#when you try and tell them to fuck off and stop doing that and delete your friends stolen photos from their shitty blog and go out and get
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AO3 Etiquette -UPDATED
Based on both decent and not so decent replies, I have made some changes to my original post below.
It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:
As well as likes, kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished it, you liked it - so kudos.
If you really liked it, you should try to comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.
No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it (so use your notes to say if you want some constructive feedback). Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. No, posting it online is not an open invitation for that. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity and just want to share. Don't ruin that for them. I've seen so many authors just stop writing coz they can't handle the negative emotions the critism brings, and it's only meant to be a fun thing shared for free (pointing out tagging errors is not included in this).
Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.
There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.
For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.
The tag exception is if you don't want to tag a million things or spoil your story, you can rate it as "chose not to use warnings," and maybe tag the bare minimum.
Don't censor tags. How can someone exclude a tag if the word isn't typed out correctly? There are no content bans for terms so don't censor them.
If the tags are mostly content/trigger warnings, especially if they are things considered very fucked up or graphic, you might want to use "dead dove - do not eat" to ensure people know that you're not messing around with tags and what they get is exactly what you've warned them about.
Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLATONIC, like friendship or family.
Nothing is banned. This is an rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.
People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.
Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite or an exchange youve written for going public). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.
Instead of deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - consider making it anonymous or orphaning it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to your name anymore. If you still want to delete it, fair enough.
It's come to my attention that metaworks ARE allowed on AO3, which is something I wasn't aware of. So if you do post an essay or theory, please tag it as such so others can choose to search for it or exclude it. Art is also allowed.
The only reason this archive works is because NON ONE PROFITS. Do not link to your ko-fi or patreon or mention monetary gain in any way or you violate the terms and risk having your account removed. If anyone does link, it leaves the archive open to people claiming it's for profit and having the whole thing removed.
I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.
I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.
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STRAY KIDS + WHEN YOU’RE BUSY AND THEY CRAVE YOUR ATTENTION !
this is smut, do not interact if under 18
pairing: skz x f!reader genre/tags: smut, fluff, nipple play, fingering, exhibitionism, voyeurism, marking, sexting, sending nudes, piv, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap ur willy), masturbation, oral (f receiving), dry humping, pussy slapping, multiple orgasms, spanking, there is probably more but i’m too lazy to write them all words: 4.4k
[note] if you remember seeing this before yes i’m the original author i didn’t plagiarize lol, i made a new blog and was formerly known as @milkychae but deleted a while ago. i’ll be reposting all my old deleted fics and using this as an archive !
BANG CHAN. It was finals week, aka your personal hell. You were always super nervous about tests and if you didn’t score over an 80% that may as well be a failure to you. You sighed as you opened yet another textbook to read, your dickhead professor thought it would be a good idea to pile more homework on top of the fact knowing you all needed to study. Your major was biochemical engineering so you shouldn’t have been too shocked by all this intense workload. As you were sitting on the bed you heard a noise come from the door, looking to the left of you to see Chan coming inside. You don’t really put much thought into it though since you see him literally everyday and you were just really focused on studying right now. That’s when Chan starts to come up behind you, rubbing your shoulders and planting a kiss to your cheek.
“Hiii y/n, I’m back!” He says cheerfully, “I couldn’t wait to see you baby,” he proceeds to try and pry the textbook out of your hands so you can give him your full, undivided attention but you pull it back.
“Sorry babe but I really, really need to study right now.” You tell him with an exhausted look on your face. You’ve been studying for only 2 and a half hours but it feels like the entire day.
Chan looks at you and puts his arm around you, “You look so tired sweetie, why don’t you let me give you a massage?” He asks, already starting by wrapping his hands back on your shoulders.
You loved this man dearly, he just came back home from an 8 hour shift at work but is still offering to give you massages and help you out when you’re stressed. You want to tell him no and that you seriously need to focus back on studying but the intrusive thoughts were slowly winning. Ultimately you gave in to Chan’s desires and he gave you a gentle massage. The massage started off pure at first with no intention of going any further but then his hands slipped a little too far and came in contact with your nipple. He noticed you weren’t wearing a bra underneath so he slips his hand through the opening of your t-shirt, light moans were now leaving your mouth from his touch.
“I’ve been thinking about fucking you all day babe,” Chan softly whispers while pinching your nipples, bringing his other hand down to your thigh and gently caressing it. Chan has always been good at being a distraction for you and his cock is definitely what you need instead of reading about the Principles and Techniques of Molecular Physics.
LEE KNOW. Saturday nights were the best, you had no work and got to do whatever you wanted for the whole day. You weren’t much of an outgoing kind of person so you chose to stay in and have your boyfriend Minho come over and be lazy with you. You were wrapped up in your cozy sherpa blanket watching your favorite kdrama season finale, you and Minho both loved kdramas but you got way too into them. Your eyes have been glued to the show since Minho got there and you only spoke about three sentences to him. He’s sitting on the couch next to you and he’s not as remotely interested in the show as you are, he keeps looking around the room and sneaking glances at you from time to time.
He can’t stop noticing how cute you look today, you were wearing very light makeup and had messy hair. He thought you looked so adorable in your current state, just in awe of your natural beauty. He wraps his arm tightly around you and tries to give you a kiss, but you quickly pull away from him so you can focus back on the TV, not trying to miss anything. Minho gets visibly upset by this, he wants to give you his affection yet you’re currently denying it. He tries one more time to kiss you but you continue to keep pulling away to watch the show. That’s when he decides he’s had enough and grabs the remote to turn off the TV, causing you to get frustrated with him.
“What the hell Minho?!” You say in confusion, you were getting so close to knowing who the girl’s father finally was.
He doesn’t say anything, instead he just starts roughly kissing you, pushing you down on the couch and hovering over your body. He pulls away leaving you breathless, then proceeds to nibble on your earlobe, dragging his tongue further down to lightly suck on your neck, touching a certain spot that makes you inhale sharply. He brings one of his hands to your stomach, rubbing it gently. Beginning to toy with the hem of your sweatpants and wants nothing more than for them to be off.
He was almost going to give in to that idea but a new one came to mind, an even more sinister thought. He grins as he continues rubbing down your thigh, you want him to wipe that smirk off his face so badly because you have no idea what he’s up to. Wondering what he could possibly be thinking about right now. Minho brings his fingers to your clothed heat, sliding them inside the sweatpants and starts rubbing your clit through your panties. You moan for him as you close your eyes, feeling the friction. You buck your hips in the air so you can feel more of him, but Minho grips your hips and holds them firmly in place.
“No, stop. No moving ‘til I say so,” Minho says sternly, giving your clothed pussy a little slap as he looks at you. “Since you’re so willing to ignore me, I get to tell you what to do from now on.”
CHANGBIN. You’ve been cleaning the entire house preparing for your parents to come over for dinner. You wanted to make sure that everything was perfectly spotless and the amount of cleaning you did today could account for your whole lifetime. You were cleaning the stove and just as you were about to grab another clean sponge you see Changbin with a whole box full of donuts from Krispy Kreme.
“How’s it goin’ babe?” Changbin asks while setting the donuts onto the table, he sees you wearing an apron and giant yellow gloves, “looks like you’ve been doing some serious, hard labor!”
“I’ve been cleaning for 5 hours now..” You say with an exhausted look on your face, “I haven’t even finished cleaning the stove yet.”
“Who cares about the stove y/n,” Changbin says, chuckling at your frustration about needing everything to be neat and tidy.
“I’m serious Binnie, I need to clean everything and make sure it’s all perfect!” You tell him while pouting.
“Why don’t you take a break babe.” He suggests out of concern, grabbing your hands to take your gloves off and sets them aside. He slowly brings your body up against the wall behind you, kissing you passionately. He must have been wanting you all day by the way he was hungrily kissing you, the man was sucking on your face for dear life, exploring the depths of your mouth as both your tongues were intertwined. He takes off your apron and grips his hands around your waist while your leg wraps around him, he held you so securely.
As things got more heated, and all your clothes were off, he aligned himself inside you. Your hands were snaked around his neck as you desperately move your hips to feel his cock, feeling every bit of his thrusts in you. Letting out a high-pitched moan as you grab a fistful of his hair and scream his name. Your legs grew weak with each and every stroke Changbin gives you, feeling like you’re going to faint. He continues pounding into you like no tomorrow and you hold tightly onto his shoulders for support. His skin was sticky and sweaty from all the work he’s putting into fucking you, his face looked super focused as he was hitting all the right spots. He was fucking all your stress away at this point and you were feeling so good. You feel yourself coming to your peak as he thrusts into your dripping heat, you’re seeing stars at this point. The harder his strokes were getting, the faster you were to reaching your climax.
“Mmm…gonna cum!” You cry out in pleasure, slowly losing your grip on him as you slip from his grasp. Changbin swiftly picks you up and pins you harder into the wall, making sure you don’t go anywhere by fully pinning his body up against yours. You feel so connected to each other in this very moment as you’re both about to cum, both letting out a string of moans in unison. You both reach your highs together, dizzy as your orgasm washes over you, feeling his cum leaking out of your cunt and dripping down to your leg. You just spent the whole day cleaning and now you have to get cleaned up before your parents come in approximately 30 minutes.
HYUNJIN. It was a long day at work, you were about 6 hours in and you already wanted to end it all. You work at a clothing store and on this particular day for some reason everyone and their mom wanted to come shopping. You’ve been working the register nonstop and you had yet to take a break, you were so busy that you forgot to even take one. You asked one of your coworkers if they could cover for you while you go on lunch and they said yes. You were so excited to finally be able to get to sit down and eat. As you sat in the break room you checked your phone for any missed messages, you see that you have a bunch of missed texts from the new guy you’re seeing. Hyunjin’s name is plastered on your phone and you check the messages straight away, eyes growing wide at what was shown before you. Hyunjin sent you a string of messages:
‘Hey y/n, what’s up?’ [1:15 pm]
‘Imyyy’ [1:25 pm]
‘Wyd? Are you at work?’ [1:42 pm]
‘Yea you’re prob at work :P’ [2:26 pm]
‘I’m a little horny lol’ [2:41 pm]
‘I want youuuu’ [3:02 pm]
He then proceeds to send you a couple shirtless pics of him in bed and a short video of him stroking his erect cock through his boxers. You quickly look around to see if anyone would be able to notice and you don’t see anyone else in the break room besides you. That’s when you open the video fully to see the rest, quickly get turned on as your wetness is only growing. You ran to the bathroom so you can send a photo back, snapping a quick pic of your boobs under your shirt and telling him how wet that video made you at work. You love that he now comes to you for when he feels needy, you like that he craves your attention while you’re gone. He sends you another message saying how much badly he wants to fuck you and he can’t to pick you up from work. You smile at that and tell him you only have 2 more hours to go.
You realize it’s time to get back to work and now all you can think about is that damn video Hyunjin sent you. The way he was stroking his cock all nice and slow made you want to be there to give him even more pleasure. You were walking around all day with wet and sticky panties since you came a little bit from fingering yourself in the bathroom to the video. You couldn’t wait to bounce on Hyunjin’s cock all night after you get off work.
HAN. This was now the fifth dress you tried on and you still haven’t figured out a style you liked yet. You were getting frustrated but you weren’t going to let your pickiness get you down from shopping. You were at the mall with your boyfriend Han and as much as he hated shopping he liked to see you try on the pretty dresses for him so it was a win-win. You go to a different store now and you check out those dresses, making a beeline for the pink ones since that was your favorite color. You check out all the various designs and ask Han which ones he liked best, he didn’t really give much input and just picked the shortest one for you.
You gave him a playful side eye and put the dresses you didn’t like back, heading over to the dressing room so you can try everything on. As you were trying on the dresses, Han was sitting on a bench outside the door, texting all his homies. He soon started to notice how long it’s taking you in there and although you were busy trying on dresses he was getting tired of sitting here and waiting for what seemed like an eternity. He sighs as he figures out what to do, but he ends up deciding to knock on your dressing room door. You don’t reply but he can hear stuff rustling from the inside so he knocks again and tells you it’s just him.
“Uh… I think I need help,” you tell him reluctantly, he’s not sure what you need help with but he comes in anyway. He sees you standing in the dressing room with your hands in the air and the dress halfway up your body, he starts to laugh at how you were stuck in it.
“This isn’t a laughing matter, please help get this damn thing off of me!” You whine, and he begins to unzip the dress from the back, releasing you from its tight grip. You feel like you can finally breathe once again and slip the dress off of you, now completely naked in front of Han. You were only wearing your skimpy g-string and you had your nipples pierced which Han loved about you. He looks you up and down, licking his lips as if he was about to destroy you. The only thought in his head right now was to kiss you, so he grabs your face and crashes his lips into yours, moving some of your hair out the way. You kiss him back but harder and even more passionately, letting him fondle your boobs and play with your piercing. As he toys with your nipples he looks at you with pure lust, his eyes were all hazy and he looked nothing but in love with you. He started kissing your chin and licked the side of your neck, making you get all wet and worked up for him.
“We shouldn’t be doing this right here baby,” you tell Han as he continues roaming all over your body.
“Doesn’t that make you wanna do it even more though?” He says mischievously, sucking on your neck and giving you small hickies. You knew the chances of getting caught were very high but at this moment, you didn’t really seem to care. All you wanted right now was Han and that’s all that was on your mind. His hands slid down between your legs, spreading your pussy lips with his fingers and coating them with your essence. Your wetness was leaking down to your thighs and it took everything in you not to scream from Han’s touch. He inserts two fingers in your tight little hole and goes in and out slowly, you press your lips together trying not to make a sound, so he covers your mouth.
“Shhh… quiet babe,” He whispers into your ear.
FELIX. It’s not secret to Felix that you were a workaholic, you often immersed yourself in your work a little too much. He knows you are an independent woman that enjoys the freedom of working but at the same time he really wishes you’d give that same energy towards him sometimes. You traveled a lot for work and although you two live together, it still puts a strain on your relationship being apart for long periods of times. Felix loves to be around his lover and the fact you are always so busy with work makes him want to shower you with even more love and affection when he sees you. You were gone on another usual business trip but this time it was for a week, that was the longest you’ve gone for work and it was driving him insane. Everyday he thought of you and he would text you little things that he saw randomly throughout the day that reminded him of you. You always appreciated how much Felix adored you and your work ethic, he loved you for you.
The day you came back home from work Felix came to you with open arms, he was more than excited to see you again and all he wanted for the past week was the attention of his beautiful lover.
“I’ve missed you so so much baby,” Felix says whilst giving you the biggest hug, his body was so warm and you melted right into him. You gave him a kiss and he moves you both over to the couch, pulling away from kissing you for a second with a weird grin plastered on his face.
“What’s with that look?” You ask, wondering what he’s thinking in that head of his.
“I got you a little something, I’ll be right back,” he quickly runs to your shared room and comes back with a black box in his hand.
“What’s this?” You ask curiously, holding the box up to examine what it could be.
“Just open it, you’ll be surprised.”
You do as you’re told and open the box, you see a purple velvet bag and you open to see what’s inside. It was a vibrator, it had multiple settings and looked very high quality and expensive. You instantly blushed as you held the item in your hand, looking up at Felix so he can explain what’s going on.
“I wanted to get something to relieve your stress..” he continues “because you’re always so busy and stuff, y’know.”
You smile at the naughty gift your boyfriend gave you, giving him another kiss and thanking him.
“Want to use it on me now?” You ask, knowing that he’ll say yes to you in a heartbeat. Felix’s eyes light up like a kid in a candy store and he agrees without hesitation. He sits next to you on the couch with the toy in his hand and you’re now making out. As one thing leads to another, you end up naked lying on your back with your legs spread wide out for him. He has the toy on one of the highest settings and you’ve squirted about three times for him already.
“Come on baby, you can give me another. Just one more,” Felix says demandingly, having too much fun with this toy.
You spring your head back as you feel the toy in your soaking wet entrance, you don’t know how much more of this you can take. Your legs were violently shaking and the couch was soaked with your juices, you felt like you didn’t have anything left in you. Felix keeps fucking the toy in and out of you making you scream out for him, he palms himself through his pants as he does it.
“I never want you to be away from me again y/n,” Felix’s deep voice rasps as he pumps the toy into you deeper, “I mean it this time.”
SEUNGMIN. You were laughing hysterically as you were scrolling through TikTok, you’ve been glued to your phone for hours at this point. You showed Seungmin, who was sitting next to you on his bed yet another TikTok that he probably wouldn’t think is funny. You put the screen up to his face to show him the video and he looks but doesn’t really seem that interested. You tell him how funny you think the video is and he just shrugs his shoulders.
“You know, I’d rather have you shoved in my face rather than a phone.” Seungmin says to you.
‘Ok boomer’ you think to yourself, not wanting to actually say it incase he gets offended. You decide to just ignore his comment and go back to watching hilarious TikToks. Seungmin starts to get bored and he when he gets bored he becomes bratty. You hear him whine a little bit, looking up from your phone to see him pouting and all you want to do is give him a kiss.
“C’mere,” You command for him to come closer, he quickly does so looking like a lost puppy. He plants a chaste kiss to your lips, then begins to leave a trail of kisses down your neck. He slips a hand under your tank top and lightly squeezes your boob. You sigh as you feel him innocently brush past your nipples, then he trails some more kisses down your stomach. Once he makes his way down to your lower body, he quickly takes off your pants with ease. Teasing your clothed pussy a little bit, watching as a wet spot starts to appear from the outside, he circles your clit and starts to sniff you.
“You smell good baby,” Seungmin compliments, finally taking off your panties and tossing them somewhere on the bed. He kisses the inside of your thighs and feels the warmth of your skin on his lips. He loves every inch of you and he wants to take his time with you. Flicking his tongue on your clit and you hiss at the feeling, you want him to fuck you with his tongue. He licks a nice long stripe across your wet folds, staring up at you while doing so, your phone still in your hand the whole time. Seungmin brought his head up more to face you, “keep looking at your phone while I eat you out babe, pretend like I’m not even here.”
You comply with his instructions, continuing to watch TikToks like normal and Seungmin goes back to devouring your pussy like the good boy he is.
JEONGIN. It was a very nerve wrecking day for you, you were meeting Jeongin’s parents for the first time today. You put on your most expensive Dior perfume and prettiest heels to meet his mom since Jeongin told you she was very into fashion and can tell when girl’s wear cheap perfume. You wanted to impress this woman as much as possible since this was definitely going to be the man you wanted to marry someday. Jeongin reassures you the whole day that she was going to love you regardless,
“Even if you wore perfume from the Dollar Tree she’d still like you!” He tries to give reassurance. You don’t believe that’s true but when you get to his mom’s house you meet her and the rest of his family. His dad was super nice and everyone was very welcoming towards you. You were actually shocked by how chill and laid back everyone was, you felt bad for assuming that they would be mean to you. Jeongin’s mom was the last person you met, when you met her she came off as a little timid but then she started to warming up to you once you started having a lot of things in common.
She was really sweet and super funny, you now know why Jeongin is such a charming guy. You see Jeongin come up to you so he can pull you away from his mom for a bit but his mom brushes him off to tell him she wasn’t finished talking. He walks away with a defeated look on his face and you continue talking with his mom. When the food is ready everyone gathers at the table to eat and you sit beside Jeongin, his mom was across from you both. You were busy for most of the day talking with his family and getting to know everyone. He wanted to be with you but he couldn’t even get the chance, feeling left out in the conversation. You feel your phone vibrate from the table and you pick it up to see who it is, seeing that it’s from Jeongin but you’re confused because he’s sitting right next to you. You turn towards him to ask him why he just texted you but he puts his finger to his mouth to tell you it’s a secret. You place your phone under the table to look at the message,
‘Come meet me in the bathroom upstairs by the laundry room ;)’
You instantly blush from reading that text and try to hide your flustered expression. You look at him and nod your head to signal that you understand. Jeongin shoots his head up and tells his parents who were across the table from him that he needs to be excused to go to the bathroom. You shoot yourself in the foot thinking about what excuse you can come up with so you both don’t look sketchy.
“Sorry please excuse me I have to take this important call for my job,” you quickly say to his parents as you head over to where you’re supposed to go.
You meet Jeongin in the bathroom where he told you to and you went straight to heavily making out. He grabs your ass and spanks it lightly, “How long you think we can be in here before they start to notice?” You ask, his lips now glued to your neck.
“I dunno, I honestly don’t really give a fuck.” He says bluntly, turning you around to face the sink and the mirror, pressing his bulge against your ass. He starts grinding his dick against you slowly, kissing your neck and running his fingers down your body. He lifts up your dress and drags his cock to rub against your clothed cunt, you lowly moan his name and he smiles. He’s about to fuck you so hard against this sink all the while his parents not having a clue where you two went.
#skz smut#stray kids smut#skz x reader#skz x female reader#stray kids x female reader#bang chan smut#lee minho smut#lee know smut#changbin smut#hyunjin smut#hwang hyunjin smut#han jisung smut#felix smut#lee felix smut#seungmin smut#jeongin smut#skz imagines#skz drabbles#skz scenarios#stray kids drabbles#stray kids scenarios#skz hard thoughts#stray kids imagines
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Lavender Haze
Oscar Piastri x insomniac!reader
Masterlist / Tangerine Pt 1 / Pt 1.5 / Pt 2
Summary: Oscar can’t sleep. The two of you try to find a solution. // A continuation of Tangerine
Word Count: 4.7k
a/n: well. I wrote smut. I reserve the right to delete this later if I decide it’s bad. but here you go! more tangerine verse!
Warnings: insomnia, sexual content (smut)
18+! minors do not interact! thank you
It’s a Tuesday, and Oscar hasn’t slept in nearly 48 hours. You know this because you’ve been with him for most of those 48 hours, and you also haven’t slept. That’s not that abnormal for you, but you’re unsure of how Oscar’s functioning.
He’s just finished up a meeting, and you’re wrapping up the last of your duties for the day. There’s a knock on your office door, and Lando pokes his head in with a worried look on his face.
“Hi,” he says. “Cute office. Um. I think maybe Oscar could use a ride home.”
“I’m fine,” your boyfriend calls from the hallway,
You raise your brows. Lando sighs and kicks the door open all the way. Oscar is standing behind him, leaning against the wall. His hair is fluffy and disheveled. His hands are tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie. There are dark circles under his eyes. You wince.
“Thanks, babe,” Oscar says in response to the look on your face.
“Mate, you haven’t slept in two days, of course you look like shit,” Lando teases.
“You don’t look like shit,” you say, and Oscar forces a smile. “You just look exhausted.”
He was supposed to sleep on the flight back from Brazil to England. You’d stayed awake on the plane, unable to get your brain to shut off. Between the crazy schedule of the triple header, the changes in time zones, and his overall stress, Oscar had the same problem. Then, when the two of you got to his apartment, it had been impossible for him to sleep. His internal clock is all fucked up.
“I am exhausted,” he admits, rubbing at his eyes blearily. “Dunno how you do this all the time.”
He walks into your office, eyes darting around to all the corners. There are plants on the windowsill, a photo of you and Oscar in Tokyo pinned up on the corkboard. He smiles as he sits down in the chair across from your desk. Then he reaches and grabs the unopened Red Bull off your desk.
“Osc,” you scold, as Lando makes a noise of horror. “That’s the last thing you need right now.”
“I feel like a zombie,” he says.
“Right, and zombies can’t drive, so,” Lando says, pulling a set of keys from his pocket.
Oscar’s keys. You know Lando’s right when he hands them to you over Oscar’s head, and Oscar tries to grab them, but he’s about ten seconds behind. It’s like his brain is buffering with an insane amount of lag. Your heart aches for him.
“Okay,” you say, closing the laptop. “I think Lando’s right. I think we should get you home.”
“I’m fine,” he says, again.
He goes to say something else but gets caught up in a yawn. You reach out and take the Red Bull from his hand. He sighs. You turn to Lando.
“I’ve got him,” you tell his teammate.
“Thanks,” Lando says, and then he disappears into the hallway.
You lead Oscar out of the office shortly after that. He asks to make a stop in the break room for coffee, and you refuse. At work, the two of you are pretty hands off with each other, trying to keep things professional. But this time you grab his wrist lightly and lead him out to the parking lot. You decide to take your car and leave his here- there’s no way you trust yourself driving his car.
Oscar is quiet on the way to his apartment. He sits in the passenger seat- an odd occurrence for him. He takes your free hand in his and knits your fingers together. You brush your thumb over his skin soothingly. Normally he’d be mentioning things on the road, or pestering you about your driving, but he doesn’t. You’re a bit worried, really.
You don’t push him on it until you’re in the elevator up to his place. “You’re quiet. You okay?”
He frowns. “I’m just… this is what you feel like. Constantly.”
You sigh, your shoulders dropping. He squeezes your hand. You nudge your shoulder against his.
“Not always,” you remind him. “I slept really well for a couple weeks there. And Friday night.”
“I was really hoping that sound machine would work,” he says with a huff.
“I know,” you murmur.
The elevator doors open for his floor, and he follows you to his flat and into the entryway. If you didn’t already know, you’d be able to tell how tired he is from the way he leaves his things haphazardly in the hallway. He kicks off his shoes in front of the door, drops his backpack on the floor next to them, and tosses his jacket further down the hall. When you turn and give him a look, eyebrows raised, he covers a yawn with his hand.
“You should eat dinner,” you suggest. You reach to brush your thumb against his flushed cheek. “Why don’t you hop in the shower and I’ll start making us something.”
Oscar sighs, takes a couple unsteady steps towards you. He holds his arms out as he leans, trusting you to catch him. You do, your accompanying laugh muffled into his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you and lets out a long groan.
“Or we could just go to bed,” he says, voice scratchy.
“No, you need dinner,” you insist. “And a shower.”
“What, do I stink?”
“No comment.”
Oscar laughs and pulls away. He holds you at arm’s length. “Okay. Shower, dinner, bed?”
You nod.
“What are the chances tonight?” He asks.
You sigh and shrug. “Maybe a 7?”
“Not bad,” he says. “We can work with 7.”
He’d started asking you that question shortly after you first made it official. What are the chances you can fall asleep tonight? Higher numbers are better. A one means an all nighter, likely too wound up to even sit in bed with him. A 5 means you might doze on and off, likely after he’s already fallen asleep. A ten is laying down and passing out when your head hits the pillow. None of the nights so far have been a ten.
He wanders off to go take a shower, and you head to the kitchen to raid the cupboards. You still have your own apartment, but when Oscar’s here, you stay with him pretty often. You go to the races, but often fly out on different days than him due to promo events, so the two of you take your time together when you can get it.
Luckily, he’s had groceries delivered, so there’s plenty for you to work with. You cook some pasta and heat up some garlic bread, knowing if you get him to eat anything it’ll have to be quick. Plus, warm and comforting will be good, too. You hear the shower shut off just as you’re draining the pasta. You have it all plated by the time he makes it out to the kitchen, wearing a loose pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.
He walks over and steps up behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist and presses his face to your shoulder blade, letting out a deep sigh. You laugh and reach behind you, running your fingers through his damp hair. He makes a soft, satisfied little noise.
“Food, then sleep,” you promise.
He nods and pulls away, taking the plates to the table with him. The two of you eat quietly, his foot bumping against yours. He sits with his cheek resting on his fist, slouched over the table.
“Thanks for dinner,” he mumbles. “Didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
You laugh and nudge him lightly with your elbow. “I know.”
After dinner, he convinces you to leave the dishes for tomorrow. He takes you by the hand and drags you to the bathroom, where you brush your teeth together. You do your skincare routines together, and then he drags you to bed. You change into pajamas while he lays down, already burying himself beneath the covers.
You fall into your normal routine. You sit down with a book and a little reading lamp, turning off the overhead lights and the lamp next to the bed. You lean against the headboard while he lays down, his head on the pillow, one arm wrapped around your thigh. You run your fingers through his hair absentmindedly as you read, waiting for him to fall asleep, waiting for yourself to feel drowsy.
Neither of those things happen.
You look down after two chapters. Usually Oscar’s fast asleep by now. His eyes are closed, but he keeps shifting, and his fingers are drawing patterns on the bare skin of your thigh. You brush your thumb against his cheek, and he groans.
“Can’t sleep,” he says, opening his eyes and looking up at you.
You pout down at him. “D’you want me to turn the light off? I can go in the living room if you think that’d help.”
“No, the last thing I need is for you to not be here,” he says. “Just can’t get my brain to slow down.”
You hum, frowning deeper. You pinch his cheek lightly, then smooth your thumb over the spot. He crawls closer, nudging his head against your hip and letting out a deep sigh. Then he unwinds his arms from around your leg and stretches.
“It’s no use” he says, rubbing his face harshly. “I’ve developed insomnia by osmosis.”
You laugh, rubbing his back lightly. His cheek is squished against your leg, one eye closed. The other one is staring at you. You run your fingers through the hair on the back of his head and sigh.
“I don’t think that’s how it works, babe,” you say. “Come on, there’s gotta be something that’ll help. Let’s run through all the remedies, yeah?”
You drag him back out to the kitchen and start with chamomile tea. You turn on some calming music in the background, like a lullaby but for a grown man. He drinks the tea on the couch, and you sit next to him, running your fingers through his hair. It’s the best way you know to calm him. His eyelids don’t seem to grow heavy, though, so after a while you move on to the next one- warm milk and honey.
“If it’s all drinks I’m just gonna have to pee,” he says grumpily.
He’s leaning on your shoulder in the kitchen, like he can’t hold himself up. You know the feeling- your body gets heavy and tired but your mind doesn’t. So you hold onto him and will the milk to work. Of course, it doesn’t, and then you’re back to square one.
You find some lavender essential oils, buried in the bottom of your work bag. One of the reasons you hesitate to admit you have insomnia, to even call it that, is because of things like this. Everyone tries to offer you their foolproof home remedy, like you haven’t already tried all of them. But Oscar doesn’t have full fledged, capital I Insomnia, he’s just got a messed up sleep schedule, so maybe it’ll help. You tug the neck of his shirt down to rub it on his chest, and then you add some to his wrists too.
“Smells nice,” he says, softly. He blinks. “There’s lavender in your shampoo, isn’t there? Smells familiar.”
You blink right back at him. “Yeah. There is.”
It shouldn't be surprising that he recognizes the smell of your shampoo, but somehow it is. It’s endearing, sweet to think about.
The lavender doesn’t seem to help, so you move on. He’s already tried a warm shower, so that’s checked off the list, and he’s eaten warm food too. You pull him back to the bedroom and direct him back onto the bed. He lays on his stomach, which is what you were going to have him do anyways, but you make a little noise and tell him to sit up. You sit down on the bed next to him and shove at his hoodie.
“How about a massage?” You suggest.
It doesn’t take him long to take his shirt off after that suggestion. Oscar has Kim to help him stretch and loosen up during the race weekends, so you’ve never really suggested this. You wonder why you haven’t as he lays down and sighs happily. His toned back is spread out on the bed in front of you, the tan line painting a stark difference on his skin. You want to trace the outline of every muscle, but you refrain, even as he puts his hands above his head and you watch the way his arms flex. You grab some lotion, throw your leg over his hip so you’re straddling his upper thighs, and get to work.
You’re happy to have the chance to drag your hands along every inch of his skin, and it does seem to be working. That is, if the soft sighs and groans he’s letting out mean anything, or the way he begins to melt into the bed. You rub his shoulders and see the tension drain from his upper body. You press your hands into his lower spine and feel his muscles soften underneath your hands. His breaths even out and slow down.
You lean over and press a kiss to the back of his neck and whisper, “s’it working?”
He sighs, and when he speaks his voice is low and raspy. “It’s not not working, but…”
You frown. “But?”
He pulls one hand down from over his head and reaches for your hand. He tilts his hips up and brings your hand down to press against his bulge, and you gasp. He’s hard, probably almost uncomfortably so. You cup him in your hand and listen to the strained sigh he lets out.
“I was trying not to,” he says, “because I was actually starting to get sleepy. But your hands feel so nice, and I could feel you moving, and-“ you interrupt him with a soft squeeze of your hand, and he groans loudly. “Fuck, baby.”
“I can help with that, you know,” you say, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’d be happy to. Thrilled, even. Who knows, maybe it’ll help you sleep.”
He muffles his laugh into the pillow underneath his head. When you tug at his sweatpants and slip your hand past the waistband, he groans out a “Please?”
He rolls over under you when you tell him to. You settle yourself back on his upper thighs, letting your eyes roam over his exposed chest. His eyes are half lidded- from drowsiness or arousal, you’re not sure. You run your hands up his sides smoothly. He lets out a whine.
“Please,” he sighs again.
“What do you want, baby?” You ask, pressing your thumbs into the jut of his hips.
He sighs and snuggles down into the bed. He’s laying on top of the fluffy down comforter, and he seems to sink into it. He blinks up at you and props his arm behind his head.
“I want you to be wearing less clothes,” he says, voice heavy with exhaustion. “And then I want you to ride me.”
Heat rolls down your spine. There’s something about sleepy Oscar that makes him loose lipped and eager to tell you exactly what it is he wants. You grin down at him as you fiddle with the hem of your t-shirt.
“Please,” he says again. His brows furrow into a tiny v, and his face looks strained.
You start to tug his shorts down. He sighs happily, props the other arm behind his head, too. He’s already leaking precum when he finally slips free of the confines of his clothing. You reach out, run a light fingertip up the hard line of him. He shudders underneath your touch. You lean down to press a kiss to the tip, and he yelps.
“M’not gonna last,” he says, voice already raw. “Just want you.”
It doesn’t take long, then, for you to do as he asked- lose your clothes and get on top of him. He reaches down when you straddle his waist and slips his hand between your legs, groaning when he feels how wet you are. Normally, he’d insist on giving you at least one orgasm before he even thought about getting to this point, but you know he’s exhausted and you’re aching for him already. You take his cock in your hand and guide it to your center, and his breath catches in his chest when you start to sink down on him.
You know almost immediately he’s right- he won’t last. You can feel him twitch as he bottoms out, and you watch the way his abs clench beneath you. You let out a soft moan at the feeling. His eyes are screwed shut, mouth dropped open. You could stay right here and stare at him for ages.
“Fuck, baby,” he gasps, already panting. “So good.”
When you start to move your hips, he starts to fall apart. His hands fall to hold onto your waist, thumbs pressing into your rib cage. You draw moans and groans out of him,echo them back to him, and practically drool at the way he arches his back and neck and rolls his head against the pillow. Everything feels so intense, like it’s all turned up a notch. You think he’s feeling it too. It’s the lack of sleep, you think, absently. You should pull all nighters together more often. You’ll tell him later.
Right now, you lean over to kiss him. His tongue is in your mouth almost immediately, messy and uncoordinated but hot nonetheless. You have your hands planted on either side of his head, and he starts to meet your hips with thrusts of his own. His hand slips between your legs again, thumb pressing at your clit, and you know you’re a goner. From the way he’s squirming underneath you, he is too.
You fall apart on top of him, your orgasm washing over you in sweet, warm waves, and you collapse into his chest when you feel him follow closely behind you, his hips bucking up against yours. He wraps his arms around you and holds you close. You rest your head on his heaving chest and breathe him in.
Minutes later, when you try to pull away, he wraps his arms tighter and groans. You laugh.
“Osc, I can’t stay here forever, I’m not that flexible,” you mumble. “And we should get cleaned up.”
He lets go, albeit reluctantly. When you pull away and off of him, he lets out a soft whine. You head to the bathroom, clean yourself up quickly and head back to the bedroom with a washcloth.
He’s laid out on the bed, eyes closed. “M’not asleep yet,” he mumbles. “But almost.”
You’re gentle when you clean him up, even more gentle when you tug the blankets out from under him so you can tuck both of you in. You decide clothes can be forgotten about, and you press yourself against his side. He sighs happily, wraps his arm around you, and promptly falls asleep. For once, in a strange turn of events, you follow behind him without much of a delay.
You wake up the next day in the early afternoon. You’re thankful today is a day off, meant to be a break from the insane schedule you’ve held for the last three weeks. Oscar’s off too, so even though you’re awake, you snuggle closer to him and close your eyes while you wait for him to wake up. You drift in and out of sleep, drowsy half dreams dancing behind your eyelids. It’s the kind of sleep you normally hate, but after sleeping for nearly eleven hours the night before, it’s alright.
Finally, you feel Oscar start to stir, and you know he’s fully woken up when his hand slides down your bare side, his palm landing on your hip. He sighs happily and squeezes at your skin.
“We should sleep like this more often,” he says cheekily, voice still rough with sleep.
You laugh, turning your head to look at him. His eyes are still closed. “You wanted to fall asleep inside me last night,” you say teasingly. “This seemed mild in comparison.”
“Yeah, we should revisit that sometime,” he says, pinching your hip just to hear you let out a squeak. Then he rolls towards you and wraps you up in his arms. “Good morning, love.”
“Afternoon, actually,” you mutter against his skin.
“Yeah, yeah, we needed it,” he says. “Did you sleep?”
You nod. “Passed out right after you, woke up just a little while ago.”
“Wow,” he says, in that signature tone of his. “Impressive.”
The two of you crawl out of bed eventually, heading for the shower together. He’d suggested it once in a hotel room to save time, insisting that you could both stay in bed longer if you consolidated and showered together. You’d nearly been late, but it’s become a habit since. He helps you rinse the conditioner from your hair, and you do the same for him. When you get out and wrap yourselves up in towels, he presses his nose to your hair and breathes in.
“No wonder I sleep so well when you’re here,” he says. “You’re a walking sleep remedy.”
“The lavender didn’t work on you,” you remind him.
He shrugs, dragging a towel through his wet hair. “Maybe it’s just you, then.”
You spend what’s left of the day with him, having a late lunch and then heading off for a walk in a nearby park. It’s chilly, but not unbearably so, and he holds your hand the whole way. As the sun begins to set, you head home, have a light dinner, and settle in to watch a movie. Before it’s even a quarter of the way done, Oscar starts to yawn. By the halfway point, he’s nodding off, his head on your shoulder.
You pause it. “Osc, babe, time for bed, yeah?”
He nods sleepily and curls further into you. You’re amazed by it, honestly. You don’t understand how he can be this tired already. You drag him off the couch and to the bathroom, where you both brush your teeth. Then he takes your hand and pulls you to the bed.
You know before you even lay down that you won’t be able to sleep. But you humor him anyways, because you know he falls asleep easier when you’re there. You curl up in bed with him, careful not to tangle yourself up in his limbs too much. It’ll make it easier to slip away when he falls asleep. He closes his eyes, and you run your hands through his hair and watch him fall asleep.
This is the kind of nice thing about having insomnia- you get a free pass on watching your boyfriend sleep. There’s something so endearing about it- the way any of his stress melts from his face, the soft rise and fall of his chest. His cheeks are slightly flushed, and you pull the blankets back just a little, sensing he must be warm. His hair is getting long, and it’s begun to fall in his face, so you smooth it off his forehead.
You do try to go to sleep, laying there with your eyes closed, counting sheep. But it doesn’t work, and you get antsy, your whole body buzzing with energy. So you slip out of bed as quietly as you can, leaving him behind with a soft kiss to his forehead. It almost makes you feel guilty, even though you know he understands.
You close the bedroom door and head for the living room. You put the tv on, leaving the volume low. You have specific shows that you watch when you can’t sleep. It’s not that they help, but more so that you’re watching other shows with Oscar, and you don’t want to watch without him.
You half watch the tv and half scroll on your phone. You have to be careful when you’re up this late with nothing to do- social media sucks you in, and it can be a dark spiral. You and Oscar aren’t public, in the sense that the public hasn’t figured out who you are. But they have seen pictures of Oscar with a mystery girl, and they don’t seem to like you very much. You avoid twitter at all costs.
Eventually, you get bored with your phone and reach for your book. You turn on the little lamp on the side table and start to read. Around 1am, the words begin to blur on the page. You close your eyes for just a moment, wondering if you might be able to fall asleep, telling yourself if you start to feel drowsy you’ll go back to bed. But as soon as your eyes are closed, your thoughts begin to race. You sigh and head for the kitchen.
In Oscar’s fridge, there’s a supply of tangerine Red Bulls. You’re pretty sure he got them for free, because they have Max and Checo’s faces all over them, but you’re not going to complain about it. You reach for a can and spin it in your hands, looking for the permanent marker.
Oscar understands the whole energy drink thing a bit more now, but he still worries. He’s taken to leaving you notes on the cans, because he knows you’re often reaching for them in the dead of night, when he’s asleep and unable to help quiet your mind. This one says: U SO PRETTY <3 in messy scrawl. You think Lando’s been helping him come up with them. Or Logan. You’re not sure. You smile, snap a quick picture of it, and head back to the couch. Then you settle back in for more reading.
At 2:13 am, you hear a noise from the hallway. Oscar appears in the doorway to the living room a few moments later, rubbing at his eye socket with his knuckles. His hair is in a state of complete disarray, one of the ankles of his sweatpants hiked up much farther on his calf than the other. He covers a yawn with his other hand.
“Hi, sleepyhead,” you say, softly. “It’s the middle of the night, what’re you doing up?”
He shrugs as he stumbles his way to the couch. “Woke up. Reached for you. Went, huh, not here. Came to find you.”
You laugh at his stilted sentences, and the sleep still coating his voice. He grimaces when he spots the can of Red Bull, but doesn’t say a word. Instead, he collapses onto the couch, and in the process, onto you. He lays his head on your chest and wraps his arms around you, sighing happily.
“Better,” he says. “Can I stay for a little bit?”
You laugh and kiss the top of his head. “You can stay as long as you want.”
“Mm. How ‘bout forever?” He mumbles. Before you can reply, he speaks up again. “Will you read to me?”
“Yeah,” you answer, unable to wipe the silly grin off your face. “We can go to bed if you want. Just didn’t want to wake you up.”
He shakes his head and burrows closer. “S’okay. M’comfy here. And this way you have the TV.”
So you pull a blanket off the back of the couch, lay it over him, and wrap one arm around him. You try not to think too hard about the way he meets you halfway without you ever having to ask. You open the book with one hand and trace patterns on his back with the other. You read out loud, listening to the little laughs he lets out at the dialogue.
He falls asleep before you’re through a single chapter. When you realize he’s dozed off, you lay the book on his back and listen to the soft sounds of his breathing, feel the weight of him against you and the soft puffs of air that slip over his lips. You trace the shell of his ear, the line of his jaw. You close your eyes, knowing that between the insomnia and the caffeine, you probably won’t fall asleep. But for once, your mind doesn’t begin to race. You just bask in the warmth of him, and the comfort of knowing that even in the dead of night, you’re not alone.
a/n: thanks for reading! I missed tangerine!oscar tbh
taglist : @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @ggaslyp1
#oscar piastri oneshot#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula one oneshot#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula 1 fluff#oscar piastri fluff#f1 fanfic#x reader#f1 x reader#Oscar piastri smut#formula one smut#f1 smut#tangerine!verse
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lando with girlfriend who races for mercedes but got into a crash and was in coma, but she finally wakes up
This picture does stuff to me
(set 2024)
Second part HERE
"Holy shit," Lando said as he watched his girlfriend walk onto the grid. He watched as she walked over, racing overalls low on her hips, black fireproofs adorning her body.
Lando licked his lips as she stood beside him and Oscar, leaning against the barrier with her arms folded over her chest. "Wow, baby," he said, staring at her.
"Like what you see?" She grinned.
Lando said nothing. He moved closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Tell Toto I like the black fire proofs."
It was Y/N's first season in Formula One, her first race too. She was the F2 champion two years running before Mercedes finally gave her a chance. She'd been with Lando since her F2 days, after they'd met in Monaco after the Grand Prix.
"Excited?" Oscar asked as he watched them.
Yes, Y/N was excited. But she'd never been on the track with her boyfriend, had never had to fight him before. Neither of them knew what they were going to do. They both hoped they would treat each other like any other driver, but the rest of the grid was doubtful.
"Very," she said to Oscar as she leaned her head on Lando's shoulders. "I'll blow you both a kiss when I come speeding past, lapping you ."
She had done extremely well for her first qualifying in F1, qualifying on the second row. Lando was 6th through a mistake in Q3 and Oscar was pack in 9th after he got his times deleted.
It was amazing, driving behind a three time world champion and a second time world champion. Y/N did her absolute best, holding her position.
And then Checo Perez tried his luck. He went around the outside of Y/N on turn one. But he didn't leave enough space, hitting her wheel pretty bad and sending her spinning into the barriers at such a high speed. But the car didn't just hit the barrier and bounce off. It hit the barrier and kept going, ripping off chunks of the car and sending them flying.
It wasn't too terrifying at first. It was still scary, though, Y/N's first race and her first big crash in F1. To make things worse it wasn't even her fault. She was having such a good race, doing everything she should have, and then Checo Perez fucked it all up for her.
As chunks of the car got ripped away by the barrier, the Mercedes team was still pretty sure she'd make it out. But then a piece of debris bit the wheel and shot up into the ear, coming back down and hitting the top of Y/N's helmet.
Suddenly, things were scary. The car came to a stop, pieces of it all over the track. "Y/N, are you okay?" Asked her engineer.
She didn't respond.
"Y/N? If you can hear me, please say something?"
Again, nothing. The Mercedes team were beginning to get worried.
***
"Red flag, Lando. That's a red flag," said Lando's engineer.
"What happened?" He asked as everybody pulled into the pitlane.
His engineer took a minute to answer. The team didn't know what was best, to tell Lando and have him freaking out, or to let him find out on his own.
"Uh, there's a Mercedes with some damage," the engineer said.
Lando's face went pale inside of his helmet. He knew the car in front of him was Hamilton, meaning the only other Mercedes on the track was...
Lando parked the car in the pitlane, the same as everybody else. He immediately climbed out of the car and started running. His engineer and the McLaren team tried to stop him, but Lando was still running. It was hot inside of his helmet, but nothing was going to stop him.
When Lando got down there, she still hadn't been pulled from the car, the debris was being removed, but Y/N wasn't. "Baby!" He shouted and ran over.
The stewards tried to hold him back, but Lando pushed them away. He began trying to pull her out of his car. As soon as they saw what he was doing they began helping him, pulling Y/N's limp body out of the car.
Limp, but not lifeless. At least, that was what the paramedics said as they lifted her into the ambulance.
Lando didn't want to attend the rest of the race. He couldn't concentrate as he waited for the race to restart. "Let Pato drive," he mumbled as he waited for news from the hospital. Nothing, and that was making him so fucking worried.
#lando norris#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris fluff#lando norris smut#lando norris x reader smut#lando norris x you#lando norris x female reader#formula one#formula one imagine#formula one x reader#formula 1#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#f1#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#ln4#ln4 imagine#ln4 x reader#ln4 angst
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➳ persistence
--͙[katsuki bakugo x female! reader]-͙-
╰┈➤ word count; 8244
╰┈➤ rundown; katsuki sees you through rose coloured glasses, you're his best friend after all. little does he know, you would do anything to have him.
╰┈➤ caution; alcohol consumption (legal drinking age is 18 in my country), bakugo cheats on his gf, possessiveness, jealousy, dry humping, choking, cunninglingus, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating, belly bulge, size kink, virginity loss (mentions of blood), slight kaminari x yn, yn has small boobs.
not proof read !
katsuki has been yours forever.
well, he has been your best friend forever.
although, katsuki is oblivious to how near and dear you hold him to your heart and the things you would do to have him.
you were prone to running girls off even if it meant spewing some preposterous lie.
you would do it all if it meant being able to fawn over katsuki like he was more than your best friend.
you spend every moment that you can with him.
you thought he loved your company the same but katsuki tells you he lost his virginity and you realise he was seeking love elsewhere.
he smashes your heart into a million pieces with just a sentence.
you stick closer to him, you thought he would heal your broken heart although he was the reason for it.
but he does it again, he takes it and rips it apart because two months later, you find out katsuki has a girlfriend.
you try to break them up.
you really do. you make yourself an issue.
what girl is okay with their boyfriend constantly around his girl best friend. what girl would tolerate that?
katsuki's girlfriend.
you find that out the hard way.
you disrupt their plans but somehow she finds herself there.
you delete messages she sends and she blames it on the network. not katsuki! never him!
he misses countless calls when he is with you but she does not mind!
you drive yourself insane trying to get rid of her.
it seems like she is here to stay.
---
you are eighteen when alcohol is legal and a hot commodity.
when your friend group rents a beach house with the sole purpose of getting wasted.
you see katsuki as soon as you step into the hall. you smile, well almost.
"what the fuck are you wearing?" you furrow your brows at his irritated tone. you swear boys are suppose to like this.
"a bathing suit."
"your entire ass is out." he scowls.
"okay? who cares?"
they do care. they all have their eyes on you.
izuku swallows hard when you smile at him and shouto almost stops breathing when your hip brushes his. katsuki is stalking around the house like he wants to lay claim. like he is seconds away from pissing all over you.
it is on the tip of your tongue to tell him to worry about his girlfriend.
she comes downstairs a second later and is all over him. you are jealous. of course you are! he is letting her do all the things he should have given to you.
the alcohol is all you have to quell you over. when kaminari starts feeling you up, who are you to deny it? he is slurring words with his body flush to yours and katsuki seethes for the world to see.
"you're so pretty and your body." he whistles. you giggle in his face, your arms around his shoulders to press your breasts to his bare abdomen.
he is a good looking guy but he would never compare to katsuki. kaminari's hands trail lower, thumbing the fabric of your bathing suit.
you find katsuki whose jaw locks tighter the longer you are in kaminari's arms. whose knuckles have turned white from being wrapped in fists.
"i've wanted to fuck you for so long." he rasps, you can definitely feel his erection digging into your tummy.
you smile, your lips brushing his "then why haven't you?"
katsuki has had enough.
he yanks kaminari back by his hair and roughly shoves him into the wall. you wince.
"what the fuck, bakugo?" everyone though tipsy is alerted by the scene. katsuki is intimidating and as bad as you feel for kaminari you are stifling a grin behind your palms.
"do you want me to kill you?" katsuki nears him, smoke seems to blow out his nose like a raging bull.
"for what?" katsuki has only gotten bigger over the years, his abs flex as he breathes hard and his bicep swells when he reaches for kaminari.
you step in front of him and katsuki looks murderous as he glares at you.
"yn, move." you are all wide eyed and playing innocent.
"i won't let you hit him."
"you're choosing that dunce over me?" his brows tilt up. you do not say a word. "you let him touch you. you were asking him to fuck you."
it is exactly how you want it to go. his girlfriend furrows her brows. you do not know if it is the alcohol, anger or jealousy but katsuki does not care.
"katsuki." you hate the way his name sounds on her tongue.
"why do you care?" he tenses. she comes up to his side, pulling on his arm.
you want them to fight, you want to draw her to her breaking point and finally push her over the edge.
it should have happened years ago.
---
it is way into the morning, about 1:43 am. everyone is in the rooms, black out drunk and desperately needing to recuperate.
you are on your phone on the couch, still dressed in your bathing suit.
you sit up when katsuki walks down the stairs in a short sweatpants and a tshirt. his hair pushed back by a bando, one of yours he had taken years ago.
he settles right next to you, your feet pulled to your chest and facing him though he is staring at the blank screen of the tv.
"how'd you get her to quiet down?"
"there are men here and they think like men and you still wore that." really he wants to say, i'm a man. a filthy fucked up one that has longed to wreck the friendship between you.
his eyes meet yours looking at your features with so much softness before they lower to all the skin you have on display, your tits, your stomach, the scars and he knows the story for each one.
there are birthmarks he has never seen before, katsuki wants to know more, about you.
his eyes only grow darker, primal, everything in him wants you. he has for a long time.
you ignore his words "did you fuck her?" he scowls "i wouldn't fuck her and then come to you." you scoff.
katsuki's eyes trail to the curve of your cunt, barely covered by that scrap of fabric, the way you have your legs up only makes it more prominent.
"liar. over the last two years, you fucked her and now you're here." his eyes flicker to yours. you rest your phone on the cushion as you lean over to him, his tongue swiping over his lips when your bare ass comes into his view.
you straddle his lap, his legs spread and his bulge pressing into you immediately. his large hands find your hips, holding you as he thrusts up. his erection has you gasping. your hands find purchase in his fluffy blond hair.
you are still smaller than him, you have always been. your face nears his, you want to break down and cry.
"you're my best friend, suki, aren't you supposed to know my every want?" your hips grind into his, panting and mewling into his face, you have not done this before.
your cunt soaks through the thin fabric, it feels wet and slimy. your hips roll against him, why did his dick feel so good when it was not even inside you?
you do not want to stop, you want to do it all and now.
"i do."
"liar."
he thrusts up into your weeping slit and you whine as your body grows hotter. your eyes fixate on his, his hands grip your cheeks and they are so big you feel safe.
you feel like nothing can hurt you so long as he is around. you tilt your head to kiss the side of his palm.
"you want me to kiss you, you want me to touch you." he brings you close until your lips brush. he smells so good, he feels so good and right with you.
"you want me to fuck your little baby pussy that's rubbing on my cock so perfectly and make you mine." you nod your head, gripping onto him more. you have never heard him talk like that, never.
your head goes into a daze. "you want me, you've always wanted me."
"i know you." tears leak from your eyes and katsuki's lips part before he kisses you.
he kisses you and it far exceeds the countless times you dreamed about it. it feels more than fireworks and electricity, katsuki feels like love.
he feels like patience and understanding. katsuki kisses like you are all he needs and all he wants. he kisses with as much feeling as you have harboured for him in all your years of existence.
his lips languidly move along yours, thumb stroking your cheeks and keeping you close.
you practically melt into him more, your breasts flush to his chest, kissing him deeper as you hump his erection. he pulls away and you are breathless, his hands cupping the bare flesh of your ass to help you fuck yourself on him.
"tell me you didn't fuck some other guy." he winces, his forehead meeting yours.
hypocrite, selfish, unfair. that is what he is.
"i didn't." you concede, gripping his shoulders tighter.
"are you just... saying that cause i want to hear it?" you press your lips to his again and katsuki cups the back of your head to kiss you as deeply as he can. to sink his tongue in your mouth and claim it for himself.
your hands pull the strings on either side of your suit's bottoms, tugging it off before your cunt meets the fabric of his shorts and strands of slick coat it.
"fuck me. fuck me and you'll know."
he groans, reaching around you to untie your top.
"such a gorgeous girl." the praise is entirely unfamiliar, katsuki has never called you gorgeous.
"your pussy is so wet, baby. i can feel it already." his hands grope your breasts, tweaking at your nipples that sting with sensitivity. his hands trail over your sternum and squeeze the flesh of your hips.
they feel rough and calloused. like they have lived a life, one you have been there for every second of since he called your name.
your cunt soaks his shorts and leaves a wet patch on the grey fabric but you cannot stop humping him. not when it feels so good, not when your cunt is clenching and the friction is stimulating you.
"i can't wait to have this tight little hole stretched around me, can't wait to fuck you open and have you shaped to my cock. mine alone." his fingers thread through your hair.
"do it suki, please, please put it in." your naked body writhes against him, your hips rocking and stuttering,
you cannot help your moans or the way you are constantly biting on your lips. you are depraved and desperate but katsuki has ruined you from the moment you laid eyes on him.
tears trail down your cheeks from the overwhelming feeling between your legs, from the way he looks at and touches you.
"kat it's so big." you mewl, bowing your head and looking at the way your cunt rubs along him.
his rough fingertips find your clit and your jaw hangs as he rubs the bundle of stilted nerves. your face is in the crook of his neck, losing all composure.
"cunt's messy. i want you to cum for me." you whine, your hips grinding harder. hands knotted in his tshirt.
"are you close?" your thighs are locking up and your abdomen feels unbelievably tight, your pussy constantly clenches. "uh huh." his hand grips your throat to make you look at him. "i want to see it, i want to see your eyes roll back, your mouth water and how fucked out your face looks when your pussy is creaming."
your body bounces on his lap, lips parted as he presses your forehead to his. "suki, it feels good, you feel so good." a smile crosses his pretty face.
"yeah? getting yourself off on my cock feels good? nasty girl, you're rubbing your dripping little cunt on me and you're enjoying it." his mouth meets yours in a searing kiss. "i'm enjoying it too, no one compares to you, no one is as pretty or as perfect as you." he whispers, like the only one that matters is you.
your body halts, jerking still on his lap because he is stroking your clit like he has known your body forever. like this is all familiar.
your fingers wrap around his wrist and katsuki grips your throat a bit tighter. just as he expected, just like his daydreams, only ten times better, your eyes roll, drool drips from your pretty mouth and you are the most stunning when your body is overcome by an orgasm.
the first one he has seen from you. "that's it, fuck, baby, doing so well." you whine at the praise, his words itch a part of your brain you never knew about.
your cunt creaming and soaking his pants, there is a wet patch and a sticky mess between your legs. you want to be filled so badly.
you do not think you can function if he does not. you are panting before he releases your throat and you slump into his strong body. he pushes back your hair and holds you close to him, you are all sweaty and his body temperature only makes you hotter.
his hands rub and caress all over you, his chin on your head before he wraps you in a tight hug. "i need to see you like that again, look so fucking pretty." you swallow hard, that sounds so much like a promise for the future. one with you and him.
he kisses your forehead "do you want to have sex?"
you perk up, bobbing your head. "of course i want to."
you are surprised when he brushes your cheek and his expression is saddened.
"this isn't the only time, you know that?" you slowly nod your head. "if you want to wait, i will. we can take things slow."
katsuki, katsuki, katsuki, how could you ever want anyone else.
"i waited long enough. i really want you to fuck me, ki." his eyes grow hooded. he presses a soft peck to your lips before he shifts you off his lap.
he removes his tshirt to reveal full pecs, toned abs, and a deep v line. all things you have seen before. all things you have day dreamed about but you have never seen him right before he would fuck you.
you have never looked at him knowing he would be in your body.
katsuki's skin ripples in defined muscles, any where you look you would see it. his eyes meet yours and your bread hitches. a smile crossing his features softly. his arms rest on either side of your body, gaze flicking to your messy cunt as he leans closer.
his mouth presses to yours in a soft gentle kiss and you find yourself following him when he pulls away. his nose nuzzles yours. "let's go upstairs, i'll get a condom."
you tense. here you are stripped bare, for him to see, for him to touch and have and own the way you have always wanted.
she is upstairs, in his room while you are on the living room couch waiting to be fucked.
you cannot find it in yourself to care.
"what are you thinking about?" his forehead meets yours. his eyes are so red, so red that you want them to draw you in and never let you go. you want them forever, you want him.
"do you use condoms with her?" his brows draw together, he does not want to talk about her but he will answer every question you have.
"always." no hesitation, no dishonesty.
you are immature, especially when it comes to him. "i'm different to you. i'm not like her. right kat?"
katsuki wants to wrap you up in his arms and keep you from the world. he wants to keep you to himself. he should have done it from the start.
kat, ki, suki, they are all his, they are all yours and that is one of the many ways that shows how different you are.
he breathes a heavy breath "you're everything." your hands cup either side of his nape.
"then show me. you shouldn't want something between us." not when it’s me.
katsuki regrets that those words even came out of his mouth. his eyes flick over your features before his large palm is pressing on your chest. you lie back under the weight of his searing touch, under the weight of his heavy gaze.
his lips leave wet kisses to your cheek before he drifts lower. you whine when his tongue laves over your perked nipple. all hot and sticky with saliva. the rough pad of his thumb rolls the darkened flesh before he takes it back into his mouth and circles the bud with his tongue.
your legs jolt, although your bare skin meets katsuki's body. katsuki who is above you completely with his body between your legs. he is so close you cannot think, you can hardly breathe.
"when we were younger." he trails off, leaning closer to press his stiff bulge against your messy cunt. your fingers curl into your palms.
"i used to wonder how big these would get." his hands grope your chest, your breast that have not changed much, have not grown much.
"but i like them this way. so much." his hands are so big, they only make the mounds of flesh look smaller. as he touches and squeezes. as he flusters you.
"why?" your voice seems ten times harder to get out. his mouth covers yours, pressing deep and your eyes tightly close. you whine when he pulls back
"cause it gets me so fucking hard." his voice is rough, you want to hear it that way forever. your hips tilt up to press against him more, where his pants are already soaked with your cum.
katsuki groans before his mouth meets your stomach and he trails kisses down the soft flesh. the closer he gets to the dripping slit between your legs the more you tense.
"kat, wait." your hand reaches for his hair but your fingers keen into themselves when his tongue trails over your stiff clit. your back arches, lips parting.
"why should i? i waited long enough." you said the same and here katsuki is with his mouth over your cunt and amusement all over his face. you cannot look at him.
"it's weird!" his breath hits your soaking mess as he lightly laughs. your legs lift and your toes curl when his heated tongue glides through your opening in a languid stroke.
"tell me how weird it is that my mouth is on your pretty little pussy, that i'm finally getting to taste how sweet you are." your hands rest on your lips and you swallow hard.
katsuki leans in to lap at the cum and the slick that seems never ending. you can hardly keep your eyes open yet you look at him.
with his hooded eyes and you in his mouth. his fingers reach between your legs to pull your lips apart. to spread open your slit and your body jerks when he spits a thick ball of heady saliva into you.
the tip of his tongue glides through the mess before you feel it dipping inside you. your eyes widen and your entire body squirms. your hips rocking, you are not sure if you want to pull away or press more into him.
his strong hands hold your legs open and then he is shoving into you, until your eyes roll and his nose is nuzzled to your clit. your cunt squelches at the intrusion, gummy sticky walls pushed apart.
your fingers dig into the broadness of his shoulders "suki." you cry his name, it is so strange. to have something so foreign inside. to have someone's mouth much less their tongue there.
you are not quite prepared for him to move the wriggling muscle. no nothing could prepare you for the feeling of a tongue squirming inside your cunt and stroking your walls.
katsuki is fucking you with his tongue.
your hips jerk, and tears leak down your face without you realising. your hands tangle in his hair and all he does is press deeper and move faster.
your eyes meet his and you moan so disgustingly loud. his eyes are dark and they look mean. you can feel him everywhere. the muscles in your legs pulsate, he is sucking on you, he is eating you up and you grip his hair so tight because there are no coherent thoughts in your head.
the sounds fuck with you the most, the sounds are sloppy and sticky. the longer you hear it the more your brain turns to mush.
he will not stop, he will not give you a moment to breathe not as you moan and cry, not as you tug his hair or dig your nails into his scalp.
your cunt continuously clenches around the invasive muscle. your stomach feels unbelievably tight, "you're so gross." yet your hips are rocking, yet you are enjoying it. katsuki's tongue moves rougher and your eyes roll back so hard you are disoriented.
"ki, seriously! i'm gonna cum." your voice is watery and jumbled. you think he will stop, isn't he supposed to? but katsuki does not. no, not until you cream in his mouth and all over his face. your body jerks and tenses, you swear you are drooling and there are tears in your eyes.
you are already a mess, when his tongue slips out of your soaked hole you grit your teeth. your entire being is still stuttering with the aftershocks of your orgasm.
katsuki has liquid down his jaw and lips, some is even in his hair. he lies on top of you, his face close and his cock on your sensitive cunt. he is heavy, all you can feel is hard muscle and his skin as bare as yours.
"you taste like heaven, got the sweetest little pussy." he swipes at your tears and your legs fold on either side of him. "you're gross." he cocks his eyebrow "cause i want to eat your dripping cunt forever? or cause i want to drink up all the cum that comes out of it? which one makes me gross?"
you squeeze your eyes, it makes your heart feel all weird and your cunt throb. you wonder if he can feel it. if he can feel how hard you are pulsating all over.
"open those pretty eyes." his fingers grip your jaw and you whine. you are so flustered, you are so disoriented. katsuki spins you tight and messes up your head.
"all of it, katsu." you are a whimpering mess. you cannot think properly. not when you are naked, not when he is plastered to your skin. you want him inside of you. you want to know what it feels like so badly.
"katsu." he rolls the name around his tongue. you have not called him that in years. you have not called him that since you were kids.
he wonders what you then would say if she saw you now, if she knew how you would be. if she would be as angry as you are because he had been with someone else.
"take it off." you mutter, your hand cupping the hardness of his bulge. it is borderline painful. he has been hard since he sat next to you.
he swallows, sitting up to shove the restrictive material down. your body shifts on the couch as you see his length. long thick, the head a mixture of pink and brown. you have never seen one before.
his balls look heavy, you cannot help but wonder what they would feel like. in your hand, in your mouth. his fingers run across the short blonde pubic hair before he grips the base and squeezes, pre cum leaks from the tip.
he is quick to collect it and stroke it over the bluish veins along his shaft. his eyes meet yours, he looks at your expression. why do you look so in awe?
his defined muscles flex as he comes over you again. he crowds you into the corner of the couch, like he wants to keep you only for himself. only for his eyes.
your legs hook on his hips, his cock pressing into the flesh of your abdomen. he is so close, he is so close to being inside.
"how's it going to fit, ki?" you puff and the groan he lets out is bordering a loss of self control. he hesitates, will it fit? will all of this really fit in your tight little hole? where would it end in your body?
"we'll make it fit, right? tell me you'll make it fit, katsu." there it is again and he is losing his mind. what did you get out of calling him that besides ruining his head? he is already obsessed with you, did you want to make him psychotic too?
you are stripped naked with your cunt an inch away from his length practically begging him to stuff you so full you will ache. katsuki has lost it.
he tries to crack a smile but it is shaky, his thick fingers stroke between your slit and you sigh.
"yeah." it is so unsure, his voice cracks "we'll make it fit, i'll get it all in this cunt." his digits press into your walls, pushing passed the swollen flesh that seems to resist.
the gummy blood filled walls that make you so unbelievably tight. you gasp at the intrusion.
"just have to get this tight hole to loosen up." that seems easier said than done. why are you so tight? why do your walls grip him so viciously and hold him so close?
"fuck, baby. how am i supposed to stretch you out when you're so little?" his mouth meets yours, while his fingers slowly slip in and out of you.
he called you baby.
his mouth coaxes over yours, his lips gliding along yours like he was made for you.
your hips rock as he plunges his digits to his knuckles. everything he does feels good. he could look at you and you would still be this much of a mess.
your hand wraps around his length and katsuki's muscles flex. they flex and ripple, you wish you could see the way every single one contorts.
he grits his teeth, forehead rolling over yours, his jaw clenching before it hangs. he is so beautiful. his eyes lock on where you hold him. where the softness is so mind blowing, where your finger tips do not touch. where you are stroking his reddened cock the way he imagined.
it felt better, your slow, inexperienced strokes feel so much fucking better.
his fingers slam into you, palm grinding into your clit as he quickens his pace. your pussy sputters and wetness coats his digits. some splattering under the force of his movements.
your mouth drops in a moan, all breathy and pretty. "fucking pussy is in love with me. dripping all over, for me. such a loud nasty little cunt. who's it for?" your hand tightens around his base and drags along the length, enough to make him pant.
"you, katsu. it's yours, always been yours." your hips grind and fuck against him, legs spreading wider on instinct. you are so inviting. you are so perfect.
your eyes are barely staying open, your hand jerks his length. there is sweat on your skin. your chest heaving. he pulls his hand from your messy cunt, sticky strands connecting him to you before he collects the pre cum from his tip and presses it to your mouth.
your mouth opens to lap and suck and clean the liquid from his digits. your little hand growing more vigorous in your strokes, it only makes katsuki hump into the space between your fingers. "i want to fill you all over, i want to fuck you everywhere. this baby mouth, this vice pussy and this teasing little ass. i want to stuff your belly and holes with my cum. i want to cover you in it."
he is so nasty, he shoves into your mouth until you gag, until spit pools in your mouth and you drink it all down again. he cups your cheek and presses the sweetest kiss to your mouth, a soft wet smack filling the empty room.
katsuki is perfection incarnate.
he sits up on his knees, your hand slipping from his length as he grips your hips and pulls you lower. your legs spread and his cock resting on your abdomen.
his large hand spans out pressing his length against your flesh as he trails to the head. pre cum pools from the slit and katsuki's eyebrows bind together so tight. his jaw locks and his red eyes have gone black.
he is sizing you up. he is trying to figure out where exactly his cock is going to reach in you. you are breathless, you are a mess. katsuki has always been bigger than you.
he is lean muscle but they bulge so wide they make themselves present. he is all hard defined rivets in the planes of his skin.
"are you sure you want to do it?" his eyes lock with yours. why would he ask that like you would not say yes a million times?
"i am. i've never been more sure of something." i've never been more sure it's you. katsuki will always be the one. always.
"i want to have sex with you, i want you inside of me." he swallows hard. then his face relaxes, he looks so soft.
"tell me if it hurts. i'll stop if you want me to." he reaches down, leaning more over you as he strokes his length. his stiff cock bobs before his head is mushed into the sticky flesh of your pussy.
you gasp, looking at him breach your entrance. your slit slowly being pulled apart. katsuki was relaxed, he was but now his heart is beating out of his chest.
he has never had raw sex before. he has never been inside without a condom. you feel better than anything, even with a condom he is sure you would be better. you are better.
your pussy is warm and wet, so unbelievably wet. he does not know if your gummy walls are sucking on him or sucking him in, he thinks it might be both. he pushes in until the swollen flesh of his head is surrounded by your sticky hole.
you both let out laboured breaths. katsuki is inside you, he is inside of you and he cannot think. he wants to burn this moment into his brain and eye lids. he wants to think about this forever.
you feel so tight, warm and wet that katsuki feels like he will cum. he will cum and fill you up and he will want to do it again and again.
"how are you this good?" he grits his teeth. "your pussy keeps holding me, so tightly. how am i supposed to fuck you if you won't let me move?" he covers you, his face in front of yours, one hand cupping your throat and the other stroking your waist.
"rub your little clit for me and loosen up. you want my cock in you, right? you want me to fuck your cunt, don't you?" you whine, your hand reaching between your soft skin and his muscular flesh.
finding the stilted bundle of nerves and roughly rolling it. you cannot think, you cannot think at all. katsuki is inside of you and you are looking into his eyes.
how can you function?
"katsu, i want it so bad. i want you to fuck me so bad." your cunt gushes around him. you soak him again and again.
"yeah, want my cock to spread you open and fill up this pussy." he shoves in an inch more and you swear it sucks the life out of you.
"put it all in, please. i don't care if it hurts." he pants into your face, easing in more and more of his heady length. it feels like it goes on forever.
tears stream down your cheeks and your hand grips the back of his nape.
"such a good girl, pretty girl. you're doing so well." you whine, you want to cry and scream for him.
you are insanely tight and you are insanely hot.
you wrap around him and guzzle, you squeeze and you slurp him up.
katsuki cannot fuck you with a condom. he could never do it after feeling you like this.
"how much more is there, katsu?" your voice is as teary as your eyes. he brings your hand away from your clit to hold his nape. both of your hands intertwining before they lace in the spiky blonde strands near the base of his neck.
"a little more. breathe for me." and you do, you do as he anchors his hands on your hips. he slams into you so hard your cunt squelches, so hard your back arches off the couch and your voice pitches up into a broken cry of his name.
it is more than a little, you feel so stretched out, so pulled wide and filled to the brin. tears leak down your face
"it feels like." you trail off with dazed eyes "you're in my guts. no, my throat." katsuki pants above you
"i am." his voice is warbled. when you stare up at him in confusion, you follow where his gaze is locked. your entire body vibrates, there is a bulge in your stomach, there is a bulge where his cock is seated deep inside you.
your pussy tightens up around him so suddenly that katsuki hisses. "it's so deep, katsu." your head drops back onto the cushion, your legs hooking around his hips. his pelvis is flush to yours, he is buried inside you. he pulled you apart to shove himself inside.
you grip him so perfectly that katsuki feels like he will faint. he feels like he is blacking out.
"can you move?" you whine.
katsuki does not think he can.
he might just cum inside you this very moment.
he nods, leaning back to hold your legs open by the back of your knees. you lift yourself onto your elbows, both of you watching as he pulls out to just beneath his head, sticky strands of your slick covering his length and dripping from it before he slams straight to the base.
the bulge in your stomach appears again. you moan so loud, katsuki wants to hear it again and again.
you both watch him enter and exit you, watch him pound his heady cock into your walls. it feels so good your head is a mess.
he only fucks into you a few times, only makes a good few strokes before he stops.
"fuck you're bleeding. does it hurt?" his eyes are so filled with concern whilst yours only have lust.
you shake your head, "don't stop, katsu, don't stop."
your legs tighten around him, practically urging him to keep slamming the thickness of his cock inside of you.
"baby." he mutters unsurely, his fingers pressing into your skin.
"you got your answer, please keep fucking me. it feels so good." your head drops to the cushion as you grope your breasts. your nipples have never been this sensitive before. you want his mouth on them again. you tweak the buds as the gears turn in katsuki's head.
"you were a virgin." he breathes, you roll your hips. why won't he fuck you?
"fuck me, suki. harder." you whine and you jolt when he covers you. when your legs are pressed tight to your chest and his hand grips your throat. he presses down on the sides and when he really does fuck you, his thrusts are brutal and deep. he puts all of his weight into it as he fucks your pussy.
"does it feel that good, you want me pounding my cock into your freshly opened pussy?" you mewl, nails finding purchase in his back as you leave scratches down the ripples of muscle.
"you let me stretch out and pull apart your virgin cunt. you're bleeding all over my cock. that means you're mine." you nod, you bob your head with no hesitation.
"m'yours, yours." you babble as his cock is thrust into your walls. brushing your cervix and making you see stars. he slams so hard into you that there are wet smacking noises between your sexes. there are hard lashes of skin on skin.
his fingers hold your throat, you are so little under him he feels like he will crush it if he is not careful. your thighs tremble and your body jerks.
he is so heavy and he is so big and the way he feels sends your head into overdrive.
you are a spiralling mess. he huffs in your face, readjusting and you did not think he could go harder but he does.
he does and you shriek.
drool drips down your jaw and your eyes roll. you never thought it would feel that good.
you never really considered that a cock would warm you from the inside out.
katsuki's tongue laves over your tears and the whimper you let out drives him insane.
he is past the point of return.
every vein, ridge and bump on his cock is stroked by you. your cunt tries so hard to clamp down and keep him in until you have memorised them all, until you have taken his shape.
"why'd you keep this from me? all these years we could've been." he groans at the thought "we could've been fucking, i could've had you and this pussy from the start."
your legs tremble, barely perched on either side of his hips. your nails digging further in his skin to find your bearings. katsuki's hands are on you, he is in you. it feels like something out of a dream.
"i didn't keep it from you, i kept it for you." your words are forced out and broken, you can hardly speak with the constant pressure in your body.
"i used to think about you, about what i would do if you ever let me. i used to jerk off to you, all the fucking time." he grits his teeth, strokes growing more forceful, they hit deeper than before. they hit and caress every single spot inside you. "i rubbed my dick raw because i wanted you. why didn't you just tell me, baby? i would've given you it all. i'm giving you it all."
your fingers wrap around his wrist, he is so big. he is so big all over it makes you delirious. you are practically tugging his forearm closer to your chest.
"m'sorry, katsu." your eyes meet and katsuki breathes hard.
you look ditzy, you look downright brainless. he has never seen you like this, spit slicked lips, drooling and crying. getting filled with cock and becoming a fucked out mess.
this is his, this is his because no one else has seen it.
how can katsuki stay mad at you? how can he punish you for the past when you are giving him this?
he throbs inside you, he cannot seem to stop fucking you, he wants to do it forever. he wants to be wrapped up in the oasis between your pretty plush thighs forever.
you reach for his jaw, trembling fingers gracing the sharp perimeter. you want him close. you wonder how much closer you can get him than buried inside your cunt, than him prodding your cervix. than him nestled in your heart for years. you want him closer than that. he draws nearer, his nose nuzzling yours before soft pink lips meet yours.
"you're too good for me." you whine, his brows tilt up and he looks so pained. "but i can't handle seeing you with someone else." you shake your head.
oh never never never.
you have never wanted someone else.
you never will.
no one could ever compare to katsuki.
"i'm yours, only yours." you cry.
"yeah? you're mine, you'll always be mine and i'm yours." there is not an ounce of air in your body because he took it all. the shift of his hips is slow, it is slow and intentional.
he is yours. katsuki is yours. just as he is meant to be.
"promise?" you sound like the most precious thing ever.
you are. that is what you are.
"i swear, baby." your legs are jelly, they have lost all feeling. they shaking every time his thighs hit the back of yours. you cannot even stop them from spasming every once in a while. katsuki fucks hard, he gets deep and messes up everything.
he gets so deep your head is empty but so full. so full of him and the feeling. you feel everything ten times more.
your back arches "katsu, please." he hums, his hand rubs your little throat before he squeezes again. your jaw hangs. he is nasty. so nasty.
"what do you want?" his voice is baritone and love. his voice is what you want to hear the second you wake up and the minute before you fall asleep.
"you, just want you." you should not have said that, that seems to send katsuki far beyond a point he was trying so hard to avoid. the way he slams into you now is brutal, you feel the way your cunt clenches when he pulls out and the way he stretches you open all over again.
the bulge in your stomach is constantly reappearing. liquid drips from your slit down your ass and his balls. it splatters from your nasty union to the couch, to your skin and his. it froths up around his base until the blonde of his pubic hair is soaked. you bind him so tight in slick gummy walls, he does not think he will ever get this out of his head.
no he will remember this when he is at school, when he is supposed to be listening to lectures he will be hearing your messy cunt instead. he will hear the sopping noises your cunt makes when she is getting pounded.
when he is working out he will want you under him. katsuki will not be able to keep his hands off you after this.
he curses, fingers biting into your skin, he is over you completely. his forehead presses down on yours. he is gripping you so hard you swear it will bruise.
his finger marks will be on your skin and every one will know katsuki fucked you.
"ease up before i cum in you." katsuki's abs tense, they tighten up so much they hurt.
you puff into his face "you don't you want to?" cause you want him to. you want his seed spilled deep inside of you. you want your cunt creamed by him. you squeeze him so suddenly katsuki grunts.
"of course i fucking want to." his eyes narrow, sweat drips down his hairline. you did not realise how much he was sweating until his sticky skin glistens.
"i want to cum so deep in your pussy you'll never forget it. i want to fill you up and make you keep it in." his hips stutter and his movements grow sloppy. he is so close.
"then do it katsu, i need it. i need your cum." he whimpers. you have certainly never heard him like that before.
"you need it?" his voice is soft and the second you nod he sees white. his arms wrap around your waist to press you flush to him. his head drops to your chest and your hands stroke his hair as he pumps his hips.
deliberately and forceful.
you feel the weight of it more so. he groans into your chest, eyes tightly shut before his pelvis meets yours with no space between. where he is buried to the hilt.
his muscles spasm and your eyes roll when you feel his cock throb and vapid spurts are shot into you.
you feel like he paints your insides and it is so hot you are shaking. you can see the way his back ripples as he cums, the way he breathes heavy and feel his arms bulge as he holds you close.
you can make out reddened ears and blushing cheeks. your fingers thread through his hair, leaning into to press your nose to the crown of his head where blonde tuffs stick into the air.
his hips shallowly rock, pumping your pussy full of his seed and you tense as it leaks past the perimeter of his cock down your slit.
he shakily breathes before he wetly kisses up your sternum. you think all the air leaves your lungs when he kisses your lips.
"i love you."
you flinch when you hear it. there is absolutely no way he said that.
"you're just saying that cause you fucked me" you avoid him or you try to. it is hard to avoid a man that has his cock inside of you.
"no. i love you, i love you more than you know. and i'm sorry i fucked up. i'm sorry i took so long to say it." he tries to pacify you but you are stubborn.
you think you just might cry.
"can you take it out?" katsuki's face contorts but you have no clue what his expression means. he slowly straightens up, his hands cupping beneath your knees.
when he pulls out, his cum leaks from you. you wince from the feeling but katsuki loves the sight. he thinks filling you with his cum is the greatest thing he has ever done.
he regrets not doing it sooner.
you reach for his shirt once he is off of you. you tug the material over your body, you cannot help but lift it to your nose and inhale his scent. katsuki should have been yours. he was always meant to be yours so why did he find you so late when you were there all along?
katsuki smells like all the years and memories you shared with him. katsuki smells like love and comfort.
he notices you nuzzling his shirt and he swears there is nothing as precious as you. he pulls his shorts up.
you stand slowly, gritting your teeth. "it's dripping." katsuki needs you to be quiet before he gets hard again.
he needs you to be quiet before he makes you spread your legs so he can get his mouth on your cunt again. so he can drink all the cum he filled your pussy with and stuff you full with more.
he reaches for your hand, softly stroking it with his thumb. "c'mon."
"where?" you remain still despite him trying to pull you along with him.
"to my room."
katsuki feels his heart drop when you yank your hand away.
"your stupid girlfriend is up there." you roll of your eyes. katsuki was just inside you, he came inside you. all the remnants are leaking down your thighs and you are acting like that?
his brows knit in frustration and although you like to act as though katsuki can never move you, truth is, he can. he grips your wrist and pulls you up the stairs with no issue.
even as you protest. you try to argue as quietly as possible because the last thing you want is to alert everyone in the house.
"katsuki, are you crazy?" he shoves open the door and once you are inside he locks it.
"katsuki?" he stares at you incredulously, "what happened to katsu? what happened between then and now for you to act like this?"
and you are crying, you look so miserable. he thinks you look too cute for your own good but he wants to curb your tears instantly.
"she's still your girlfriend." you brokenly say.
"i broke up with her. i wouldn't do that to you, i wouldn't sleep with you while i was with someone else. we had sex because i'm yours okay? i always have been."
katsuki aches to pull you close, to wipe your tears.
"she's leaving in the morning. it's just you and me. it should've been like that from the start." he cannot take it anymore, he pulls you into his chest. you who fits into him so perfectly, you were made for him and him for you. he sees that now.
"i know i don't deserve it, i don't deserve you but can you say i love you?"
you brokenly sob, "i love you, i love you. i love you, katsu. love you so much." you cry like those words were waiting for an opportunity to escape. to finally be in the world.
katsuki is yours, just like you wanted.
can you tell i love him sm sm
#📁.size kink#san.stories#🩷.bnha#bnha bakugo katsuki#bakugo katuski#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo mha#katsuki smut#katsuki x y/n#katsuki x you#katsukibakugou#bnha smut#mha smut#mha x reader#mha fanfiction#mha bakugou#bakugou x you#bnha bakugou#bakugou x reader#mha
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Unknown Sender
happy valentine's day!
MONDAY: 13:52
‘hi.’ Peter squints at the message, then the unsaved number. He's not sure how, but it’s a scam.
‘i’d like to have your attention, please.’ Peter rolls his eyes, swiping left to not only delete but report the number as junk. No doubt it was a bot or someone with a flair for sextortion.
A new number. ‘that was actually so rude of you, parker.’
‘unblock me right now.’
Peter shifts in his seat, he does a slow look around the room and finds nothing off putting or alarming.
‘Who is this?’
Green bubbles pop up. ‘unblock me and i’ll tell you.’ Peter was right to guess about extortion. Another swipe, blocked and reported. Peter wasn’t participating in any games.
A new number. ‘oh, now you’re just being cute.’
Peter feels his heart pick up a bit, it’s a tad threatening and now he’s overthinking it a little. What if someone has it out for him? Is there a mark on his back? ‘Please leave me alone.’
‘no.’
‘can we play 21 questions?’
Peter’s face scrunches up, he spins his head around one more time, someone is fucking with him. He has no clue who has time for something like that in university, but he’s not a willing participant anymore, not since high school.
‘Leave me alone. Go torment a freshman.’
‘i don’t like freshmen. i like you.’ Peter chews at his bottom lip, there was a second of hesitancy but he knows the truth deep down. ‘I’m blocking you.’
‘sure. i’ll keep texting you, too.’
‘I’ll change my number.’
‘noooo please don’t do that. i had to work hard enough to get it the first time.’ Peter doesn’t respond. He blocks the number and moves on, and they don’t try to text him again.
Until the next day and Peter knows two things for certain. There is a note in his backpack, and it wasn’t there before his econ lecture. He remembers pulling that pocket open before he started notes, then when he went to zip it up, a note.
This upsets him. What good was any sense when someone could get that unnoticeably close to him without him knowing? Second, it’s a little frustrating not to know who this person is and how it most likely is connected to the texts he had a few days ago, and that it’s an extremely long played joke that’s mostly boring.
‘Peter Parker-
You’ve been secretly admired. It might not be very secret, because I think you’ve caught me staring at you a thousand times. I like you a lot.
Hopefully liked back,
-X’
But a part of him believes it’s true. He’s trying to think of who’s in his lecture, if he’s caught them staring then they’re either to the side or behind him. There are too many faces, too many times he’s been looked at, he’s almost centered, it’s his fault for choosing a focal point.
Instead of throwing it away, he refolds the pink handwriting and puts it back into place before hitching a strap over his shoulder and sliding behind chairs. One, two steps up he glances at your face, you have a weak smile, he returns the same kind, it’s more like a polite nod. Peter’s always thought you were pretty and he thinks you're nice.
But really, he’s wondering who left the note.
10:30
‘did you get my note?’ Peter does his normal scan across campus, again, his fault for being out in the open. This person could be anywhere, he’s on a picnic bench with a group of friends. If he’s smart, he’d start limiting himself to contained spaces and make you show yourself.
‘Yeah. Who is this?’ Peter’s thumbs dance around the screen waiting for a reply, it comes quick. ‘i told you. x.’ He stops himself from rolling his eyes, he doesn’t know anyone with an ‘X’ anywhere in their name.
‘Is that an initial?’
‘actually, i’m pretty sure it’s british for kiss.’
‘That’s a wild take. Are you saying the UK is responsible for XOXO’s?’
‘i’d like to make you responsible for my xoxo’s.’ Peter chews his bottom lip, he won’t play into anything in writing. He doesn’t believe this for a second, everything about this feels off. Someone’s fucking with him and they’re also in his class, or they have someone in on it in his class.
But this is too advanced.
‘sorry. i don’t mean to like harass you or anything. you’re really hot but you scare me, i don’t think you would like me so idk, maybe if you talk to me you’d like me for me or something.’
‘i just think i’m punching wayyyy above my weight class here and i may be making this worse because there is no doubt you think im weird.’
‘i am weird. i should leave you alone now. i’m sorry.’
Peter reads his screen four times, it’s still not clicking. He’s nothing special and he doesn’t mean that in a way to dog on himself, he’s just nerdy and quiet. It seems a little too authentic to be fake, but he’s got to make sure.
‘How’d you get my number?’
‘your friend. they have been sworn to secrecy but they know what i’m doing and they are in full support. take that as you will.’
‘Depends on the friend.’
‘i’ll tell you when you find out who i am.’
‘I’m going to find out? You’re not going to tell me?’
‘i don’t think i’ve been hiding it. you just haven’t been paying attention and now i want you to.’
‘Oh, but you’re shy?’
‘i’m about to pass out on the lawn behind this fucking screen, don’t play with me parker.’ A slip, you’re around him and you just admitted it. ‘Tell me, admirer, what are you wearing?’ The more detail the better, but he could work off of just a color.
‘nice try. but you’re looking mighty handsome in the blue.’ A glance down, he suddenly feels watched. ‘Are you stalking me?’
‘oh no! no no no. i PROMISE you i’m not that fucking psychotic.’
‘i’m just a “sneak a note into your backpack” level of crazy. i’m here with my roommate and her boyfriend. i saw you and just wanted to know if you got it, i promise.’
‘You do understand that this situation makes you seem psychotic, right?’
‘yes. but i am not.’
‘That sounds like something a crazy person who got my number from a third party would say. Especially after I blocked you six times.’
‘it was three and you didn’t understand my intentions but okay. you have a fair point and i extend the olive branch of brett. he gave me your number and he knows me pretty well.’
Brett? Easy enough, he nods his head towards him and slides his phone across the table. “Explain.” His friend scrolls through the thread, a trustworthy smile spreads. “Yeah, I gave her your number.” Her. Okay, it’s something. “Who is she?” Brett shrugs, “you know her. She’s kind of a firecracker, you just make her nervous.”
“That gives me nothing, Brett.” His friend blinks, “she’s not crazy. She likes you a lot for whatever fucking reason and has no idea how to approach you.” Peter’s letting his words soak in, “don’t believe me? Ask her about the grilled cheese, and make sure you tell her that I told you about how she went on for five fucking minutes about the grilled cheese.”
“What grilled cheese?” Brett slides Peter’s phone back, he’s telling him to ask you. Something tells Peter it’s enough to embarrass, or it might be Brett being the ultimate wingman.
‘I’ve been told to ask you about the grilled cheese.’
‘oh god. there is no need to ask about the grilled cheese, did brett tell you about the grilled cheese?’
‘He told me to ask you. And to specify that you went on for five minutes about it.’
‘five is excessive, it was more like three. second, there is nothing to speak about.’
‘I would like to hear about it.’
‘i’d prefer if you didn’t.’
‘But you’ll do it for me?’
‘i’m weak for you and you know it. it’s sicking, parker.’
‘i heard you talking about making one in class and you said something about the crust and i really fucking love grilled cheese’s so i had a trip to fantasy land where you made me one and how it’s probably the best thing i’ll never get to taste.’
‘Wow. Five whole minutes on that?’ Peter won’t admit it made him feel a little warm on the inside, the most mundane of things to have someone so squirrely makes him feel unworthy.
‘three.’
‘Tell me who you are and I’ll make you a grilled cheese.’
‘you have no idea how much that almost worked.’
‘What’s the plan then, master manipulator?’
‘i don’t know yet. i’m hoping you show me how smart you are and figure me out, then you can do all the hard questions.’
‘Hard questions?’
‘you know, do you wanna go on a date, do you wanna be my girlfriend, do you want to take my hand in marriage and have a summer home in the french alps? that kind of stuff.’
‘Totally not psychotic.’ Peter tucks his bottom lip between his teeth to hide the smile that wants to spread.
‘mostly not.’
WEDNESDAY: 13:57
Peter doesn’t know who X is, but they’re clever and have zero effect on his sixth sense. He doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. Either way, he’s reading a note scribbled in blue pen and as he studies the words he knows it was rushed. It’s proof that he wasn’t being followed everywhere, instead you saw an empty table and an opportunity.
‘Peter-
You use mostly gender neutral pronouns. I think that’s very cool. Is it weird that I notice those things about you? Also- what is it that you’re always drinking from Nuthouse? Asking for a friend…
Have a good day!
-Your not so secret admirer, X.
‘Not so secret,’ Peter isn’t sure about that. You’ve done a good enough job at not trying to be obviously known, he might have looked up your number last night to find dust. One was from an app, but the one you’ve been using is a burner phone.
What he’s really not understanding is how you’re able to get so close to him without him noticing. You had to have been millimeters away when you rested the letter on his backpack, he was gone for less than two minutes and he had zero awareness.
Peter folds up the note and sticks it in the same pocket as the other one, his back slung around one shoulder as he moves up the stairs for the library. At the same time, you come down the opposite side, Peter gives a friendly acknowledgement.
You choke down the lump in your throat. “Hi, Peter.” He’s already past you, it’s echoed behind his shoulder. “Hey.” It’s something. You’re trying, you’re trying to be bold for him. But he’s not going to notice, he’s never going to notice you and if you tell him who you are you’ll never live past his disappointment.
Your phone vibrates, the other phone. Your heart picks up, Peter texted first.
14:02
‘Dirty chai.’
‘best of both worlds. how fitting. you’re such a nonconforming king.’
‘I don’t even know what that means.’
‘But thank you?’
‘you’re welcome!’
‘anything fun on the roster today?’
‘Roster? Who are you?’
‘idk you make me nervous. blame yourself.’
‘Well, coach. Nothing fun on the roster, just some math. Wanna swap places with me?’
‘gross. i hate math so if you like it that’s good with me. one of us has to be smart and it’s not me.’
‘Smart enough to use a burner phone.’
‘oooooh, someone tried to find meeee.’
‘Can’t blame a guy for being curious, can you?’
‘were you disappointed when you found nothing?’
‘A little bit. But, you know, it keeps the imagination alive. A little unfair advantage on your side though, you already know what I look like.’
‘if it helps, you already know what i look like too.’
‘I do?’
‘yeah. we’ve talked before.’
‘Wait, so I know who you are?’ Brett said he did but Peter thought he meant you’d be familiar, not that he actually knew you. This just opened the floodgates to a million more possibilities.
‘not really but yeah i guess. you know i exist but we’re not friends or anything.’
‘I’d like to think we’re friends, but okay.’
‘not outside the texting.’
‘That’s your decision.’
‘HATER.’
‘Anymore hints?’
‘.... no.’
‘HATER.’
FRIDAY: 12:15
You’re about to spill hot tea everywhere but it’ll be worth it to see his face. You ignore your pounding heart and stand in front of him. He’s got no clue you showed up, zoned out looking at the clock on the wall across from him.
“Hi, Peter.”
Full frontal attention, he’s looking at you. He’s perceiving you, he’s smiling at you. “Hi,” your eyes expand, he knows your name and it sounds so nice coming from his mouth. Sure, you’ve chatted with each other- even shared a few highlighters, but nothing serious. You’ve always been too scared to try anything else but maybe your fear has been mistaken for indifference.
“I um, I lucked out today at Nuthouse so if you like dirty chai’s I got an extra one.” Your knees feel weak at his bright eyes, “my favorite. I’d love one, thank you.” You pass over the paper cup, your fingers brush and you think you’re about to collapse.
“Yeah,” a weak laugh. “I had a feeling.” Peter tilts his head at you funny, you wonder if you pushed a little too far. “Okay, um, I’m gonna… have a good… lecture.” Peter nods and watches you go two rows up, he’s finally got a gut feeling. And it tells him to keep an eye out for you.
TUESDAY: 12:10
Not that Peter was reliant on your attention, he was used to it. So when the texts stopped for three days and he was unable to find any letters he assumed you had lost interest and moved on. That felt fair to him, no harm no foul, at least he never really got to know you.
Nevermind, there’s a folded notebook page on his miniature desk and his heart speeds up. His next task, put eyes on you. Bottom level, book and pencil in hand. He makes sure to note it’s a pencil and not the green ink that’s spread across the page.
Peter thinks it’s a mind game, you were smart enough to know he’d look. Unless he was totally wrong on his guess.
‘Peter-
I ran out of minutes on my phone and I’m having a broke college kid moment. However, a friend took pity and donated a twenty to the campaign. I hope you’ve been good- I’ve missed talking to you.
- Your not so secret admirer, X’
ps. stop keeping your backpack so close to you.’
It wasn’t anything personal, you just ran out of minutes. Peter smiles so wide he has to drop it, he almost clutches the paper to his chest in a thank you. Eyeing his backpack, he nudges it a little further behind him, following instruction. He’s kept it close in hopes to catch you, but instead he’s pushing you away.
Peter’s committing the writing to memory as if he’s going to find you by the handwriting alone. A quick glance at footsteps, you’re three steps away when you smile. “Hi, Peter.” He nods, “hey.” You pause for a moment, mind racing for words.
“Did you, um- did you do anything fun this weekend?” You’re about to crawl into a hole and die, it takes a moment to click that you were speaking to him. He went as far to look behind himself, then he spewed the answer to try and make up for the lost time.
“Oh, uh not really. My aunt got a new bed so I had to lug the old one down seven flights of stairs.” Your eyes widen, you feel your mouth go dry and your tongue go thick. “By yourself?” Peter crosses his arms over his chest, a boyish grin swept over and you feel heart eyes form.
“I’m a good nephew.” You want to pat his head and tell him you’re sure he is, then maybe hold him at gunpoint and tell you more stories about how he’s a perfect humanitarian. But you act like a normal human and smile back, “you sound like it.”
Peter thanks you and you return to your seat with wobbly knees and a weak stomach, it’s silent torture to tease yourself like this with him. But you can’t help it and it’s only in effort to go after what you want. Even if it blows up when he figures out who you are.
12:13
‘you’re looking mighty handsome today, mr. parker.’
‘I’m wearing a hoodie, but thank you.’
‘i said what i said.’
Boldly, ‘i see someone had another dirty chai. can’t stay away from them, can you?’
Another tick in Peter's stomach, he almost looks behind his shoulder at you, but he doesn’t. ‘It was a generous donation from a classmate.’
‘oh? pray tell, peter. pray tell.’
‘What? You don’t have a clue about who gave it to me?’
You swallow thickly, before you could get something out he sent another message. ‘No chance you didn’t see it go down?’
‘how could i? I was still on my way.’
‘... or was i?’
‘Tell you what, X. It one of the best teas I’ve had in a while.’
And you’d be damned if that didn’t make your entire chest flutter.
FRIDAY: 15:29
“Here,” Peter’s hand clasped over the paper slapped into his chest. A hint of a syllable, Brett cuts himself off. “She asked me to give this to you.” Peter quickly read it and stared down before confiding in his friend for a second.
‘Peter-
Roses are red, violets are blue, all that I think about is you.
It’s sweet in a cringy way, right? Boo on you for skipping class today, if you want, I could get you some notes.
I hope I’ll see you Tuesday.
-Your (really) not so secret admirer, X
ps. A pen exploded in my pocket. 10/10 chance my thigh will be stained.’
“I think I might know who it is.”
“Uh, huh.”
“But, she’s way out of my league.”
“Correct.”
Peter raised his eyebrows, “so it’s her?” He clarified with your name, Brett shrugged back.
“I won’t be confirming or denying.” Peter knows what that means, “the lack of a no usually means yes.”
“Bro,” Peter starts sputtering, “oh, c’mon! You know what I meant, I just meant that, I just- c’mon, Brett. Is it her?”
“I have no idea who that is.” Peter wants to call bullshit, he has a gut feeling and he swears it’s you. You’re right, it’s not so secret. In fact, you’re painfully obvious.
FRIDAY: 23:14
‘you are soooooooo cute’
‘like your hair is so cute’
‘i looooove curly hair on guys and you have that!!!!!!!!!’
‘and you’re really funny cause like it’s so quick and witty like you have such good one liners’
‘also you’re really fucking hot and i KNOW you’re hiding something under those fucking sweaters and the second i see skin i WILL go feral.’
‘Something tells me you’re at the Kappa party.’ Peter’s pretending he doesn’t have a searing blush. If he’s got an inkling this could be you… then he might have proof for the non-believers that god exists.
‘yes!!! are you here?? i should come see you.’
‘I hate to disappoint you, but I’m currently at a friend's house playing a Mario Kart drinking game.’
“But it’s nice to know that you’d give me your identity that quick.’
‘oh i can tell you who i am.’ Peter frowns at the text, he’s been doing nothing but crave the answer to who’s behind the love letters but it feels wrong. It’s not satisfactory enough for him, it’s also not what you want, you’re just drunk- and Peter’s going out on a limb here- horny.
‘Save it for later.’
‘And maybe drink some water.’
‘i’d do anything for you cause you have the world's prettiest brown eyes’
‘Thank you for the compliments.’
‘you’re super welcome i try to hold them back because i’m a good girl but you’re just so cute i had to let you know’
‘I think you’re going to super regret this in the morning.’
‘false. maybe fact idk’
‘i should trust you tho because you’re super smart and you’re a nerd.’
‘I fear this is taking a turn for the worse.’
‘and that is so fucking HOT’
‘Oh. Back to compliments. Thank you.’
‘if you were here i’d give you a kiss’
‘IGNORE THAT!!!!’
‘I DIDN’T MEAN TO SEND THAT!!!! IGNORE IT’
‘Not ignored. How cute.’
‘screaming crying throwing up’
‘i really didn’t mean to send that it was a joke ha ha funny.’
‘Idk, sounded authentic to me.’
‘peter?’
‘Yeah?’
‘i’m a little drunk rn. and you should know how cute you are.’
‘Oh, I’m talking about record breaking levels of regret. This is amazing.’
‘i have to pee but i do not reget this!!!!!!’
SATURDAY: 09:54
‘i stand by my claim and do not regret a thing.’
‘correction. i regret this hangover and the way my previous texts are not very cool girl of me.’
‘but i would like to know if you won mario last night.’
‘also, who’s ur fav character?’
11:12
1. Proud of you for owning it, that’s very cool girl of you.
2. I did not win.
3. Petey Piranha.
‘who tf is petey piranha.’
‘Mario Kart Sunshine. Came out in 2002. (Originally on GameCube but recently released on switch.) (Hell yeah.)’
Your heart thumps, he’s such a nerd and you wanna kiss the air out of his lungs. ‘out of all the characters and u choose him. why petey piranha’
‘One guess.’
‘PETEY PIRANHA.’
‘OH MY GOD.’
‘you’re petey piranha <333’
Peter fights a grin, ‘I am.’
‘you’re so cute. i love that.’
‘Personally, in the past 24 hours I don’t think I’ve heard enough about how cute I am.’
‘you’re insufferable and it’s sexy.’
‘Oo, new one to the mix. You’re making me blush.’ You really are. He’s never been considered sexy before and it feels really nice.
‘and i bet you look super cute.’
‘Super true.’
TUESDAY: 12:34
‘white t shirt white t shirt white t shirt WHITE T SHIRT.’
‘You like?’
‘i’m about to cry i’m biting my fist so fucking hard.’
‘:)’
‘you’re so ubuibabeyia.’
‘Bless you.’
‘?’
‘Sorry, I assumed you sneezed.’ Peter never whipped his head around so fast at an audible laugh behind him. It was short, it had escaped without being thought about. He’s looking for you, but it doesn’t seem like it was you who laughed. You’re engrossed in chatting to your neighbor.
On the other hand, you almost blew it by clasping your hands over your mouth. Instead you looked next to you and said, directly and with a burning gaze, “I need you to pretend we’ve been talking this whole time.”
‘Someone’s losing their edge, you’re just begging to be caught.’
‘oh, i’m begging all right.’
‘can you hear me whimpering too?’
‘Easy, killer. Let’s not start sexting at noon on a Tuesday.’
‘are you saying there is a time for it?’
‘Give me a little wave and we’ll see.’
‘too late, i’m passed out on the floor. the only thing that can resuscitate me are those thick arms wrapped around me.’
‘Let these strong arms sweep you off your feet, all you gotta do is come talk to me after lecture…’
Peter says that, but he doesn’t mean it. He’ll definitely eat his words when he sees it’s you, then he’d be coming up with a thousand ways to back out of it. He’s so much more than you deserve, you feel so safe behind a keyboard but in person you can barely say a sentence.
It’s stupid and a little humbling because you’ve never felt this way about a guy before.
‘trust me, i’m better in your imagination.’
WEDNESDAY: 14:22
‘Peter-
You know a little about a lot and I think that is one of my favorite things about you. Or maybe it’s your voice. I could listen to you talk forever.
-Your not so secret admirer, X’
A note under his textbook, if he follows his hunch then he’d be looking for… you. Conveniently three tables away and to the right of his own, you’re not looking for his reaction, you’ve got your focus on your own textbook but he swears you’re retaining none of it. It’s a distraction, or maybe it’s a diversion.
Peter doesn’t mind. He’s going to wait. He has all the time in the world today and he’s going to sit here with his eyes on you until you look up at him because he knows you’re going to and once you do, he’s going to have his answer.
If he’s right, and he swears he is, he’s going to absolutely lose is shit because what do you mean you like him and are intimidated? You boldly lied when you said you were punching above your weight class. Does it make him a jerk to say he wasn’t even thinking of you as a suitor and maybe a girl with a much more average look?
Peter counted to sixty twice, you glance up, eyes shooting to the note you left on the table. The next stop, Peter’s face. And oh, you were not prepared to have him looking right back. Panic, you shoot a wave, a desperate attempt to pretend you’re seeing a familiar face.
Peter waves back but he looks much more satisfied than you did, you wonder if the jig is up. Did he crack the code? Was he just trying to find a friendly way to let you down? Deny til death, he has no proof it’s you. You pack your things up, a hurried scramble before you could lose your cool.
On the way out you almost stop breathing, your forearm caught in Peter’s hand. You’re staring down at it, he’s not removing it. It burns in the best way. “Hey,” you wait, you can’t stop looking at his hand, the muscle, the subtle flex, his fingertips paler to show his grip. “Hi, Peter.”
It’s breathless, you think you’re about to die. If he asks, you don’t know how you’ll lie your way out.
Guess who’s got a stained pocket? The corner edge darkened with black ink that would never be washed out. Peter has his answer. You’re her. You’re X. “Thanks again for the tea.”
Maybe you wanted more, you feel a bit deflated when it’s all you receive.
“You’re welcome.” Your arm feels cold when he drops his touch, you linger for a second too long, you’re not sure when you’ll be this brave again. It was too much of a close call. “I hope the rest of your day is good.”
Peter’s got a charismatic grin, he feels settled now that he knows you’re the anonymous lover in his life. Even more so when you find yourself shy and reserved in person, it almost makes him giggle to think of the stark changes in confidence.
“You too.” Your body engulfs into flames when your arm is caught again, you’re struggling to keep calm at his boyish smile. “Quick question,” you nod slightly, trying to show zero paranoia for the following words.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
Short circuiting. You see black spots, you think you’re about to pass out. There is only one thing that means, no guy asks that if they weren’t interested in changing that, right?
“No.” It’s anything but graceful. It sounds like you’ve never had a boyfriend before. It makes you sound like you’re scared he asked it.
But, Peter doesn’t take it like that. He smiles wider, like he already knew the answer before he asked it.
THURSDAY: 16:37
A new letter, stuffed under the top handle of his backpack. Peter listened and stopped setting it next to him, in return he was rewarded. He can’t stop the small smile, you make it involuntary at this point. Peter’s never felt so special in his life, a little part of him wants this to never end. But he’d much rather look you in the eyes.
‘Peter-
I had a dream with you in it last night. Don’t worry, you had your clothes on. I’m not sure what we were doing but you were across from me at a diner and we were sitting in those super thick booths and our friends were there.
I don’t know who these friends were, and I don’t think you do either. But I knew them as our friends.
It felt really nice. I’m happy to know you, even if I just get this little piece.
-Your not so secret admirer, X’
Peter’s been wrong a lot in his life but this time he really thinks he has it figured out. He’s much more bold now, this letter tells him it’s not infatuation, it’s love.
You love him and he thinks he could love you too.
FRIDAY: 20:08
‘Hey.’ Peter could be making the worst decision of his life here, he could be reading everything wrong and ruining this for himself.
‘hi peter!’ But he really thinks he’s got it right.
‘I really, really liked talking to you for the past few weeks but I think I should tell you that I like someone else.’
Gut wrenching despair. You knew it was too good to last, you knew he’d find someone more in his league. Someone who’d be willing to show him their face. There was no reason to respond because what would you say to that?
‘thank you for letting me know that opening up to you was all for nothing!’
‘thanks for making me doubt love!’
‘hope you and her are so fucking happy together!!!!!’
Fuck it all and fuck Peter. He just liked the attention until it came from somewhere else. You don’t think you like him all that much anymore. You think you’re lying, too. Before you can give into the desire of hurting him just as bad, you calmly turn the phone off and stuff it in the back of a desk drawer to never be uncovered again.
You slowly sit in bed and tug the blankets over your head. And only then, do you allow yourself to sob.
Peter chewed on his bottom lip and waited an hour with constant phone checks before he realized a response was never coming. It really set in during the weekend but even further when he got no note or letter on monday. Not even when he left his backpack unattended for five minutes.
TUESDAY -he was able to see you and how you avoided his eyes. How you pretended you didn’t see him send a small wave. How you had pulled back from him.
And if he hadn’t hurt your feelings, or X’s feelings, why would you do that?
You look up at a two fingered knock at the corner of your desk. “Hi.” You blink and ignore the white noise buzzing in your ears at the sight of Peter standing in front of you. “Hi, Peter.”
“How was your weekend?” Bitter. Terrible. Lonely.
“Fine. Nothing exciting.” Besides you breaking my heart.
Watching his fingertips dance on the edge of the plastic, you feel everything in you brighten. “You look sad.” There’s a burn in your stomach, he’s the reason for both the sting and the sadness.
“Do you need something? Or are you just doing a friendly check in?” Peter bites back the grin when you snap at him, he’s so, so, so right and it feels so, so, so good. “Neither. I’m just confirming my suspicions.”
“Suspicions?”
“Yeah. You passed.” Your eyebrows furrow, before you could try to question further Peter was giving half a wave, saying bye, and skipping a step to his aisle.
FRIDAY: 12:08
You stop breathing for a solid second before feeling your brain spark back to life. It could be anything, it could be from anyone, but you know there’s only one person who would’ve left a note on your desk.
Your fingers slightly shake when you unfold the graph paper, little squares bled through with black sharpie.
‘X-
Am I right?
Hopefully,
- Peter’
You can’t breathe, you can’t talk, you can’t move and you definitely can fucking not look at him. No, no, no. You can feel his eyes on you, you know he’s watching for your reaction. Peter figured you out and had his own fun along the way.
You were the girl he liked. Oh, wow. Is this how special you’ve made him feel? Something just for your eyes, from him. A secret you both shared between lines.
You spin and swear you can feel his gaze running over your back, he’s aching for the answer. You almost scream at a tap on your shoulder, a peek lets you know it’s the person you’re hiding from.
Another note, folded up just like the other one. It’s pushed into your hand, Peter doesn’t say a word, he just offers and leaves. He’s not watching this time, he’s sitting and focused on the front, you feel air leak back into your lungs.
Full on panic shaking, you’re so happy he’s not watching.
Your name is addressed on the front, just like you do for him.
‘I like you.
I think you not so secretly like me too.
We could talk more about it at dinner tonight. Will you let me take you out?
Circle yes or no.
- Peter.
PS. XOXOXO now you’re responsible for mine, too.’
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I was thinking you could do a “5 times y/n told Harry she was pregnant” for the young!dad series !! That would be so interesting especially since in the last piece you mentioned that Harry already had a feeling she was pregnant before she even told him
The Thing About Having Six Kids
so i got this ask and a couple others that were kind of about the kids' birth/pregnancy a while ago, and went with five different instances about each kid in the youngdadrry universe. it's all surrounding their birth, finding out about pregnancies, etc. enjoy!
Young Dad! Harry x Young Mom! Reader
Simone
(a text conversation between Harry and Y/n)
Y/n: i'm pregnant
(one day later)
Y/n: Harry?
Harry: Are you sure?
Y/n: i'm sure
Y/n: i have four different pregnancy tests to prove it
Harry: I don't know what to say.
Y/n: the 24 hours it took you to respond kind of told me that
Harry: I'm sorry about that. It's just...a lot
Y/n: it's fine i guess. at least you finally responded.
Harry: Did you think I wouldn't?
Y/n: honestly? yeah. it's not like we're married or in love or anything. you don't even live in the same country as me
Harry: What are you going to do?
Harry: I know but I wouldn't just like disappear on you
Harry: I was just shocked that's all
Y/n: idk. i'm still trying to figure out a way to tell my parents
Harry: Shit my parents!
Y/n: that's kinda where i'm at right now
Y/n: but i think i want to keep it
Y/n: the baby
Y/n: fuck that sounds crazy to say. i have physics homework due tomorrow but let me stop and make a life altering decision really quick about whether i want to have a baby or not
Harry: I'm sorry. You know...
Y/n: for getting me pregnant? knocking me up? putting a bun in the oven?
Harry: It seems too early to joke about this
Y/n: it's keeping me from freaking the fuck out at the moment
(ten minutes later)
Harry: I want to talk about this properly and figure this whole thing out but I have to go
Y/n: please don't feel obligated or anything. this was just a courtesy
Y/n: i don't expect anything from you. i get it if your management wants you to delete my number and never see me again. i just thought you should know.
Harry: What are you talking about?
Harry: Y/n?
3 missed calls from Him <3
Collette
"Let's have another baby."
Y/n was close to nodding off, so it was very possible that she was dreaming. She looked behind her. It was dark in the bedroom, but Harry was close enough that she could see him, could see that his head was propped on his elbow so he could look down at her.
"What did you say?" she asked, because she needed to be sure.
"I...I want another baby," he said, voice soft even though they were the only two people in the room. Simone was fast asleep in her own bedroom, tuckered out after a long day of playing at the park and eating ice cream and fingerpainting with Harry. Now that One Direction was officially on hiatus, it was just the three of them—Y/n, Harry, and Simone. Y/n thought it would take some getting used to, living a relatively normal life. But their little family actually fell into it quite easily.
Perhaps a little too easily.
"Say something."
Y/n hadn't realized she failed to respond, but to be fair, that was a pretty big bomb her husband just dropped. Her husband. They'd been married for a few months now, but it still felt surreal, which was probably why the idea of having another baby felt too far from reality to comprehend.
"I just...I don't know what to say," Y/n said honestly. "I—I'm not sure we're ready for that."
"We weren't ready the first time," Harry said when Y/n finally flipped on her other side to face him. This seemed like a conversation he really wanted to have, so she thought facing him would probably be best. "I just think this might be the time, you know? I don't have an insane schedule anymore, there's no more management to say that we can't, and I've always thought about giving Simone a sibling. Don't tell me you've never thought about it."
"I...I have," Y/n said.
She did think about more kids. As young as she and Harry were and as impossible as their relationship seemed at times, Y/n couldn't help but think about wanting more. She loved Harry, and she'd been loving these moments they'd been able to share as a proper family recently. Harry was right, if they wanted to have another baby, now would be the time.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he said as she felt more than saw his hand push some hair away from her face.
"What happens when you start working again?" Y/n asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I know you, H," she said. "And I love you. Everything about you. And one of the parts that make you who you are is the music. This...this little bubble we're in, I love it too, but I know you'll want to go back to it someday. And then you'll go on tour for ten months, and I'll be alone to raise two kids by myself for a majority of the year."
It was harsh, but she trusted him enough to take it. This was the thought that always held her back. Y/n thought about the possibility of expanding their family on more than one occasion, especially in recent weeks when things have been practically perfect. But the reality was that Harry would want to go back to work. She knew, maybe better than anyone, the desire he had to make his own music, to create and write in ways he couldn't while in the band. And perform. Harry loved to perform live. Y/n knew that this time spent with just their family was fleeting, and she cherished every minute of it, the same way she knew Harry did. It was only a matter of time before he went back to work, and she wasn't sure she could raise Simone and a newborn without him.
"That's...That's all over now," Harry said. When Y/n tried to protest, he continued on. "What I meant to say was, the ridiculous schedules, the strict rules about when we can and can't spend time together, the separate hotel rooms. Mama, things can be different now."
"But management—"
"I bought out my contract," he said. "I haven't really given it much thought in a while because I just want to be present with you and Simone, but I've got a few people in mind for new managers. People who will prioritize our family."
This was certainly news to Y/n. It was hard to talk about Harry's management or the harsh thumb they pinned him under, so oftentimes it was a topic they avoided. Hearing him say this now, knowing how much money it would've taken to buy out his contract...that was a huge deal. As far as she knew, the other boys were just sticking with it until the contracts were finished. But Harry went and did what Y/n didn't even think was possible.
"Our family," Y/n repeated, and for a moment, she could see it. The three of them becoming four. It was crazy to think about, to think so far ahead into the future, but Y/n wasn't scared by it.
"Let's have another baby," Harry said again.
Looking at him, Y/n's heart squeezed in her chest. He'd been growing his hair out for a while now, and it was long enough that it reached just passed his shoulders. She loved it, thought it made him look older, more mature. And okay, hot. And Simone loved it too. She loved braiding it and putting bows and flowers in it or just twisting it around her finger. His shoulders were broad and lean, though he'd put on a little muscle in his arms from doing handiwork around the house, something he claimed he loved to do even though Y/n had heard him curse from another room while he worked on his latest project.
She looked at his face, the one that looked so different yet so similar to the one she'd met when she was seventeen. She wondered what those teenagers would think of the people they'd become, of the things they'd seen and experienced.
She thought about it. The baby-to-be. It would have Harry's eyes and smile, her nose and hair color. If it was a girl, she could wear matching outfits with Simone, if it was a boy...Well, they could maybe still match. Y/n thought about all the baby clothes—the adorable little onesies and shoes and mittens to keep the baby from scratching their face while they slept. She didn't let herself think of the late nights and sore boobs and dirty diapers. In this moment, she just thought about all the good feelings, every perfect moment that could be.
"You promise things will be different? I can't—I can't do it alone," she said, needing to hear him say it again.
Harry didn't try to kiss her, he didn't put his hands on her waist or pull her to his chest—all tactics he would normally use to distract her. This conversation was too serious, too important, and she loved him all the more for understanding that.
"I promise, Y/n," he said, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. "I will never make you regret living this life with me."
"That's not what I—"
"I know, but I just...I needed to say it."
He needed to make that promise to her, to himself. Life had not been easy, and Y/n knew Harry blamed himself for a lot of the hardships they faced.
"I don't," she said, kissing their joined hands. "And I won't. Ever. "
Harry grinned, and Y/n could tell even in the dark that his gaze was a little watery. Still, he inched forward and said, "So...?"
Y/n leaned forward and kissed him, her leg slotting between his. "Let's have another baby."
Maeve and Jules
"I'm sorry, did you just say twins?"
"I did. I'm seeing two heartbeats here. See?" The doctor said, pointing at the monitor she'd been observing closely the last five minutes.
Y/n couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. It was one thing to be pregnant (again), but an entirely different one to be pregnant with twins. "That's—"
"Amazing," Harry breathed.
Y/n turned her head away from the monitor to look at her husband, whose eyes were glued to the screen with a look of wonder in them. As she'd begun to process her own feelings about housing not one but two babies in her belly for nine months, she hadn't really considered how he might feel about it.
Looking at him now, she could tell he was ecstatic.
Y/n was still panicking a little, but seeing the elation on Harry's face was comforting. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it hard, needing to feel the warmth of his palm to ground her.
"Hey," he said softly, bending down to kiss the top of her head. "This is a good thing. Unexpected, but good."
"I know," Y/n said, letting out a shaky breath. "I know it's just...a lot. I mean...twins?"
"Nothing we can't handle," Harry said, kissing her cheek.
His confidence was reassuring. Maybe he was freaking out on the inside and not letting it show for her sake, but Y/n felt better about the situation at hand and was ready to continue with the appointment.
To the doctor, she said, "Are they healthy?"
The doctor smiled warmly. "They are. It looks like one of them is about a week behind, but that's nothing to worry about."
"Really? They're twins. That doesn't seem possible," Harry said, his brow furrowing adorably.
"It's rare, but it is possible. Fraternal twins can be conceived as much as twenty-four days apart," the doctor said.
Y/n understood perhaps a split-second before Harry, but when he did, he turned as beet red as she felt. The doctor didn't seem to mind their embarrassment, though she'd probably seen all sorts of couples and situations. Y/n imagined there wasn't much that the doctor hadn't seen before.
The appointment wrapped up pretty quickly after that. Harry snuck out of the hospital through a separate door while Y/n set up her next appointment. She met him in the staff parking lot, where he was standing by the passenger door to help her in. Harry gave her a quick kiss before closing her in and walking around to the driver's side. As he drove, Y/n was thinking about a number of things—twice the amount of clothes, twice the amount of crying, twice the amount of diaper changes. She was excited at the prospect of having a baby. It was a conversation she and Harry had before they started trying, but the idea of twins was a lot to wrap her head around.
She looked at Harry, wanting to ask how he felt now that they were alone, but she stopped herself.
Harry had one hand on the steering wheel, the other covering a wide grin. He was blushing a little too, and Y/n couldn't help but ask what had him smiling like an idiot.
"I'm trying to figure out which times," he said.
"What do you mean which—Are you kidding? Which times we conceived the twins?"
"Aren't you curious?" Harry asked. "Twice, babe. I put a baby in you twice. I mean, one of them had to be when we were on the yacht, right? I always feel good after we have sex, but I feel like we really outdid ourselves there. Clearly."
Y/n just looked at her husband in shock. "You are..."
"What? It's cool!" Harry insisted, but he was laughing too. "And it takes the edge off a little. Come on, you try."
So he was more nervous than he was letting on. That was comforting in its own way too, but Y/n appreciated his attempts to lighten the mood. They could have a serious conversation later, but for now it was fun to just forget all of that. Just for a moment.
Y/n gave him a dry look, trying to appear like she wasn't impressed until she eventually rolled her eyes and smiled. "Mm...I agree with the yacht, and...when you came back from London."
"Really?" Harry asked, more curious than surprised.
"Yeah," Y/n said with a little sigh as she remembered the night in question. "That was a good night."
It was one of those rare occurrences where Simone was in her own bed and Collette managed to sleep for more than a couple hours. They'd spent the whole night catching up and giggling like idiots and kissing and enjoying the pleasure of being truly alone with each other. Y/n loved those moments with Harry, where everything was just so simple and easy and it was just them having a little fun. They definitely should've been catching up on sleep while they could, but neither of them wanted to, so they stayed up with tired smiles and slurred movements until they heard Collette's cries through the baby monitor.
"It was. We should do that again sometime," Harry said. Taking Y/n's hand, he kissed the tops of her knuckles.
"You just want to go for triplets," Y/n teased, even though she knew that wasn't what he meant.
"I'm not that crazy," he said, but his smile told her he was thinking about the possibility. Maybe just a little. "I'm excited for this."
"Yeah? What do you think? Boys? Girls? A boy and a girl?"
Harry shrugged. "Our track record would suggest girls, but..."
"You never know," Y/n finished for him.
Geneva
"We have some pretty big news to share."
Once a month, the Styles family held a Zoom call with their friends and family who were scattered across the globe. Since lockdown began, there was a lot of adjusting—online school, not being able to go to the park to play, being at home all day. It was a lot for everyone, but Harry and Y/n did their best to make the adjustments smoother. And when they needed a break, they set up the monthly Zoom calls.
They were mostly just to catch up. Once all the children went to sleep, Harry and Y/n stayed up late talking to other adults about everything and nothing, maybe even played a different drinking game or two to round out the night before they went back to being parents. Tonight was a special night, though.
Multiple faces looked at Harry and Y/n expectantly through their computer screen. Both of them were sporting big smiles as Y/n leaned on Harry's side, one of his older sweatshirts covering her body and the almost imperceptible bump that was beginning to show now. Today was the first day she'd begun to show, and Harry nearly lost his mind with excitement. Finding out Y/n was pregnant had been somewhat of a surprise, but when she told him, he was over the moon. He's started to suspect, having recognized some of his wife's symptoms by now, but they'd been waiting for the right time to tell their families and friends, and tonight was the night.
"What's going on, darling?" Anne asked.
Neither Harry nor Y/n could barely contain their excitement, which probably gave away the news before they actually said anything. However, in their own eagerness to share the news, neither of them saw a few people on the call sporting knowing looks.
"We're having a baby!"
Cheers went all around as everyone congratulated the couple. Questions were asked about due dates and how far along they were and what they were going to do about the lockdown situation. Everything was just as Harry had hoped it would be.
And then things took an interesting turn.
"Who won?" Jeff asked.
"Won? What do you mean—"
"If my math is correct, which I'm pretty sure it is, I believe it goes to Gem," Sarah said, looking down at her phone. "She went with three and a half months. Glenne narrowly missed with three. No one had four so it goes to Gemma."
A collective groan went throughout the Zoom, leaving Harry and Y/n very confused.
"Did you place bets on us?" Y/n asked, sounding more astonished than offended.
"When lockdown became permanent, we knew it was a matter of when not if we would be getting the announcement," Jeff explained. "Someone has a physical copy of the pool somewhere."
"And all of you did this? Mum?" Harry said, brows raised higher than Y/n had ever seen them. When Anne nodded sheepishly, Y/n had to stifle a laugh. "So none of you were surprised?"
"I love you, dear, and I'm so so happy for you, but since you were seventeen, anytime you've come to me with big news, it's been about having a baby. For my own sanity, I've just come to expect it."
Harry looked down at Y/n, who was grinning behind her hand. For her husband's sake, her gaze softened as she reached up to kiss his cheek. "I mean, they have a point. Even you guessed it before I told you."
As the shock finally wore off, Harry smiled. He supposed it wasn't the worst thing in the world. So, he and Y/n were predictable, even though they hadn't really been trying this time around. They were in love and had a lot more time together currently. Things were finally back on track for them and their relationship troubles seemed behind them now. They were happy, and as long as his family was happy, some light teasing and bet placing seemed harmless.
He did pin everyone on the screen with a mock glare before moving on, though. "You guys made a whole pool. Really?"
"Yeah. Can you believe Jeff thought it would take eight months for you to get pregnant?"
"It was for the adjustment to lockdown period!"
"Eight months?"
And on and on it went. Harry just smiled and rested his hand over Y/n's belly, thinking about how much it would grow in just a few short weeks.
Natalia
"I want Mommy!"
Harry sighed and pulled his only son into his lap, pushing the curls away from his face and wiping the tears from his cheeks. "I know you do, JuJu."
Harry and the kids were waiting to hear from Y/n's mother, but he hadn't gotten so much as a text. He was anxious, worried that something was wrong, but Julian's crying served as a good distraction for the time being.
Julian continued to cry, still not understanding why he couldn't see his mother when he'd become so used to seeing her everyday. Harry would've been with Y/n had it not been for the little boy's crying, and he made the split-second decision to stay home while Y/n delivered the baby with her mother as support. He'd never missed any of his children's births, but for this, he could stay behind.
"She'll be back soon, bubba, I promise," Harry said, kissing Julian's cheeks and holding him close. "Should we go play with your Lego set? I know you've been excited to build it. Maybe we can build something to show Mummy when she gets home."
Julian shook his head and continued to cry into Harry's neck. Realizing his son was content to be miserable, Harry didn't ask again. He sat with Jules for a while, holding the boy to his chest and running a hand through his hair until his sobs turned into sniffles, and the sniffles into long, slow breaths. He waited a few extra minutes before taking Julian up to his room and setting him on his bed, making sure to place his favorite stuffed animal in his arms before leaving him to sleep off his troubles. As he walked away, Harry sort of wished he could do the same.
Every birth had been different. When Y/n had Simone, it hadn't been extraordinarily long, but it was extraordinarily stressful due to their young age. Collette was a fairly quick birth, perhaps a little too quick, seeing as Y/n barely made it to a hospital bed before the baby started crowning. The twins came early, which was apparently common for twins, but that didn't make it any less surprising to Harry and Y/n, especially because Harry was at the grocery store and Y/n was at the park with Simone and Collette and a nanny who was also there had to call an ambulance. Even still, Geneva's birth was probably the scariest, only because of all the rules and regulations brought on by Covid. Y/n's mother quarantined for two weeks so she could stay at the house while Harry and Y/n went to the hospital, as Y/n could only have one person in the room with her.
And now a year later, they were doing it all over again. Harry had been confident that this birth would go off without a hitch, that everything would be just fine, but the lack of word from his wife or mother-in-law made him nervous.
Later that day, Harry was still waiting. He'd gotten a text from Y/n's mother, which let him know that Y/n still wasn't ready to push but that they were getting close. That was an hour ago, and Harry had to believe that it was all happening now.
And he was missing it.
He knew being here with the rest of his children was important. That they were worried about their mother and probably found Harry's presence comforting. He just wished they could all be there in the waiting room instead of at home and fifteen minutes from the hospital. The not-knowing was killing him, and he was pretty sure his kids could sense it.
"Daddy?"
Harry's eyes flicked to where Collette was standing in the doorway of his bedroom. She was in her pajamas, a shirt and matching pair of bottoms with her favorite cartoon on them. Harry had been pacing around his room, his phone gripped tightly in his hand as he waited for someone to call him, but seeing his second daughter standing there, squinting at the light from his bedside table lamp told him he was up a little later than normal.
"Hi, peanut. What are you doing out of bed?" he asked.
Collette shrugged, her hair catching the light. She wiped at her nose and stepped further into the room until she stood in front of him. "Mommy always braids my hair before I go to sleep."
"She does, doesn't she?" Harry agreed. "She's kind of the best, huh?"
Nodding, Collette turned toward his bed and climbed up on it, looking at him expectantly. Even after having four daughters, Harry wasn't an expert at braiding hair. The girls always went to Y/n before school, and she did each of their braids or ponytails or pigtails happily. Harry always made sure to watch with a keen eye, and practiced on Y/n when she let him. He supposed now it was time to put all his practice to work.
The braiding didn't take long, and Harry didn't do half bad, in his humble opinion. Collette was just going to sleep in it anyway, so he wasn't too bummed by the few loose strands that he'd somehow missed.
He'd finished rather quickly, though Collette didn't slide off the bed to go back to her room. In fact, she nestled under the covers on Y/n's side of the bed, mumbling, "Night Daddy," before falling asleep. Harry didn't really mind. It wasn't the first time one of the kids stayed in his and Y/n's bed, and tonight, he figured he could use some company.
What he wasn't expecting was all of his children to stumble into his room. First it was Maeve, then Jules, then Simone, and finally Harry went to get Geneva, just so it was a proper sleepover. No one fought for space—which was a first. All the kids just found their spot and went back to sleep as if they were in their own rooms. Harry resisted the urge to take a picture so as not to wake anyone up with the flash of his phone's camera.
He hadn't planned on falling asleep. One moment he'd been watching a football game with the volume off, and the next he was blinking his eyes open as the sun began to stream in through the curtains. All of his little ones were still fast asleep, though Harry knew that would change soon. Maeve and Simone woke up early to watch morning cartoons, and Geneva would want her bottle within the hour.
Harry began to shuffle around and prepare for the usual morning routine—brush teeth, ok prepare the bottle, make breakfast for the early risers—when his phone rang. Startled, Harry rushed over to where his phone was plugged in, a huge grin splitting his face when he realized it was a video call from Y/n.
"Hi," Harry whispered, careful not to wake anyone up. "How are you? How's the baby? Is everything—"
"I'm fine, H. Everything's fine. Everything's perfect," Y/n said, a sleepy smile on her face.
Hearing that helped his heart stop racing, but only a little, as excitement flooded his veins. Y/n called him, which could only mean that—
"Wanna meet your daughter?" Y/n said, and even through the phone, Harry could see tears line her eyes.
Harry nodded, too overwhelmed with love and anticipation to form words. Quickly, he found an unoccupied spot on his bed and carefully sat down.
Y/n passed the phone to her mother who angled the phone so that Harry could see the baby, whose face was just barely visible through a pink blanket. He immediately felt tears well in his eyes, his throat going dry as he looked down at his daughter. Even through the phone, he felt every emotion he'd ever experienced when meeting his children for the first time. It was the most unique experience, Harry always thought. He'd seen and done so much, yet he still thought there was nothing like looking down at his newborn baby for the first time.
"Is that baby sister?"
Harry looked behind him to find Julian peering over his shoulder. Jules looked at the sleeping baby curiously, taking in his sister's little nose and tiny fingers and pouted lips. Then, he said, "Is Mommy there too?"
The camera panned up to Y/n, who was smiling and blowing kisses to Julian. "Hi JuJu, my love. I've missed you!"
"Mommy!"
"Mommy?"
"Mommy's home?"
Now everyone was up and crowding around Harry, taking turns talking to Y/n and baby sister, who had yet to be given a name. No one seemed to mind, though. If anything, they were more concerned about when Y/n and the baby would be coming home so they could have a party.
"Soon, my loves. The doctor wants me and the baby to stay one more night to make sure we're healthy. You think you can be good for Daddy?"
There was a chorus of yeses before everyone said their goodbyes, the novelty of a new baby sister wearing off when there were cartoons to be watched downstairs. Harry kept Y/n on the phone while he got Geneva's bottle ready, wanting to stay on the phone as long as possible.
"I know you must be tired," Harry said an hour later. He was in GiGi's nursery and watching her toddle around and play with her toys while talking to his wife.
"I'll hang up soon. I want you to get as much screen time as possible before I go," she said, turning the camera to where the baby was sleeping in the bassinet beside her hospital bed.
"Have you given her a name yet?" he asked.
Y/n shook her head. "I know we decided on one, but I wanted you to be with me when I said it for the first time."
"I love you," Harry said as his heart melted to mush.
"I love you too," Y/n said. She lifted the baby out of the bassinet, cradling her head with the expertise of someone who'd done it for years. Looking at Harry through the phone she said, "You wanna do the honors?"
Laughing out of pure bliss, he nodded. With all the tenderness and care he would've used if he'd been there in person, he said, "Welcome to this crazy, crazy world, Natalia Styles."
#harry styles#young dad! harry#young mom! reader#young dadrry#young parent!harry styles#harry styles blurb#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x you#harry styles fluff#harry styles writing#harry styles one shot#harry styles fic#harry styles x y/n
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Labor Simulator
A sequel to Period Simulator *
Summary: Malleus/Crewel/Crowley/Rook/Vil/Idia x gn! Reader. The boys try a labor simulator.
Requested by @stygianoir and @ase-kjaere
3k follower Masterlist
* it was given a community label by the idiot Tumblr gods, and I don't know how to fight it. Just know, it's not a mature fic
When you come in with the machine, he looks up from whatever it is he's doing, and fixes you with a death glare.
He didn't even try the period simulator, why would he try labor simulator?
Get the fuck out. He has to think about this relationship. Don't worry he won't actually break up with you over this. He just wants you to feel bad
Look, you know labor is worse than cramps. But after he was such a champ with the period simulator, you think everything will be fine.
And you easily forget he's still a hot headed youth, not that much older than you, so you don't think much of it when he takes it from you, and puts it on immediately, telling you to do your worst.
You think you're the one who put him through this. But honestly, you're completely innocent. He's a silly, silly guy. With a big ego, and something to prove. Not to you, don't worry it's not your fault.
And he starts out fine. But by the end of it all, he's crying. Your cool, collected boyfriend is crying. So you turn it off, and hold him the way he holds you when you're sad. In the end, you end up feeding a part of him he didn't realize was starving.
Unlike Crowley, he might actually break up with you. He is not going to go through hours of "contractions", sweat through his makeup, and sob and scream like a baby just because you thought it might be funny.
The only way to save your relationship is to toss the machine to the side, and be like, "JK lol ha ha I would never have meant it literally :)"
As we previously discussed, he bought it himself, and pulled it out seconds after you took the period simulator off.
Why are you like this? Seriously, babe, you don't need to experience every aspect of life to appreciate true beauty! Ok. Ok fine.
So you put it on him, and start to do different levels to simulate different parts of labor. Only, just like before, he wants to roleplay. He'll grab your hand and hiss at you to be his breathing coach.
Things that'll happen while he makes you continue the exercise- he'll name your imaginary children (he's having triplets), he'll decide what school they are going to, he'll pause the simulation and teach you how to be a better breathing coach, he'll teach you how to give him an epidural (do not give it to him!), he'll teach you how to help deliver triplets, he'll try to teach you how to do a C section
Stop him, for the love of God, stop him. You'll have to literally fight him, but if you don't, he's putting a scalpel in your hand….
It was his idea! Human birth is fascinating to someone who came from an egg!
But, again, he comes up on the tragedy of the machine bursting into flames once he comes into contact with it. So, again, he finds a potion that would simulate-
Sebek kicks the potion out of his hands. He's been waiting for this ever since the previous incident, and he will not, I repeat, he will not allow his lord to put himself through an artificial human pregnancy!!!!!!!!
You'll have two faes angrily trying to get you to help them. On the one hand, one is your boyfriend, and you want to do whatever it takes to make him happy. On the other hand, the other is Sebek.
Choose wisely.
He totally didn't cry on the period simulator. And he totally didn't delete the footage in Ortho's data bank, and he totally didn't also wipe his memory of the moment. He'd delete your memories of it too if he could, he's looking into how to do it.
So if you challenge him, and tell him about a labor simulator, he's going to do it! By the sevens, he is going to succeed!
Cries immediately. You only have it at pain level three, and he's already backing out. Ortho says you should keep it going because it would be good for him to learn not to do things he isn't capable of. Idia will once again be deleting Ortho's memory files.
#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland#3k followers#dire crowley x reader#dire crowley#divus crewel x reader#divus crewel#vil schoenheit x reader#vil schoenheit#rook hunt x reader#rook hunt#malleus draconia x reader#malleus draconia#idia shroud x reader#idia shroud
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“DDLG” H. H. Pt. 2
A/N: Someone made this request and I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT WHEN I TRIED TO ANSWER THEM….i almost had a breakdown from the guilt (I’m so sorry love) but here’s more DDLG Hyunjin for you guys 🖤
[ MDNI ]
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Dom Hyunjin has you spoiled rotten to the core. His card lives in your hand and he loves it. “Daddy, look what I bought today. It comes with this too..” you show off everything you get and he’ll sit there admiring it all. His spending isn’t deemed a reward for you. No, it’s more of a natural instinct of showing his affection towards you, and his giving nature only makes you softer for him. He gives and you take.
Dom Hyunjin is a borderline hard dominant. He lets you get away with a lot of things if you’re in public but when you’re alone you pay the price tenfold. ‘Sorry’ doesn’t work on him often. Acts of submission do. “You want to be forgiven that bad?” “If you’re really sorry do as your told, baby doll.” “Stop crying. You asked for this, remember?”
Dom Hyunjin will mock you. He loves it, mirroring your pathetic pleads and dramatic pouts. He could be pressing your tear stained face into the pillows, laughing softly as you cry and tremble underneath him. You know he doesn’t mean any harm by it but the notion that he could care less turns you on more than you care to admit.
Dom Hyunjin gets possessive so easily. He’s not particularly fond of anyone eyeing you for more than two seconds. When you’re out together he’s got a causal grip on you. An arm around your waist or a firm hand on your lower back. Doesn’t matter to him as long as you’re in line of reach. It’s comforting on a surface level but you know he’s being discreetly territorial.
Dom Hyunjin likes to get a before and after shot of you everytime he fucks you. It’s a common habit you don’t entirely understand but find oddly endearing. Seeing your makeup so elegantly done just to be ruined with tears and a mixture of cum brings a smile to his face without fail. He’ll sneak in some pictures of you sleeping, all worn out, and curled into his side.
Dom Hyunjin prefers you wear skirts or dresses around him. If you add stockings/thigh high socks with it he inevitably trails after you all day, waiting for the perfect moment to bend you over and get a much a deserves taste of your cunt. You can try and swat his hands away or telling him “No, not now daddy. I’m busy.” He won’t hear a word you say, pushing your skirt above your hips, and kneeling to kiss the curve of your ass. “Don’t mind me then.” He murmurs against your skin, tracing your slit over your lace panties with two fingers, and you give in with a soft moan.
Dom Hyunjin sends you gifts when he’s away. Some are sentimental, intricate flower bouquets, personalized jewelry, and anything he finds particularly cute that he knows you’d like. You have a growing collection of designer products/clothes he’s given you. Never, once have you complained or wanted to return something because he doesn’t make a mistake…ever.
Dom Hyunjin lets you play with the rings on his hand when you’re bored, secretly adoring the way your fingers glide through his, and the slight size difference between them. Sometimes you don’t realize you’re doing it as a way to cope if you’re anxious.
Dom Hyunjin gives you random head pats when you’re completing a task. “Look what I made, daddy! Lix helped me..” you beam a smile at him, holding up the platter of fudge squares you’ve made, and he can’t help but to praise your efforts. “They look amazing, baby.” He compliments you softly, tousling your hair just a little as you giggle quietly, and hold up a piece for him to taste. He’ll gladly take a bite, letting half of it melt on his tongue before offering what’s left to you. “Open,” he commands gently, smiling as your lips fall apart, obediently accepting the treat with a smile.
Dom Hyunjin styles your hair a lot. Especially during aftercare -he’s adamant about brushing through it a hundred times, gentle as ever with you, and tying it back with a bow/ribbon of your choice. You doze off quickly each time, genuinely comforted by the gesture. Even in public he’ll play with your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear if it’s out of place, or fluffing it to frame your face perfectly.
Dom Hyunjin travels with you frequently. Flying from country to country is common for you two but doing it together is exceptionally exciting. It’s not everyday you get to spend a week in Paris before landing in Japan the very next day. “Can we go to the Sanrio store in Tokyo tomorrow?” He looks up from scrolling on his phone, squinting as he thinks of an answer, and eventually he nods in agreement. “We can. After the campaign shoot though. How’s that sound, baby doll?” You grin at him and rush to plant a kiss on his cheek to which he steals one from your lips. “That works for me…”
Dom Hyunjin doesn’t set too many rules for you. He’s aware you’re capable of taking care of things yourself, that you’re independent, and headstrong. However, when you do want to release control to him the transition is seamless. He can read you like a book when it happens. How quiet you get in public or gravitating to him at events. The slightest expression in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know. He’ll do any act of service for you, lace up your heels, order your meals, and carrying your belongings or bags. Princess Treatment galore.
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Like I said someone requested this but I accidentally deleted it when I tried to reply to it….🖤 so I’m really sorry and I hope they see this and know it’s for them 😭🖤
[ BONUS CONTENT + ]
His “Yes…” in the audio….???? that’s exactly how he’d sound saying it to you. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. 🖤 Credits to the creator fr 🖤
#skz#stray kids#skz smut#stray kids x reader#skz imagines#skz x reader#hwang hyujin imagines#hyunjin hwang#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin series#hyunjin headcanons#hyunjin x you#hyunjin smut#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin stray kids#hyunjin scenarios#hyunjin#hyunjin hard thoughts#hyunjin hard hours#kpop smut#ddlg18#ddlgsub#ddlgdom#ddlgcommunity
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Double Down ⨳ Yoshida, Denji
“Didn’t know you were into that stuff.”
warnings: fem body/pronouns, nudes posted without permission, drug use, exhibition, creampie, videos taken with permission, stepcest, infidelity, masturbation, handjob, some spit mentions, premature ejac, implied fuckery, implied theft, if there's more i am just too wacked out to see it so lemme know!
event: @bastardblvd 's slimeball alley collab !! my first submission of who knows how many to come, im gonna try to not go crazy with it, promise
notes: didn't realize until it was done that I could've made it much more slimy but its okay. We'll get 'em next time babes 😩 this idea is expanding on a little blurb I put in cassie's inbox once, i included it in the fic itself with some itty bitty changes
By expanding, you are consenting to viewing adult/dark content, and all warnings listed above. 18+ Minors DNI
Blog Rules/DNI
Your fist slams on the bathroom door. “I swear to god, Denji! Where the fuck did you get those! Delete them now!”
“I already told you, Power found them online!” Your stepbrother yells back through the door, keeping his weight against the handle so that you can’t force your way in.
“You’re full of shit you fucking perv! You took them off my phone or something.”
“Wanna fucking bet? The real perv is that prettyboy bastard you call baby,” Denji sneers back, yelping as you get a good shove in on the creaking wood.
Your efforts to break the bathroom door pause. “The hell’re you talking about?”
“I told you he was trouble the day you two met. What—you think I was lying?”
You growl under your breath at the barenecked taunt in Denji’s voice. Yeah he told you, one time before he got high out of his mind. The only reason you even met Yoshida Hirofumi was because he hooked your stepbrother up a couple times, and you begged to tag along once. That situation ended with your brother counting stars on his buddy’s ceiling while you saw them on the backs of your eyelids with the guy’s lips wrapped around your clit.
One thing led to another, and that “prettyboy bastard” became your boyfriend. He’s a bit of an ass, but Yoshida’s also sweet and funny, doesn’t roll his eyes at your music choices, doesn’t bat an eye when you want to go out with your friends, and is full of sexy, smirky sass that makes him so fun to be around. Sure, you sent him some photos, but he wouldn’t have put them out anywhere.
Your anger deflates, but your indignance does not. You step away from the bathroom door. “He’s got nothing to do with this.”
Denji throws the door open with a toothy grin, repeating himself. “You wanna bet?”
“You know what, yeah!” you snap at him, crossing your arms as he leans in the doorway, still looking smug.
“Your boyfriend put your pics up on OnlyFans, and he’s using the money to pay for his xanny. If I’m right, you two gotta upload a video. Together,” Denji states, his eyebrows furrowed in twisted delight that makes you sneer at him.
“You’re disgusting!”
“Yeah? Tell me what you get if you win.”
Caught up in his childish bullshit, you push at his shoulder. “You gotta start an OnlyFans if you’re wrong, which you are. And you gotta wear lingerie.”
His smirk full drops at that, and he glares at you, cheeks darkerning. “Now who’s a perv.”
“This whole shit was your idea!”
“Lingerie?”
“How is wearing lingerie worse than telling your stepsister to fuck and post a video about it?!”
“Shut up!”
“And since we’re on the topic, I swear to god if you don’t stop taking my shit out of the laundry I’m gonna tell that redheaded lady at the DMV that she’s at the very top of your fap list.”
His blush deepens and he palms your face backwards in a light push. “The fuck she is. Shut up.”
“Yeah well, me and the thin fucking walls in this apartment would have to disagree.”
“Go find your boyfriend.”
“‘M gonna.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck him,” you hiss in barely supressed rage, gripping your boyfriend’s phone so tight you’re disappointed when it doesn’t crack.
You’d waited for his high to hit him and let him drift off before going through his phone—what’s the point of asking him outright if it’s not true, right? No reason to stir the pot. But your stomach had dropped with unease when the account site was in his search history; you tried to brush it off as maybe he gets off to a set of camgirls, but the moment you saw the login info presaved—as in frequent entry—you began to forget the bet altogether.
Now your jaw is clenched, seething as you scroll through every racy picture you ever sent him. Each have thousands of views, hundreds of comments and jeez—so many subscribers. The heat of betrayal simmers through you. Your jaw drops at the total that’s set to drop into his account at the end of the week and resist the urge to slap Yoshida awake, but instead you set about trying to change the banking and login info, only to get halted by an infowall. Frustrated, you slip off the bed and call your stepbrother, edging into Yoshida’s bathroom so you don’t wake him up.
“You were right, and you fucking knew it, didn’t you? You set me up.” you hiss into the device as soon as he picks up with a mumbled ‘sup. You can hear voices and music in the background, paired with light explosions. You assume he’s out with his friends, probably gaming like usual.
“You didn’t have to agree. Wait—” there’s the sound of the phone moving around and suddenly the music is gone. “Does that mean you’re gonna do it?”
“That’s besides the point, Denji!”
“Oh fuck, you are!”
“Chill your boner,” you snap, “‘m not gonna do it unless you help me!”
“Help you? What, like you want me to hold the camera or something?”
“Denji, I swear to god—”
“I’m kidding, jeez.”
“I can’t change the account info. They’re my pictures, and they’re already out there! He shouldn’t get to make money off of me.”
“Wait, so you want to keep the account?” He asks curiously. You hear a door slamming and wonder if he’s still moving, or if his friends are.
“Dude, we’ll have rent and anything else covered for the whole month with a single week’s drop from this thing. I don’t see a reason not to. I can quit Mcdonald’s!”
“Shit, for real? Lemme talk to Denki, ‘m pretty sure he knows a guy.”
“Thank you,” you coo into the phone.
“Yeah, yeah, just make sure you pay up.” You can hear his pervy smile, and you grumble a sulky fine at him.
“Ok. But he’s gotta do it soon. It pays out in a couple of days.”
“I’ll give him some cash to see if he can do it tonight. Don’t see why he’d say no—" Denji sounds a lot further away from the phone now, "—Oi! Don't bro! Give it back."
A familiar voice purrs into the receiver and you roll your eyes. "Heyyy, princess. You with that Yoshida guy still or are we allowed to hang now?"
"Byeee, Kiri. Tell Kat hi f'me." You hang up with a smile and leave the bathroom, glaring at your supposed boyfriend still sleeping. You never heard him say he was working and you always kinda wondered where he was getting his cash, but you always just thought he was dealing or something. Not the kind of think you ask about. You obviously should’ve asked.
You crawl into his lap and begin sucking on his exposed throat, admiring the sharp lines, the bob of his adam’s apple as thick lashes flutter open.
“Mmm,” Yoshida moans. “Damn, was I out long?”
“Nah,” you hum, slipping your fingers up his shirt, smoothing over his waistline. “Got bored without you, that’s all.”
“Yeah, baby?” He grins up at you, dark eyes fuzzed out and sultry, and his hands come up to settle on your hips, easing you into a slow grind. “Wanna do something?”
“Mm. Maybe,” you tease softly, pushing his shirt up his chest and leaning down to wrap your lips around his nipples. He groans at the warm, slick suction, arching into your touch.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathes out, his cock swelling beneath you.
“Maybe I wanna do something…different.”
Yoshida grins up at you, half-lidded. “Yeah? Like what?”
Your nails make pink lines down his chest as you lean in to whisper in his ear. “What if you fucked me, and we let some people watch?”
His fingers dig into the fat of your waist, his dick thumping beneath you. “Anyone I know?”
Yoshida’s pupils have overtaken his coal irises, and you give him an inviting smile. “No one specific. I was thinking more like…a video or something. I wanna be able to see it later.”
“Holy fuck, baby. That’s sexy,” Yoshida grins up at you. “Didn’t know you were into that stuff.”
“Me either,” you breath softly, rocking yourself over his covered erection.
You’re left to yelp as he displaces you from your seat on his lap and pulls you out of the bed by your wrist with a wide smirk. “Come on.”
“Wait, where are we going?”
“Don’t worry baby, I just wanna pick something up at the Malmart first.”
“Fine, I guess,” you pout at him and his smirk only grows.
“‘S okay, baby. I’ll give you something too.”
“This is not what I meant when I said video, Hirofumi!” you gasp out. Your fingers are splayed out on the hood of his car as you try to stay upright. “Someone could actually see us!”
"If you don't wanna be seen, you gotta cum. Cause I'm not stopping til you cum."
"Fuck, fuck please, just hurry up!" You plead, half your words caught between whines and whimpers as he pounds into you from behind, your skirt flipped over your back.
"You think I'm not fucking you like I mean it?" There's so much smile in his voice that you want to call him on his bullshit for once, but the solid smacking of his hips into yours, the head of his dick pressing as deep as it can go with every thrust quickly makes you forget what you're snapping at him for.
"Just‐just, fucking make cum– ‘fumi!" You're desperately telling yourself you don't want to be seen. It's the middle of the night, so even here, parked under the one of the many lightposts that don’t work in grimetown's 24-hour walmart parking lot, the risk of anyone seeing is slim.
But not zero. Especially with the light from his phone camera shining down on your exposed lower half. You’re like a slutty beacon for whoever might be looking this way.
"I'm working on it baby, you gotta relax." His fingers slide around your waist, brushing past your clit and forcing a frustrated whimper past your lips at the neglect, to drag them through the slick dripping obscenely from your pussy lips. It's dripping to the rusted black hood, making it glisten. He aims the camera down at them before moving it back to the way your pussy clings to his cock. "You're so fucking wet for this, you'd think the whole thing was your idea. Well, most of it was."
You don't answer him, trying to work yourself back on him, chasing that fluttering heat twisting itself tighter and tigher with each passing second.
"Good girl, look at you. Fuck, look how bad you want—"
"Oi! Get the fuck out of here before I—"
Your whole body locks up at the tired but authoritative voice that rings across the lot.
Your boyfriend calls back. "C'mon man, have a heart. Let me finish her off and I'll give you a look." Except his last syllable staggers off with a groan, broken with a laugh as his grip on your hips tightens to a bruising pressure. The vice grip of your cunt has him looking down to sees your juices gush around the girth of his cock, dripping down your thighs to dirty the hood of his car even more. The sight pushes pushes him over and he calls out again, his voice tight but smug.
"Nevermind, we're done here."
He gets one last shot of his cum dripping out of you before closing out the livefeed.
“It’s like four in the morning,” Denji grumbles, rubbing one of his eyes as he cracks his bedroom open further at the sight of you. “Thought you were Power or somethin’, jeez.”
Denji blinks the blur from his eyes, zeroing in on your screen, and you just about hear his pupils expanding. He pulls a shaky inhale and you roll your eyes.
“Done. Bet over, and here’s your damn proof,” you grumble right back, slamming your phone against his chest and shoving your way into his bedroom to flop down into his bed. It had taken over an hour to convince Yoshida back to his place and get him to fool around enough for him to pass out and you to sneak back home.
"Also Kiri wants you to call him back. He's mad you hung up on him."
A small grin curls your lips but you don't respond, wiggling deeper into his mattress until you're comfortable.
He throws himself down in the bed next to you. “Turn on my speakers.”
“Or you could just wear headphones, you freak.”
“Nah. Turn ‘em on.”
With an exaggerated sigh, you stretch out to reach up to his desk, turning on the bluetooth speakers that he usually uses to be a nuisance when he’s smoking. “If your dad was home, I’d kill you for this.”
“You’re not even breaking up with him, are you?” Denji chortles, ignoring your bickering. His eyes are glued to the screen as he shoves a hand into his loosened shorts. “What the fuck, you guys were outside?”
You shrug. The video’s only been up for a couple hours and it already has triple the views and donations of all the photos Yoshida has put up so far. “Looks like he’s gonna be making me lots of money, so why not? It’s the least he could do to pay me back.”
Your stepbrother doesn’t answer you, his breathing getting heavier. You close your eyes and sigh as the sounds wet sounds and your own whiny moaning starts bouncing off the walls of his room, wondering to yourself if you really sound like that or if part of you was exaggerating because of the camera. The mattress creaks every now and then as his hips jump, his arm brushing your side as he grinds into his own fist.
You roll to face him, taking in the sound of his stuttered breaths, the muted slick sound of his fist pumping in his shorts. “So what about this gets you so riled up?”
Denji groans, stomach rippling where his shirt is pulled up around his midsection. “I’nno, it’s hot, isn’t it?”
You keep prodding, “What is? Yoshida? Or me?”
He gives a small whine that has your pulse picking up in sick interest, so you continue. “Was Power really the one to find it? Or…you were subbed to the account, weren’t you Denji?”
“Mm- maybe?”
“Shit,” you whisper to yourself, listening to your own voice begging to cum, shifting your weight onto your arm so you can look at him. A strange curiosity has taken over your body. He looks wrecked but his eyes are still on the screen. “Denji, look at me.”
Your body tingles as his eyes tear towards you, but he’s still got a hand around himself, hidden from your eyes. “Can I touch it?”
“You wanna what?” he moans, just barely, teeth digging into his lip.
“Can I jerk you off?”
You’re a little surprised when he actually hesitates. You’ve tolerated it all this time; as much as he pervs out on you, and your stuff, yet somehow he’s got a little crumb of morality left in there somewhere. And right now…you wanna kill it.
“My panties, my pictures…is this really any different?” you ask softly, sweetly, as you run with this electric current, placing your hand over his covered groin. You grin as his hand immediately goes slack at your touch and slips out of his shorts, and you get to feel for the first time how hard he is, rubbing over the smooth fabric, feeling out the shape of him.
“I mean…I guess not.” He sucks in a breath as you grip him over his shorts and give a couple experimental strokes. “B-but what about—?”
Denji’s head drops back to the pillows with a groan, phone in a death grip as you tug his waistband down, his dick slapping free. It’s pretty and slender, flushed deep red.
“What about what?”
“What about prettyboy, huh?” He finally gets it out as you spit in your hand and take him up again, stroking him steadily from base to tip, squeezing at the top with a gentle twist of your wrist. Yoshida always seemed to like it, seems like he does too.
“That’s what you’re worried about? Not the whole stepsister thing?” You shrug. You’re still stung about Yoshida’s betrayal, so this feels like a little bit of retribution. A little bit. You still need to find more ways to make him pay first, but this is a good start. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend, but ‘s not like you and me are dating, Denji. It’s a handjob. What’re you gonna do, marry me?”
Denji splutters and his dick throbs in your hand. “Don- Don’t say stupid shit!”
You coo at him and his lips part, panting hard as you work him faster.
“What– haa, what if it wasn’t just a handjob? What then?” Denji gives a low moan as you settle over his lower thighs so you can gently cup his balls. They seem to tighten under your touch, before he relaxes and he tries to look at you.
“What, like my mouth or something?” you ask playfully, leaning over and showing him your tongue, letting a strand of spit drip down to his dick.
A litany of curses tumblr from his mouth as Denji squeezes his eyes shut, fingers twisting into the pillow beneath his head as his cock jerks and shoots a load of hot sticky white into your palm, getting smeared down his throbbing shaft as you slowly work him through his high until only a couple dribbles get pressed out by a final pass of your thumb over his slit.
“Wasn’t expecting you to finish already.” You wipe your hand off on his comforter and try to ignore the throbbing in your panties. You feel like you can still imagine the slick from earlier tonight seeping out of you, but it’s as if it’s no longer enough.
“Holy fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as he calms his breathing enough to raise himself up on his forearms. He watches you as you take your phone and flop down next to him. “I didn’t even get to see the rest of the video.”
“It’s online now, freak. You can watch it whenever.”
“Yeah...”
You’re too busy trying to go through the account settings to notice the way he’s eyeing up your thighs; he hasn’t even put his dick away yet.
“Hey,” he mutters softly, ignoring your glare when he puts a hand on your thighs and pulls them open. “If you can touch me, does that mean I get to touch you?”
Your pulse jumps and you try to keep your true thoughts hidden as you hide back behind your phone. “I guess that’s fair. If you wanted to.”
You can hear the click of Denji’s throat as he swallows, and you can’t stop the low whimper as his calloused fingers brush your inner thigh, right at the edge of your panties.
They’re warm as they brush over the seat of your panties, timid but curious as they explore the surface, stroking over the tempting warmth and wet seeping through the thin fabric. A bolt of pleasure bursts and has your gut clenching as he swirls over your clothed clit
“H-hey, wait,” you say suddenly, nerves getting the better of you as you try to make sense of Denji taking control of your body. “It got switch but this isn’t my banking info. Is it yours?” You flip the screen towards him, and his brown eyes squint in the pale blue light.
“Uh, nah, that’s not mine.”
You mewl as he pulls your panties to the side and traces a finger through your folds, delicate, hungry. “Who did you say– mm, h-hacked the account for me?”
“I told you. M’friend Denki, his buddy did it. That purple-haired guy who works at the smoke shop.”
“The one wi—” you suck in a breath as he sinks his index finger into you. “With the tattoos?”
“Yeah him,” Denji mumbles, hardly paying attention to your words. He’s grinding against the bed as he pushes his middle in alongside it, imagining the tight squeeze around his dick instead.
Your groan is part pleasure, part dismay as you realize just who he’s talking about. “Oh fuck me.”
Denji bullies his way between your thighs in an instant.
“N-no, Den– that’s not what I meant!”
#csm x reader#yoshida x reader#denji x reader#yoshida hirofumi x reader#denji smut#yoshida smut#csm smut#chainsaw man smut#chainsaw man x reader#tw::stepcest
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ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 mail incoming!
⋆˚˖° minji and noncon. °˖˚⋆
kim minji x fem reader genre ౨ৎ smut
“imagine g!p minji was a perv.. and she was ur sister's bestfriend! (ur choice to choose who) and one day when ur sister was out to buy groceries minji use the opportunity to force herself on u :((( she was meann and likes to see you cry.. you're a crybaby though.. how pathetic!“
✏️: OMG super late response smh, this got buried in lots of requests TᴖT also i accidentally deleted the ask?! good thing i had it saved in my wip list.. also this is so mean, i don’t think i’ve ever written something like this 🥹
i could so see this happening especially you were to be hanni's younger sister. because of how close minji was with hanni, hanni would let you tag along on their hang outs or even she'd let minji accompany you if she couldn't.
unknowingly, minji had the hots for you. minji always took a liking on you, even before she and hanni became friends– that is exactly how she got to be close to you and that was through befriending a clueless hanni.
"minji-yah! y/n! do you need anything from 7-eleven? i'll buy ramyeon!" hanni asked from the foyer whilst you and minji were in the living room, watching a movie that you've been wanting to watch.
"nope!" minji answered back meanwhile your ears perked up, "eonnie! can you get me lychee jellies? the peelable ones!" you hollered back until you got a response from your older sister.
"okay, i'll call if i get there!" hanni says as she shut the door behind her.
finally, minji thought.
5 minutes pass by and minji's arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you close to her, you let it be since you saw how comfortable she became.
then minji started to move closer towards you, hand gripping your shoulder tightly. you hiss when you feel her nails digging into your skin, you even whimper as you look at minji, silently telling her to stop.
"m-minji.. it hurts.." you say to her, trying to pry minji's arm away from your shoulder. suddenly minji unravels her arm from your shoulder as she stands up, pushing your shoulders back onto the couch when you sat up.
whimpering as minji stared you down, your eyes start to glisten with tears, "eonnie, you're scaring me.. w-what did i do?" you say as a tear cascades down your cheek. minji leans down and wipes the tear of yours, "what did you not do, honey? you think you could get away with looking so pretty every time i'm around? it makes it so hard not to touch you, honey.." minji says as she starts to take her sweats off, stepping out of them along with her underwear.
your eyes shake when you see minji's cock, attempting to look away was not a choice because minji's hand holds onto the back of your head, forcing you to sit up as she angled her cock against your lips, smearing her leaking pre-cum all over your closed lips.
you refused to look or open your lips, keeping them shut as minji continued to try to get your mouth to open. unable to get you to open your mouth, minji's hand quickly slaps your cheek, making you gasp as you opened your eyes and looked up at her in disbelief.
"don't look at me like that, lovey.. it just makes me want to ruin you even more." minji says as she angles her cockhead towards your mouth once more, liking how you kept your mouth open as she sunk into your warm cavern.
the smile that creeps up on minji's face is eerie when she starts to thrust into your mouth, paying to mind to you gagging and to your hands scratching her lower back through her shirt as she begged you to stop.
you gag repeatedly as minji thrusts into your mouth, groaning at the feeling of your mouth, "you feel so good, lovey.. i could fuck this slutty mouth of yours forever.." minji moans as she fucks your mouth harder, gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail as she bobs your head up and down her cock as she thrusts simulaneously.
your throat continues to gurgle around minji's cock that huge enough to leave no space in your mouth. minji was long and girthy with trimmed pubes, she liked to be clean and trimmed.
minji's adrenaline only keeps going when you look up at her with tears in your eyes, cascading down your cheeks as you gagged repeatedly around her cock. she simply thrusts harder and bobs your head up faster, loving the sound of you gagging.
"god, you're not doing the right thing if you want me to stop. i'll only fuck you if you keep doing this." minji pouts when she acts like you're moving on your own on her cock, bobbing your head up and down. she even fakely whines and begs for you to stop sucking her only for minji to laugh like a maniac as she bucks her hips into your mouth.
stilling your head with her cock buried deep into your mouth, minji pats your head sweetly, "can you make me cum, lovey?" minji asks before she pulls your head away from her cock, she makes you nod by moving your head even if you desperately tried to shake your head as you coughed.
she forces your mouth open once more before pushing your head down her cock, making you gag once more as she thrusts repeatedly into your mouth, moaning when your mouth only tightens up around her cock. minji's pace is relentless as she chases her orgasm knowing that hanni could come home and see her bestfriend devirginize her sister's mouth.
"oh my god lovey! i'm gonna cum, i'm gonna fucking cum! gotta make sure to swallow everything up, yeah? we can't leave any traces of what you did to me.." minji moans out as she bucks her hips harshly into your mouth, making you gag and cough around minji's cock when she stills her hips with her cock down your throat as she starts to release her hot cum into your warm cavern.
pulling away, minji's hand holds your cheeks roughly as she stares you down, "swallow it." she says as she watches you swallow every bit of her awfully bitter cum.
you gag when you swallow it all up, minji even forcefully opens your mouth to see if you swallowed everything up. seeing that you swallowed her cum up, she smiles with a glint in her eyes as she leans down to pick her sweats off of the ground and begins to dress herself up.
watching as minji began to compose herself, she was making sure there were no traces of what she has done to you. you began to cry, fat globs of tears start to cascade down your face as you hiccup, your chest starts to heave as you desperately tried to catch your own breath despite sobbing.
minji coos as she pulls you close, making your head lean on her stomach as you cried, no words could be understood no matter how hard you tried to speak.
it was as if your angels came right in time when hanni arrived, a confused expression was on her face when she passed by the living room and saw you sobbing into minji's stomach. "the film was a bit too sad." minji says to hanni who simply blinked at her.
but it was a comedy film.. hanni thought as she walked away, still hearing your intense sobs as minji tried to calm you down.
© RATEDFLEUR — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
#mikha’s asks.#newjeans#newjeans kim minji#newjeans minji#kpop hard hours#kpop smut#kpop hard thoughts#gg smut#kpop gg#girl group x reader#kpop girl group smut#girl group smut#kpop girl group#minji smut#minji x reader#minji imagines#minji hard hours#minji hard thoughts
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Eastside 15
P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12 P13 P14 P15 P16 P17
pairing: y/n and matt sturniolo
summary: growing up in the outskirts of Boston wasn't really pretty. Life wasn't that great for most people, most people. You had Matt and no one fucked with you when Matt was standing by your side. The chief's daughter and the bad boy deliquent. A perfect love story?
warnings: mentions of fighting, cursing, sexualizing
alright stop blowing up my inbox about another part for a min pls
xoxo, autumn
y/n pov
to: nick sturniolo
wipe your phones, delete every single thing off of it. Don't keep anything. Tell your brothers the same thing.
I looked up from my phone. My hands shaking as I looked over at Cecilia who was also shitting bricks. I swallowed as we re-approached the warehouse for the second time tonight.
"Slim's gonna notice those files are gone" She said shaking her head as we walked. I glanced up at her, my heart beating out of my chest. I let out a breath, trying to calm myself down but I couldn't.
"Slim knows those files are gone and I'm dead--and not figurative like literally dead--Like-Like gun to my head dead Y/n!" She said shaking like a leaf. "Cecilia stop!" I yelled at her, she jumped over to look at me. I shook my head at her.
"We-We shouldn't have done this, I'm already dead-I'm already--" She shook her head looking at me. I grabbed her face to shut her up. "Pull yourself together Cecilia" I snapped at her. She whined and closed her eyes before looking off towards the warehouse.
"You really think he'll notice that quickly?" I asked looking at her glossy eyes. She nodded vigorously. I clenched my jaw and looked up. Fuck. I didn't think this through.
"I'm dead then-then Nick Matt and Chris are dead--" She shook her head pacing back and forth, making my breathing increase. Matt. He'll kill Matt. Thinking he's in on this.
Imagining in my mind flashed of his dead body. Lifeless laying there. Dying thinking that I didn't love him anymore. I gagged but swallowed, almost physcially throwing up again at the thought.
Cecilia snapped up at me. "No-No don't freak out too because if we both freak out then we're both dead" She shook her head walking up to me. I closed my eyes pressing my hand to my chest.
"I'm fine" I mumbled. She leaned her head down to me. "Are you sure?" She asked looking down at me. I nodded. I stood back up running my hands through my hair.
"Let's just delete Matt's file and figure it out from there okay?" I said looking at her. She nodded taking in a breath as we both turned towards the warehouse.
We stood outside of the doors and I flipped the computer open, searching for a signal. My eyes glanced over the wifi. Nothing.
"Fuck" I cursed. She looked down at me. "What? What?" She asked quickly. I looked up at her. "It's not picking up the signal we have to go back inside" I stated shaking my head. She looked towards the door and closed her eyes.
"Give it to me, I can do it" She said holding out her hand. My eyes widened and I shook my head. "No, i'm not letting you go in there by yourself" I said blankly. Mostly because I was scared for her life, the other part me didn't trust her to delete it, from her past history.
"You'll never get by in there without them seeing you, it has to be me. They know me." She said shaking her head. I let out a breath looking down at my feet. I looked around before I thought of something.
"The backdoor, I can go in the backdoor and you can distract them. Cecilia I have to make sure that file is deleted" I said staring at her. She stood there for a second just looking at me. Her eyebrows furrowed.
"You still don't trust me do you?" She almost whispered. I sighed and looked down. I glanced up at her hurt face. "Cecilia this my boyfriend's life on my hands, I wouldn't even trust his brothers with this shit" I said shaking my head at her. She pursed her lips looking off to the side, nodding.
"He's not your boyfriend" She mumbled and I felt it in my chest. I swallowed the knot forming in my throat. "It's different" I whispered shaking my head. She looked back at me. I pleaded with her my eyes.
"Let me walk in first, Don't walk in until I have their attention directed the other direction of the door" She mumbled with a straight face looking down at me. I let out a breath.
"Thank you" I breathed closing my eyes. She nodded and turned and we rounded the building.
"I'm serious about the files. We might have to do part B of this plan tonight" She mumbled looking down at me. I swallowed and looked down at my feet. I didn't know if i was ready for Part B, I was still in the phase of part A.
I pulled out my phone.
to: officer Petey
Keep your phone on you. Don't tell my dad I texted.
-
matt pov
I pushed the doors open to my house and sighed as I shurgged off my jacket.
"Everything?" I heard Chris's voice. I turned my head to see my brothers sitting on the couch. They stopped talking once I looked at them, they stared back at me.
"Where were you?" Nick asked standing up from the couch. I sighed as I placed my jacket on the table and walked over to them. "Around" I mumbled looking down at my shoes.
“I texted you to get back here an hour ago” he said crossing his arms over his chest.
"You were sitting outside of her house again weren't you?" Chris asked looking over at me. I clenched my jaw and didn't respond, not looking at either of them. Nick took in a breath and leaned back.
I bit my lip as I walked towards them before sitting down on the couch next to Chris.
"She's been gone for hours and I-I didn't see where she went she was already gone when I got there because her light we're off and--" I bit my tongue from how insane I sounded. I pressed my hands to my face.
"I just wanna know that she's safe--I wasn't gonna go up to her--I know she doesn't want that, I just wanna make sure she's okay. I swear-" My voice broke and my chest clenched. I took in a shaky breath not wanting to cry in front of my brother again, because that was so embarrassing.
I stared at the floor just trying not to break.
"If anything happens to her--" I swallowed.
"She's p-proably just out with friends"
I looked up at Chris. Staring at him.
He was looking everywhere but me. "She doesn't have friends Chris." I stated narrowing my eyes at him. He looked at me for a brief second before looking over at Nick who was glaring at him, hard.
I looked over at Nick.
"Nick?" I asked. Nick looked over at me and then down at his feet and took in a breath. Oh my god. I stood up looking down at both of them.
"You know where she is" I stated anger starting to build in me. They both looked at each other and then up to me. My mouth dropped and I clenched my fists. "Tell me where she is" I said harshly down at them. Nick stood up holding up his hands.
"Matt, calm down" He stated raising his eyebrows. I walked up to him, cleching my fist so hard I was leaving marks in my palm. "Nick where is she?" I said shaking my head. He stepped back from me.
"Give me your phone" He said holding out his hands. "What?" I asked shaking my head. He looked down at my phone. "I have to wipe your phone, now give it to me" He said angrily motioning down to my phone. I looked down at my phone and then back up to him.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" I asked shaking my head. He reached down before ripping my phone out of my hands. I grabbed his arm. "Give it back" I yelled at him. Chris stood up before grabbing me and holding me away from Nick.
I looked down at Chris as I struggled against him, confused my breath quickening. I looked up at Nick who was already in my phone, scrolling. "Nick! No! Stop!" I yelled as I felt a lump in my throat.
Every message, every picture, ever memory with her layed within that phone.
"Please! Y/n--Everything I have left of her is in that phone-" I screamed pushing against Chris with everything in me, but he pinned me against the wall, completely constricting my movements.
My chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, I felt like I was going to pass out. "Please, It's all I have left" Tears pooled at my eyes as Nick looked up at me, I had almost completely stopped fighting Chris, my body falling.
His eyes met my glossy ones. "It's all I have left of her Nick" I cried shaking my head. He looked back down at the phone. "I'm doing this for you Matt, you thank me soon enough trust me" Nick mumbled. My body lit on fire from his statement as tears fell out a my eyes, and I couldn't even see.
I kneed Chris so hard in the gut, making his grip loosen on me and double over groaning. I pushed past him before reaching Nick and grabbing the phone out of his hands, looking hoplessly down at it but it was gone.
Everything was gone.
My heart broke. I shook my head, my vision blurry but it was reloading, everything deleting. I pressed the phone against my forehead as I broke down, trying to catch my breath.
"No, no, no" I shook my head, gasping for air.
Every picture I've taken of her without her knowing. Every picture of us together, every sweet message she's sent me--Everything I've been looking at to help me fall asleep at night, to keep me breathing--Everything. Gone.
I lifted my head and looked at Nick, who looked painfully down at me. I slammed the phone down on the ground before walking up to Nick. Nick stumbled back.
"She's at the warehouse"
I froze. Nick looked behind me, his eyes widened and then shaking his head at Chris. I snapped around looking at Chris, who was attempting to stand back up, obviously still in pain from my hit, looking up at me.
"What warehouse?" I snapped, reaching up and wiping my eyes. "Slim's" He breathed. "Chris!" Nick yelled at him. My heart dropped to my toes. Slim's?
"He was gonna kill you! I had to say something!" Chris said shaking his head at Nick. I snapped my head to Nick.
"Wha-Why is she--" I asked shaking my head looking at Nick. Nick closed his mouth staring back at me. I shook my head, stumbling back before running towards the door and grabbing my jacket, not even looking behind me as I sprinted down the road so fast that I swore my feet started to bleed.
-
"I'm tired?" I asked looking at Cecilia. She nodded. "As soon as I say I'm tired--Walk in and open the door as slow as possible so they don't hear you" She nodded. I nodded back trying to contain my breath.
"Wait" I stated. She looked down at me. I pulled out my phone and handed it to her. "If anything goes wrong, text petey and give him the address and tell him to send SWAT" I stated. She took in a breath before taking the phone and turning towards the door.
She nodded looking towards the door before taking a big breath in and pushing the door open. "When you're done, get out of here" She mumbled, I nodded. I moved out of the way as she moved inside. I pushed my head up against the door and listened in.
"Hey" I heard Cecilia's voice. "I thought you left" I heard an unfamilair man's voice say. "Yeah, then I realized I didn't have anything else to do. So why not come and bother you guys?" I heard her say back. I smiled.
"We're busy" A man said. "I'm not gonna bother you, I'm just here to hangout you know" She said. God it was cold outside, or maybe it was because nerves were eating me alive.
"I'm not staying for long though, I'm so tired"
I felt my heart stop. I paused. No, Y/n. You can do this. You can do this for Matt. You have to do this for him, you're too far in deep. Push the damn door open.
I let out a shaky breath as I pushed the door so slowly, so that it didn't make a noise. I pushed it open just enough to slide in. I couldn't see her from here but I could hear what she was saying, she was just down the hallway and around the wall.
I let go of a breath once I was inside, but once I sat down next to a wall where I couldn't been seen, my hands were shaking once I flipped open the computer.
I could barley use my hands as I typed in the password to the computer, letting me into the system. I glanced up at the wifi, before smiling when the wifi popped up. I clicked on it before seeing Slim's laptop pop up.
I clicked on it, seeing only the files that I didn't delete. My mouse carried to Matt's hestitating only slightly before delteling it, watching it disappear before my eyes. I let out a breath leaning my head against the wall.
"Cecilia did your ass getting fatter?" Someone chuckled. I furrowed my eyebrows when I heard that sentence out of all of the mindless talk in the background. "I don't know" I heard her mumble.
"Come sit over here" I heard someone say. I shook my head as my stomach clenched. She was't lying when she said they looked at her like a piece of meat.
"No" She stated. I heard shuffling around the room. I peeked my head over before shoving my laptop back into my back and slung it around my shoulder. I shook my head as I stood up.
Once you're done, get out of here
I walked over to the door starting to push it open.
"Cecilia I said get over here" A voice said harshly, along with a yelp from Cecilia. My hand shook as I held it against the door handle. You deleted the file y/n, get out of there.
"God bitch you don't listen"
I was already walking down the hall towards them.
tag list:
@rac00ns-are-c00l4 @miastromboli @secret-sturniolo @sturnsclutter @sturniolodreamz @paper-crab @chrisolivia4l @mwah0mwah @recklesssturniolo @ejswift @kitaysworld @meg-sturniolo @nickmillersn1gf @fr3shl0ve @adrianaturnedpretty @oversturn @ghostgurlswrld @flowerxbunnie @ilytrinsworld @lustfulslxt @kiarastromboli @gemofthenight @blahbel668 @haunted-headset @sturnybabes @bethsturn @d3adlyclassrat @sturnybabes @mattsbitch @chrisluvbot @nickenthusiast @sturniolossmut @biimpanicking @iloveneilperry @chalametbich @dsmja @bernardsleftbootycheek @lovingsturniolo @aoxash @idrkk-123 @gingerbreadgodofhyperdeath @babagurlrichey @d3adlyclassrat @iammattsturniolo @1201pm @urfavstromboli @that-chris-girl01 @lovingsturniolo @aoxash
#matt sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#nick sturniolo#sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#nicolas sturniolo#chris sturniolo#sturniolo triplets
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—everything is orange. [ ii ]
pairing: lando norris x kpop idol! reader
summary: a racecar driver who needed a fake girlfriend to dispel rumors and a kpop idol who needed publicity for her song. somewhere in between orange cars and orange sunsets, stands something they're afraid of naming.
warning/s: graphic description of blood and gore, body insecurity, lando might be a lil ooc
masterlist.
God bless Jinnie Jo and her overly prepared self because you thought you’d die when you got attacked by the damn shellfish allergy in the car on the way to the hotel. It's fortunate that Jinnie happens to carry around your allergy meds. You dry-swallow the tablets without hesitation, uttering your thanks to Jinnie.
“Song Dan-ssi gave me a list of your allergy meds before we left,” Jinnie tells you. Warmth floods your chest. Manager-nim may be in another country but he never fails to take care of you. You're definitely going to buy something for Manager-nim when you return to Seoul. A jacket perhaps?
The first thing you do the moment you enter your hotel room is kick your boots off, take a warm shower, and reunite with the love of your life—the bed. The mattress swallows you whole and you let out a content sigh as you allow your body to sink in it. Not even ten minutes later, you grab your bag, which you have haphazardly thrown on the bed, take out your phone, and open the X app. You type Lando’s name in the search box.
username1: i am disgusted by the people who still support lando norris like yall really support a man who got a girl pregnant and refusing to take responsibility? i just know mclaren is lying when they said he's not the father
username2: justice for the girl that lando norris got pregnant! he should be kicked out of mclaren!
username3: that girl lucky bc her baby daddy is THE lando norris. she should tell us how he fucks in great detail
You cringe. Your fingers tap the three buttons at the upper right corner and without hesitation, pressing report. You continue to scroll down the tweets, reading them one by one as the clock ticks.
username4: what lie will mclaren tell again to protect little lando norris?
Your phone pings. A notification bar appears on the upper portion of your phone screen. You have received a message. You stop reading the tweet and open your messages app.
unknown number: hey
unknown number: this is lando
unknown number: your boyfriend?
unknown number: the fake one
You immediately save his number in your contacts. You name him Lando Norris.
you: hey there
you: do i just call you lando or
lando: you can call me baby
You snigger at his flirting attempt. Ten points for trying, Lando Norris.
you: okay baby
lando: 😳
lando: okay
lando: we agreed on hard launching each other in socmed right?
you: yah
lando: i kinda don't have a picture of you?
lando: pr told me to ask you if you can send me one
lando: i’ll send you one too
you: i have an idea
you: put me on your story
lando: yeah im planning to do exactly that
lando: have you been listening to what we talked about earlier in the meeting?
you: then delete it after a few mins
lando: wait why
you: make it look like you did it on accident
Your first mistake in your first PR relationship with another idol is that you immediately hard-launched each other on Instagram after Dispatch released his pictures kissing a guy in a bar. People got skeptical and most of them called out your relationship as a PR stunt. They called you a cover up, which you were, but they weren't supposed to know that.
You're not going to make the same mistake twice.
lando: and this will work?
you: let's not shake the confidence i have
lando: 😂
you: people are already expecting mclaren to set a pr stunt so you can gain the public’s hearts back
you: u have to make yourself look like you never needed a pr stunt in the first place, that you’re not trying to win the public back
you: people will catch up if you suddenly post that you have a girlfriend in the middle of your hot issue
you: netizens are quickwitted theyre not as dumb as most of us think
You hope you're explaining it well. You're trying to make your point as clear as possible but it's hard. You forgot the other English words you’ve learned.
lando: okay i get ur point
lando: i’ll do what u want
lando: someone has to tell pr what u planned though
lando: it's not going to be me
Fuck the PR. You're not going to tell them and let them have a field day tomorrow. That's what they get for expecting you to sign that stupid first contract they made.
You open your camera app and take a quick selfie.
No. Your nose looks too big at that angle.
Again.
Now, your forehead looks like an airport.
Again.
Your teeth are showing. The coffee stains are visible.
Again.
Again.
Again.
you: *sent a photo*
lando: i
lando: help me with the caption? my braincells flew off
you: idk not good at captions
you: just say hello loml or smth
This is the story you want to tell:
You met Lando a year after you departed from ORACLE in Australia.
You have a mutual friend—named Tori Allen—who introduced you to one another. Tori Allen does not exist. She's just the fictional side character of your love story.
You started out as friends. Lando is freshly out from a breakup and you’re just trying to live a quiet life after your fall from grace.
You talked for months because of your mutual interest in cars. Eventually, you started going on casual dates.
You asked Lando to keep it secret. He said yes in respect to you. HAN Entertainment already released a press statement regarding your mental health status after the 2021 incident so the public would assume that this was the reason why.
The relationship turned serious three months before Lando’s scandal.
Lando never got the girl pregnant. He never touched that girl. He was loyal to you.
Jinnie almost breaks down the door the next morning. You open it before she can do so. She angrily stomps inside your room and you close the door behind her. Her face is red, her expression taut.
“It's seven,” your eyebrows crease together. You make a quick glance at the phone in your hand. 7:22, the clock in your lockscreen projects. “You told me we are supposed to meet at twelve.”
“McLaren PR called me up,” Jinnie informs you. You’re beginning to get an idea where this conversation is going. “You didn't do what we agreed on.”
“And what did we agree on?” you cross your arms over your chest. You flutter your eyelashes innocently at her.
“That you’re going to choose photos to post on each of your accounts and let PR handle the captions. Norris posted something immediately without PR checking it and deleted it!”
“Did he tell you that it was my idea?”
“No, but I know that it was and it turns out I’m right. You just confirmed it.”
“Did it work?” you question.
“I can't with you!” she throws her hands up in the air, frustrated. “We are supposed to follow orders!”
“No,” you say. “You are supposed to follow orders. That's what Yoon PD-nim told you. He told me to do what I believed was best.”
You open X. Lando’s name is at the top of the trending list. You press his name and read through the tweets that appeared.
username5: LANDO NORRIS WHAT IS THIS BEHAVIOR
username6: EVERYONE HERE ARE THE RECEIPTS *screenshot*
username7: is this what you call the freudian slip lol
username8: I AM NOT CRAZY GUYS LANDO ACCIDENTALLY STORIED HIS GF IN HIS PUBLIC ACC
username9: he deleted it so quick too 😭 im sure the man panicked
username10: HE CHEATED ON HIS GF AND GOT A GIRL PREGNANT??!?
username11: for all we know he didn't even bang that girl 🤷 his girlfriend’s pretty hot he’s definitely not cheating on her
username10: men cheat on their pretty wives and girlfriends all the time
username12: not lando norris that man’s in love LOVE can u see his caption
username13: the caption??? lando’s pretty smooth with his words
username14: he’s taking smooth operator lessons from carlos
username15: im crazy but what if this is just a pr stunt 🤔
username16: girl he won't delete the story in a panic if it's a pr stunt
username17: he was definitely going to post it in his priv and made a mistake 😭
username18: very lando of him
username17: he stronger than me bc if my girlfriend was that pretty, her face will be flooding my instagram
username19: ignore lando, his girl tho 😳
username20: he called her loml omgggg
username21: booo luisa’s prettier
username22: fok off and move on
username23: lando can you fight? meet me at the kfc parking lot and let's fight
username24: probably not but he can run you over with his car
username25: i swear ive seen that girl before i just cant pinpoint where
username26: IT'S [NAME] EX MEMBER OF ORACLE WE HAVENT SEEN HER SINCE 2021
username27: so he bagged a kpop girlie??? lando got game dayummm
username28: isn't [name] an illegal street racer? that's why she got kicked out of the group right?
username29: an f1 racer and a street racer couple 😳 omg what in booktok is this
username30: she's not a streetracer she only watched the street race
username28: she told you that herself?
username30: her company did
username31: THEY CANT BE DATING OMG LANDO YOU CAN DO BETTER SHE DOESN'T DESERVE TO BE A WAG
username32: and u think ur better than her?
“It's working,” you state. You turn to Jinnie, raising your phone in the air and waving it. A smug smirk spreads to your lips. “It's working.”
Nobody is doubting the relationship like the time with Minhyung. This is a good start. Now, onto the next part.
“So are we really going to keep having lunch dates until your race?” you poke the shrimp on the plate with your fork. You're having pasta again. In the same place, too. It sucks but you swallow the food and smile as if you’re enjoying the meal.
For today's outfit, Jinnie chose a Valentino Garavani black midi dress paired with Jimmy Choo Antia leather sandals. Lando matched your outfit with a black silk button up and off-white pants. You’re both playing the “looking like a couple” card well.
“I believe so,” Lando says. You mentally count the days of the calendar in your head. The FP1 is scheduled to begin in two days. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask….”
“Hm?”
“The team didn't scold you a lot, did they?”
“They didn’t,” you give him a tight smile. Did he worry? For you? That's very sweet of him. “Why would they? My plan went great.”
Lando nods, “It did. You’re good at this.”
You smile at his compliment, shrugging a shoulder. I’m supposed to be good at this. I have no other choice.
“Let's show them our story,” you say. “Show, not tell. People are more inclined to believe actions rather than words. Show them the story we want them to know and we don't answer their questions early so we can keep the attention and the curiosity on us. Once the timing is right, you answer their questions, one by one. This is risky because if we don't act right, we’re done….”
You set the fork down and finally stop terrorizing the poor shrimp. It's completely obliterated now.
“But I believe we can act right,” honesty bleeds through your words. “You're lovable and you already act like a sweet boyfriend without trying.”
Lando purses his lips and averts his gaze. You see pink dusting his cheeks.
“I try.”
“Nice try,” your words come out dry. You give him a thumbs-up. “Also, I’m full.”
“You only ate half your plate,” Lando points out.
“The portion is too big. I’m a light eater.”
HAN Entertainment is partly to blame for that. You got accustomed to their extreme diets and small meal portions that you cannot even eat more than a small bowl of rice.
“Do you not like the food?” he asks, concerned.
You don’t answer the question. Instead, you lace your fingers together and rest your chin on them, leaning slightly forward.
“I have another plan. Wanna hear it?”
You still don't like having attention to yourself. The feeling of having eyes watching your every move, waiting for you to make a mistake still terrifies you. But attention, the right kind especially, is a weapon. You need a weapon to fight this war. A war to build your career again.
“Keep them on their toes,” the instructor of your PR training class once said. “Give them what they want piece by piece, just enough to keep them wanting more, but never give them everything.”
Until now, you still abide by her teachings. God bless Kim Gaon-ssi and her big brain, wherever she is now. She resigned from HAN entertainment a year ago.
It's been a few days since Lando pulled that stunt in his Instagram story and yet, the attention you're receiving from the fans is not simmering down. You didn't expect anyone to be this involved or curious about a driver's love life but here everyone was.
You wake up at seven and then proceed to spend an hour on your phone while lying in bed to push all the sleepiness away from your system. You leave your bed at nine, change out of your sleeping wear, perform a whole morning ritual inside the bathroom, and by eleven, you send Jinnie a message to get brunch and invite her to eat together inside the privacy of your hotel room. She arrives after fifteen minutes with hotel service food. You eat until twelve thirty and after eating, you begin to get ready.
The free practice session is at 5:30 PM. You can afford a bit more time to get ready so you shower again. It took you nearly two hours. In the meantime, Jinnie prepares your clothes.
You mentally thank the heavens when you see trousers neatly folded on your bed. If Jinnie forces you to wear dresses again, you’re going to lose it. You're conscious of how big your thighs look. You don't even have a thigh gap. Big thighs, small ankles, and muscular calves. They're just a few of your numerous bodily insecurities.
Jinnie pairs the Moon Choi black back pocket trousers with a Dior Toile de Jouy Sauvage silk top. For the shoes, she chooses a pair of white Fila chunky sneakers. She helps you apply your makeup and fix your hair. To finish the look, you grab your black cross body bag, smart watch, sunglasses, and a black ball cap.
Jinnie snatches the ball cap from your hands and replaces it with a McLaren ball cap. A tacky orange with the number four. You raise your brow at her. She gives you a pointed look, a look that says: don’t even try to protest. You sigh, resigned, and pull it onto your head.
She scans your appearance, dragging her coal eyes from the top of your head to your toes. She huffs, satisfied.
“You look perfect.”
Perfect is the goal.
Jinnie drives you to the race venue. She drops you off at the parking lot. She's not happy with it. Jinnie wanted to come. You told her no. You can handle this little act alone. You don’t see an ex-idol with a manager, do you?
The moment you exit the car, you slip on your mask. Figuratively and literally. You tip your ball cap upwards to scan your surroundings, searching for the way in. You carry your phone in your right hand and your paddock pass in the left. Lando gave it to you during dinner yesterday.
A racing event is crowded with people. That's a given. Perhaps not as crowded as a concert but still crowded nonetheless. A stage will not separate you from the people nor a barricade. Unfortunately. You have no bodyguard, no manager, no HAN Entertainment staff.
You're not here as ORACLE’s [Name] but as Lando Norris’ girlfriend.
Your feet lead you to a path where there are less people. You message Lando that you’ve arrived. He replies in a matter of seconds.
lando: ill come and get you
lando: wait for me
You remove your cap, fix your hair, before pulling the cap on. You spot a man with a Nikon DSLR standing a good distance. He is wearing a cord around his neck. The word MEDIA is printed in bold white letters. Your lips curl a little underneath your face mask.
It is show time.
During your trainee years, acting classes are mandatory. You know the basics. You're confident that you're good at acting. If you weren't, the company wouldn't have pushed you to act in two dramas as a side character during your rookie years. You received a reward for your performances, too.
To look lost, you have to keep glancing around you as if you’re contemplating which way to go. You have to look unsure of your actions. Hesitant. You have to constantly look at your phone as if you’re reading directions in it or texting someone to tell you where you should be going. You have to scratch your nape a few times to express nervousness. You're in a place you don’t know, it’s natural to be nervous.
Someone is bound to approach you and help you. When they do, you remove the cap but not the mask and then hope they know who you are. When they don't, well…. that's a problem for future you. You haven't thought that far.
“Hi, excuse me, do you need help?”
You perk up. Orange fills your view. A group of four girls have approached you and they all wear twinning McLaren merch. You can see that three of them sport the number four in their shirts, Lando’s race number. You involuntarily swallow.
There was a case once where a rookie actress got beaten up by her idol boyfriend’s fans promptly after the release of their dating news. Fans can be so jealous to the point of violence. It's a toxic fan culture. That's why so many Kpop idols resort to keeping their relationships private and secret. You hope you won’t get beaten up.
But also, given that they’re McLaren and Lando fans, there is a high possibility that they’ll recognize you. Which is exactly what you wanted. So you push that stupid fear aside and keep the show going.
“Hi, uh,” you remove your cap and lower your face mask until it's bunched up below your nose. “I’m kind of…lost? Do you know the way to the, uh…”
You forget what it's called. McLaren garage? You don't remember the exact word Lando used. You're still not confident that you know the difference between a paddock, a garage, and a livery.
“Wait, I know you!”
You purposely widen your eyes.
“You’re Lando’s girlfriend!”
You smile sheepishly, scratching your cheek with your finger.
The girls break out into loud and high-pitched squeals. Their voices are so shrill that you cannot help but wince. You motion for them to quiet down. Inwardly, you want them to keep being loud. Loud enough to warrant the attention of the photographer, your target.
“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, we absolutely have to take a selfie!”
You barely understand her rapid spitfire of words until she takes out her phone. Panic instantly swells within you.
This is not the plan. You only wanted one person to take the necessary picture. Not this.
You hastily slap your hand over the lower half of your face. You stagger backwards and stumble against a sturdy wall. Your hands fly out to your sides as you feel yourself lose your balance. Two hands grip your shoulders and you hear a surprised woah! from behind you. You lift your head.
It's not a wall. It's Lando.
His beautiful, beautiful eyes gaze down at you. The colors look lighter under the sun. His thick brows are furrowed together, his forehead creasing.
Lando spins you around so you're face-to-face with his hard chest. You squint at the multiple logos printed on the long-sleeves he’s wearing. Is this what he wears when he races? He swiftly takes the McLaren ball cap off your hand and puts it on your head. His hand remains tenderly flat on your shoulder blade, the other lays on your cheek as if he's trying to cover your face. You tug your face mask up and rub your throat.
“Hi,” Lando greets the girls sweetly. This causes the eruption of another wave of high-pitched squeals. “I’m sorry but do you mind if we keep the cameras away? Our relationship isn't out and as much as possible, we’d like to keep it that way. Can we respect my girl’s privacy please?”
He sounds exactly like a male lead in a romance Kdrama. You know it's fake, that the both of you are playing roles, but his words and the way he delivers them so effortlessly makes you momentarily doubt if he's really acting. It causes a butterfly to flutter in your stomach and your pulse to steadily accelerate. His hands are large and warm and for a moment, it makes you wonder if this is what security feels like. If this is what it feels like to be loved.
Then, you get reminded that it is all an act.
How can actors not fall in love with their co-actors when acting can feel this real at times?
“Thank you,” you hear Lando say. You miss the previous parts of the conversation because of the thoughts that invaded your mind.
“You look so cute together, oh my god. I’m going to die,” the fangirl adds. Lando’s chest vibrates as he chuckles, the sound deep and warm.
“We need to go, sorry. Enjoy the race today.”
He taps his thumb against your shoulder blade and he starts walking, his hands not detaching themselves from your skin. You keep your head low as Lando guides you away. In your peripheral vision, you see the photographer’s camera pointed towards the two of you. A self-satisfied smirk plays on your lips.
“How did I do?” Lando asks the moment he removes his helmet. He is sporting a bright grin, so bright that you're sure it’s going to make the sun envious, as his fingers comb through his damp curly hair. A few stray strands are stuck on his sweaty forehead. You feel the urge to sweep them aside for him.
You search through your mental thesaurus for the synonyms of the word amazing and have chosen: “Impressive.”
Light beads of sweat trickle down his face and neck. A McLaren staff member comes and hands him a towel to wipe them off. Lando thanks her and she leaves. He thrusts the towel towards you. You blink in confusion.
“Will you do the honors?”
“Can't you do it yourself?”
“But you have to play the part of a sweet girlfriend, am I right or am I right?” You roll your eyes at his cheekiness, rising to a stand. You place the McLaren jacket in your hands on your chair. Lando handed it to you before he climbed into the car. You don't know the reason behind his action. Nevertheless, you held the jacket for him.
You take the towel from his hands, your fingers grazing with his. Lando’s smile threatens to split in half as he puts his hands behind his back, parts his legs a little, and then bends down so you won't have a difficult time wiping his sweat for him. You're not that much shorter than him and your height difference is perfectly reasonable and comfortable but you're still grateful that he's doing this for you.
You don't wipe his sweat. Instead, you pat them out. Patting is gentle on skin. The towel will simply absorb the sweat on his skin. Rubbing the skin can lead to skin irritation and inflammation. Lando’s eyes flutter close at your actions and you swear you see him leaning against your hand.
“You raced good today,” you praise him.
You have zero idea on what happened in the past hour. The cars went around in circles. Then, they time their laps. They’re not even racing each other. You thought they would.
In all honesty, you think the entire thing is a bore. The street races you went to when you were a teen were more fun. A minimum of three drivers gets injured every race and it's highly likely someone ends up dead, which is your messed-up definition of the word fun.
You’re more interested in the special guest who decided to grace the track with its great reptile presence. A dinosaur. Kidding, it's just a lizard. It looks like it was surveying the scene and strategizing a great dinosaur invasion.
Lando's chest swells, “Well, I have to impress my girl.”
He opens his eyes and they meet yours. They're twinkling with mirth.
“Color me impressed then.” Despite your words, your tone is unimpressed.
He smiles impossibly wider, now showing his full set of pearly white teeth. He bites his bottom lip. You stop patting his sweat and lower your hand to the side.
“You don't have any more races tonight?” you question. Lando straightens.
“Later at 9 PM.”
“That's quite late.”
“It is?” Lando’s head tilts to the side a little. “Do you sleep early?”
You hardly sleep at all. You have a hard time maintaining regular human sleeping and waking hours. Like the other half of the world population.
“That's not it,” you shake your head. “I kind of just expected that the next practice session would be tomorrow morning.”
“Singapore usually holds night races. Track temperatures are low and the organizers can broadcast the race during peak viewing hours in European time,” Lando explains. “And they hold two practice races a day because it only lasts an hour.”
“That makes sense.”
“Are you hungry?” Lando questions, smoothly redirecting the conversation to food.
“I could eat.” You're not particularly hungry. You're not full either.
“I know a good place that sells these amazing wraps.”
Wraps sound enticing. You can't remember the last time you've eaten one.
“Lead the way.”
You chew on your beef wrap slowly as your eyes focus on the screen of your phone. The voices of the sports announcers live broadcasting the ongoing race fill Lando’s driver room. After buying the wrap, he brought you to his driver room so you can enjoy the privacy as you ate. You appreciate the thoughtfulness. You don't think you can eat outside. So many people can see you.
username33: LOOK AT THESE PHOTOS I AM GOING FERAL
username34: HOLUP LANDO'S GIRL WAS IN THE PADDOCK??? ON THE DAY I DECIDED NOT TO GO?? EVJSNSVSISKS
username35: girlie was hiding 😭 she deliberately went through the back of the paddock so no one can see her going to the garage
username36: my friends and i met her today! she looks like she's lost and as fellow mclaren fans, we went to help her and she was so sweet omg and so so shy too. we tried to take a pic with her but lando arrived and told us to respect his girl’s space
username36: and i quote “do you mind if we keep the cameras away? our relationship isn't out and we’d like to keep it that way. can we respect my girl’s privacy please” WHEN I TELL YOU I MELTED ON THE SPOT
username37: girl he really said that???
username38: i’m her friend and yes he really said that 😭
username39: little lando norris is not so little anymore
username37: pls tell me you backed off immediately
username38: we did!! we kinda feel bad now that we discovered she's been battling anxiety since 2021 and that she doesn't like having photos of her taken
username40: NO BECAUSE THE WAY LANDO IS SO PROTECTIVE OF HER?? THE WAY HE SPUN HER AROUND AND PULLED HER TO HIS CHEST?? THE PROTECTIVE HAND ON HER BACK?? HIM COVERING HER FACE?? WE ALL KNOW [NAME] HASN'T BEEN IN THE PUBLIC EYE SINCE 2021 BC OF MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES AFTER HER SCANDAL AND LANDO REALLY TRIED TO PROTECT HER
username41: bae i think you forgot that he's also the reason why [name] is gaining attention again bc he accidentally storied her in his insta
username40: that's why i said tried bestie
username42: i cant believe im crying over this LANDO NORRIS U BETTER TREAT OUR GIRL [NAME] RIGHT
username43: im waiting for @hanentertainmentofficial to say smth
username44: girlie’s career flopped and now she's leeching off lando’s money smh 🙄
username45: bestie she never needed his money she’s already rich from being an idol
username44: correction ex kpop idol, her money’s probably already running out
username45: bestie she's still richer than you while you're 14 (your bio says your 14) and still living with your parents
username46: AND THAT'S VERY SLAY OF HER,, YOU CAN'T EVEN GET A RICH MAN TO LOOK AT YOU
username47: that girl who claimed that lando is her baby daddy is suspiciously quiet rn
You turn your phone off and toss it inside your cross body bag. A sigh flies past your lips as you lean against the back of the couch, setting your unfinished wrap down. Your eyes flutter close. They're beginning to sting. Too much reading.
Sleep latches its claws on you and you allow it to take you.
You stand in darkness, allowing the deafening silence to swallow you whole. Suddenly, a thousand eyes appear. Unblinking. Bloodshot. They're bulging out of their sockets. In unison, the eyeballs move and lock on your figure. Judging. Judging. Judging. Your body trembles at the weight of a thousand gazes. You can’t breathe. You can't speak.
Please stop looking at me.
Please.
I’m begging you.
Stop.
The eyes slowly became bigger and bigger. Then, they disappear. You let out a shaky exhale. You turn around and the world becomes a blinding white.
Cameras. Thousands. No, millions of them. The loud clicking noise fills your ears. Your hands stretch in front of you, trying to cover your face and your body from them. You can only squeeze your eyes shut.
Silence.
The scene changes.
You register the feeling of sand getting stuck in between your toes. Your eyes slowly flutter open. The overcast skyline and the rising tides, the telltale ingredients of a brewing storm over the horizon, can be spectated from the shore. You recognize this place. This was a place you swore you're never going to step foot again.
Jeju.
You hear your mother’s gentle voice whisper your name behind you, causing goosebumps rise on your skin and your entire body to stiffen. It's not the name you own now, but the name you were born with, the name she gave you, the name you lost when you moved to Seoul.
She calls your name again. Again. Again. And again. You ignore every single one.
She stops.
You slowly turn around and you see your mother standing there, a few steps away, barefoot like you and wearing a dress. You remember this dress. She wore it when she was pregnant with you. She keeps the photo in her wallet.
No Eun Ha looks as beautiful as she was in your childhood memories. You greatly resemble her. The eyes most especially. That's why looking at mirrors feels more like a punishment to you more than anything else.
The word “Eomma” rots inside your mouth.
Your Eomma smiles at you. It's empty, her smile. When she smiles, they never reach her eyes. That's the way it has always been. For a second, you consider apologizing.
Eomma, I’m sorry that you have to raise a child you didn’t want. I’m sorry for stealing the light in your eyes.
You don't grow the courage to say it out loud.
No Eun Ha remains smiling. You notice that the edges of her lips curl higher and higher until the smile begins to look unsettling and sinister. Then you see the skin on her cheek tear apart as her smile grows and grows. Blood drips down slowly to her neck and stains the top part of her dress. She opens her mouth into an inhumane size and you see a thousand razor-sharp teeth lining up inside it. Everything is a gory red.
You scream in absolute terror.
She says your name again, her voice this time is not as gentle as you remember.
You wake up screaming and in cold sweat. You fall from your bed and onto the floor on all fours and begin vomiting your guts out. Nothing comes up. Only saliva. You break into pathetic sobs on the floor. Terror is a familiar feeling but you will never ever get used to it.
You don't know how many hours have passed. The floor used to feel cool against your skin but now, it's never been warmer. You still don't possess the strength to leave the floor. Your body feels as if it's being anchored down giant stones.
You're exhausted. You’ve done nothing but you feel exhausted.
You want to run.
You want to run away from this pain and exhaustion.
You need a life where you're no longer exhausted.
Desperately.
A sudden shriek interrupts the silence that wraps the air. A woman's. You don't even flinch. You know it’s just Jinnie. She's the only one who has access to another keycard of your hotel room.
When Lando’s panicking face comes into view, you are shocked. So shocked that you involuntarily raise your arms and accidentally hit him below his jaw. He stumbles backwards, not expecting the blow. He let out a pained groan, hand clutching the area you hit. You quickly rise to your feet, a thousand apologies already on the tip of your tongue. This action, however, triggers a wave of vertigo. Your vision blackens temporarily, your knees giving out at your own weight. Reflexively, you grab hold of the nearest thing beside you, the mattress to soften your fall, before your shaking knees meet the floor.
“[Name]!” Lando’s voice is so loud, you flinch.
When your vision returns, his face is the first thing you see.
“Good morning,” your voice is flat and rough.
Lando hisses and his large hands cradle your cheeks. You're suddenly made aware of how large his hands are. They can cover your entire face with how big they are.
“You're pale,” his voice wobbles. “Shit.”
You want to pass out again. His hands feel so, so comfortable and so, so warm that you want to sleep with this feeling.
“Hey, hey, don't close your eyes. [Name]—” Lando hands move swiftly. One second he’s holding your face. The next second he’s lifting you up in his arms. “Jinnie, call an ambulance!”
The word “ambulance” causes you to wake up. Like really wake up.
Oh, shit.
You struggle in Lando’s arms, “Andwae! No ambulance!”
You pry yourself away from Lando, hopping down to the floor, but the man doesn't retract his hands completely. He still holds onto your forearms to support you as you try to stand.
“No. Just no. I’m fine.”
“[Name]!” Jinnie scolds. She's finally functioning again. She froze in shock when she saw you earlier.
“I’m fine!” you shout. “I’m fine! Really!”
When you get caught that you're weak, you retaliate.
You grit your teeth and clench your jaw.
“I’m. Fine.”
They don’t believe you. You can see it in their eyes. However, they're not going to argue with you. You know they won't.
“I’m going to shower,” you announce. Lando’s grip on your forearm tightens just as you pivot your heels to head to the bathroom.
“I think it's best if you stay today.”
“We all agreed that I’m going to be in the paddock from the practice sessions until the race night.”
“I’ll tell the PR team that you won't go today.”
Your brows furrow.
“Just… Rest for today, okay?”
You turn quiet. Hesitantly, you nod.
“Thanks.”
He turns to Jinnie and tells her, “Take care of her for me. I’ll visit after the qualifying.”
And like that, Lando Norris leaves the hotel room.
#lando norris#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula one#f1 imagines#fanfic#kpop idol! reader#ln4 fic#ln4#ln4 x reader#lando norris x reader
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What about an Older! Mechanic! Eddie x Reader who's the daughter of Eddie's best friend, (Steve, Gareth? Idk) but in the beginning they hated each other, like they didn't have anything in common, but after a night when reader was kinda drunk she just found Eddie and he helped her getting to her house, and reader says something like you're cute, but you're an asshole and some days after Eddie's still thinking about it, they end up finding each other again at some shop in the town, and they decide to get something to drink and they end up finding out that maybe, they really don't hate each other, and start flirting a lot! Eventually they became a couple and Reader's dad is like I knew you liked Eddie, but he's not mad bc his daughter's an adult
I love older! eddieeeeeeee. I always picture him with a beard and it's so hard not to constantly write about that detail of him. But I never know if Eddie girls, guys, and thems also like Eddie with a beard? Well anyway, I wrote this fic and loved it, then realized I slowly slipped away from some details of the plot you included. So I truly hope this fic is okay and you still absolutely love it. I hope it's what you wanted, even though some of it was changed. I just really liked the scenes I wrote and didn't have the heart to delete it. It felt too good to me. As always, thank you for requesting 🫶🏻
Cute, but an asshole
Y/N couldn't stand when Eddie came over. She understood he was her dad's best friend, but he was rude, a single loser who slept around town and everyone was obsessed with him. Sure, he was attractive and charming, but she couldn't handle all her friends hoping he'd stop by.
Her friends loved it when Eddie was around. He'd sit and flirt with all of them, they'd flirt back and Y/N was left watching. Maybe there was a small hint of jealousy she felt, knowing her friends caught his eye but she hadn't.
Eddie did notice her, he noticed her in ways he never should have. Gareth moved away after high school, got married, and had a kid. Twenty-three years later, he came back and Eddie met Y/N. And he knew he was in big trouble when he noticed how gorgeous she was. The easiest way for him to keep a distance from her was to simply ignore her existence. He knew it worked when she began to glare and snarl whenever he was in the room. Then she started getting mean back and her smart mouth pissed off Eddie in many ways.
Then she got a boyfriend and Eddie swore he'd never been so jealous in his life.
"So, Randy what do you go to school for?" Gareth asked, slowly twirling his pasta as the table sat in silence. Y/N smiled towards Randy as encouragement, and he happily answered. The two stuck in a conversation as Eddie rolled his eyes.
Y/N noticed his rude behavior all night. Whenever Randy talked, he'd mock him, discredit him, and belittle him.
Randy kissed her goodbye at the door, her smile quick to come off when she turned to march towards Eddie. He sat at the table with a smirk and drank his beer. Gareth in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes, unaware of the heated tension in the dining room.
"What the fuck is your problem?" She snapped, her foot coming forward and kicking him in the shin.
He bit his lip as he groaned in pain. "You can't seriously like that guy." Eddie said, trying to hold back a laugh. "he's a total square."
"I do like him! And there's nothing wrong with being well-mannered." She sassed, her eyes giving Eddie a look over. A look to tell him that he was the exact opposite.
But Eddie was older, and he knew exactly how those young guys wound up. "trust me, honey. Those guys stick around to get in your pants, then he's on to the new thing. He's a rich spoiled kid, he'll get rid of you once you aren't a shiny pretty thing anymore." Eddie said, standing up as he mockingly patted her head.
She swore steam was coming out of her ears. She smacked his hand away and marched off to her room.
What did he know, he was in his late forties and single. He knew nothing about relationships.
~~~
But when Y/N walked into a bar on what was supposed to be a romantic night, she thought Eddie deserved more credit for his wisdom.
Tonight was meant to celebrate her and Randy's five-month anniversary, but he never showed. She felt like an idiot for liking the guy. Sure, she knew she didn't love him, but she liked him and he was a good distraction. In ways, he made her feel confident, beautiful, and special. Which was all taken away within hours. She called and called, no answer on his end as she sat at the restaurant.
She didn't want to believe Eddie was right, but he was. Y/N knew the second she finally had sex with Randy that she'd regret it. And here she was, not even two days later being ghosted. Instead of moping at the restaurant, she went where everyone drank away their problems.
That's when Eddie found her, completely drunk and flirting with the bartender.
Eddie was a regular at the bar, he didn't have much going on in his life and enjoyed the social drinking. But he didn't expect to see his best friend's daughter completely wasted and batting her eyelashes at the bartender. He gave in, of course, and Eddie couldn't judge him for it. If Y/N looked at him like that, he'd be a puddle at her feet.
"Alright, sweetheart. Think you've had enough." Eddie said as the bartender slid her another glass. She pouted and whined as Eddie slid the drink back over.
"Don't think so. Hand it over, Bobby." She slurred but Eddie interfered again.
"Stop! You're not like my dad or boyfriend. So fuck off." She spat, successfully getting the drink as she chugged it down.
"I'll fuck off after I get you home, safely." He said in a stern tone. Cash was slammed on the table and he was fast to grab her hand and began to pull her off the stool. When the room started to spin, she lowered her guard and let him take her home.
The car ride was dead silent, the air was uncomfortable and she wasn't sure if she needed to puke.
"I need air." She managed to get out as she gagged. Eddie was quick to pull over, helping her unbuckle her belt and then getting out of the car. She was surprised by how gentle and caring he was. The way he helped her out of the car and sat next to her on the curb.
The fresh air called her stomach and she took deep breaths. She knew the hangover tomorrow was going to be an ass to deal with.
"What are you helping me?" She asked, her eyes closed as she concentrated on not puking.
"Because I'm not a terrible person." Eddie shrugged. His eyes were on her, taking the chance to admire her up close. He never allowed himself this close to her. And even if she reeked of a run-down bar, he wanted to be closer.
"Ha, funny." She faked and laughed. "You are the biggest asshole I've ever met. Well until Randy anyway."
Eddie let the name-calling slide as he focused on the second part. "what did he do?"
"Not like you care. You'd probably get to tell me I told you so and rub it in my face that I'm some stupid young girl who doesn't know anything." She scoffed, her eyes open just to glare at him. She wanted to glare the soft look in his eyes away. Why was he looking at her like that? Did he always smell this good? Finally being face to face, inches away, she instantly knew why girls never looked away.
"I do care about you. And you're not dumb, he's dumb. You are young, but that doesn't mean you don't know anything. Talk to me." He said, his hand softly resting on her knee. She tried to ignore the way it made her heart flutter.
If she was sober, she probably wouldn't have given in. But she was drunk and the words rolled off her tongue.
"We had sex, and he disappeared on me. I mean you were right," she said as she turned her head to fully face him. The pain was easy to tell in her eyes as Eddie felt his stomach drop. "I'm not a pretty shiny thing anymore. He got what he wanted and that's all I was good for." Tears filled her eyes as she looked away. She felt embarrassed to admit to Eddie he was right.
Eddie wrapped his arm around her shoulder and brought her body into his. Her head was in his neck as she softly cried.
"I shouldn't have talked to you like that. Yeah, he's a dick and I knew that. But I'm sorry for ever making you think you are just a shiny thing for boys. You are beautiful, so smart, and incredibly sexy. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You are worth so much more than sex. Don't let that idiot make you think differently." Eddie said into her hair, his chin on the top of her head as he rubbed her arm.
"If I'm all those things, why do you hate me so much?" She asked, keeping herself hidden in his neck.
"I don't hate you."
"Yes you do," she scoffed, pushing herself away from him. But his arm still lingered on her shoulder. She wiped away her tears, "You always ignore me, you never notice me! But you notice all of my friends and spend all your time flirting with them. So there's something you don't like about me" She rolled her eyes as she finished speaking.
"You're right," he sighed, Y/N tried to hold back more tears, "there's something I don't like about you." His hand reached down to her chin and moved her head to look back at him. Her wet eyes looked into his. "I hate more than anything that you are my best friend's daughter and that it's completely inappropriate to feel the things I feel for you."
Y/N wasn't sure what to say, her eyes stuck on him as she listened to his words. She didn't want to admit anything unless her sober self did it first.
"You're much cuter when you're not being an asshole." Y/N laughed, trying to ease how tense their conversation became. But the confession made her heart swell.
"Let's get you home, kid." He laughed, standing up and taking her hand.
~~~
It's been a week since that night and Eddie found himself too nervous to see Gareth or Y/N. He confessed all his thoughts to a drunk Y/N, who probably didn't remember the night.
He felt guilty for ignoring her for his benefit. He didn't connect the ways that she could have felt hurt and it made sense why she built that wall with him. But now he wanted her to break it down, and he wanted her. He wanted to make her feel special and worthy.
But he knew he caused some wounds and the hurt lingered on her and it wasn't his place to rush her healing.
Eddie was lost in his thoughts as he stared ahead at the cereal aisle.
"Thinking hard, huh?" He heard a voice come from behind him. He jumped out of his thoughts and turned around. Y/N stood there with a cart and a smile on her face.
"Hi, stranger. How have you been?" Eddie asked, he hated how nervous he felt but she looked happy and she spoke to him, so that had to mean something good.
"I've been good. Things with Randy are done for good." She said, Eddie nodded. That means she remembered that night. "and I wanted to thank you for helping me get home that night."
"It wasn't a big deal. I'm happy to help."
"Well I need to go, dad has me on a time limit." She laughed, Eddie smiled but felt a little bummed their talk had to be cut so short. She began to walk past him, then stopped and looked over her shoulder.
"Oh Eddie," she said, he turned to look back at her. "I have inappropriate feelings for you too." She sent a wink and walked off. But Eddie was frozen in the aisle with a smile on his face and a flutter in his stomach.
~~~
A few days later, Eddie was pulling up to Gareth's house. A case of beer in his hands as he knocked on the door.
And to his delight, Y/N opened the door. She was in sweatpants and a tank top, a night in.
"I'm sorry, my dad got called into work. But you are welcome to come in!" Y/N said, stepping aside as Eddie walked in.
"Beer?" He asked, holding up the case.
~
Half the case was gone as they settled on the couch and talked all night. It turned out they had more in common than they believed. They had a similar taste in movies and music. Same opinions on food and people in town.
The more they talked, the closer their bodies got.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Y/N whispered, her face inches away from Eddie's.
"Oh absolutely, darling." Eddie laughed, moving his face closer to hers. Practically nose to nose.
"I've always thought you were so fucking hot. I mean, I still do. You have this strong jaw, aged eyes, and major sex appeal. I can't tell you how many friends I stopped talking to after you flirted with them because I was so jealous." She explained a confession she was sober enough to make.
Eddie fought off the huge blush he felt on his cheeks.
"That jealous? That's so hot." Eddie whispered, a dark look over his eyes. "Want to make them jealous?" His lips were inches from hers as he cupped her jaw.
Y/N knew what he was hinting at and god did she want it.
"Definitely," she smiled, his lips pressed against hers as he devoured her. The kiss was heavy and hot. Set her body on fire and made her see stars. Eddie moaned in the back of his throat as she climbed on his lap. Her hands ran down his toned back.
He couldn't control himself, his hands worked down her body and landed on her thighs. He gave them a quick squeeze before he moved them to her ass. She moaned as his hands squeezed her ass, her hands moved to under his shirt, her fingernails scratching his chest and feeling his chest hair.
Their moans and groans filled the empty house as their tongues battled and tasted each other.
~~~
After their heavy moment together, the flirty looks and comments couldn't stop. Whenever Eddie was over to see Gareth, Y/N couldn't help herself. Whenever her dad left the room, her lips and hands were on Eddie in seconds. That not he complained, kissing her was his favorite thing in the world.
It didn't take long for them to start going on dates and becoming a couple. Gareth knew Y/N was dating and had a boyfriend, he just wasn't sure who it was. He had a feeling it could have been Eddie, he knew his daughter and she was easy to see through. Eddie had a better poker face so that's where Gareth was stuck.
Y/N could have been dating a different guy but had a massive crush on Eddie. But it wasn't his place to force answers, he'd wait until she was ready to tell him.
~
Y/N was waiting by the door, Eddie was on his way to pick her up for their date. Gareth respected her privacy and didn't sneak to see who's been picking her up.
"Hey, kid. I got to tell you something." Gareth said, Y/N walked over to the opening of the living room where he sat on the couch.
"What's up?" She asked her eyes on the clock.
"I know you have a thing for Eddie," Y/N froze in her spot and her eyes went wide. She went to deny but her dad kept on taking it. "And I just wanted to tell you before you got your hopes up. But he's dating someone. He's never been serious with anyone before but this girl he's locked into."
Gareth watched as a tiny smile that was quick to appear was also quick to disappear from her face. But she didn't look upset, and that's how Gareth felt like he already knew.
"And you aren't upset at all," Gareth said with a smirk. "I thought you'd be crushed."
"Oh well, you know. Just a crush." She said as she tried to brush it off.
"Y/N, I know the girl is you," Gareth said, taking a sip of his beer as she stood shocked. "I have a feeling why you both tried to hide it, not very well might I add. If you wanted it a secret, maybe don't let him feel you up in the hallway. But I want you to know, you are both adults, and I just want you to be happy."
Y/N blushed embarrassed at the thought of her dad watching her boyfriend feel her up. But she felt happier than ever to know her dad accepted Eddie.
"Thank you, dad." She said, she walked over and leaned down to hug him.
"I'll still kick his ass if needed."
Y/N laughed and bid her goodbye. A bright smile on her face as she walked out and met Eddie halfway.
"What's with the big grin?" Eddie asked
"My dad knows," before she could finish her sentence, Eddie was already running to his car and starting the engine.
He may have been older, but he still reacted like a child sometimes. But hey, she wouldn't want it any other way.
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#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson request#eddie munson fluff x reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson angst x reader#eddie munson fluff#older eddie munson#older eddie munson x female reader#older eddie munson x reader#ashwhowrites
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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
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Sunday afternoon shenanigans
Aeri Uchinaga x aespa5thmember! reader
Synopsis: you were having a Sunday off at the dorm and you were bored out of your mind when you remember Ningning’s vibrator hidden in one of her drawers. you’ve decided to have some fun, after all, but of course Giselle never knocks.
Warnings: smut? I guess. dom!giselle x sub!reader.
Word count: 3.3k
Notes: I HAVE RETURNED MY BELOVEDS. this is my first time ever writing/posting something like this… I was so embarrassed I swear to God. but I did have fun, too! I hope you like it and if there’s anything wrong pls tell me so I can fix it. I won’t check for any errors or mistakes or else I’ll just be too embarrassed and delete it all so enjoy!! luv u kisses. also i wrote vibrator bc I didn’t want to write dildo. so imagine what you will.
Pt. 1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3
-
It was a slow Sunday at the dorm. Karina and Winter had gone out shopping and Ningning was in China on one of her solo schedules, which left you and Giselle alone, all bored and tedious. You’ve been staring at your room’s ceiling (which you shared with Minjeong), for quite a while now, wondering what to do to kill off the boredom. Your mind wandered to something you remembered spotting in Ning’s room, once, when you were looking for a shirt she had borrowed ages ago. Remembering the big, bright-green toy in Ning’s drawers, you’ve impulsively decided you were done waiting for someone gross to finally fuck you; you’d do it yourself, instead.
That thought left you staring at the thing, still eyeing the vibrator suspiciously after wondering if you weren’t just too bored, and all. Surely, Ningning wouldn’t mind (or she would, but you’d by her another weird dildo if she fussed too much about you using it).
However, you had no idea of how that whole sex thing worked in practice. Sure, you’ve watched porn and listened to your bandmates ramble about their escapades, but it simply wasn’t the same. You huffed, frustrated but determined to but an end to it, after all.
“Hey, the girls were wondering if you’d like them to bring something to eat when they get ba-”Giselle stopped herself mid-sentence as she barged into your room, no doubt surprised by the sight of you with your hands down your shorts and the neon green vibrator one of your hands.
You jumped on your bed, pushing Giselle out of the bedroom as you cursed her out.
“What the fuck, unnie? Don’t you ever fucking knock? Doors are closed for reasons.”
You seriously wanted to die. And kill her. Then die and kill her again. You felt your face getting flushed with bright red as you hit your head on the door, hearing your friend’s laugh through the wood.
“Sorry, sorry. I’ll just let the girls know you’re not… hungry. For food.” Another laugh echoed, and you knocked your head stronger. “I’m sorry, ok Yn? Let me in… please?”
Giselle was met with silence, as you were still trying to figure out how to flush your head down the toilet after being caught in such a scene by one of your bandmates and best friends.
“Listen, there’s nothing wrong with getting yourself off, ok? It’s like, super natural. It’s not like we don’t masturbate, either.” She kept on talking, and you could picture her looking at her nails with her bored expression, tiny nose and monotonous voice, “In fact, I really should get a new vibrator for myself too. I feel like mine’s fucked up with the batteries or something. Although, of course I won’t get one in that hideous color like yours and-“
“Ugh, it’s not mine!” You said, giving up on ignoring the shorter girl and deleting yourself from earth. With an exasperated sigh, you pulled her by the arms, making sure to close the door well enough this time. “Just shut your fucking mouth, unnie God.” You muttered, preparing yourself to explain the whole situation to her.
(…)
“Why is it so green, though?” You questioned Giselle, turning the vibrator upside down with 2 of your fingers, almost unsure of how to manage it.
The two of you were sitting in your bed after you explained the entire idea to your friend, hoping she wouldn’t find you too pathetic. Thankfully, the only thing that truly made Giselle wrinkle her nose at was the color of the thing.
“How would I know? Ning’s weird as fuck. Maybe it’s a kink of hers or something.” Giselle scoffed, also looking a bit disgusted by the device’s bright color, and you hummed in approval.
It was very Ningning coded, indeed.
The silence after your conclusion was awkward, and you intended to give your friend an excuse to exit your room when she uttered, out of nowhere, “I could help you out, you know.”
“E-excuse me?” You gagged. This afternoon just kept getting odder and odder.
You mean, it’s not like you and Giselle weren’t close, which you were. You’ve changed, bathed and shared more intimate moments together than you could ever remember. It’s just… this was different. Very different.
“I could help you with what you… want.” She sounded almost unsure, even though she nudged you playfully. “Come on, it’s not like you know anything in practice.”
“No need to flatter yourself, huh.”
“I’m just saying,” she continued, ignoring your bitter tone, “that I could make you feel good. And that’s what you want, right? I mean, that’s what sex is about anyway.”
You were still not fully convinced, but you were eyeing her more attentively now. Sensing you were almost giving in, she plucked one of your locks out of your face. “It’s really not the big of a deal you think it is, Yn. It’s just sex, and we’re friends. Right?”
“...Yeah, right.”
This was obviously a stupid, impulsive, brainless idea, to have sex for the first time with one of your bandmates. While your other bandmates weren’t home.
You took a deep breath, nudging Giselle back and laughing as she looses balance and almost falls from your bed.
“Fine. Let’s do it, then.”
(…)
“So... should I just put it in?”
“What? No!” Giselle looks at you with big eyes, giggling a little. She stopped when you kept on staring at her, now realizing you were serious about not knowing how to do this. She took the toy from your hands before frowning at it, then sizing you up. “Well, not at first, at least. You’re not even wet. This way it won’t fit, and it will be too painful.”
“It’ll be painful anyway.” you grumbled, allowing her to spread your legs to place herself between them. Aeri massages your thighs before giving them a gentle squeeze.
“Not really, no.” she can tell you’re nervous by the way your eyes never meet hers, and you keep twitching as if to fight the urge to close your legs and dress yourself. “It might be uncomfortable at first, but then it’s like... a nice kind of discomfort.” her fingers tease the hem of your shorts, lightly brushing your abdomen. Ever since she’s caught you in your room and offered to help, Giselle has been nothing but patient. “You don’t have to do it, though.” she reminds you, still caressing your body. “There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin and-“
“I-“ you took a deep breath, finally gathering enough courage to stand on your elbows and look at her, although you still sounded unsure. “I do want to do it. I’m just ashamed, I guess. You can admit that it’s a bit pathetic, no problem.”
Giselle giggled again, this time with her fingers accompanying her light posture are they ran through your body, picking on your waist and poking your ribs in the places she knows you feel ticklish the most. You laugh and try to squirm under her touch — you’re taller, much taller, but she is stronger, so she quickly strands you entirely, hands locking your wrists up in your head so you couldn’t move or try to get on top of her.
“Hey, no fair! Let me go!” you plead, but your laughter and the weak way you try to run from her is all Giselle needs to know her mission has succeeded: you’re way less tense now.
“You’re so cute, Yn. it’s adorable, really.” she says, kissing each of your cheeks repeatedly. You try your best not to blush.
Even though you were the group’s maknae, you weren’t often reckoned as such, with your height making you impose and usually not the cute girl type. You didn’t mind it, either; you’d rather jump off a bridge than do aegyo anyway.
One of Giselle’s hands let go of your wrists to make its way down your abdomen again, though the other one kept holding you in place. Her featherlight touches still made you squirm, but she held you with such care, you couldn’t help but to feel safe.
“Is it ok if I take this off?” she asked, gripping at your panties as she scanned you for any reservations. You tensed again, but as you opened your mouth to say it was ok, she cut you, “it’s ok, then. We’ll just push it to the sides.”
Giselle knew how insecure you were about your body. The girls were always teasing you and karina for wearing the clothes with most fabric, and you often laughed about it. It was only now, in your newest comeback, that you were beginning to try new things and riskier, revealing outfits. She never understood it, though. You were praised by numerous knetz about your body; how toned, and athletic you were, with your long legs and gracious arms, fit for a supermodel. Which you have been since your teens, for a fact. The company had recently signed you off with Valentino and you were absolutely outstanding walking in Paris Fashion Week, which Karina had also attended, though not as a model. She did try her best to always praise how beautiful you were, though, to make sure you knew it.
True to her word, Aeri tapped your hips, and you raised them as she slipped your shorts past your legs and threw them on your bedroom floor. Your panties were pushed to the sides, as promised, but before her fingers could reach your pussy, the older girl lifted herself up from between your thighs, a slight frown on her face.
“What’s wrong, Unnie?” You asked her, looking for any signs of trouble in her yourself. Did you do anything wrong? Should you touch her, too? Does she even want to be touched? Fuck, you were so bad at this. Perhaps if you were any bolder, you would’ve gotten laid already and wouldn’t be in this pathetic situati-
“It’s all ok, Yn-,” Giselle reassured you, squeezing your hips to snap yourself away from your thoughts and back to her, to this. Now that you noticed it, she was gripping each of your thighs with her hands, and her face was too close to your core. Too fucking close. You felt your face get hot and a familiar sensation build up on your lower abdomen. (You weren’t a total prude, of course you’ve touched yourself before, even if it wasn’t often.). “I think my fingers will hurt you if we do them now, though. But don’t worry, I’ll prep you up.”
“What do you mean with prepping me u-oh fuck,” you drop your head on the bedside as she finally gave your pussy a long lick, delighting herself as she saw how responsive you were. Smaller, quieter ones followed, and soon the older girl was nearly making out with her dripping cunt.
You bit your lip, trying not to make any noise, but soon your bandmate’s fingers brushed your lips, forcing their way in.
“Don’t silence yourself,” she told you, watching you suck on her thumb so prettily. It made her so aroused to see how good you were at this. At following commands—her commands. It made Giselle want to rip the rest of your clothes and take you until you were crying for her to let go of you. “It will feel better if you let the sounds out, trust me.” She cupped your jaw before going back to eating you out, so you did as told, not bothering to hide how good this was making you feel at all.
“Ok...” you mumbled, moaning loudly as she teased you with her mouth. You arched your back whenever Aeri slipped her tongue into your dripping cunt, her nose brushing against your clit. The friction it made was out of this world, and you felt the waves of pleasure building up slowly but deliciously to create an entirely new feeling.
“Is it good?” She asked, her hot breath on clit before she gave it a light suck. You nodded, “Tell me.”
“S’too good, oh fuck.” You managed to answer her, breathless. One of your hands grabbed her hair, and you tried to shove her face even deeper into your pussy, but it made Giselle stop instead. You rolled your eyes at her. She was too bossy. “Sorry, unnie. More, please?” You were rewarded, then, as Giselle’s attention went back to your clit, circling it hard and fast as her hands pulled on your panties with enough strength to rip it off.
She grabbed your thighs and gave your clit a hard suck, making you almost scream. You cried loudly as you were hit by a hard wave of pleasure, with Giselle still licking you through your high, her eyes trained on your frame.
She got up and made her way up to you, promptly kissing you with her lips smeared with your juices. “Next time, tell me when you’re close, ok?” She asked, brushing some strands of hair out of your face. You nodded, still brushing her lips.
You could feel her hands in the hem of your hoodie and your shirt, and she stopped the kiss to gesture for you to get your arms up, which you did. Soon you were bare to her, a bit shy from the way her eyes were darkened and she stared at your chest with such lust. You tried to cover yourself, but Giselle was quick to replace your hands with hers instead, cupping your breasts eagerly.
“So pretty, Yn...” she said, and soon you two were making out again, with you on her lap. Your brain had long been reduced to mush and your sole focus was on Giselle: the way her hair was perfectly in place, hands running through all your body.
She was painfully clothed, though, you noticed. A clear contrast to your exposure. You told her just that, trying to get off of her so she’d undress too, but you weren’t allowed.
“Of course I am, silly.” She smiled at you, “This isn’t about me anyways.” And as she reached for you once again, you couldn’t find much strength to be bothered enough to argue, too busy with her kisses and touches. You couldn’t muster how long the two of you spent like that, just exploring each other’s bodies, but it was long enough for you to feel the heat building up on your core a second time, making you worry you were making a mess on Giselle’s thigh.
You tensed when you felt her fingers brushing your entrance, not quite entering but teasing, gathering your slick before going up on your clit, circling it for a few times then presenting themselves again on your pussy.
“Shh, it’s ok,” she cooed, placing wet kisses on your neck. She gently sucked on your pulse point, making you drop your head and moan embarrassingly loud. Thank God the girls were out. “It’s just one finger. You’ve taken fingers before, right?”
You shook your head, whining when you felt it enter you. It burned a little, and it was clearly too tight, but you already felt your entire body burning up. It was too good to stop. She stopped the work on your neck to stare at you, and you saw her eyes darken.
“No fingers? Not even yours?” She gripped your thighs harder, urging you to answer, but you were too busy rocking yourself against her hand to create more friction, anything to deepen this feeling that was already so, so good, “Answer me when I talk to you, yn.” Giselle’s tone was harsh, and you flinched a little. She curled another finger inside you, making you rock yourself onto her faster.
“It d-didn’t do anything when I did it by myself before, so I would just p-play with my clit until I came-oh God.” You squeezed your eyes as she added a second finger, increasing her rhythm.
She was breathless, too, you noticed as she kissed your chest, pinching your nipples and sucking on your breasts without caring if it was messy.
“Fuck, yn. You’ll drive me fucking insane” she murmured. You couldn’t even answer, reduced into a pool of cries and whimpers, but it just felt so good it made you want to cry. How could you have gone so long without it?
Giselle’s grip on you was strong, whether it was in your arms, hips, or thighs, and it would surely bruise later, but you didn’t care a single bit. All you wanted was for her to go harder and faster, not stopping.
“Unnie, please.” You pleaded, searching for her lips as you kissed her sloppily. “More, please, please, ah...” now you were deeply thankful that jimin and minjeong were out. There was no way your moans weren’t being echoed through the entire dorm.
It didn’t matter, though, because your cries rewarded you with an even faster pace, and the pain of being stretched as now only a reminder of the combo of sensations you were feeling.
“You’re such a mess right now, yn.” Giselle told you, her hands on your hips to keep you grinding on her without losing the fast pace. “So, so pretty.” She praised, pecking your lips.
You got shy, hiding your face in the crook of her neck to keep her from noticing how much that aroused you, feeling the familiar heat gathering in your belly.
“Aeri stop, I-I’m gonna,” you motioned to stop, but she only gripped you tighter.
“It’s ok, baby, don’t stop. Come for me.” She commanded, working her fingers even faster as she added her thumb to your clit and circled it fast. With a few strokes, you came.
Your vision went black, and you felt your body go numb, almost as though there were a million fireworks exploding inside of you. You felt Giselle’s hand on your back, tracing light circles as she held you close, still snuggled to her. You took your time evening your breaths, and a few minutes passed until you felt strong enough to get out of her lap and lay in bed, staring at her attentively.
“That was...” you didn’t even know what to say. “Amazing. I’ve never felt anything like it before.” You told Aeri, meeting her gaze.
She licked her fingers clean, the ones who were buried deep inside you just a few moments ago, letting them go with an audible ‘pop’.
“You did very good, baby.” She said, hugging you gently. “I’m glad you liked it. I told you it was good.”
“I guess.” You murmured, closing your eyes for a few seconds. It had been intense, but now you felt like a big-ass truck had run over you multiple times.
The sound of the shower being turned on made you open your eyes again, seeing Aeri besides you, a glass of cold water in your hands.
“Here, take it,” she motioned to you, who complied immediately, drinking it all pretty fast. “How about you take a bath now, huh? The girls might be back anytime.” You nodded, not wanting them to see you like that, and you took the hand Giselle offered to get up and go to the bathroom.
You did see something green displayed on the ground when you’ve reached your bathroom door, though, and you laughed a little to yourself.
“Unnie?”
“Yeah, Yn?”
“We didn’t even use the vibrator.” You pointed it out, seeing Aeri’s big smirk. The girl’s mouth opened in a fake motion as she grabbed it, taking it out of the room with her.
“I guess we forgot. We’ll have to save it for next time, then.” She winked at you, leaving you to shower alone.
Giselle would be caught dead if she wasn’t going to corrupt you all to herself.
#aespa giselle#aespa#aespa scenarios#aespa smut#aespa x reader#aespa x fem reader#aespa winter#aespa karina#aespa ningning#giselle x reader#aerichandesu#aeri uchinaga#aeri uchinaga x reader#giselle smut#kpop smut#sol writes#sol’s works
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