haechan. “you’ve got to be kidding me.” even the boy is surprised to hear him laughing mockingly. for haechan, how dare he ask you out when he’s right next to you? do you actually like him? you must be messing with him. pure arrogance—of course he’s not jealous, because if he were, then you’d be his girlfriend, and you’re not, but the thought of you being with someone else really bugs him. maybe next time he should fuck you so hard that you forget everyone but his name.
jeno. “she’s busy.” it’s hard to read his expression right now, but he hopes the other guy will feel intimidated enough by it that he’ll end up canceling his date with you; if not, then he’ll have to give him a reason to do so. he’s not the type to pick fights, and he’s certainly not possessive, but when it comes to you, he really wants to make it clear that you’re only available for him. no one else. he’ll spend the whole night looking for an excuse to beat the crap out of him, because then, you’d go with him to tend to his knuckles, and completely forget about that jerk.
mark. “ah, seriously?” after treating everything like a game and joking around, you’d think he wouldn’t act so hurt or offended, but he does. it was clear that there were no strings attached; he used to be fine with that because of the long list of women he had, but up until that moment, he hadn’t really stopped to think that you might also be also seeing people, let alone that you were doing it right there in front of him. he felt that if he didn’t overthink it and stayed oblivious, he could handle it, but he’s always known that you wanted to take things seriously, and he just wasn’t ready —until now.
chenle. “am i interrupting?” he is, in fact, and he couldn’t care less. he also doesn’t care that you’re giving him a look that’s somewhere between confused and angry, because the guy ends up backing off. maybe that means you both feel the same way about it. going out? no way. commitment wasn’t his thing and you knew it—maybe that’s why you were so eager to say yes to that loser. if you were talking about dating, chenle could take you on dates, but you didn’t want that, so don’t even dream of doing it with others, when the right thing is to do it only with him.
renjun. “she’s not interested.” he makes the guy leave before you have a say about it, and now he think he’s a douchebag. what if he did the wrong thing? suddenly he feels sick. of course he knew the whole thing was bound to end badly, because he’s the type to get swept up in fleeting feelings; he just wanted to at least have a chance, even if you were just using him. suddenly he feels the need to undo what he’s done because he knows you’re not gonna choose him. but why you end up laughing and then holding his hand, guiding him somewhere where you two can kiss?
jaemin. not a word about it except for the frightening vibe he gives off. even answering feels hard, and you end up stammering that you’ll think about it. jaemin won’t let you do that, of course. his plan is to get that idea out of your head by kissing you so hard that you forget you even thought it. still, it feels a little disheartening to think that you might have said yes. if he hadn’t been there, would you have agreed? if you hadn’t looked at him first, would you have said yes? damn, he must be falling for you, then.
jisung. “d’you want me to leave?” after planting a kiss on your lips right in front of the guy, he dares to look at him through his eyelashes while his arm wraps around your shoulders; there’s no way he’d actually leave the two of you alone at this point, right? he just hasn’t quite grasped the whole thing, he’s not cut out for casual things; he just wanted to try it because you suggested it. the last thing he knows is that he’s actually into you, unapologetically. he's just too afraid to ask, but if that’s what you really want it then he’s not gonna stand in the middle of you getting it. cause he wants you to be happy, and he knows he can’t give you that, because he’s not the best for you.
( 対 ) huang renjun + fem. reader wc. 0.4k genre smut · contains! oral sex … that’s it mature content. / back to library
call it an addiction or whatever; but you loved giving renjun head. the way his face contorted up in pleasure , his hands twitched , trying not to grab your hair and fuck your face , his moans — it was like you got pleasure just from sucking him off.
“junie.” you purred , climbing in between the man’s lap. “baby again?” he said , you pouted. “god forbid i want to pleasure my man.” you lifted his stomach , kissing his stomach down to his faint happy trail that you adored so much. “yeah baby but fuck.” he sighed , closing his eyes. “this is like the third time today.” he still lifted his hip , letting you pull his sweats down.
the truth is renjun loved that you had an oral fixation; sometimes he could be busy and caught up in work and here you come ; so ready and willing to suck him dry. “fuck baby.” you kissed his tip , he was already red and leaking with precum. “take me into your mouth.” groaning as you slowly sucked him in , his cock filling your mouth. “fuck your mouth is so warm.” he moaned , your head bobbing up and down. “fuck baby that’s it suck my cock.”
you hummed around his length , the vibrations from your sweet mouth made his hips buck up , his cock hitting the back of your throat. “ah , fuck!” he threw his head back , reeling in the pleasure of your warm mouth. “baby go faster.” he grabbed the back of your head , guiding your head , pushing you further down his length. “love your mouth.” he said in a breathy voice. “fuck , you love choking on my cock don’t you?” groaned as you nodded , hollowing your cheek sucking him in more. “fuck baby don’t do that , i’m gonna fucking cum if you do.”
you sucked in his tip , he almost doubled over. “fuck im gonna cum!” he pushed your head all the way down , bucking his hips up , before cumming. “oh fuck!” his cum filling up your mouth. he grabbed your face , squishing your cheeks. “swallow it.” he bit his lip watching you swallow his load for the third time today. “fuck baby get up here.” he kissed your red lips. “how about i pay you back.” you shook your head. “i told you junie i don’t mind doing that, i love it actually.” he smiled , you were serious too. “i know baby i know.”
“but who’s to say i don’t enjoy your pretty pussy on my tongue just as much as you love sucking my cock?”
wrote this while procrastinating instead of working on learning curves 2 hehehe.
These will give you whiplash how fast the tone changes from each member LOL. inspo from this tiktok (If you don't have tiktok anymore it just says “who actually likes crybaby tops who apologize mid thrust?”)
Mark was a sentimental man who cherished every little moment. This year, for your anniversary, you didn’t do much; you simply spent the entire day together, spoiling each other and watching movies. Later that night, he prepared dinner for you, and while you showered, he decorated the room. Rose petals adorned the new silk sheets, and candles flickered along the windowsill and dresser.
As soon as you stepped out of the shower, smelling heavenly, he laid you back against the mattress. He wanted you to feel all of him—his heart, mind, soul, and body—it was all yours.
“I love you.” The words were passed back and forth between you two as he showered you in adoration.
He didn’t realize he was crying until his vision started to blur, your face becoming fuzzy behind a veil of tears. He loved the way you looked beneath him, believing you were the prettiest person in the world. He moans, the sound coming from deep in his chest. He wanted to be closer, needed to merge with you, to feel you deep inside his very being. The depth of his love moved him to tears, and he couldn’t stop crying.
“I’m sorry,” he sniffled, and you couldn’t help but giggle at him through your own moans of pleasure. He wiped at his tears in embarrassment, but you cupped his face and kissed him deeply.
“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe with me,” you said, your voice breathy as he continued to thrust into you, not slowing down despite his tears. “I love you.”
He vowed to make sure you would never forget it.
Renjun
Renjun liked to think of himself as a patient man, but the truth was, he had no tolerance for games. You, on the other hand, thrived on them. You drove him crazy, always pushing him to the edge, seeing how far you could get beneath his skin. Your relationship was rocky, constantly on again off again. You two had a long and messy past but couldn’t keep away from each other long enough to heal from it.
You were perched on the edge of his counter, swinging your legs and flashing a dazzling smile as he raged at you. "You think this is funny?!" he shouted, frustration etched on his face. You shrugged nonchalantly, and he gripped his hair in exasperation. He blew out a breath, trying to calm himself down. “You can’t take shit seriously.”
Renjun cried when he was frustrated and that was why you do what you do. You laugh as you see the tears begin to well up in his eyes. You loved seeing him break down, loved the way his entire demeanor changed when he was humiliated. His chest huffs in annoyance but you notice the bulge straining against his sweats, he loved this just as much as you did. He loved being humiliated.
He yanks you off the counter and into his room, tossing you onto the bed roughly.
“You come into my life again and again and you ruin everything,” he complains while undressing you. His lips connect to yours in a hot breathy kiss. His words were angry, but his eyes betrayed a different story – a hunger that burned bright.
There were times when Renjun swore he was done with you, that he'd finally had enough of the games and the drama. Times when he vowed to block you, to move on. You knew it was all just a show to make you think he was serious but you knew he'd always come crawling back.
He moved over you, his body hot to the touch when you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. You moaned, feeling him sink deeper into you. You moan desperately in his ear, the way you clenched around him had him gripping your waist tighter.
Other times he loved you, despite the chaos you brought into his life. In these moments, he was helplessly, hopelessly yours.
And when his anger settled, he would apologize, his body still moving with a rhythm that left you breathless. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Please don't leave me. I take it back – I didn't mean it." Tears fill his eyes as he apologizes over and over again between each thrust.
You would always have him exactly where you wanted him.
Jeno
He didn't like being mean, and he truly hated yelling, so he felt terrible for getting onto you. The way you immediately deflated and your smile faltered almost made him want to jump off the balcony.
“I’m sorry, baby. Just let me get it for you,” he said, helping you down from the counter. It was partly his fault; you had asked him to stop putting the flour on the top shelf. It was all the way in the back of the cupboard and you were so proud of yourself for not needing his help. You had climbed up to get it while you were cooking together. You didn’t notice the hot stove right next to you, and nearly burned yourself in the process.
He just didn't want you to get hurt, so he apologized throughout dinner. You had assured him a hundred times that it was fine, but he felt the need to make it up to you. He showered you with affection, peppering your face with kisses, offering an apology with each one. You were having ice cream for dinner, and when you offered him some, he cheekily replied that he wanted you for dessert. You didn’t stop him when he dropped to his knees.
He eagerly tasted you, his mouth full but still managing to mumble “sorrys” against you. As your hand moved through his hair, sweeping his bangs back, you watched him devour you. Warm tears streamed down his face, smudging against your thighs. He could taste the salt of his tears mixed in with the sweet juice of your pussy.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
He didn’t know why he was crying; he just hated that you looked so hurt earlier, and it was because of him.
Later, when he had you pinned against the mattress beneath him, it was you who was crying, as he took you again and again.
Haechan
Haechan didn’t know what the word “enough” meant. He was never satisfied and could never get enough of being buried deep between your warm walls. After a long day at work, all he wanted was to unwind and lose himself in you. When you looked up at him, leaning above you, it was clear he had achieved just that. He was completely gone, caught in a trance from the way you sucked him in. He couldn’t bring himself to pull out.
Overstimulation sent tremors through your body, but you welcomed everything he gave you, knowing how much he needed this.. His eyes were glazed over as he fucked into you, mumbling incoherent praises against your shoulder when he hid his face between your neck and shoulder. He had cum already but couldn't stop, you felt too good.
“I’m sorry, baby. Please… it feels so good,” he begged, feeling you start to squirm as the overstimulation became overwhelming.
He had fucked himself to tears between your legs, shaky moans escaping his lips in embarrassment. His eyes watered, his bottom lip trembled, and yet he couldn’t stop. He looked so pathetic that you couldn’t help but clench around him even harder.
He looked surprised for a moment before a smirk spread across his face, sniffing back the tears. “Pervert,” he teased. “You like seeing me cry, don’t you?”
You showed him just how much you enjoyed it by flipping him onto his back and riding him until he was gripping the sheets.
Jaemin
Jaemin loved coming over to your apartment just to be with you. Whether you sat in comfortable silence for hours, watched movies, or yapped away, he didn’t mind as long as he got to spend that time with you. Tonight, there was nothing on the agenda—just an old Lifetime movie playing on TV while you both scrolled through your phones. His head rested in your lap as you sat up against the headboard, one hand scrolling through your phone while the other played gently in his hair.
“Can I tell you something?” you asked, setting your phone down.
Jaemin tossed his phone onto the bed and looked up at you with curiosity. “Go for it.”
“Don’t make fun of me,” you warned.
Jaemin already had a smile breaking through, and he chuckled softly.
You tugged on his hair playfully. “Stoppp! I’m being serious.”
He sat up, grinning. “Of course I’m going to laugh if you specifically tell me not to!”
“Are you done?” you asked, half-smiling.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
“I think it’s hot when guys cry in bed,” you admitted.
Jaemin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise; he wasn’t expecting the conversation to go that way. A look of confusion crossed his face. He couldn't imagine crying in bed—why would he feel sad getting fucked?
“Am I weird?” you asked after a pause.
“No, I guess I just don't understand,” he replied genuinely. “Why would I be crying in bed?”
“Because it feels so good,” you explained.
He tilted his head, considering your words. “I don’t think that’s possible. I doubt I would cry.”
“Bet?” you challenged. “I could so make you cry.”
“I’d like to see you try,” he teased back.
The next time he came over, you sent him straight to the bedroom. You had sat him against your headboard, grinding down against his clothed cock as you slowly built him up. You stop your makeout to undress and to pull out your surprise. He shuddered as you put the cock ring on him. Stubborn like a Leo, he insisted that a cock ring wouldn’t make him cry, but you shushed him and pulled him on top of you. As you kissed him, your hands roaming over his skin, you raked your nails softly down his back to coax him into letting his guard down. You were going to ruin him.
As he slipped between your legs, the cock ring seemed to fade from his mind. He was focused on thrusting into you and the way your hips were grinding against him. You pulled him down into another kiss, this one deep and slow as you swirl your tongue around his distractingly.
You slyly reached for the remote under your pillow and turned the cock ring up to the second notch. Instantly, his hips jerked in response, and his mouth dropped open. “Shit! Fuck princess,” he moaned desperately, grinding against you. He bites down on his bottom lip and a shiver runs down his spine.
“Come on, Jaem, don’t stop,” you encouraged, gripping his waist, pushing his hips back and forth to help him find his rhythm.
He buried his face in your neck, trying to pick up speed. Broken moans filled your ears, sending heat through you. Each time he bottomed out, the cock ring buzzed against your clit, making your toes curl. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you and pinning him down.
The cock ring vibrated deliciously, pushing tightly against him, and the sensations left Jaemin dizzy. As you reached your climax, you squeezed around him, and he lost himself in the moment, eyes rolling back as he came too. His body trembled, and when he looked down at you, tears filled his eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” He slurs. “Fuck I couldn’t hold it.” Voice sounds wrecked as he thrust weakly, riding out his high.
Once he had enough, he finally tapped out, and you stopped the vibrations. You unwrap your legs from around his waist, allowing him to pull out, breathless and spent. You watch as he collapses next to you, his chest heaving with each ragged breath, a mixture of shock and pleasure etched across his face.
“are you sleeping, baby, by yourself? or are you giving it to someone else?”
📀now playing: where do broken hearts go by one direction
❯ summary: Renjun’s counted up all his mistakes, and there’s only one he truly regrets—letting you walk out of his life. Now he’s searching every lonely place and calling out your name, trying to find you…but he just doesn’t know—where do broken hearts go?
❯ pairings: renjun x fem!reader
❯ genre: exes to lovers, angst, eventual fluff
❯ words: 4.0k
❯ tags: pining, jealousy, angst, arguing, swearing, love confessions, kissing, reader uses she/her pronouns, just renjun being all mopey and yearning for 4k words
Renjun swirled the straw around his nearly untouched mojito, watching the lime float around the glass like a tiny boat in a sea of awkward tension. Across from him, his date—Minji? Miyeon? Something with an M—tapped her acrylics on the table like she was sending out a distress signal in Morse code.
She probably was. And he couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t exactly been present lately—not on this date, not on any of the dates his best friends had set him up on in the last two weeks since the incident. Since the day he’d chased after a girl who looked like you in the cereal aisle at Target. That was the moment his friends decided enough was enough—Renjun needed an intervention. He needed to finally get over the fling he’d had with you a year ago.
“So,” the woman finally said, arching a perfectly plucked brow, “do you always look like you want the ground to swallow you up on a first date, or is that just a me thing?”
Renjun blinked, forcing a smile. “Sorry. Just a long day.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Right. And calling me another girl’s name before? Was that part of your long day too?
Fuck.
He didn’t even remember doing it—just a flicker of déjà vu, a flash of you in his peripheral vision as someone passed in a red hoodie. The same red hoodie he’d given you. Or maybe it wasn’t. You probably didn’t even wear it anymore anyway. He wouldn’t know. He hadn’t seen or heard from you in months.
Minji-Miyeon-Mirae scoffed. “You’re actually such an asshole.”
She stood, grabbed her coat in one dramatic movement, and was out the door before Renjun could even finish saying “wait.” Not that he was going to.
Silence returned to the bar, dragging its usual friend, guilt. The girl was pretty, objectively. Funny in a dry, slightly sarcastic way. Renjun thought maybe he could’ve liked her, in some alternate universe where he wasn’t still emotionally committed to the ghost of you.
“Woah,” a voice said next to him, smug and far too amused. “You lasted a measly ten minutes before scaring her off. New record buddy.”
Renjun didn’t look up. “Go away, Haechan.”
“Can’t,” Haechan replied, sliding into the now-empty seat with his signature shit-eating grin. “You’re way too entertaining like this.”
A beat.
“You called her Y/N again, didn’t you?”
Renjun sighed, letting his forehead drop to the table with a dull thud. “Shut up.”
“Can’t you just call her?” Haechan said after a pause, fiddling with the edge of a coaster. “Or text? Or something? Because this whole pining-in-silence act is getting a little pathetic.”
Renjun’s jaw tensed. If only it were that simple.
He would call. He would text. Hell, he’d even scroll through every corner of the internet just to find a trace of you—an old post, a tagged photo, anything. But there was nothing. No number. No handle. No digital footprint to cling to.
The only thing he had left was the look on your face the day he let you go. And God, he saw it every time he closed his eyes.
It was his biggest mistake—is his biggest mistake. Letting his pride, his fear, that dumb male ego of his convince him that he didn’t need to commit. That he could keep you close, enjoy the warmth, the jokes, the fun part of you—without ever having to actually choose you.
He’d thought you were joking when you asked him for something more. He laughed, deflected, tossed out some careless comment about not being the boyfriend type. He figured you’d just let it slide because you never made things difficult. You didn’t push.
He thought everything was fine. But it was worse. Because you left.
He woke up the next morning to cold sheets. There was no note. No explanation. Just a blocked number staring back at him like a punishment.
It didn’t hit him all at once. It crept in—slow, insidious, like rot spreading under his skin. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t that deep, that maybe you were just taking space, maybe you’d come back. But the empty space beside him, the silence, the unanswered calls, proved him wrong every single time.
Each minute that passed, he wished he’d been that bit more attentive, more aware. Maybe then he’d know exactly where to look for you, to apologise, to beg for you to come back. He didn’t really know. He had never been good at this.
525,600 minutes later (a year), and he still had no clue where your broken heart had gone. All the searching, all the calling, all the desperate attempts to find you... all of it was useless.
So, no—he couldn’t just call.
But explaining all of that to Haechan would only lead to another lecture, maybe something more than his current intervention attempt. And Renjun really didn’t want to talk about you on some therapist’s couch, which is exactly where Haechan would drag him next.
So instead, he settles for the simplest version of the truth: “She doesn’t answer my calls.”
Haechan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus, Renjun. You really need to move on. Like, actually move on—not emotionally dissociate for ten minutes before accidentally trauma-dumping or calling the girl the wrong name.”
Renjun didn’t respond. Just kept stirring the lime in his drink, watching it swirl like it might somehow drown out the noise of his best friend.
Haechan huffed, snatching the untouched glass and taking a sip like it was his own. Then he kicked Renjun lightly under the stool. “I’m serious, man. I know it sucks. But you can’t keep living in a relationship that doesn’t exist anymore. She’s gone, and you’re—”
He cut off.
Eyes wide. Mouth frozen mid-sentence.
“Holy fucking shit.”
Renjun blinked, glancing up. Haechan had gone still—too still. His eyes were gaping, unblinking, locked on something over Renjun’s shoulder. His whole body had shifted, like someone had yanked him upright by invisible strings. It wasn’t just surprise. It was recognition. Shock.
Like he’d just seen a ghost.
“What?” Renjun asked, brow furrowing.
But Haechan didn’t answer. Didn’t even blink. Just kept staring. And that silence—that silence—told Renjun everything.
He turned, slowly, already bracing for nothing. For some false alarm, a girl who only looked like you from behind—because that had happened before. Too many times before. But his heart knew better.
Because there you were.
Right there, standing just inside the entrance of the bar, shaking rain from your umbrella, laughing at something someone said. Your head tilted slightly, eyes crinkled at the corners in that way that used to undo him. That way he used to love.
Your hair was a little shorter now, styled differently, and you wore a new shade of lipstick he didn’t recognise. But none of it mattered. You were still you—unmistakably, devastatingly you.
And then his eyes dropped.
To the guy beside you. To the way his hand settled at the small of your back—easy, familiar, like he belonged there. Like he’d been there for a while.
Renjun’s lungs seized. Because all this time, he’d been clinging to the ghost of you. And now you were here—real, alive, radiant. But no longer his.
“Dude,” Haechan said quickly, reaching across the bar like he could physically pull Renjun back into his body by the shoulder. “Just—relax. You don’t even know if it’s serious. Could be her cousin. Could be—”
But Renjun wasn’t listening.
His pulse roared in his ears. His vision tunnelled.
Because this wasn’t your cousin. He could tell by the way the guy leaned in, like he had every right to whisper in your ear—how fucking natural it looked. He could feel something inside him unravelling, thread by thread.
What if you loved this guy? What if you told him all the secrets you used to tell Renjun in the dark? What if you gave that guy the parts of you that Renjun had taken for granted?
A cold sweat prickled across his neck. His mind felt like it was shutting down—thoughts crashing into each other. He should’ve done more. He should have fought harder. Chosen you, openly, without hesitation. He should’ve been the one to make you feel wanted—needed. He should’ve been the one at your side tonight.
But he wasn’t.
You were here—in his city, in his favourite bar—with someone else’s hand on your back and that smile on your face. The one that used to be his. And you looked okay. Happy. Without him.
“Renjun,” Haechan tried again, quieter now. “You need to stop looking. Maybe they’re just talking.”
“You don’t get it,” Renjun’s voice was hoarse as he spoke, the sentence barely making it past his lips.
Haechan frowned, his typical grin replaced with concern. He leaned forward, eyes searching his friend’s face. “What do you mean?”
Renjun swallowed hard, trying to steady the rage that was bubbling inside him, but the image of you—standing there, laughing with someone else—kept burning into his mind.
“You don’t get it,” he repeated, the words slipping out in a raw rush. “Because you’re not the one who let her go. You don’t get it because she’s not your mistake. You don’t get it because you’re not sitting here watching the person you could’ve had—should’ve had—move on with someone else.”
“Renjun…” Haechan’s voice was soft, but Renjun couldn’t stop.
“I fucked it all up, Haechan,” his hands tremble as they gripped the edge of the bar. “I had everything with her—everything—and I just... let it slip through my fingers because I was too scared. Too fucking scared to admit that I wanted her. That I needed her. And now she’s gone. And she’s happy. How the hell am I supposed to move on from that?”
Haechan didn’t answer right away. He just looked at his friend with a weakened expression—sympathy, pity, worry. It only made it worse.
Renjun shook his head, his breath shaky as he said, “Look, forget it.” He threw a few bills onto the bar counter and a couple of coins as a final, defeated gesture. “I can’t do this.”
He was already on his feet before Haechan could say anything.
“Renjun—wait, come on,” Haechan called after him, but Renjun didn’t look back. Didn’t need to. Didn’t want to.
And the scrape of the stool mixed with the echo of his name was loud enough to draw attention. Loud enough that you looked up from across the bar.
Your smile faltered.
For a second, you froze—glass halfway to your lips, laughter still clinging to your expression but slowly fading because your eyes tracked toward the door. Where you saw him.
Your Renjun.
Storming out, shoulders stiff, head down, already bracing against the rain smearing the windows. That same stupid black jacket he always wore—fraying at the cuffs, faded at the seams.
Something in your chest clenched.
The guy beside you—your date, though that word felt hollow—said something. Maybe your name. Maybe a joke to pull you back. But none of it mattered. You were already moving.
Haechan caught sight of you just as you passed. His eyebrows jumped, startled. “Y/N?”
But you didn’t stop to explain. Didn’t grab your coat or your bag. You just went.
Out the door. Into the rain.
The door of the bar slammed behind Renjun with a gust of wind, and the cold slapped him in the face.
The rain had turned to a steady downpour, but Renjun didn’t bother pulling up his hood. There was no point because he didn’t mind. He wanted to let it soak through his jacket, soak through his bones. Maybe if he got cold enough, numb enough, it would stop the hollow pit gnawing his chest.
He walked. Fast, at first. Then slower. Then not really walking at all, more like drifting—head down, eyes unfocused, just moving because it was the only thing he could do. He didn’t care that his shoes were getting ruined, that his shirt was clinging to his skin, or that people were staring.
He was okay with letting them see the idiot who couldn’t move on. The idiot who’d spent a year whispering apologies to an empty pillow, to a blocked voicemail, begging the universe for one more chance, only to find out that it had given that chance—to someone else.
He should’ve never come out tonight. He should’ve stayed home. Should’ve ignored Haechan’s half-hearted setup, the hopeful way his friend kept saying, “Maybe this girl will be the one to help you move on.”
No one could help. Because no one was you.
His steps slowed to a halt in the middle of the street, rain pelting down. He blinked up at the sky, and for a moment, he thought maybe he could cry. But no tears came. Just that same hollowness in his chest—the one shaped like you.
Then—
“Renjun!”
He froze. His heart stuttered like a glitch because that voice—that fucking voice.
He turned slowly, every movement mechanical, like his body wasn’t quite connected to his mind. Raindrops clung to his lashes enough to blur his vision. But not enough to miss you—you—running down the street toward him.
“Renjun, wait!”
Your shoes splashed through puddles until you stopped a few feet from him, breathless and soaked. Chest rising and falling. Your hair stuck to your cheeks. Your eyes were wide and frantic. And that guy—the one who had his hand on your back—was nowhere to be seen. Just you. Just him.
And he wanted to revel in that. Wanted to soak in the fact that, for the first time in a year, you were standing in front of him, not as a memory, not in his dreams—but real.
But then… he really looked at you. You were wearing a little white dress. Thin straps. Bare shoulders. Rain clinging to your skin like mist, making you shiver. And for a second, all he could feel was worry.
“Are you crazy?” he snapped, already shrugging off his jacket. “What the hell are you doing out here in that?”
You blinked, caught off guard, arms instinctively wrapping around yourself. “I—”
“You’re gonna get sick,” he muttered, moving forward, rain dripping from his lashes. “Fucking hell—Here.” He shoved the jacket toward you.
But you took a step back. “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t do that.”
His brows pulled together. “Do what?”
“This.” Your voice cracked on it. “Be like this. Be… nice. Be the boyfriend type.”
There was a beat. Then two. And then he stilled, completely. The words hit him like a slap. Like ice water and he dropped the jacket to his side.
“You’re not the boyfriend type,” you said again, quieter this time. “Remember?”
He remembered. God, did he remember. And so did you—clearly. Except, you hadn’t just remembered it. You’d internalised it. Let it sink into your chest and fester.
That one careless comment—meant to keep you from getting too close—had gutted you. And it had cost him a year of quiet regret. A year of replaying that moment, trying to rewrite it in his mind, trying to imagine what might’ve happened if he’d said literally anything else.
And it may have taken him time, too much damn time, but he was here now—trying to figure out how to fix up the heart he’d let down.
“I didn’t mean it,” he said, voice hoarse and ragged. “That night—I was scared. You were getting too close, and I—I panicked. I thought if I pushed you away, it would hurt less when you left. I thought I was protecting myself. I wasn’t thinking about you. I was being selfish.”
You let out a short, bitter laugh. “That’s not an excuse.”
“I know it’s not.” His breath caught. “I fucked up. I know I did. And I’m so fucking sorry—”
“No.” You stepped back like his words had teeth. “You don’t get to do this,” you said, angrier. Hurting. “You don’t get to show up a year later and drop some sad little apology like that makes this all okay. Like it undoes the pain.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to do—”
“Bullshit!” You snap. “You didn’t just fuck up, Renjun. You wrecked us. Wrecked me. Made me feel stupid—like everything we had was just something I made up in my head. And then you let me walk away.”
His breath hitched like you'd punched the air out of him.
“I didn’t let you—” His voice cracked. “You left while I was asleep. You didn’t even give me the chance to fight for you. You changed your number, deactivated your accounts. Moved.”
You shrug, jaw trembling. “What was there to fight for? You’d made yourself clear.”
He stared at you, silent, rain running down his face like tears. And then—his voice dropped. “Then why are you here?”
You blinked. “What?”
“If it was really over for you—if you meant all of that—why the hell did you come after me?” he says lowly. “Why run through the fucking rain just to tell me it’s too late?”
“I don’t know!” you bite back, chest heaving. “Okay? I don’t fucking know!”
He tongues the inside of his cheek, jaw tight, and shakes his head slowly.
“No,” he states. “You don’t get to do this either. You don’t get to scream at me for not fighting for you when you vanished. You didn’t just leave—you fucking disappeared. No goodbye. No warning. And I’ve been looking for you, Y/N. Everywhere. In crowds. In strangers. In every room I walk into, I look for you.”
His voice splinters, but he continues. “And the one time I find you—you’re with some fucking guy. And that’s fine. It may have killed me to see it, but you looked happy. You were smiling. So I left. Because I didn’t want to ruin your night. I told myself I had no right.”
His chest rises and falls, drenched, furious, heartbroken. “But then you follow me. And I don’t know what the fuck to do with that.”
The silence that followed was deafening. You turned your face away, ran a shaking hand through your dripping hair, trying to breathe, trying to hold it in—but your mouth was already trembling, your eyes already breaking.
Renjun stepped closer. And this time, you didn’t move. You let him into your space. You let him drape the soaking jacket over your shoulders, tender in a way that makes it worse. Makes it hurt more. Then his shaky voice cuts through the quiet.
“Tell me what you want me to do with that, baby,” he says. “And I will. I can be sorry—I am sorry. I’ll always be sorry. But I’m not a mind-reader.”
The words barely register. All you can hear is that pet name. Baby. The way it slips off his tongue like it never stopped living there. The way it sounds like home and heartbreak all at once.
“I saw you leaving,” you finally whisper behind a sniffle. “And I don’t know—I couldn’t let you go. Not again. Not without saying something. Even if I hate you for the past, I couldn’t let this go. Not when I still—”
You stopped. The words lodged in your throat like glass.
Renjun stepped forward, eyes dark and wrecked and pleading. “Not when you still what?”
Your eyes found his. Red-rimmed. Glassy. Brimming with everything you swore you’d buried.
“Not when I still love you,” you breathe. “and I fucking hate that I do.”
He doesn’t even let the last part of that sentence affect him. Not when his mind has been running in circles for the last year, for the last hour, with thoughts of you. Because Renjun has spent too many minutes (525,600, to be exact) wondering if you’d ever love him again. So his mind clings to the one word. Still. Meaning you never stopped.
He stands there, a breath away from you, his chest rising and falling as his gaze settles on your lips.
“Don’t,” you whisper, though it’s more for yourself than him.
Not that it matters anyway because Renjun’s not listening. He takes a step closer, his hand brushing against your cheek, his thumb tracing your jaw like he’s familiarising himself with the feel of you.
“I will,” he breathes, almost pained. “Because I still love you too.”
And then he’s kissing you.
His hands grip your face, his thumbs pressing into either side of your skin, holding you in place as though you might slip away again if he doesn’t.
It’s not a gentle kiss, not soft. It’s aching, as if every second apart has been torture. And it has been, at least for him. 525,600 minutes being deprived of the ability to taste you, to kiss you, to claim you as his.
His body moulds against yours, slick and cold, every wet inch of him flushes against you as he pulls you closer, tighter. The rain clings to his skin, and you taste it on his lips—salt and earth, a sobering reminder that this is really happening, that he’s here, and you’re not imagining any of this.
You don’t think; your hands find their way to the damp fabric of his shirt, fingers digging into the material hungrily. His lips trail from yours, slow and delicate, down the line of your jaw, across your throat. You shiver at the sensation of his breath on your skin, his lips leaving a juxtaposing heat in their wake.
When he kisses the delicate curve of your collarbone, you gasp, your body responding instantly to the person it knows it belongs to.
"God, I’ve fucking missed you, Y/N," he pants.
“I’ve missed you too.”
Renjun smiles and presses his forehead against you. His fingers trace idle patterns on your back, but there's a weak, almost vulnerability in his eyes when he speaks again.
"If I take you home with me right now," he starts, "will that guy you walked in with be mad?"
You arch an eyebrow, trying to stifle a grin. “That guy? You mean Yunho?”
The corners of his lips drop as he presses them in a thin line and nods. “Yeah. That guy. You and him... you’re not...”
You bite your lip, tempted to play along, but the fragile ache in his voice pulls at your heart, making you want to stop whatever scenario he’s spiralling in his head
"Nope," you reply, shaking your head. "Yunho and I are just friends. Nothing more, I promise."
Renjun’s grin widens, his eyes softening with relief. “That’s good, then,” he says, chuckling.
It’s your turn to lean in, your breath hot against his lips as you murmur, “Truthfully, the only reason I even asked him on a date is because my friends kept telling me I needed an intervention. The only way to get over you is by getting under someone else and all that.”
He pulls back slightly, raising his own eyebrow with a small chuckle. “You know…Haechan said the same thing to me.”
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "It’s weird, actually. How my very first date since we ended things just so happened to bring me right back to you.”
His grin deepens, a look of pride swelling in his chest as he gently traces his finger along the curve of your jaw.
“It’s because I’m yours, Y/N,” he says, thumb brushing the softness of your skin. “I was made for you. Your heart knows it. Even though I broke it, I’ll be the one to mend it.” He leans in, lips resting just below your ear. "Always."
summary living with someone who has rules around every corner is a little crazy when you tell other people about it, but they will rethink their minds when these rules exist for a reason because of her— when the petty fights become a warm nightly conversation and an act of kindness.
pairing nonidol renjun x femreader genre roommates enemies to lovers grumpy x reckless / responsible x chaotic , bickering = love language romcom slowburn forced proximity
warning yn is a wannabe mature person who is close minded , secondhand embarrassment , miscommunication , offensive / petty words , dumb idiots cannot communicate , angsty in the end lowercase and em dash everywhere
mia’s note AFTER being a victorian child for a month due to internet issues we back bby— this series is gonna be long journey for me as i’m still a newbie nevertheless i’m hella excited for this one
ᛝ CHAPTERS. apt series taglist open
in queue ♪ beat it up by nct dream, no song without you by honne
profiles. # bikini top no bottom && chinese line
about: giving 7dream a taste of their own medicine
pairing: situationship!dream x fem!reader
notes: bbina writing about situationships again.. what's new? first attempt writing for 7dream again! if u guys have any reqs (can do texts too!) do let me know hehe
mark - hittting him up after ghosting him because he posted on his instagram story
mark realized that he got ghosted by his "situationship" as haechan likes to call it and decided to write a song about it thus prompting him to post that selfie on his instagram story not expecting that you were going to see it
after posting the selfie, he shuts his phone off as he continues to produce his new song inspired by your actions. not a little while later, his phone dings. it was a notification from instagram. mark's eyes widens reading the notification on his phone. it was from you, the one who ghosted him
[yourname] y/n (♡)
Replied to your story: 😍
mark fought every demon he had inside him that was telling him to not reply but for some fucking reason he just can't resist you. he inevitably replies much to his own dismay and thus, the cycle repeats
your phone vibrates in your hand. it was a notification that mark had reacted to your dm. you can feel the smile creep up on your face when you swiped up to see him typing
[onyourm__ark] hahaha thanksss
[onyourm__ark] is typing...
your smile widens when you take a wild guess what his next message was. you already knew deep in your bones what his three lettered reply
[onyourm__ark] wyd?
and so mark is back in this vicious cycle. what he gets out of this? bangers after bangers of songs of course. now there he was in his studio, eagerly waiting for your reply this time around. hopefully you won't ghost him again but who knows
renjun - not replying to him despite being online
renjun constantly sent you updates throughout his day. from what time he woke up to what he had for breakfast lunch and dinner but only to be left on delivered all day
he would try to call you but it would just go straight to voice mail and that got him worried. did something happen to you? were you busy? why aren't you replying to him?
as the day finally comes to an end, there was still no message from you
that itself should've been the message but renjun thinks otherwise. when his phone lights up, he instantly jumps on it and checks if it was you
it was
you: hey i was out with ningning today. wyd?
that was a lie. you weren't out with ningning all day. you were at home, watching movies and the such while reading his messages from the notification wall on your phone. you had put your phone on dnd just because
renjun frowns at your message. you didn't even reply to any of his messages or let alone read them?
renjun: did you not get my messages? i was texting you all day
you were on your 7th movie when your phone dings again. you let out a loud sigh, seeing that it was. from renjun and not from your friends. quickly, you typed a short reply before turning your phone back on to dnd
you: srry, my bad
and with that, renjun notices the little "y/n has notifications silenced" on the bottom of the screen renjun can only wonder how much can he take from this kind of relationship. if he says something, would you finally change your ways?
jeno — hiding things from him because you knew he'd get mad
ever since that you and jeno started hanging out more and more, things have become a little weird between the two of you. you were too afraid to ask where you were at you just ignored it despite the signs being there
if jeno isn't going to say anything about your evolving "friendship" then why should you?
now here you two were, arguing in the middle of the street after he had accidentally read a text message from someone he doesn't know about some date you two are having in the next following days
"seriously? you're going on a date and you didn't tell me?" jeno argues, throwing his hands up in the sky like you had just done something illegal
your eyebrows furrowed as you feel the anger rising. why was he acting like this if you two didn't even have anything going on?
"and why will i? it's not like we're together" you argue back
jeno stops in his tracks when your words hit him like a truck
"this is why i didn't tell you. because you're literally mad at me for no reason!" you bark, grumbling about he's being irrational as you walk away from him
your words repeat in jeno's head like a broken record "it's not like we're together"
right.. you two aren't together... is it too late for him now?
haechan — "what are we?" "im not looking for anything serious rn"
being with haechan is a constant play of tug of war. yeah you're friends. friends who kiss, who make out, who go out on dates, friends who may or may have not fucked in the backseat of his car but yeah! you're friends. best of friends even
you were on his couch, straddling his lap when haechan looked at you different for the first time
"what's with the long face?" you giggle, leaning on top of him with your hands propped on the sides of his head, trapping him in between you
haechan resisted the urge to kiss you right then and there. which was incredibly rare for the man. if this was just any other normal sleepover, he would've pounced without a second thought
"nothing" haechan suddenly stands up, pushing you off of his lap
you pout but disregard it. you grab your phone to scroll on tiktok now that the mood was kinda ruined
haechan turns to the side to take a good look at you. you look so pretty just sitting there next to him. he racks his brain up for anything he can say just to break the silence but his mind wanders about your whole being in general
how you're so nice to him, how you just click flawlessly, how you just somehow make his day better with just a quirkly little message
maybe making sure we're on the same boat wouldn't hurt.. haechan thinks to himself
you were laughing at some dumb tiktok when haechan suddenly clears his throat. you look up to see him looking back at you in the eye
"what are we?"
and it's silence after that. you were too stunned to speak. for a second there you thought he'd ask you if you wanted to play some league with him but no
you laugh awkwardly, diverting your attention back to your phone. oh look, jaehyun just posted a new cover
"y/n" haechan calls your name out, now leaning closer to you
"what?"
"answer me"
you've never heard haechan sound so... desperate? and its looking like you've stayed your welcome with how the atmosphere had severely changed in his living room. you abruptly stood up from the couch, heading towards the front door
haechan immediately follows. he grabs your hand before you could hold the door knob, forcing you to look at him
"listen hyuckie, i don't know what you want me to say.. i'm not looking for anything serious right now" you mumble, avoiding his eyes
oh.
you don't hear it but haechan's heart breaks a little. so all those intimacy were just casual for you?
"i'll see you tomorrow okay? winter is asking me to come over. see you"
with that you leave haechan's apartment, leaving him alone with his thoughts. maybe he shouldn't have asked that
jaemin — telling him that you don't want to be posted
you knew jaemin had a photography account. it was linked to his profile when you first checked his social media accounts when you guys first started talking
every time you guys would hang out, jaemin always brought a camera with him. snapping photos of whatever and posting them almost immediately on his photography account
and of course he takes photos of you whenever he could. may it be scripted or candid, you will always have a photo taken by jaemin
so when he thought that you two were going somewhere, he was ready to finally post you to his account til you say some words that shook him to the core
"can you not post me just yet? i feel shy"
jaemin was alarmed with this. did he do anything wrong for you to be shy? he was almost certain that he made sure that you had the constant assurance of being with him despite not being exclusive just yet
"why? what's wrong?" jaemin asks, worried
you shrug, "i just don't want to be posted"
jaemin had to double check if he heard you right. because from all the other flings he had in the past, they were borderline begging him to post them on any of his socials til you came along
"are you sure?
"yes jaems. i'm absolutely sure" you smile, reaching over to hold his hand to convince him further. jaemin's not 100% convinced but fine. if you say so. though if it was any other person, they'd jump on the opportunity from the get go but jaemin can only guess that you were different from the rest
what jaemin doesn't know that you're not about that commitment life for now
chenle — telling him that you're still friends with your ex
it was already rare that you and chenle go out especially with your unique (for lack of better word. chenle's words, not yours) "relationship" with him, of course you just had to run into your ex in the middle of it
"y/n, is that you?" sungchan chirps, walking closer to your table to take a closer look. your eyes widened when you realize that it was sungchan who called out your name earlier
"channie!" you greet a little too excitedly for chenle's liking. you stood up from your seat, giving sungchan, who you haven't seen in so long a quick hug
chenle's eyes narrow at the way you are so enthusiastic about reuniting with sungchan after a long time. he watches you like a hawk the way your eyes are sparkling whenever sungchan makes an attempt to make you laugh
he (chenle) coughs to catch both of your attentions. sungchan is a little startled and greets chenle
"oh sorry man, i didn't see you there. my bad" sungchan sheepishly apologizes before he tells you that he'll be on his way and that he was happy to see you again. you laugh again as you bid him goodbye, watching him walk away from your table
when you sit back down, you were met with a sulky chenle
"what?" you ask, taking note of the way chenle's eyebrows were furrowed
"what was that about?" chenle murmurs
"who? sungchan? oh, he's just a friend" you brush him off like it was nothing, taking a bite of your burger
"yeah. but he's your ex, is he not?" chenle questions, frowning at the mention of your previous relationship status
you raise a brow at the latter
"we're literally just friends and i can't just let him go. i don't know why you're so bothered about it" you click your tongue in annoyance
chenle simply shakes his head, jaw clenched. the way you just dismissed him is beyond him but he guesses he deserves it for not putting a label on whatever you two have going on
guess he'll just suck it up for now
jisung — telling him not to worry about your other friends
you and jisung had a lot of common friends than you two initially thought. so much that he himself is in disbelief that you know sion out of all people
"y/n? didn't think i'd see you around here!" sion greets, coming near you with his arms open
"sion!" you smile, hugging him back
jisung looks between the two of you. since when did you know each other?
sion catches jisung's curious stare and laughs out loud, wrapping an arm around your shoulder
"y/n and i go way back! we went to the same highschool!" sion tells jisung
you giggle, head falling back to sion's shoulder as you nod your head yes in agreement
"we were in the same friend group too" you coo, poking sion's sides
jisung can only smile awkwardly at your skinship. so you two are close? like close like that?
"alright i gotta find the others. i'll see you around?" sion says but the last bit was directed towards you instead of jisung. jisung catches a look in sion's eyes that he can't pinpoint what it was
does sion have a crush on you or something?
"okay. see you around" you wave goodbye as sion walks away. you sit back next to jisung who was now fidgeting in his seat. you two aren't exclusive but you had already confessed your feelings for each other in the past
"what's wrong, jwi?" you ask, looking over at him with concern
"... you and sion?" he asks lowly, so low that you barely caught it over the sound of the music playing on the speakers
"what?"
"you and sion" jisung says seriously, finally looking at you with sad eyes
"oh!" you gasp, catching on, "me and sion are just friends, jwi" you laugh, patting his head
"... are you sure?"
you wrap your hands around him, leaning your head on his shoulder
"i have my eyes on you, dummy" you coo, poking his nose. eventually jisung does wrap his arounds you too, hearing your words. though there's a part of him that doesn't buy it. he could've sworn that sion looked at you like that. but if you said that you two are just friends, then you two are just friends.. right?
