do you think she’s okay? I-I mean, Marc and I were Khonshu‘s avatar, and he was just downright manipulative.” He turned his head to glance at you, “Taweret… Taweret, on the other hand… we met in that afterlife I told you about, yeah? She seemed nice. Helped us escape the Duat and all that, but… I just can't help but wonder, you know? Do you think Taweret is treating her right?” His question remained unanswered as he turned his gaze back up to the ceiling of his apartment, his fingers intertwined and resting on the soft flesh of his stomach. 

You were lying on your side as you looked at him, heart clenching in your chest as you studied the way his eyes shone under the moonlight. It took you a couple of seconds before you were able to bring yourself to nod slowly, swallowing the lump that you hadn’t noticed formed in your throat.

“I’m sure she’s doing alright, Steven. She does sound pretty badass, yeah? She’s saved you and Marc quite a lot, hasn’t she?” Your voice was small as you replied to him, a wave of insecurity wafting over you as things began clicking together in your brain. 

“Yeah? Yeah. She did save us when she freed Khonshu! I swear, though, you should’ve seen her in her armor, love! She looked amazing. I don’t even think I was able to greet her properly, really. Could you believe that? Marc and I were conversing about it the other day, right? And…” 

You toned out his words as you continued to observe the way his mouth moved, how his lips flicked up to a gentle smile as he talked about her, and how he continued to ramble on and on about her. Utterly oblivious to your thoughts, more so to your feelings. You’ve seen this kind of look before.

To be fair, you had been thinking about it for a while. You tried convincing yourself that she had just become a close friend that he began to care about. That he was just concerned about her well-being since she had agreed to become an avatar of an Egyptian goddess, and he nor Marc didn’t exactly have the best time as Khonshu’s avatar. However, the more you studied his words and actions, things became clearer and clearer. It wasn’t until a gentle call of your name snapped you out of your thoughts, causing your eyes to lock with Steven’s worried ones. 

“You… Are you in love, Steven?” You dared to ask, causing silence to fill the room once again. A silence that lasted a couple moments as Steven furrowed his brows, and his hesitation in giving you an answer was already an answer itself. 

The more he talked about her, the more you were able to analyze his reactions and facial expressions and damn yourself for having seen that look in the past. Damn yourself for recognizing it. 

You’ve seen it in the way your father looked at your mother. You saw it in the way your best friend’s spouse looked at them on their wedding day. You recognized it because it was the same look he used to have when he would talk about you. 

“What?” He asked, confusion filling his expressions as he shifted on the bed to bring all of his attention to you. “Of course, I’m in love, sweetheart. I’m in love with you.” 

Normally, his expression of love would have you all shy and red in the cheeks, but that wasn’t the case this time. “It’s just…” you frowned, bringing your attention to the ceiling. Roles had been reversed at this point, with you on your back and Steven on his side, facing you. “I’ve seen this look of yours before, you know? It’s the look of a man who’s fallen in love…” your voice trailed off at the end, pursing your lips as you tried to get your emotions in check. The can of worms has been opened, right? There isn’t much of a way back from it now. “It’s the look you used to have for me.” 

Steven frowned as well. “Used to have? Darling, I don’t know what you’re going on about?” 

You chose to ignore his comment, another question leaving your lips before you could even process the thought.

“Who is she to you, Steven? Who is Layla to you?” There was a slight shake in your tone, “You.. You said she’s a friend of Marc, yeah? But who is she to you?”

His eyes softened at the question, pursing his lips in response. If he were to be honest with you, he didn’t know who she was to him at this point. Was he attracted to her? Had he actually fallen in love with her in that quick of a timeframe? 

Steven had always prided himself in the fact that he didn’t fall in love too quickly. Sure, he had casual crushes from the museum and friend crushes around the town, but this was different–Layla was different. 

His brain often short-circuited when he was around her, and he just couldn’t help but admire everything about her. Maybe it was their shared interest in hieroglyphics and astronomy, or maybe it was something about her beauty in general, or maybe something about her intelligence and the way she was always there. She understood him, and she fought for him too. However, there was one thing he was sure of–she was Marc’s wife, not just a friend like he made it out to be. 

But deep down inside him, he knew that he had fallen for her. He technically did confirm it back in one of those tents in Cairo, didn’t he? When Marc interrogated him about being in love with his wife? He hadn’t verbally answered the question, but his actions were enough for Marc to know that he had. The kiss he shared with Layla was also enough for him to know that he had. 

Steven’s lack of response broke your heart, to say the least. The lack of a verbal response already served as the answer you hoped you wouldn’t have to receive from him. 

The silence between you two didn’t last as long as you thought it would, having a sigh leave his lips as he brought his arm over his eyes. 

“I-I don’t know.”

His words brought your attention to him once more, seeing his body tense up as he gulped. You should have played it off and moved on by this point, right? But you couldn’t. Not when his body language told you more than enough. You sensed the truth in his statement; you’d give him that. But at the same time, you also felt the conflict that was arising within him, and you knew that was because of you. 

It definitely did not help your thoughts when he sniffled. Perhaps you were missing the bigger picture? Fuck. Maybe you overreacted? Had you offended him? 

“Shit. Wait, lovie–I’m sorry. We can drop it, yeah?” You offered, sitting up abruptly and moving closer to him so you could lift his arm from his face, your heart breaking at the sight of tears rimming at the corners of his eyes. “I just… You were gone for so long and since you came back, you’d always just bring her up and I was just curious.”

Steven sat up as well, and your hand moved to cup his cheek, causing him to lean in against your touch. “That’s all. But I believe you, okay, lovie? I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry..” 

The thing is, you and Steven barely got into misunderstandings, and on the rare occasion that you did, whoever was in the wrong would apologize with a kiss. So that’s exactly what you intended to do. You moved closer and leaned in to press your lips to his, only for him to pull his head back slightly in hesitation–another event you weren’t prepared for.

Swallowing back a sob, his eyes bore into your saddened ones. Guilt overcame his features almost immediately at the sight. You at least deserved the truth, right? 

“I… She isn’t… She isn’t just Marc’s friend.” He whispered, bringing his hand to cup your own when he felt your touch falter slightly. 

You felt as if you already knew where this conversation was headed, based solely on how he was basically tiptoeing around you, but you desperately wished you were wrong. “I… Is there something else you’d like me to know, Steven?”

“Layla… She’s Marc’s wife, darling.” 

Nothing could have prepared you for that. You would have at least thought that she was Marc’s girlfriend or something along those lines, but you never would have thought that the alter of the man you were dating was married. 

“She’s…” your voice trailed off as your hand slowly dropped from his cheek, causing him to move quickly to take your hands back in his. “He… You knew about this? When did she tell you? Or when did Marc tell you?” 

“She told me the day that we met… Marc wanted to get a divorce because Khonshu wanted to have her as his next avatar, but Marc never signed the papers.” He quickly explained, tilting his head slightly so he could meet your eyes when you shifted your attention to your hands in his. “She tried giving me the papers that day but I couldn’t sign them–”

That sentence alone made your eyes shoot up, locking with his. “You couldn’t sign them?” you breathed, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to grasp the information that was being handed to you. Shaking your head as your heart pounded against your chest, you continued, “You… You knew that she was Marc’s wife from the first day, yet you lied to me?” 

He looked down at your hands, which he still held in his, as a response, his thumb moving in circles in an attempt to soothe you, as if it would do much. 

You honestly did not have the energy to be mad at him. Technically speaking, he hadn’t done anything wrong either. Your relationship did not have a title, and while you were definitely past the ‘I love you’ stage, he wasn’t your boyfriend. Based on your knowledge, you don’t have high hopes that he will ever be either. 

“You should have just told me. Hell, even just… not saying anything as a response would have sufficed as an answer.” Was all you could bring yourself to say after a couple moments of not saying anything to one another. Your words were leaving your mouth slowly as if articulating every single word you were about to say. “Lying… Lying isn’t better than silence, Steven. I-I would have understood… I mean, it was coming, wasn’t it?” 

His head shot up at that, and his gaze met with yours once more. “Wha-”

It was your turn to cut him off. “Do you love her, Steven?” You asked once more, a small smile gracing your lips. If he hadn’t known you as well as he did, he would’ve been convinced that you were okay, but he knew better than that. 

You were convinced that you would be met with another round of silence, but you were mistaken. 

“I-I think I do…?” He mumbled softly, gritting his teeth as he shook his head. You weren’t quite sure what his head shake was in response to, but you couldn’t exactly bring yourself to even process the action. “I don’t know, I can’t–You’re my first love, darling, I swear–” 

His words turned into incoherent mumbles as he desperately tried to find the words to explain himself. To explain his feelings in a way that would hurt you in the least brutal way possible, but no matter how he chooses to explain it, his words are bound to hurt. 

“I may be your first, but that’s all I’ll ever be, yeah?” Your voice was almost as soft as a whisper as you gave his hands a gentle squeeze. “And it doesn’t matter though, does it, Steven? It doesn’t matter if I'm your first, I-I’ll never be your last. I’ll never be your only.” Maybe you were rambling at this point, but everything was crashing down around you. The man you had been waiting on, the relationship you were clinging on to, and everything you have come to love was slipping through your fingers so quickly. To make things worse, your acceptance of it all merely serves as the catalyst to the inevitable end. 

“I’m never going to make you choose, lovie… You know that, right?” A tear found its way down your cheek as you brought his hand to your lips to give it a gentle, lingering kiss. “It’s okay, Steven.”

He felt unworthy of you, to say the least. You deserved so much more than a man who leaves without a trace and whose loyalty did not fully reside with you. The memory of the kiss he shared with Layla plagues his mind, and the confession burns in his throat as he wonders if it's even worth it to tell you–to break your heart more than he already has.

“I’ve always considered myself lucky to have you, you know? It just… our whole relationship felt so good. Too good, actually.” You smiled sadly, tears brimming the corners of your eyes as you forced yourself to look at the man you love. The one you allowed yourself to fall for so recklessly with the hope that maybe, just maybe, he would love you back, even if just half as much as you did him. “She made–no, she makes you happy, doesn’t she? She kept you safe and fought for you. She saved you, and I just…” 

Steven’s eyes shut tightly at your words, shaking his head rapidly as he desperately tried to think of the words to say to you. “It wasn’t on you, darling… Please don’t blame yourself for this.” 

His response was typical, but you couldn’t blame him. “I don’t blame anyone for this, Steven, okay?” Your tone was free from any malice or bitterness, but the sadness that laced your words was still quite evident. “I could never hate anyone who makes you feel safe and happy, you know that. The only thing I ever wanted was for you to be happy, Steven, and if she makes you happier than I ever could, then….” 

“No.” The fact that you couldn’t even bring yourself to finish that sentence broke him. His head continued to shake as if to convince himself that this isn’t happening to him, that you weren’t actually considering leaving him. He is well aware that you deserve better, but could anyone blame him for being selfish? After everything he’s been through? And after everyone he’s lost? “Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

Your hand reaches up to cup his cheek once more, your thumb gently grazing his skin as your eyes drink up the sight of him. Memorizing him. Every single bump and wrinkle. Every single self-acclaimed imperfection, in Steven's opinion. Every single thing that made him Steven and made you love him even more. “I love you, Steven Grant. I love every single bit of you, and I hope you never forget that.” 

Your insecurities were getting the best of you. How could they not? The woman he had fallen for was here in the room with you that fateful day and had followed him somehow. Helped him. Protected him. She had everything you didn’t–bravery, strength, the brain, the beauty. And to top it all off? She had him, whether she was aware of that fact or not, she had won Steven’s heart, probably the same way she had won Marc’s. How could you ever compete with that?

You laid a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, and his eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. He was too engrossed in his thoughts to realize that you stood up, collecting the things that you had brought over for the day. He’s brought back to his senses when he hears you sniffle, and he genuinely wishes he could just take you back in his arms and make you forget that he hurt you. But he doesn’t deserve that, does he? 

Instead, he chooses to repeat his question as he gets off the bed and walks over to you. “Why do you sound like you’re saying goodbye?” He asks once more, dejection and defeat clouding his senses. His hands move to wrap around your waist, pulling you close to him in a tight hug, not wanting to let you go. He knows he doesn’t deserve you, but at the same time, he still doesn’t want to lose you.

You hadn’t made him choose between you and Layla because you made that choice for him, and you were letting him go. But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to lose you, and at the same time, he didn’t want to lose Layla.

Your arms wrapped around him, holding him like a lifeline-your lifeline. A slow nod from you caused his grip on your figure to tighten as he felt your movement, a new wave of tears accompanying the gesture. “Could you do something for me, Steven?”

There were so many questions taking over your thoughts at the moment: 

Why couldn’t you be good enough? How were you going to move on? Why were you stupid enough to think that this would last forever? When did he fall out of love with you?

Instead, you chose something else. A question that hurt him more than it hurt you. “Tell me more about her. Just so I know that I’m leaving you with someone who could love you as much as I could.” 

His grip tightened even more at your request. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you more about her, even if he had talked about her too many times in the past couple of days. He couldn’t do it because he knew that this was your way of seeing how you could have been better for him, where you lacked in your relationship. But the thing is, you never lacked in any aspect–you were perfect, and he doesn’t deserve you. 

A shake of his head was the only response he could give you, causing you to sigh as you gently pulled away from his grasp. It didn’t work though, since his arms were still firmly planted around your waist, but you were pulled apart enough for you to see his face. 

Cupping his cheek once more, you leaned your forehead against his. “Kiss me? Just… Just one last time, Steven. Please.” 

And he did. He pressed his lips against yours in a kiss that would be engraved in your memory forever. A kiss that captured feelings of love, regret, selfishness, and sorrow. A kiss that would be the last of the memories you would share with him in thirteen months you had known each other. A kiss that would ultimately be your last with the man you have grown to love despite the hardships and heartbreak that came with being with him. You never would’ve thought that you and Steven would have your last kiss like this.

“How lucky am I to have someone that makes saying goodbye so hard?” You forced out a laugh, tears streaming down your cheeks as you rested your forehead against his once more. A sad smile graced your lips as your thumb gently wipes away the tears that have made it down his own cheeks. “I love you, and I'm just really grateful that I had you. Even if just for that couple of months that I did.” 

Steven’s eyes drank you up the same way you had earlier, memorizing your features and everything about you. He just hates how the last memory he would have of you would be like this–with your heart broken because of him. 

“Is it selfish if I ask you to stay?” He asked, his voice softer than it usually was when he was with you. And for fucks sake, you almost do, but you can’t. 

“Oh, God, I wish I could.” 

The line jogs his memory, causing his eyes to clench shut. His tears were freely streaming down his face at this point, and he knew he looked like a mess, but he didn’t care. 

“You were good to me, Steven Grant. Thank you.” You couldn’t find the words to say as you pressed your lips against his nose once more. “Thank you, lovie. For letting me love you the way I did.” 

“Please don’t say goodbye.” A broken sob wrecks his lips as tries to convince you to stay, but he knew there was nothing he could do to make that happen. “I-I can’t lose you. Please. You promised.” It was selfish for him to pull this card on you, but believe it or not, he does love you. “You promised…”

Nonetheless, you nod slowly. If he doesn’t want to hear the goodbye, he doesn’t have to. But it doesn’t mean that this wasn’t the last time you would see him. He knows this. 

“I’ll see you later then, yeah? When we meet again?” 

He was shaking uncontrollably now, but he had to let you go the same way you were letting him go. Had roles been reversed, he would’ve done the same for you. 

All he could muster was a nod as he forced himself to release you from his hold. He honestly hated how things went south so quickly, but he was to blame for that, wasn’t he? 

He has to let you go. 

“Laters, gators.”

A gentle kiss on the back of his hand, and a squeeze of reassurance were the last things he remembered before the door of his apartment shut behind you. 

Steven was left in the same way you were when he had disappeared that night. 

In silence. 

#moon knight #moon knight writings #moon knight imagine #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x you #marc spector x you #jake lockley x you #steven grant angst #marc spector angst #jake lockley angst #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #layla el faouly #khonshu #steven grant imagine #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #moon knight angst #Oscar Isaac #Steven grant Drabble #Marc Spector Drabble #Jake lockley Drabble #moon knight fiction #marvel #moon knight series #Steven grant fic #Marc Spector fic

[marvelouslizzie]

sooo, i read your fic "like someone i know" and it was absolutely hot AND amazing. i am obsessed with miscommunication of how they thought they hated/were against each other but not. 😭

if you do take requests, could you write a drabble or something of them finally dating and bucky still teasing the reader but obviously in love now? JBJDJSHS maybe make the entire class confused bc they're aware of their rivalry. i just LOVEEE the fluff after enemies/rivals to lovers plots. 🥹

if you don't take requests, it's okay!!! your fic was amazing and now i shall read more of your work to my heart's content!!!

Thank you so much for the kind words ❤️

Oh, I absolutely love this! I tried to write a cute drabble and I hope this works for you.

summary: Set after Like Someone I Know. You and your former academic rival, Bucky, begin a secret romantic relationship. What happens when you two have another exam?

pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

warnings: None actually. Pure bickering and a bit of fluff + no mention of y/n.

word count: 842

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Another day, another test. You feel stressed by the number of lessons you had to study for this one. There were so many things, even though you went through all of them, you feel like you remember nothing. Nothing at all.

You open your bag and reach for your notes while your back rests against the cold wall. Maybe you will feel confident enough if you go through them one more time. Refreshing your memory does not hurt, right?

You start to read and repeat the most important info in your mind, trying to remember where and how you wrote them so you can use them during the exam, but it’s hard to concentrate. Especially, when Bucky’s voice is booming through the hallway. His laugh is so loud, and it annoys you because he isn’t laughing like that because of you. He’s just messing around with Steve, Sam, and Natasha, as usual. You are pretty sure Natasha is the one that made him laugh this loudly, and jealousy takes over you. 

“For the love of god, just stop talking for a sec! Some of us are trying to study here.” 

No one bats an eye. They are so used to you two bickering before and after exams, but Bucky immediately turns to you. You see the mischievous spark in his eyes. He’s so amused by the comment.

“Do you mean yourself, princess? Because I don’t see anyone else besides you studying right now.”

You make a sour face when you hear him calling you princess. That’s new. He usually calls you doll.

“Does it matter?”

“Matters to me.”

“Fine. I’m trying to study. Shut your mouth, kay? Bye.”

You try to turn back to your notes, but no, Bucky is not done bickering with you. Of course, he isn’t.

“Don’t worry, you will get a good grade. You always do.” It could’ve been such a sweet encouragement if his tone had been different. It just feels like he’s patronizing you.

“So what? I should stop studying?” 

“Yeah. Give yourself a break, doll.” He stops for a second, then dramatically adds. “Live a little.”

“Studying first, living later.” That kinda sounds like a promise, but no one but Bucky gets that.

You think you can finally read again, but Sam doesn’t let go of the conversation for some reason. He always likes to interject.

“Are you worried Bucky will get the best grade?” 

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Steve sounds tired already.

“I would like to see him try.” After years of being rivals, your answer comes automatically. You forget there’s no need for this anymore.

“I got the best score last time, remember?” Luckily he doesn’t sound offended. Maybe he just missed your usual bickering.

“And I will make sure that doesn’t happen again.” You give him a fake smile. You really want to get the best score, even if that means beating your boyfriend.

“You always say that, but…” Suddenly he stops talking, and you wanna know how that sentence ends.

“But what?” 

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Come on!” You challenge him. He shouldn’t stop himself from voicing his thoughts just because you started to date a while ago. Your rivalry is still there. He should be free to say whatever he wants. “Say it.”

“Maybe later.” He resists.

"Come on, Barnes! Since when are you afraid to speak your mind?" Your taunting works like a charm.

“You always say that, but I never saw you upset because I beat you.”

You can’t help but smile. If someone is gonna get the better grade, it has to be Bucky. Any other option is simply not acceptable.

You feel the stares of Steve, Sam, and Natasha on you. They didn’t expect this turn of events. They have been holding their breaths to see your reaction. Are you gonna get mad? Snap back at him? Shove his flirtatious comment up his ass?

“If it's not me, then it has to be you, right?” You watch Bucky’s smile grow while others mumble with confusion.

“If not my girl, then who else?”

Oh, he really went there. He didn’t miss the opportunity to claim you, and even though you wanted to do that very differently, you can’t help but feel giddy about it.

You don’t say anything at first, slowly walking towards him. You stop right in front of him, staring into his pretty blue eyes. He doesn’t know what to expect, so you can see how puzzled he is. You stand on your tiptoes and gently place a kiss on his cheek. 

“Good luck, baby,” you whisper into his ear, then you just turn on your heels, like nothing happened. “See you after the exam.” You don’t look back, but you hear others talk.

“What the fuck just happened?” 

“Did she just-” 

“I told you they would eventually fuck, Rogers! Pay up!” 

“Language, Sam! We don’t even know…”

“Oh, they definitely did.” Natasha sounds rather amused.

“Fine!”

“Oh, come on! You betted on us?” Bucky’s charming voice is the last thing you hear before entering the classroom.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky x reader #bucky x you #college bucky barnes #college bucky barnes x reader #college!bucky barnes #college!bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #my stories

[gangplanksorenji]

Incandescence

Pairing: Kep1er Youngeun x Male Reader

Word Count: 2674

A/N: Hi Orenjideul! Just a quick fic just to get myself into writing once again and this girl made me down bad in a quick amount of time idk why but here it is! Hope you like this quick one... <3

-----------------------------------

-----------------------------------

Multiple screams resonate around the area and the flickering of lights amongst the so-called pandemonium of people is irritating to lay your eyes upon, even so, blinding to see. 

But it doesn't matter. It's even better right now. 

Sure, you want to scream your lungs out with a full-on support of the crowd of people as they perform but you wouldn't miss this chance. Not when a short, black-haired girl invited you as a repercussion from you being a nuisance hours ago before they even started performing (being annoying, in a teasing way, of course).

There's nothing more blinding than her beauty. Nothing more.

“Oh god, Oppa.”, she silently whimpers, a nigh-inaudible cry from your princess is a way to start everything she wants. Of course, she wants this—no, need this.

“Sh-shit, more please!”

Swearing isn't in her vocabulary, yet it's hypocritical in times like this as she can't help but feel good—it's just another unfinished, near-infinite melody of sounds and moans that's just music to your ears. 

Another wants that she'll die to beg for, and you won't let those wants go unattended, so you immediately take action. Latch your lips onto her sharp collarbone, she squirms in delight—she missed this, and so did you. You tend not to mark her, even though at times, you can't help but unleash the devil inside you as you want everybody to know who she belongs to.

“This needy, huh? I understand Youngeun—I really need you too.”

Well, that was quick. 

You don't care about the tough demeanor anymore. You want her—no, need her. As much as you want the sternness inside you to intimidate and maybe even possibly scare her, your softness explodes around her as she herself is a ball of sunshine. 

Yet what she wants is what she'll get. After averting your lips towards her neck and collarbones, you caught her lips again and locked in a tangled kiss. The way she kisses you is so sensational and slow that it's almost perfect—and it's like you can't find another great kisser like her.

“I k-know you kiss me so good, Oppa, but I want t-the real thing now…”

She could have never been more straightforward than this. You yourself, you can't help but get onto the climax immediately.

You lean onto the plain, white-colored wall as you let yourself be relaxed and prepare for what's about to happen.

A mischievous smile emanates on your face as she gets down on her knees slowly, her knees probably shuddering because of the cold marble floor but she doesn't care—she wants you, now.

“Gonna do the thing you're best at?”

“With pleasure, Oppa.”

Her ravenous mouth waters as she hurriedly undresses the clothing blocking her treasured prize. With only just your last bit of defense left, she smirked in victory as carefully yanked down your boxers, your painfully erect length now free from its frustrating restraints and even, almost hitting her in the face.

“So hard for me, Oppa. Did your little kitten turn you on this much?”

“Fuck!”

Just before she finishes her sentence, you squirm in pleasure. It's just from her little pressure exerted by her small, dainty hands, what more she can do when she's balls deep inside your mouth—

Your imagination flew over its limits once Youngeun had her hands on work. She strokes half of your length with a pace that's leisurely slow as she teases your slit playfully, the colorless liquid leaking out of it being the cherry on top. 

“I missed this, Oppa—I really do. I can't wait to see what you have in store for me, again…”

She giggles in excitement as you're deemed powerless from her advances, taking control of your needy, throbbing shaft. You can't think of anything more, or even articulate such words that can further turn her on but it doesn't matter—Youngeun doing everything to please you that you've been deprived off for months is nothing more you can ask for.

“May I, daddy?”

There she is. That's the word you're been wanting to hear to escape from her dirty mouth—it'll be soon like it, literally. 

This isn't something new. Dayeon could deliver peak-subbiness better than Youngeun—but it doesn't matter; don't think about Dayeon, avert your attention to this adorable princess.

Giving her the green light, she wasted no time giving you the experience that falters you. You became weak and powerless once Youngeun's mouth came introduced, accommodating the foreign object with all of her might.

The first few inches were immaculate, too pleasurable to withstand but you will as you wanted to give her what she needs. She lazily bobs her head, up and down, the same motion that's been repeated for at least a dozen of times. She's still struggling, even with only half of your length inside her tight throat, she can't help but gag—the sound so sinful that it arouses you further—and drool all over it.

It might seem like she's not doing a good job in her mind, but for you, she's doing great. You reassure her, stroking her black-colored locks, starting for the scalp and all the way down your arms reach. She didn't increase the pace as you know she can't take more than half of your length in a sudden, yet she wants to prove something—make you proud, that's what she wants.

“Don't need to rush anything—god…”

Your words deaf to her ears as she moved her mouth deeper—deeper into the valley of lust and need—as takes you all in. You were surprised at first but you didn't mind as the seconds passed. Her tight cavern constricts around your throbbing length which adds further stimulation that you absolutely love.

“Fu–ughh—ahh!”

The further gagging and coughing ejects the foreign object inside her mouth, coughing right after. She can't take it all, you know this, yet, who are you to control what she wants? You're willing to give everything to her at this very moment yet she ran over her limits—you reassure her that it's alright, she then smiles in satisfaction but doesn't distract herself onto other things and averted her focus towards where she's best at.

She takes you in, again, the wholeness of your throbbing length. Albeit her sudden inexperience on this field, choking on your cock is definitely what she wants. The accumulated drool, the tears of unbridled lust running down her cheeks and probably, the inevitable wetness of her crotch are the cherries on top, in which you dearly adore.

She's choking but she doesn't care. The marks of her lipstick smudge around the base of your shaft and still, she doesn't care. She doesn't mind how dirty she can be. All she cares about is the delicious meal that she's having fun of and, to serve you pleasure.

“Hey baby—fuck—aren't you gonna perform again? You're making a m-mess on yourself—s-shit…”

“No—that's why I'm giving you everything you want, daddy.”

She kisses your tip after withdrawing to let herself regain oxygen—even with her nostrils open, all she can even smell is the musky scent of your shaft and her strawberry lipstick.

She's bold and brave. You're proud of her because of it yet you can't help but feel anxious. You're afraid that the sinful sounds and moans inside this puny room may not be able to contain it all as everything is getting louder and louder, a tone that is music to your very ears. You didn't care anymore—and it's like someone is going to check you up to the very end of the dressing room and you're glad that it's just the two of you here.

“Fuck, such a good girl for me, huh?”

More slurps and bobs is all it takes for you to feel that familiar tingle in your loins, signaling your very near release. As much as you wanted to explode down her tight cavern of her mouth, you won't wanna waste such a load on her—you need to feel something so bad that you can't help yourself to think about it.

“Stop, baby.”

“Daddy, is a-anything wrong?”

Her eyes are glistening with lust and curiosity. She's confused about your command as she knows you wanted her to suck you off until you explode but she anticipates. What a nice girl for her daddy. She really is.

“Nothing, honestly. I just want to fuck you so bad right now.”

And yes, with her outfit? Oh, you could only do one thing and you'll waste no time doing that. 

She always looked spectacular and breathtaking. The way her flawless features compliments her outfit feels like she came straight from a movie—she looks surreal. Her hair, her body, her face—just her.

“Daddy, please—”

“Please what, baby?”

“Hngg—ahh! Too much, daddy!”

Stimulating her too much is her kryptonite, but you didn't care, because you know that's what she wanted at the first place—it also explains how she's insanely wet as her cunt drips like a leaking faucet, staining the marble floor down below.

“Baby, you gotta let daddy know what do you want baby—”

“Please j-just put it in me, daddy…”

The indulgence of the dance of your fingers down her soppily wet cunt takes her into further submission—even though she was already like that from the start—and you loved every second of it. Her constant, desperate pleas of getting filled, her inevitable cries and her love towards you—yes, it was truly everything you'll ask for.

And maybe even no more. The subsequent pleas of submission were further answered: your cock filling her up to the hilt, just like what she wanted.

This wasn't new, maybe, at least. You'll feel and fill her up whenever she wanted to yet it feels so awkward—

You don't care.

“All I want is you, baby.”

And there your hips goes, stabilizing a rhythm that the both of you were satisfied with—a profound pleasure everlasting between the clashing of both your bodies. You even pulled her hair (not enough to hurt her) to even get a better grip on fucking her as it helped by a lot. The pace was moderate, as you wanted to just let her know how much you love her and it's evident: her soothing, lust-filled moans that reverberated around your ear is enough evidence.

Further getting a better grip of her, you held her waist with both hands as with all of her might, she lets herself just be inches away from you. She takes hold of both of your shoulders to support herself, you then, aiding her as your thrusts become slower, but still filling her up to the hilt.

“Daddy, I l-love you—s-so much—ahh! So m-much, daddy…”

“I love you too baby, more than anything in this world.”

You mark your words, truly. You meant those with all your heart and soul, and you'll always let her know that—

“Then prove it, d-daddy.”

“Prove what, baby?”

You pull out of her tight cavern as you can see Youngeun's eyes roll, knowing how dumb you're playing the game. She knows you're playing with her, but she still anticipates the climax.

“Prove it by pounding me hard against this mirror, daddy.”

She's unanticipatedly daring and you couldn't believe your ears picked up. It almost feels like it didn't come out of her mouth—well, it definitely did and her own animalistic urges were to blame.

You won't waste any time. You set more gasoline to the flames of lust as both your bodies clashed together again, also, the sudden penetration making her yelp, her mouth agape on how big you are inside her.

“More please, daddy!”

She begs, you fulfill. A simple formula you won't forget and you'll never will. Resuming your frantic thrusting, you feel heavenly as too much serotonin coursed down your veins. Every gyration of your hips hits a successive moan from her, following yours—both of your cries sound rhythmically arranged, drowned within the symphony of moans you always (and her) love hearing. 

With more deeper thrusts earns an inevitably seductive moan, which turns you even more—and it's also a hot scene: her hands holding its dearest life onto the metal railings and the hot scene of her being railed against the mirror is just too fucling much. Yet, you don't care. As much as you want to strip her clothing one by one, she looks almost perfect with it. It's way too hot if you'll fulfill your desire with her in that outfit. 

Maybe it's just the fact that you have a kink of a cute girl in a skirt…

“Daddy, daddy, d-daddy! Ahh—fuck! Too good—too good!”

Her chants power your hips to bring an onslaught of thrusts that's unmatched than the first one. You're fucking her so hard without a care that you're afraid that this tiny room may conceal the chamber of lustful moans trapped inside within the small area on the corner and the railings giving up on dear life on how much Youngeun's been gripping them ever since you've fucked her cunt mercilessly.

You never stop and probably you never will. You won't stop until you've filled her needy cunt full of your thick seed yet some needs must come first.

“Daddy, I'm going to fucking cum! All over you!”

With the given signal, you resume with more hammering thrusts as her cunt leaks too much of her nectar, as you feel her closing her high. You help her as she screams her lungs out, her reservoir breaking loose as she creams all over your throbbing length. Her orgasm became so powerful that she almost fell unconscious so you became worried and thankfully, she wanted you to ram her again without giving a care, wanting you to cum inside her yet with a reflection, you have other things in mind.

“Get down on your knees for me.”

“W-what? I need you to cum inside me, da—”

“This will be the last time I'm repeating myself, baby. Get on your knees.”

Youngeun is frustrated once your cock left her incredibly tight cunt as she does what she's been told. She instantly knew what you'd do, so, as the good girl as she is, she stuck out her tongue, her legs still quivering from her recently strong orgasm as she anticipated your load. Anticipating a load for a lifetime that she'll forever cherish.

“Cum all over my pretty face, daddy. I know you wanted to from the start. Paint every inch of me white with your seed! Please dadd—”

You erupt.

The tremors broke the dam inside you, resulting in a magnitude of thick spurts of you semen spraying all over her beautiful, ruined visage. She wanted no cum getting wasted so she held your length and stroked it furiously, and of course, she aimed it right to her face for better accuracy. She tried to catch anything she could get with her tongue but was deemed not successful because of the volume of your load.

“God, daddy—you came so much. It's so warm on my face—mwah”

A few kisses and slurps to clean you up is the finale of the show as it sends shivers down your spine, the post-sensitivity finally getting in after an earth-shaking orgasm.

“So fucking delicious too, daddy. Thank y-you for this—you're the best daddy.”

You smiled as she got up slowly, her legs wobbly and weak from all of the pounding she took earlier. Everything felt amazing yet once you've regained awareness, you curse on how dirty the both of you were so you panicked, but Youngeun calmed you down and handed some tissues as she invited you to the bathroom to “clean up”.

“My legs feel like shit, Oppa—oh no…”

“I'm sure they'll understand.”

Youngeun giggles as you reassure her, she then feels calm and collected from your actions which she finds sweet and thoughtful.

“Yujin-unnie and Xiaoting-unnie will, because, y'know…”

“Hey! We don't talk about that here, okay?”

“Okay, Oppa… Help me get cleaned? To the bathroom?”

“Sure, I don't see why not, baby.”

We'll you'll definitely see what's not and what's something once the lights emanates around you—

#kep1er #youngeun #kep1er smut #youngeun smut #youngeun x male reader

[talaok]

Could you please write an imagine where Pedro and reader know each other for a very long time and reader comes from a not so happy family (unlike Pedro)

He’s in love with her and she does love him but does believe love is real or that relationships can last (thinking everyone only wants her for her body from past flings) and can’t give him a chance due to fear

Happy ending if you want

Thanks

warnings: angst, and brief talk about reader's bad childhood

a/n: im starting to honestly think yall should start writing fics, cause the shit you come up with is so good like

The first time you told him you were 13.

You had showed up at his doorsteps asking for a place to sleep.

You couldn't stand another minute of hearing your parents scream at each other two doors down.

They hadn't even noticed you were gone, they never did.

He was your only real friend at the time, and after a sort of awkward moment with his parents, he'd led you to his room and asked what had happened.

And that's the first time he heard the sentence he'd grow to hate.

"Love isn't real. It never lasts"

Your parents were the proof. Love is a trap, it deceives you into thinking you can spend your life with someone, when really, all you're doing is locking yourself into a cage, and when you finally realize what you've done, it will be too late, because then you'll be scared to get out, to start new, and that's why you'll stay, forever imprisoned because your own stupid choices.

From then on, it became your mantra.

With every guy who disappeared after having gotten you into bed, with every guy who dumped you as soon as they'd seen what's underneath your clothes, one sentence engraved itself in your mind.

Love isn't real. Love isn't real. Love isn't real.

And that's why, he, of all people, knew better than anyone why he shouldn't tell you, why he should continue pretending like he'd been doing for almost twenty years,

Maybe he was a masochist, or maybe his feelings were getting too strong and they had started to fog his brain, but he couldn't hold it in anymore, he'd kept it hidden for too long, and no matter how many women he'd meet there was always you in the back of his mind.

It had always been you.

And that's why tonight... tonight he had finally let go.

"Y/n, I love you" 

He saw you freeze before his eyes, shocked and terrified of the words that had just come out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry" he murmured, swiping his sweaty hands on his jeans and looking around your living room to try and gather some composure. "I'm sorry to drop this on you like this. I know how you feel about the whole... love thing" he winced internally as his eyes set anywhere but on yours "And- and I don't want to ruin our friendship, and it's ok if you don't feel the same way, but..." He swallowed what felt like sand in his mouth as he finally looked into your eyes "Y/n I've felt this way for so fucking long" he breathed "I-I think I was too young to understand it when we met, but as we grew up it just became clearer and clearer and... and I couldn't do it anymore, I couldn't keep it to myself anymore y/n, I'm sorry"

His words felt distant, muffled.

You felt like you were drowning and he was trying to talk to you from above the water.

He'd just told you the three words you dreaded most in the world, and now you didn't know what to do, or say, or even think.

And it wasn't the same as when any of your old boyfriends had said it, no, with him, with Pedro, those words scared you because they meant so much more, 

because they reached into that deep, hidden part of you that... that felt the same way.

And that part of you was hidden for a reason, that part of you was the only thing that prevented you from becoming like your mom, from falling into the trap.

And now he'd just handed you the keys, and all you needed to do was decide to open the lock.

And you didn't know if you wanted to.

"I don't want to lose you y/n, the last thing I want is to lose you, you- you're the most important person in my life, I-I'd be lost without you, so if you don't feel the same way, it's fine, I promise it's fine, I can take it, but before you say anything I just want you to know that when I say I love you I mean it," Both your hearts were beating faster than they'd ever beaten before"I mean I love every single part of you, every single inch, that I love you when you sing off-tune and I love you when you call me in the middle of the night" he laughed "That- that I wake up and go to sleep thinking of you- that without you I wouldn't know how to breathe, that since I met you, I felt the need to become a better person so that maybe I'd deserve you." he said more softly now "And I'm sorry about your parents, and I'm sorry about everything that happened in your life, but I promise you that I'd never do anything to hurt you, that if you just give me a chance, I'll try my hardest to prove to you that love is real, that- that it can last if you just give it a try"

The soft roar of an engine made its way to your ears as a car drove by outside, the fabric of the couch felt itchy all of a sudden, and your breathing had become uneven.

You didn't know how long you both stayed silent, how long it took you to take in all he had just said, but when you finally opened your mouth, your voice didn't sound like your own.

"Pedro-" his eyes were filled with hope, but yours only with pain "Pedro you know how I feel about this" you murmured, like doctors did just as they delivered bad news "I'm sorry I- I can't do this, you know I can't... I just-" there was this feeling in your stomach, like all your organs were twisting, like your body was telling you you were making a mistake "I don't want to lose you, and I know that if we did... this, it would only end badly" you watched all the hope in his eyes crumble and you didn't think you'd ever hated yourself more than in that exact moment.

"I'm sorry Pedro," you said "I can't"

He didn't look like himself anymore, he didn't feel like it either. He felt as if all the life had left his body, and all that remained was a useless sack of skin.

But still, still, he couldn't help but realize that you hadn't said one thing, the one thing that was gonna make him give up forever.

"So you don't feel the same way?"

It wasn't tears threatening to spill from your eyes, it was liquid pain, liquid hatred for yourself.

"T-that doesn't matter"

He frowned, trying to come up with something to say that wouldn't make him sound any more pathetic than he already was.

"B-but it does y/n. it does"

You swallowed thickly "Pedro, please" you begged

"I need to know," he said with a thread of voice 

"I-I can't" you murmured, as a tear finally stained your cheek "I..."

He took that as his answer.

You didn't love him, and deep down, he'd always known.

"I think-" he cleared his throat to try and gain some composure, "I think it's best if I go," he said as he stood up.

you didn't know if you nodded, you didn't know anything anymore

He glanced back at you for a moment to see if there was any sign of you wanting to stop him, but your head was down.

both of your hearts broke with each step he took, and as he got farther and farther, this... feeling spread inside your body, this presentiment of having just made the biggest mistake of your life sneaked up your throat and robbed you of all oxygen.

And was only when his fingers grabbed the doorknob, and you grasped his arm, that you could breathe again.

"y/n-" he tried to speak, but you needed to do this before your mind could catch up, so you cut him off.

"I do," you said, as more tears fell from your eyes "I love you, Pedro"

His mind was a mess and his heart was a mess but he still managed to spit out a sentence

"Y/n, if you're saying that just because-"

"Pedro" you softly placed your hands on each side of his head, as you huffed out a silly laugh "Just kiss me"

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x fem reader #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x female reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #the last of us #joel miller #tlou #the mandalorian #javier peña #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #fluff #daddy pascal #pedrohub #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedrito

[caramelcandycookietwt]

Butter Roll Cookie !! :DD It meant to be simple lazy rough sketch buuuttt..I guess I just zoned out-

Bonus !! Some story (whole fricking fic,,) I made for fun!!! :333

Chars:Caramel Candy Cookie (oc),Affogato Cookie,Butter Roll Cookie,Researcher Cookie (idk which one,,Ig you can pick yourself)

Warnings:Probably bad english (not my native language),long ass text

Notes:Yep,Affo is siren in my AU :D

Footsteps sounded in the very depths of the Laboratorium..Caramel Candy Cookie was walking around it,analyzing everything she sees.What she paid most attention to was the life powder.

"M-miss Caramel Candy Cookie!" - Called her out one of the researchers.

"...!" - She turned to them with a crack and creepy smile.

"..." - They gulps.

Caramel Candy tries to appear less creepy,making her smile more friendly. - "Oh,hello! Did something happened~?"

"N-no,miss Caramel Candy Co-" - The researcher was about to finish their sentence but Candy stopped them.

"Just Caramel Candy,please.Soo..how's research going?" - It was barely noticeable,but Caramel was kind of..pissed off someone add 'Cookie' to her name.

"Great! W-we're already on the 664 step-"

"Puurfect~!" - She suddenly leaned closer to them,grinning teethy again. - "You know,father doesn't like when someone makes him wait for TOOO long~.Finish the research as fast as you can or there will be some..consequences.It's a little warning from me and father,got me~?"

The researcher quickly nodded,sweating heavily.

"Good cookie~" - Candy simply pulled away and patted their head cutely.

"Hmm? Is there someone hereee?" - The voice made Candy's ears perk up as she turned around.

"Ah! I see! You're Caramel Candy,aren't you? Licorice told me much about you!" - He looked curiously at her,but then stopped when he noticed that she stares at him. - "What's wrong,my friend..?"

". . ." - She just continues to stare,seeming to have flashbacks or something.

"Hmm.." - Butter Roll shifts his gaze to the researcher. - "Hey,you! Join the others! Teamwork is the key to success,remember?"

"Y-yes,Director Butter Roll Cookie!" - The researcher cookie left,well..they still didn't want to stay in the same room with this girl.

In that time,Affogato Cookie was wardening around the lab as well,both because of his own curiosity and the fact that it was so amusing to watch those researchers' faces when they fail again.Soon enough,he found them both and immediately payed attention to Caramel Candy and her face..

"Cara..? What that delusional girl doing here,in the place that should reminder her of her past life?? Ugh..Alright,wait here sweetie,your "hot siren twink older brother" (p.s. sorry,It was my life goal to write this,,) is coming to save you.." - He thought as he shaked his head.

"..Hmmm..." - Butter Roll snapped his fingers right in front of Candy's face to 'wake her up',yet there were no use. - "I-" - He notices Affogato. - "Oh,another CoD..! Hmmm..let me guess,you're-"

"Affogato Cookie.Yes." - He simply answered as he come closer to Candy.

"Sooo..do you know what's wrong with her?" - Roll asked with more curiosity in his tone than worry.

"Ah,don't worry,she just..zoned out." - He looked at Candy,making a worried face for a moment. - "..I guess I just take her and leave." - Affo started to drag Candy comedically towards the exit.

"Hmm,so fast already? Prehaps,you could help with the res-"

"No.I prefer not to participate in something so..dirty." - Then,he simply left.

"..Haha! Alright then,I understand! Researching things is not for everyone after all.." - Butter Roll Cookie said,as he came back to the research.

After awhile,when Affogato with Caramel Candy exited Laboratorium,Candy finally 'woke up' and pulled away from Affo.And..accidentally fell on the ground.

"..?" - He turned around in slight surprise when he felt her move.But,when she fell,he couldn't help himself but chuckle slighty..

"Ugh.." - She scratched her head softly,stood up and cleaned her 'dress-coat'. - "Soooo..I did zone out again?"

"..In short..yes."

She blinked twice,slightly embarrassed. - "..Oh." - She then quickly changed her mood back to cocky one. - "You know what..whatever.I'm sure it isn't change any impressions about me~! Hehe.." - Yet,she seems to be still slightly nervous due to her past memories and Butter Roll himself..

"..." - Affogato immediately noticed this,but decided not to tell her about it because he knows there no use to make this stubborn girl open up. - "..Alrighty,if you're already awake..I guess we can simply teleport into our room now.There's no need to waste energy after all.."

"Hmm..you're right..can I get some sweets of yours after~?!" - She started to act more childish as she leaned closer to him with sparkly eyes.

"Haha..yes.Yes you are." - He smirked at her childish behavior,even knowing that most of it all is fake..

P.s. Affogato Cookie the Sillie's protector /hj

#crk #crk oc #doodle #oc #art #cookie run #silly #cookie run kingdom #cr kingdom #butter roll cookie #affogato cookie #crk affogato #fanart #crk fanart #crk fanfic