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rrxnjun · 10 months

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i felt younger when we met | n. yuta

nakamoto yuta was your hero. as the lead singer of the rising punk band takes you along with him on his journey to stardom, you realize that you never knew heartbreak could taste so sweet.

PAIRING: nakamoto yuta x fem! reader STARRING: lead singer! yuta, guitarist! doyoung, bassist! johnny, drummer! mark GENRE: rockstar au, band au. angst, suggestive. WC: 17k (17.630) WARNINGS: age gap, mentions of alcohol, weed and hard drugs, yuta and his band actually played the warped tour (canon!) pls somebody tell me yall get the reference, cheating and breaking up

PLAYLIST: honey - l'arc en ciel ; i felt younger when we met - waterparks ; your power - billie eilish ; motion sickness - phoebe bridgers ; guys my age - hey violet ; praha/vídeň - calin ; drugs - cheridomingo

A/N: oh yall are gonna HAATE this one. thank you arden @zhongriot for brainstorming with me about this it was greatly appreciated <3 growing up is realizing doyoung was actually the only decent one and that jaechan was right. also the original title of this wip was honey so sweet bc of the honey cover just so yall know lol

I. honey, so sweet

The last few tones of a G chord resonate through the garage, the platinum blond’s raspy voice fading out into silence as you watch the band in front of you with stars in your eyes, breathless and with your ears ringing only slightly due to the noise that’s been happening for quite some time now. Feeling yourself clap and squeal at the little show you just finished watching, you’re brought up to your feet as you jump around enthusiastically, the sound of the thick sole of your boot against the ground waking you up only slightly from the weird state of euphoria you’ve been in until now.

You’ve known Yuta for quite some time now, but this was the first time he let you watch his band practice. Everything you’ve known about the music he plays was through the headphones sneakily passed to you when you had a night shift at the diner, or from the voice memos he’d send you very early on in the morning when you were supposed to be asleep, and everything you’ve known about his band members was through his words shared in the comfort of his car seats or the benches in the park. You’ve seen Mark once before, when he had late dinner with Yuta while you were working at the diner downtown, but your interaction didn’t go further than a polite greeting and a boyish grin sent your way from the charming drummer.

It’s only natural that everything about the late night feels ecstatic to you now. The tones of electric guitars and the rhythm of the drums making your heart beat faster than before, Yuta’s sharp, yet hearty vocals calling to you like sirens in the middle of the ocean. Tonight’s one of the few nights you don’t have night shift at the diner– since you usually take all Friday night ones; you get paid more for them and with your schedule at school, you can’t afford to work more night shifts throughout the week– and Yuta took that as an opportunity to invite you over to his garage to listen to his band play. The lead singer made eye contact with you throughout each song, and you felt yourself flush at the thought that the words coming out of his mouth might have been addressed to you, written about you, adrenaline soaring freely through your veins.

“That was amazing! Wow, like,” you throw your hands up, at a loss for words, “I literally couldn’t believe my ears.”

“You expected less of me, babe?” Yuta grins at you from his place at the microphone stand, taking a step back from the device to put away the guitar hanging around his neck. You watch his movements intensively, eyes scanning the outline of his biceps and the loose hems of his jet black shirt, the platinum white hair falling into his eyes. “I thought you already knew what we were made of when I let you listen to our songs back then.”

“Well,” you sheepishly hum, “it’s different to hear it live.”

The singer snickers, shrugging to himself. “Told you to prepare yourself.”

“I don’t think I could even if I tried,” you compliment the man, eyes watching the rest of the band as they put their respective instruments away. And again, you don’t know these men that well– you’re not as familiar with them as you are with their frontman, since you haven’t spent much time around them just yet– but there’s something joyful in the bassist, Johnny’s smile when he meets your eye before he puts away his guitar into its dark blue case.

Their band– Neo zone– consists of four members. Yuta, your friend, plays the guitar and sings. He’s the frontman of the group and also the person that founded the band; at least that’s what he told you. He met Johnny at college– both of them majoring in Finance before they decided to drop out in their sophomore year– and soon after, he recruited his friend to be the bassist for his band. The two of them met Doyoung, their lead guitarist, at a concert of an underground band some years ago through a mutual friend Taeyong, and they all hit it off so well that when the thought of a band first came to light, Yuta wasted no time in chatting up the charming male for the position. And lastly, their drummer Mark– he was the youngest of them all, the most quiet one, and from what Yuta told you, he met the man through his younger brother. The two of them were friends at college, so Mark spent a lot of time over at Yuta’s house, and he knew that the male could play the drums– so after a casual conversation over a beer one evening, here they were.

“I’m heading home,” says the drummer, waving at the rest of the group, “I have a thing I’m supposed to attend with Jaehyun today.”

“Aight,” Yuta hums, nodding, “good job today, Markie. See you next week!”

The male disappears out of the rusty garage in no time, and with him follows the tall one– Johnny– saying he has a morning shift at the store he works at tomorrow, excusing himself out of the after-practice hangout. That leaves only you, Yuta and Doyoung in the room, and while you’d like to get to know his friends and bandmates better, you’d be more satisfied if either all of them stayed behind, or if the only one who stayed was anyone but the lead guitarist.

See, you don’t know Kim Doyoung that well. All you know about him is that he’s a year younger than Yuta and that he’s painfully good at what he does. You also know that he has a sharp jawline and even sharper eyes, which he gladly lands on you whenever he hears you talk, and that motion makes you self-conscious and insecure on most instances. He also has a sharp tongue, which you learned not that long after being first introduced to him this afternoon, and while you don’t know what you did to get on the man’s nerves so much, you figured it’s for the best to interact with him as least as humanly possible if you wanted to spare your feelings and not get yourself hurt.

“Today was good, but try getting over the last song on your own again,” Doyoung offers to his friend, watching him with cold eyes. Yuta makes his way around the room and takes a seat next to you on the dusty, maroon sofa, his legs spreading wide making your eyes drift towards his lean figure. You watch the exchange silently, picking at the skin of your cuticles anxiously, hoping for it to be over quickly.

“The Departure?” Yuta assures himself.

Doyoung nods as he hides his guitar into his case as well, handling the instrument with utmost care. “You went a little off-beat in the last part.”

“Got it, chief,” Yuta jokes, saluting the man, a lazy grin overtaking his features. “Wanna grab a beer and stay over for a bit?” he asks, the question making your insides heaten up with anticipation, stinging a bit of an anxious fear.

It’s almost as if the guitarist feels that you’re afraid of his presence– it’s not like he scares you, to be exact, you’re just slightly intimidated by the serpent-like male– as he meets your eye before he turns towards the frontman. “Nah,” he shrugs, “I’m good. Maybe next time,” he adds, taking the guitar case off the ground and heading towards the door.

“Whatever floats your boat.”

“Try not to fuck the kid on the couch, right? We sit there sometimes,” Doyoung snickers before he’s off, his raven bangs bouncing up and down when he skips out of the old-smelling garage. The remark stings you a bit, the harsh words, although you hate to admit it, feel like salt thrown into a fresh wound, having you chew on the inside of your cheek as you listen to the door close behind the male, leaving you alone with Yuta.

The male next to you clears his throat, easing the tension in your muscles when you look up at him and see him smiling softly at you, a twinkle in his eye. “What?” he asks you, sensing that you’re feeling a little down.

“It’s- it’s nothing,” you nod to yourself, not really wanting to be as vulnerable in front of your friend. You treasure Yuta more than anyone else, since you always somehow feel like your souls are connected on a level you haven’t felt with no one your whole life, but sometimes, you feel a bit shameful to admit to your worries in front of him. To the male, the world is his sea, his place that he swims through with passion and enthusiasm. He doesn’t seem like the type of person to worry about what your friends would think of him, no matter how bad it could be. He doesn’t seem like the type of person that would understand you if you worded your anxious feelings out loud, the type of person who’d reassure you without making you feel foolish.

Still, somehow, he sees right through you. “Don’t worry about Doyoung. He’s got a stick up his butt on most days, it’s nothing to have with you,” he says, offering you the gentlest of smiles, poking your cheek a little when he sees you pout.

You heave out a sigh, but offer the man a loop-sided smile– the kind you fake, but hope the receiving side is satisfied– watching him as he scoots closer to you and puts an arm around your shoulder. The scent of his cologne hits your nose and you feel yourself easing into him, the gesture somehow protective and affectionate in your eyes, but the proximity still makes your heart thump fast against your ribcage. Taking a shaky breath through your nose, you find yourself staring intensely at his face.

“So you’re saying you enjoyed hearing us play?” he asks you, tone of voice kitten-like, yearning for praise. He sounds coy, confident, but still searches for hearing you say it out loud. Sometimes you think he enjoys listening to you talk about him. It makes him feel good when you flutter your eyelashes at the male in the middle of the diner and tell him you love the way he sings, it makes his ego grow when you gasp at all the right parts and compliment the lyrics in the chorus. And you don’t think it’s a bad thing– you think you’d do the same if you were in his shoes.

Hushed voice, you nod eagerly, grinning. “Yeah,” you agree. “I also enjoyed seeing you play,” you muse, watching as the satisfied look on Yuta’s face grows and his excited eyes gleam with more intensity.

“Did you?” he teases, head ducking closer to you, the proximity making your breathing catch in your throat. You bet he knows about the effect he has on you by now– you bet he realizes that each time he talks to you with that tone, the flirty hint of it in his voice, you feel weak in your knees, ready to fold for him. You bet he is aware of the fact that you watch him all the time, eyes glued to his confident figure, amazed at the way he moves around the garage with his guitar, tinted with a hint of jealousy when the girls that go eat at the diner at the same time he visits you on your night shifts ogle him and he sends some a shameless wink. You’re almost sure he knows about the dreams you have of him at night, about the fact that you fantasize about him writing songs for you and singing them on stage, letting the world know that your feelings might be reciprocated.

The idea makes you cave in on yourself. “Yeah,” you breathe out, feeling heat rising to the tips of your ears.

“That’s good,” he hums, “wanna hear a little secret?” he asks, eyeing you with a glimmer in his eye. You hum in response, eager to be let in on the confidential information. “I wrote the last song about you,” he whispers. “Maybe I’ll release it one day.”

The sentence startles you, the comment makes all sorts of warm gold sprawl around your stomach, the tips of your ears burning and the nerve endings on your fingers tingling from excitement. “Really?” you gasp. You never imagined having a song written about you. You never imagined someone caring enough– never imagined having someone sing to you, about you. Sure, you fantasized about it happening, almost a little foolishly and childishly, but you never once dared to think of the fantasy as true.

Yuta laughs at your composure. You bet you look small in his eyes. “What? Are you shy about it, pretty girl?”

“No,” you peep, averting your gaze from him and aimlessly searching through your surroundings, watching the unmoving garage. Your eyes glue to the white wall in front of you, ignoring the fact that Yuta’s face is only an inch away from yours, your hands now clammy as you rest them in your lap.

“It seems that you are,” he grins, “you don’t have to be, though,” he notes, a finger hooking around the bottom of your chin, a gentle hold making you turn your face towards him, eyes locking in a dangerous blink.

Gaping, not breaking eye contact– too afraid to break the spark– you wait for what’s about to come, welcoming it with open arms. The air around you gets thicker and the silence becomes overbearing, you find yourself counting each white strand that falls into his eyes, when the male leans in to you, the sudden shift making your eyes flutter close on themselves.

It happens, the moment you’ve been dreaming about; the moment you’ve wanted to experience ever since you first met the male, all real and only yours to live over and over in your memories– Yuta kisses you, gently at first, lips playing with yours in a way that makes the soft sense of nervousness flutter like butterfly wings in your stomach. Your shy hands grip the front of his shirt when he deepens the kiss, makes it more firm and urgent, teeth clashing against each other in the messy cacophony of your souls, a sound of a heavy breath flying into your ear as the male grips your jaw and angles your face the way he wants it to, testing the waters with a bit of tongue.

You invite him in, parting your lips and letting him explore, letting him win the battle for dominance– not that you even wanted to be the one in charge in the first place– and although you feel a little overwhelmed, a bit too lost in the moment, you find yourself moving from your place and straddling his lap, the hands that were once cradling your face falling off and gripping your hips, keeping you right where you are.

When you feel your lungs being knocked out of all oxygen, you pull away from the male, eyes locking with his swollen lips, and you feel a bit satisfied with yourself– having him like this, eyes blown-out and staring at you like you were the only thing in the whole entire universe that mattered right in this moment. There’s something about the wrinkles on his shirt from how you’ve been gripping on it, about his flushed cheeks, that makes you feel proud of yourself. You did this to him, you smile, you are the reason why he looks like this.

Pressing your forehead against his, eyes still staring into his deep, dark orbs, the singer breaks out into a boyish grin, shaking his head in disbelief, wanting to bring himself back to the present moment. “So I’ll take it as my pretty girl will come watch me play more often, right?” he hums.

A fluttery feeling erupts in your chest, warmth spreading all the way to the tips of your fingertips. “Your pretty girl?” you ask.

Yuta nods, snickering to himself. “My pretty girl,” he mumbles, and before you get a chance for a rebuttal, he pulls away an inch, cradling his neck up to press a peck to the middle of your forehead.

The adrenaline, the smell of his cologne, the excitement seeping right through you and to the space all around– you never knew Yuta would taste this good. You never knew he could taste this sweet.

II. the rush of adrenaline, I'm not scared to jump in

The smell of burned oil and grease fills your nose as you make your way through the kitchen, figure skipping through the whole diner in irregular intervals during yet another one of your Friday night shifts. Taking the plate filled with chicken nuggets, potatoes and ranch dressing, you offer a quick smile to your coworker Jaechan as you walk out of the back, ready to serve the food to one of your regulars.

As you finally get out of the heated and humid place, back to the main dining area that has air conditioning on, your eyes catch with a certain someone waiting for you at the pult, a grin settling onto his features when you light up at noticing his presence.

“I’ll be right with you,” you say to him as you pass his body and walk over to one of the tables in the corner of the room, smiling at your customer when you give him the plate. Your steps are lighter and more enthusiastic when you get back to Yuta sitting at one of the tall stools, his face still adorned with a soft smile. The male watches you as you work, and you feel warmth envelope your insides.

“Weren’t you supposed to have practice tonight?” you ask him, settling behind the pult. There aren’t many people in the diner right now, and the work during the night is slow– you kind of despise the fact that you’re open 24/7, but that’s what you get for working at a diner– so there’s no issue in you chatting away with your friends that come visit when you have the time. You always make sure to do your job well and put the customers first, so your boss never really complained.

“It’s over already,” he says, “we got over the songs quite quickly,” he notes, seeing you nod and smile at his response.

“That’s good,” you say, “I’m glad. Do you want something? Fries? Coke? On the house, obviously,” you grin, making the man eagerly nod to your question, eyes lit up in joy.

“Just a glass of coke is fine,” he says.

You turn away from him for a mere second, taking one of the clean glasses to your hand and then walking a few steps to the right where the coolers are, taking out a glass bottle of Coca-Cola. Offering the drink back to your boyfriend, you watch him as he pours the black liquid into the tall glass, the two of you enveloped in a comfortable silence. The diner doesn’t play music after 10 PM, and somehow, you’re glad. It gets kind of annoying to listen to the same few songs on loop the whole night– because the speaker system is old and doesn’t have an AUX input, you have to listen to the same 3 CDs over and over again the whole year– and so whenever Yuta comes to visit you during your night shifts, the silence only adds to your sense of intimacy and comfort with the man.

“Was Doyoung less snappy today?” you ask, watching the male grin and shake his head at your question.

“A bit,” he admits, “not too much, though. Don’t know what’s gotten into him lately, but he’s been a real bitch.”

You hum at his response, eyes tracing his features. “Maybe he’s stressed about something,” you propose, and you don’t really put much meaning into your own words– you don’t know the man enough to know how he reacts under pressure, nor do you really care– but the man in front of you only squints his eyes in thought, shrugging.

“Could be it,” he agrees, “I mean, there’s a lot happening with the band right now, so it would be only natural,” he says, making you furrow your brows at him in question. You weren’t aware of anything big happening– maybe the news were recent, you didn’t know, but judging by the fact that you’re pretty updated on things concerning the band, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were.

“What do you mean?” you ask, folding your hands at your chest and leaning on the counter, your face now closer to Yuta’s– god, you’ll never get used to just how beautiful this man is in your poor eyes.

The singer grins to himself, acting innocent. “Just… some stuff,” he says.

“What is it?” you ask again, this time with a coat of persistence in your voice. You don’t want to say it out loud, but you’re getting kind of worried– Yuta doesn’t usually hide things from you. Hell, you’d even go as far as saying that you are the first person he comes to when something happens, no matter if it’s good or bad, and with the suspicious way he’s acting right now, your mind can’t help but wander.

“Nothing,” he peeps, taking a sip out of his glass, making you sigh and roll your eyes at the male. You point your finger to the middle of his forehead, poking him– his head lulls backwards a little, making you heave out a soft giggle– before you squint at him in annoyance.

“Come on,” you huff, “you’re not gonna tell me?” you pout, mastering your best attempt at puppy eyes– something inside of you tells you that no matter how stubborn Yuta is, he’s kind of weak for you when you look at him like that– and the man only snickers at you as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“I will,” he admits, smiling at you. The gesture has you soften a bit, your muscles losing their previous tension, because come on– if he’s smiling at you like that, there’s no way the news could be bad– but before you get a chance to pry him about it, the ring above the door makes a sound and your eyes trace the figures of two girls, both a bit older than you, smiling at someone in particular.

And that someone isn’t you– of course, why would anyone smile at their server, am I right? – that someone is Nakamoto Yuta, the man sitting in front of you, and you’re already familiar enough with the two girls to know what’s about to happen next.

See, you are aware that Yuta is attractive. Hell, you blushed under his gaze when you met him in this diner for the very first time, his hair back then raven black, falling into his eyes. You’re painfully aware of the fact that you’re not the only one who finds him beautiful, but there’s something about the very obvious gazes and giggles the girls who frequent the diner send to him that has your stomach turn, making you see red and feel very obvious green, and no matter what you do or try to tell to yourself, you can’t battle the feeling out of your veins.

The scenario is one you’ve seen before– the girls giggle out as they arrive, sharing a knowing look, before they pass the pult you two are standing behind, sending very obvious looks to Yuta as they reach for the table in the corner. They greet him with their soft, honey voices, they say “Hi Yuta!”, because he’s known around the town– everybody knows the name of the rising band’s lead singer, everybody wants to take a glimpse of him, shoot him a flirtatious smile, because once he makes it big, you can tell yourself you knew him, he knew you, he looked at you and said hi back. Yuta looks at them and grins, sends them a wink, greets them with his raspy voice that says “Hi ladies,”, and it makes your stomach growl, it makes your gaze harden, but most importantly, you feel acid on your tongue when the man in front of you sends them his usual wink.

Clearing your throat as all goes exactly how you remember and expect it to go, you watch as Yuta looks back at you with an innocent smile, not really minding that he told you you were his pretty girl just last week, not really caring that now, his actions have very different consequences. Back when you were uselessly pining over him, you knew your jealousy was foolish– you didn’t really have a reason to feel possessive over the man, because he was very clearly single. Now, things have changed, though, and you kind of expected his behavior to alter around the girls– the girls that are a few years older than you, a few inches taller than you, a bit more mature and a bit more pretty.

“Something’s wrong?” he asks you, face coy and feline-like. You glare at him, knowing he’s aware of what you’re implying, but still, he does nothing to apologize as he only giggles at you and leans in, pecking your lips.

“Everything’s peachy,” you mumble, shaking your head as you take the menus from the counter, ready to serve the customers.

As you’re about to exit the pult and pass your boyfriend, he grabs your wrist and spins you so you face him, making you watch as he downs the last remains of the Coke in his drink, offering you another smile. “I’m gonna get something at the gas station real quick,” he muses, “I’ll wait for you in my car after you get off?”

Sighing, still acting a bit annoyed at his behavior– but knowing, sensing that you already forgave him the moment he spared you a single glance– you nod. The male pulls you closer to him, sending another kiss, this time firmer, to your lips, and if he wasn’t in control of the situation, you know you’d get too lost in the moment, too distracted to do your job– but before you know it, he leans away and stands up from the tall chair, pats your bottom and walks over to the front door.

Watching as he disappears behind the glass, laughing to yourself when he waves at you and blows you a kiss, you shake your head as you walk over to the table with the two girls sitting at it, their mood not as bright as it was before, and with a victorious smirk, you realize, with a hint of joy in your heart, that they’ve been watching the exchange.

The singer waits for you in the parking lot, his figure leaning on the 2007 Volkswagen golf he sometimes drives you home in, and although it’s already 4:45 AM (your shift ends at 4:30, but you have to count up the register and change before you go), you find yourself walking over to him with a pep in your step. The platinum white falls into his eyes as he grins at you, reaching his arms out once you’re close enough, pulling you into a hug.

You and Yuta never really hugged much. You can’t say you dislike the change.

“How was the rest of the shift?” he mumbles into your hair, holding you close to his chest. His arms feel almost possessive, making you feel secure, and something about the whiff you get of his cologne makes your head spin a little when he lets go, watching you as you walk over to the passenger’s side and get into his car.

“It was okay,” you admit, shrugging, “not busy.”

“That’s good to hear,” he nods, getting in as well and fastening his seatbelt, putting the car into reverse and slowly driving out of the parking lot. The radio is turned off at this hour– a thing that rarely happens in Yuta’s car, because he always has to have music playing in the background of his life– and the silence envelopes you in an intimate, comforting atmosphere.

Hence, why you ask the crucial question that’s been bugging you the whole night. “What did you want to talk about earlier?” you mumble, the tone of your voice light and coated with tiredness. You’ve been up the whole day, since you have classes in the mornings, but now that you know there’s something Yuta’s been keeping away from you, you know you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep even if you tried, overthinking making your mind too busy to lull you into the dreamland.

“Are you up for a drive? I’ll tell you and then drop you off at dorms,” he asks, eyes locking with yours for a split second before he focuses back on the road.

Humming, you agree with his idea. You give him some time while he takes the turn that goes out of the city and towards the ring road, tracing his actions with your hazy, half-asleep eyes. The car takes a steady speed, one that’s neither alarming nor too slow, and Yuta’s palm easily takes a hold of your thigh, the steering wheel now being operated with only one of his arms. The affectionate action makes you feel heat in the tips of your ears and on the highest parts of your cheekbones, gaze shifting away from the male next to you towards the empty road. Everything about the things you’ve been dreaming about– the subtle touches, the glances, the pet names– makes you shy away from the man. It’s not that you don’t enjoy it, you would be a liar if you said you didn’t, but still– the novelty of it all still surprises you, keeps you on your feet.

“So,” he starts, clearing his throat a bit before proceeding, “you know how I told you we now practice more often than we used to?” he asks, eyes peering at you with expectation, waiting for you to answer. You offer him a tired hum, too sleepy to really master up anything else, and when it reaches his ears, he takes it as his lead to continue.

“Well, it was for a reason… at our last gig, there were some scouting people, or whatever you call it… and I didn’t tell you before, because it wasn’t certain and I also don’t really know how these things go– y’know, that’s Doyoung’s thing, sorta– and I also didn’t wanna sound silly if things didn’t work out,” he explains, deep voice resonating through the low hum of the engine, keeping you awake, “but things did work out and we got signed to a label.”

Yuta gives you a minute to process the information. He doesn’t say anything for a bit, only waiting for you to reply back to him– to react, in any way, really– and when he doesn’t get any words out of you, he looks at you with a look so fragilely expecting that you almost want to coo at the male and hold him in your arms, tell him you’re just as excited as he is, because it’s the truth, and you are; you just can’t really find the right words to express so right now.

“Wow,” you heave out, half-lidded, something warm and proud bundling up in the depths of your chest, “that’s- that’s awesome,” you mumble, watching as the male next to you visibly relaxes at your response.

“Yeah,” he nods, suddenly more energetic than before, and you chuckle at the realization of just how important your opinion was for him– even though it shouldn’t be, really. It’s always been his dream, and what you think of the matter shouldn’t be any of his concern. “So they heard us play and listened to our songs and stuff, and they said we can record an album somewhere towards the end of the year, but they said we gotta promote ourselves a bit first, so…” he freezes a little, chewing on the bottom of his lip.

Suddenly, he seems nervous again. It’s a strange sight– you don’t often see Nakamoto Yuta so worried about the opinion of other people. You don’t often have the privilege to see the singer so open and so vulnerable, so easy to break. It only happens with stuff important to him, you think– the band is always his priority, and you’re more than happy that he’s finally getting the recognition he deserves and strives for. Hand slowly reaching for the one that’s resting on your thigh, you interlock your fingers with him and squeeze his palm in a reassuring manner, as if to tell him that he doesn’t have to be afraid, that you’re his biggest supporter, that you’re always here for all the news– good or bad.

“So…?” you prob him.

“So,” he clears his throat, smiling at you when he gets reassured, “we’re going to tour this one festival. It’s only for a couple of weeks, and it’s around the country, so we don’t have to fly out and all, but… I’ll be out of the city for a while, is what I’m saying.”

The confession makes your stomach churn in fear. Suddenly, you’re painfully aware of Yuta’s worry about talking to you about the topic. Somehow, you understand him completely. Ever since you met Yuta, you haven’t gone more than three days without seeing each other. You two are like puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly, always searching for the other pair when it’s not in its place by your side. Your relationship is very fresh, very new, and although you know your bond is stronger than the distance, you can’t help but feel a bit of worry in the tips of your fingertips, in the pit of your stomach. And also, there’s this silly feeling– small, but yet so overbearing– that comes with the image of not being close to Yuta for weeks, of not being able to see him every day and find the light in his eyes to get you through the week. There’s this silly feeling of missing him, of yearning for him to be there with you every minute and every second of the day, and hell, sometimes you miss him even when he’s away for a day, and you don’t know what you’ll do if it’s gonna be weeks, a big, nasty thought that’s both unreal and too realistic prickling your brain– how will you even survive when he’s not by your side? Without Yuta, you’re nothing. No one.

Still, you’re not about to ruin this for him. You’re not about to act sad, or act disappointed, because you’re not, at the end of the day. At the end of it all, you’re aware that this has always been his dream. You are happy for him– you’re ecstatic. And that’s exactly how you’re gonna react.

“That’s awesome, Yuta,” you muse, and you’re glad the tone of your voice stays genuine, “that’s big news. I’m so happy for you,” you say, seeing as the male next to you breaks out into a boyish grin, excitement spreading into every inch of his body, fingers tugging at yours to bring your interlocked hands into his lap.

“It’s gonna be over soon and then I’m right back by your side,” he hums, and you shake your head at him.

“I’ll wait however long it takes,” you disagree with his statement, “don’t you worry. I’m gonna cheer for you every night.”

The road in front of you signals a turn back into the city, Yuta’s car naturally and smoothly driving back towards the center of life. You subtly hear your partner talk excitedly about all his dreams and all the visions he has of the festival tour– how he’s going to have the time of his life, how the boys will make it big, how he can’t wait to show everyone what they’re made of– and although you’re happy and content, the buzzing excitement of his voice does nothing to keep you awake in the late hour. You feel a peck pressed to the back of your hand, your sleep-filled eyes meeting with his, when he shakes his head at you in disbelief.

“We’re almost at yours now,” he hums, “I’ll wake you up in front of the building.”

Smiling, you nod. Somehow, you drift off with thoughts of full crowds cheering for Yuta, with thoughts wishing for him to make it just as big as he’s always dreamt of. You battle your own worries away, telling them you’re silly for thinking that things will change between the two of you when he’s away, writing them off to be your own unreasonable anxieties.

Things won’t change, you repeat to yourself, and if so, only for the better.

III. a little bit of California with a little bit of London sky

Life has stilled into a pleasant, comfortable routine for the two of you. You admired just how easily Yuta fit into your daily schedule, just how easily he managed to get used to the cycle of your days, and the knowledge makes you that much sadder to let him go. You go to class from Monday to Friday, snatching mostly the morning ones this semester, which is a thing you’ve grown to be appreciative of, since it means you have time off in the afternoon for your shifts and hanging out with Yuta. On Friday evenings, you take the night shift and have your boyfriend drive you back to dorms when you’re off, and on Sundays, you and Yuta go out to eat in your favorite sushi restaurant downtown as he talks to you about the events of the whole week. He talks your ear off with his excitement, sometimes not even giving you a chance to speak yourself– which he apologizes for on most days, and you’re not mad at him, because truly, you understand– telling you about how practice is going and how their new manager, a thing they haven’t had before, is keeping everything in check for when the festival tour happens.

You went to listen to them practice one more time. You don’t really dare to go close to the garage anymore, since Doyoung has not grown warmer to your presence, but you still enjoyed yourself as you realized that their mutual passion only made them perform better.

And with days going by slowly like this, you almost don’t notice when it’s time for Yuta to leave, and suddenly, you’re standing in the crowd of the first show of their first festival tour– the thing that’s supposedly going to make their career take off– as they play songs you know like the back of your hand by now for thousands of people around you in your hometown. Something about the first stop of the tour being your hometown made you feel a bit unsettled– isn’t it always the other way around? Aren’t you supposed to reunite with your lover while he plays his last show back home? But then you realize that it’s a festival, and not their own tour– they aren’t as big to have one themselves yet– and you’re understanding of the logistics. They can’t all play the last show in their hometown.

You brought your roommate Aeri along with you to the show, both of your outfits matching in shades of black and red as you make your way towards the front row, making sure you have good enough of a view to see your boyfriend on the stage. There’s a nervous pep in your step when you wait for the band to arrive, the knowledge that your roommate has never seen Yuta before; you wonder if this is how he felt when he was introducing you to his bandmates all those weeks before, and if so, why he didn’t tell you about it.

Murmurs of the people in the crowd fill your ears, and you watch them with a horrifying realization that you don’t seem like you belong here– so out of the general aesthetic of the crowd, making you feel not cool enough, not punk enough, not good enough to be by the side of someone like Yuta– but before you get a chance to really vocalize your thoughts, there’s a sound of a drum coming from the front of the stage that makes you turn your head forward, watching as Mark grins at the crowd with something you’d call a nervous, yet excited smile, starting off their gig with an up-beat song.

“They’re kinda good!” you hear Aeri scream into your ear, and something about the compliment makes you relax. This is a good thing, you think– she doesn’t hate it, which means she probably won’t hate the members of the band themselves either.

Once Yuta walks on the stage with his guitar slung over his neck, playing the chords you’d be able to name by memory– having your boyfriend repeat them to himself for a few good minutes once when you came over to his house and he was practicing the song by himself– and even though you wouldn’t be able to play it, you’re sure you’d recognize this song even if you were woken up in the middle of the night, slightly sleepy and still out of it. The crowd cheers, and you find yourself smiling in a sense of euphoria.

Jumping around with the rest of the population, you get lost in the music. Their set plays out for a good hour and a half, combining cover songs and their own originals, the sun setting with the sound of their eclectic guitars. There’s always something about concerts that makes you lost in time, not really register the way it flows by and leaves you unknowing in the spiral. You didn’t even realize it– you don’t think you even fully registered the experience of seeing Yuta play live on a stage for the first time– and it’s over and you’re catching your breath, feeling your ears ring from the noise that’s been there for the last hour or so and now isn’t, everything around you muffled and a little bit hazy.

“Let’s go, we gotta catch them in the back,” you hurriedly mumble into Aeri’s ear, the girl following you with excited steps as you drag her around the crowded space. Yuta told you he is leaving as soon as the festival ends so their van can drive over to the next city as soon as possible, and since they were the second to last to go on, you feel a threatening bubble growing in your chest.

There’s a group of girls waving at the band leaving off stage, and you pray that you can somehow catch Yuta before he has to walk over to their van.

You catch a glimpse of the platinum white bangs when you jump around and try to see them, and as your eyes meet, the singer breaks out into a smile before he turns towards the rest of the band, waving at them and telling them that they can go and that he’ll find his way back in a bit. The gesture warms your heart, a sense of relief settling onto your shoulders.

“You were amazing!” you holler as you get towards the metal gate that keeps the artists away from the crowd, your body getting into contact with the cold material as you throw your hands around your boyfriend’s neck, grasping him harder than ever before. His arms reach around your waist, squeezing out all of the air in your lungs, as a laugh bubbles out of his chest and makes you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

“I was singing the songs for you, babygirl,” he hums into your ear, heat rising to your cheeks at the sentiment. When you pull away visibly flustered, Yuta laughs at your face, making you swat his arm in an act of playfulness. “You must be Aeri!” the man notices your roommate tagging along, smiling at her with his welcoming, warm smile.

The girl nods at him, greeting him almost a little too politely. “Yeah! I heard a lot about you, so I’m glad Y/N wasn’t lying, y’know,” she giggles, and you roll your eyes.

“See, I would never lie to you,” you snicker, and as you put your arm on the metal gate to steady yourself, you feel warmth cover it as Yuta’s own palm envelopes it in a sweet gesture that still surprises you whenever it so effortlessly happens, but also puts you at ease all in one minute.

“I liked the drummer,” Aeri muses, making Yuta laugh at her.

“I’ll let him know,” he salutes, and with that, he turns back to you with wide eyes, a thousand glimmering stars behind them making you admire just how beautiful and full of life the man in front of you suddenly looks. It tugs at your heartstrings– it’s only the first show and it’s already gone so well, he was born for this, you think, and even though it’s difficult, you suddenly feel like letting him go will be so much easier after the sight, because you’ll be doing it with the knowledge that it’s the best possible thing for him, something you would never be able to give to him if he was stuck with you back home.

“It went exactly how we wanted it to go, it was- it was so great,” he sighs, the crowd behind you suddenly disappearing and grouping around the front of the stage again, signaling that the next band is about to play and finish off tonight’s stop, “thank you for coming.”

“I wouldn’t miss it, you know,” you shrug, gazing into his eyes. There’s a lot of noise around you– the sound of the people talking and cheering behind your back, the beat of the drums, the shuffling of feet– yet, you feel like in this moment, everything else tuned out, everything around you disappeared for a second and left only you and Yuta in the big place, eyes and hearts for each other.

“I’m gonna–”

“Don’t say it,” you hush him, chewing on the inside of your cheek in nerves. You don’t want to hear it– you don’t want to hear him say it, because then, it would make it feel more real, more raw. You wanted to name the sensation when it comes to you, not have it in your brain before you even get a chance to get it, but Yuta shakes his head at you and sighs.

“I have to say it.”

“No, you don’t,” you giggle, amidst a little sadly.

“I do,” he nods, “because it’s true. And you deserve to hear it face to face, not over the phone,” he says, and you heave out a sigh at his words.

“Fine,” you grant him permission. Get it over with.

He shakes his head at you in disbelief, his hair bouncing in the motion. It makes you want to reach over and brush back the damp locks, put the wet strands into their place, but you don’t– and why you stop yourself is a question you don’t get to ask. “I’m gonna miss you,” he completes, and you nod.

Tears prickle at the edges of your eyes, and you promised yourself you’re not going to cry when Yuta goes– something about it feeling childish, too overly dramatic for a fact that he’s gonna be away only for a couple of weeks– and that’s exactly why you didn’t want him to say it, why you didn’t want to hear the words before he’s miles away and talking to you through the phone, because crying seems foolish in this moment. It seems stupid, dumb, dramatic, because tonight’s a good night– one that should be celebrated– and you feel like you’re ruining it.

“I’m gonna miss you more,” you muse, choking through the tears, battling away the heat in the corners of your eyes and begging that no tears actually fall down your cheeks– you could handle tearing up, but crying was a bit too much– but when the man softly scoffs at your state and brings you towards his chest, you feel them escape and fall freely, wetting his sweaty shirt more as you hold him closer, trying to hide into his body.

Who knows? Maybe if you hug him hard enough, you’ll be able to fit into his skin so he could bring you with him. Maybe you won’t have to be apart.

“Don’t cry, you dummy,” he sighs as you push yourself away from him, trying to laugh through the pain that’s hitting you in your gut right now, praying hard you can ease the situation, “I’ll be back in no time,” he says, wiping at your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs– one of the only fingers that aren’t calloused with the force he plays on the guitar– the action so tender you swallow in on yourself.

His voice is as soft as it can get over the loud music, and you nod at him, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth so you can stop it from trembling. “Come here,” he hums, tugging you into him once more, but before you get a chance to hide your face into his chest, the male leans towards you and kisses you on your lips, a firm, sweet contact with the chapped surface.

When you pull away, he goes in for another, a starved man wanting more, and you try to remember the imprint of his lips on yours so you don’t miss it on lonely nights, so you can remind yourself of it whenever he’s away.

There’s an arm on his shoulder when you pull away from him, a tall figure tugging him backwards, and before you have a chance to register what’s happening, you recognise Doyoung telling your boyfriend that it’s time to go, we gotta get on the road soon, and you’re left aimless and lost in the crowd, the hollowing feeling in your stomach only deepening once Yuta nods at his bandmate and turns to you again, smiling.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, hating the fact that you can barely see him over the tears, but not really caring enough to try to stop them now.

“I will,” he reassures you, hand coming up to your hair to pet it, a soft laugh escaping his throat. “I gotta go now, baby.”

“Okay,” you nod.

“Okay,” he repeats, taking a few steps back from you. You watch him, his figure skipping away from you, when he turns and hollers over the loud set. “Love you!”

You don’t get a chance to react before he disappears out of your sight. You don't even get a chance to say it back after hearing it from him for the first time, and something about the fact brings countless worries to your chest. Still, you chant to yourself– nothing’s gonna change. And if so, only for the better.

IV. no matter where you go, somebody follows

Navigating through the foreign city with the hood pulled over your head, the plastic bag full of take-out hanging loosely from your hold, you squint at the buildings around you and sigh in relief with the recognition of your surroundings– you didn’t get lost, despite your biggest concerns, and you’re at the parking lot behind the venue, multiple buses parked right in front of you. Jogging through the space, your sneakers hitting the pavement in a sound you find satisfactory and calming to your nerves, you reach one of the older buses parked in the corner of the parking lot, the windows dark and the vehicle painted in a chipping, rusty white color. Still, it’s a tour bus– an upgrade from what Yuta and his band departed in from your hometown just three weeks ago– and you feel a sense of pride swell inside of your chest at the sight.

Yuta’s band has been growing successfully and steadily– just like his new manager thought would happen. Their songs are catchy, their fanbase is growing in amount, their exposure is getting bigger on social media and some of their songs even play on the radio. Sure, you wouldn’t call them radio hits– it’s not like your parents or your professors would recognize the band or know the lyrics if you showed them the tune– but it’s still something, and even that something feels tremendously big in your eyes.

The decision of skipping school for a few days and coming up to visit Yuta on his tour was spontaneous. It came to you after you missed him particularly much one night, going to sleep without his call– he apologized a day later, telling you he’d been too busy to talk– and after you counted up the money you saved up from working at the diner, you realized you can afford going on a little getaway to meet up with your lover. Yuta was delighted to hear about your plan and even got you a free ticket to the festival, and after watching him and his band play, you decided to get McDonald’s as a form of a late night snack.

You expected your boyfriend to follow you, but he didn’t. It was okay, though– he was probably tired. Traveling both gives and takes a lot from you, and while Yuta was given a thousand opportunities over the past few days, his energy has been slowly receding. You understand– as his girlfriend, it’s your job to.

Knocking on the door of the bus– and hearing the ruckus coming from the inside, making you gaze at the darkened windows in suspicion– you get inside after the driver opens the door for you and nods at you in acknowledgement. The tour bus is kind of old, again– Yuta isn’t at a point in his career yet where he could afford the latest gadgets– but although the lights aren’t neon and the space isn’t big and modern, it still serves its purpose. It has a functioning bathroom in the front, with a surprisingly working lock on the door, and it also has a kitchen area that’s big enough to host a couple of people behind the efficiently placed table. The bus has a corridor with bunk beds on the sides and a small bedroom in the very back of it all, which is used by their manager Sangyeon.

Usually, the bus stinks a bit. You don’t really know what it is, but you can’t really get the bad smell out no matter how hard you try. Now, though, the bus stinks even worse– and although the smell is a tad bit different than the one you’re used to (even though you’ve only been here for 2 days, with the next day being the morning of your departure back home, to your ordinary life), you can’t quite put your finger on the cause.

You walk over to the kitchen area, the plastic bag full of food still loosely placed in your grasp, and the noise gets even louder now, the laughter and the loud music over the speakers mixing together in a way that has your head pounding similarly than to what you experience when you stand front-row during the festivals, and when you put your head through the entry to the small area, the sight in front of you has you gasping. There’s a bit more people in the tour bus than you’d expect– you mentally count the heads, realizing there are four unfamiliar faces in the small crowd– and that’s what initially makes you shy away and want to hide. See, your experience with Yuta’s band mates wasn’t the brightest– that’s why meeting another potential friend group of your boyfriend has you shrinking away in worry.

“You’re back already?” Mark asks you, your presence noticed by the man first. You nod at him, offering him a tight-lipped smile as you hold up the plastic bag in the air, showing him its contents. He smiles at you, but doesn’t pay you much attention after, instead focusing back on the commotion in front of him.

Disappointment washes over you when you realize your presence hasn’t been acknowledged by your boyfriend– mainly because everyone else at least offered you a nonchalant nod of a head, Doyoung included– and that’s when you sigh to yourself and move closer to the small table, ready to put the food in the middle and try to join the conversation. You’re taken by surprise when you realize it’s harder to find an empty space on the crowded surface, bottles of beer, shot glasses and a bottle of tequila settled all around, a potato chip bag thrown in the corner, almost falling off. An ashtray in the middle of it all, almost full to the brim, something white and messy lined up on the other side of the table, folded arms falling to the surface with a loud thud that have you snap your head around and watch Yuta as he settles his chin on them and closes his eyes and then slowly opens them in a hazy blink, pupils almost as big as his whole iris.

This has you stopping in your tracks, this has you slightly wake up in a cold sweat, making you too aware and alert of the situation.

Your eyes scan the surroundings again. The four men at the table seem a bit older than your boyfriend, and you’re sure you saw them on stage a few hours ago, playing their own set. The bottles of alcohol are almost empty, the ashtray filled with cigarettes, your gaze finding the source of the weird, sweet, yet earthy smell when you see a bag of dried weeds loosely thrown behind a beer bottle, rolling papers settled on the side. Finding the platinum blonde head again, the line of white substance close to Yuta’s elbow, chills run down your spine when the male looks at you with big eyes, his smile slightly out of it, yet amazingly satisfied.

Suddenly, you’re terrified. You’re scared and afraid, and you wonder how things could have gotten so out of hand in the time you were gone. Surely your trip to McDonald’s didn’t take more than a few minutes, or did it?

“What’s all this?” you ask Yuta, your voice hush, yet loud enough to be heard over the music.

“What?” he asks, voice coated in a blissful sweetness that has your hair stand up, goosebumps rising all over your body. Frustrated, you run your hand through your hair, seeing that your interaction doesn’t have many viewers comforting you only the slightest.

“What’s all this, Yuta?” you ask, pointing everywhere around the place, but mainly to the substances found on the small, dark-wooden table.

“We’re just having fun, baby,” he says lazily, grinning at you from under his eyelashes. Were the circumstances given to you different, you’d admire his features– his flushed cheeks and his strangely starry-glazed eyes, the satisfied and comfortable smirk playing with his flush lips. But now, you feel shaken-up; a strange kind of terror you’ve never experienced before, and frankly speaking, one you wouldn’t imagine experiencing even in your worst nightmares.

“This is fun to you?” you ask, scoffing. “Is- what happened here?” you keep dumbly asking, not finding any more coherent thoughts in your brain that could be expressed by words. Somehow, the whole situation is painted right in front of you, yet, you don’t think you have it in you to describe it or admit it to your brain.

“Why are you freaking out?” he asks, reaching out one of his hands to you to hold your hand, but you shake it off with a different sense of vigor.

Why are you freaking out? Is he out of his mind? Does he not understand the consequences of his actions; the full implications of everything that’s going on right in this moment? Are you overreacting? You find it hard to think that’s the case.

You scoff at him, not really believing you’re in this situation right now. Something in you feels a bit shameful to be acting like this, now that you’ve been called out on it. You’re in a battle of opinions– one side telling you to drop it and let him live his life, because he’s an adult and he knows what he’s doing, the other one shouting at you that this is not okay and you need some space to breathe and get away for a second. Yuta said he was having fun, but to you, none of this was even close to funny.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, moving away from him and sending him a gaze you hope signifies the turmoil of emotions on your insides right now, your hands shaking as you cross your arms on your chest. You’re not met with the desired reaction, though. Somehow, Yuta makes the matters even worse as he scoffs at you, shaking his head and pointing it towards the group as he mutters something under his breath.

“And you’re being unreasonable.”

The argument makes your blood cold, your eyes widen. You’re being unreasonable? In your eyes, you’re being ignored. You’re being put on the very end of the ranking of his priorities, and you’d understand it if the first one was held up by his career, his dreams– you’re not willing to battle for that place with alcohol and drugs, though. You’re simply not.

Storming out of the area, suddenly feeling like there’s no air in your lungs, no oxygen in the whole planet Earth, you run through the small and crowded place, making eye contact with no one as you run out without a plan. You bump into a slender figure as you plan on escaping the vehicle, right in the place where the stairs down are located, crossing your paths– one going in and the other one out. The person smells of cigarette smoke and when you look up to find a raven-haired boy staring at you with a glare, the plan of leaving sounds even more urgent in your head.

“Where are you running off to?” Doyoung asks, voice laced with indifference.

“I don’t want to talk right now,” you snap at him, trying to push through the small corridor past him so you can get out and get some air.

“Saw something you didn’t like?” he mocks, laughing at you.

“Doyoung-”

“Those places aren’t for college kids like you, Y/N,” he snarls, huffing out air as you push against his chest to get him out of the way, “this is how this world works. Get out before it gets you too, kid.”

V. you're the only one I'll miss when I'm gone

The coldness of the liquid spilling down your throat makes you cool down noticeably, your fingers working on the lace around your waist to loosen up the apron you’ve been wearing for the last couple of hours. You sit on one of the tall bar stools, facing the diner with your back, as you scroll through your phone and look through all your social media. You’re working another one of your night shifts, the diner surprisingly empty as you allow yourself some time to just sit around and do nothing– it’s not like you have anything else to do or any customers to serve in the first place.

Checking your messages– and finding none, much to your dismay– you move over to other apps, opening up Instagram with a swift tap of your finger, eyes tracing the posts appearing on your phone screen. There are some from your favorite music artists and some from your friends from high school, and you’d usually find an Instagram story from your boyfriend’s band right at the very beginning of the little reel on the top as well, but ever since they got signed to a label, their page is hands of their manager Sangyeon, so the account is no longer as active and as unserious as it was when Yuta was the one behind the posts.

Scrolling down a little, your eyes zero in on a post of the mentioned account– a carousel of professionally-looking pictures of the band on the stage, taken from multiple angles and in perfect quality, colors most likely edited and lightning adjusted so they look as nice as they can. You were in the crowd just a week ago, and although you only left your visit recently, you already miss seeing Yuta in real life, playing and talking to you, existing by your side.

You haven’t heard from him much since the day you left. Still shaken up from the sight in front of you that one night, the band’s manager let you sleep in the only bedroom of the tour bus before you took off to the station in the early morning, having Yuta groggily press a kiss to your forehead as a goodbye, telling you to stay safe as you travel, before he went back to sleep. The events of your last night with him went unnoticed and unmentioned and you’re not exactly sure if it’s for the best– you two barely call nowadays, since your schedules don’t align, and it’s kind of hard to talk about it over a text, especially when the conversations are short and dry, like they’ve been for the last few days.

Zooming in on the picture, fingers pinching the screen to take a closer look on Yuta’s face, you chew on the inside of your cheek, letting your thoughts run a thousand miles an hour. What did you do wrong? Or was he just busy?

That must be it. He’s in a band. A touring, rising band. He must be busy.

“What are you staring at?” you hear a male voice coming from your right, making you jump in your seat. Eyes landing on Jaechan, your coworker from the kitchen, you watch as he throws a damp kitchen towel to the counter and takes a seat on the chair next to you with a sigh. You shrug. The male takes a peek over your shoulder, craning up his neck to get a closer look, a hum escaping his throat at the sight. “Is that your boyfriend? I heard he’s in a band.”

You find yourself humming in agreement at his question. Jaechan nods at you in acknowledgement, resting his head into his palms, eyes zeroing on your stoic face. “Did something happen between the two of you? You don’t sound too happy talking about him right now.”

Sighing, you put the phone down, the screen still on and displaying the professional picture their photographer took, showing Yuta with his platinum blonde hair damp and all over the place, the singer in the middle of a song gripping his microphone tightly, veins protruding due to the notes he’s singing on his sweat-covered neck. Once again, you find yourself shrugging. “I don’t know. He’s just… not really talking to me?”

“Did you two have a fight?”

“No,” you shake your head, “not really. It’s not like he’s not talking talking to me, it’s just that he’s not doing it as often as he used to before,” you explain, chewing on your bottom lip as you tear your eyes off the picture and glue them to your companion instead, seeing as the older male hums, pressing his lips into a tight line.

“He must be busy,” you say, not really knowing who you’re saying this for. Is it to prove to Jaechan that your relationship is completely fine, that there’s nothing shifting in the dynamic you had with Yuta, or is it to reassure yourself, try to manifest the thought into life? You’re not quite sure at this point.

“Well, he texted you a lot more often before,” he points out, “how busy can a singer really be, you know what I mean?”

“There must be something that’s taking up so much of his time,” you sigh, the male in front of you scoffing and rolling his eyes at your naivety.

Jaechan argues with you, and something about his sentence makes your mood even gloomier, your composure shake further. “I mean, what does a singer even do? He plays a gig in the evening and then he’s lazing off the whole day, it’s not like he’s recording an album or something, do you feel me?”

To this, you shrug. What does Jaechan even know about this? He’s never dated anyone in a band before. He’s never been in one either, so he can’t know how this life works. Maybe he’s just jealous that your significant other is famous and his is not (because it’s non-existent, just for the record), and that’s what’s making him say all these things.

“What do you know?” you scoff.

Jaechan looks at you with a softer look in his eyes now, the black bangs falling into his forehead serving as a sort of a curtain when he smiles sadly at his next words. “Enough to see when a guy gets bored, Y/N. If he had time before, he just can’t be assed now. I’d hate to see your heart break over him,” he says, each word like a sharp knife to your heart, a stinging pain erupting into each crevice of your body. Your mouth opens to reply to him, to argue that he is clueless, he is snide, he is acting like a know-it-all, when the bell above the entrance rings and a small group of teenagers enters the diner.

Before you get a chance to stand up from your place to re-tie your apron and serve them, Jaechan, who doesn’t usually serve– since cooking is his job around here– beats you to it and pats your shoulder as he goes. “I’ll get it.”

You’re left sitting at the bar, eyes bearing into the screen of your phone, gazing at Yuta on the other side of the country, almost begging him with your eyes to text, to call, to do something, before the screen darkens and your phone eventually locks, the time running out already.

VI. and he holds me like a woman

Prepared for another night of staring at the ceiling, not even the sound of Aeri’s snoring present to lull you to sleep with its monotonicity, since the girl went out and stayed over at her (as she calls him) sneaky link’s place, you settle into your bed sheets and pull your blanket close to your neck. Unlocking your phone and scrolling through social media, planning to do so until your eyes are droopy enough that you don’t have much time to overthink in the late hours of the night, waiting for sleep to take you, your finger moves through all the different apps, begging for your brain to stay occupied. You have to treat yourself like you’d treat a little child while trying to get them to sleep– except you don’t watch Cocomelon, instead you settle on the latest episode of your favorite podcast– and it starts working eventually, until you’re woken up with a knock to your door, cursing at the person behind the wall for disturbing your routine, because now, you’ll have to do it all over again.

Sighing, you stand up from your bed, lazily walking over to the door of your room– sometimes, you despise the fact that your dorm layout looks like the corridor of a hospital wing, with rooms all over the hall and a common kitchen and a bathroom at the very end, since the living space for you and your roommate Aeri is a 5x6 square meters with little to no storage room– but this time, you thank the god for this fact, since it means that nothing is too far out of reach and nothing can get lost in the small space. You think of whoever might be behind the door– is it Aeri? You doubt it’s Aeri. She usually doesn’t back out of a hook up, and even if she did, she’d text you about it before– she has her own set of keys as well, so she wouldn’t just knock.

Is it your dorm mate? Yeji from three rooms down the corridor sometimes comes over and asks you if she can use your frying pan– since the ones in the common kitchen suck and are hardly ever clean– so maybe it’s her. However, you’re not quite sure why she’d want to cook something so late in the evening.

Shrugging, deciding that you’re not gonna dwell on the thought much longer and instead look for yourself, you unlock the door (you learned to do that every night after Ningning, the freshman that lives across the corridor from you, once stumbled into your room at 3 in the morning, drunk out of her mind, because she confused her left and right) and crack it open, shock overtaking you as you recognize the figure casually standing on the other side of the wall.

“What are you doing here?” you gasp, the man with platinum blonde hair snickering at your parted lips and big eyes.

“Visiting,” he shrugs, “I missed you.”

Taking a few seconds to process the situation, you stay standing in your place, a metaphorical loading bar appearing in the middle of your forehead. Yuta shakes his head at you in disbelief, taking a step closer towards you. “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”

“I- I am, but-” you stutter, taking a step away from the doorway, watching as your boyfriend walks in as if he owned this place, “who let you in? We can’t have visitors after 10 PM,” you mumble, suddenly aware of the fact that you could get in trouble.

You close the door after yourself and lock it– old habits die hard– as you watch the male giggle at your shaken composure. “The doorkeeper recognized me,” he announces, “I just had to say I have a girlfriend I haven’t seen in a while living here and he let me right in,” he shrugs.

Humming, you play with your fingers as you walk over to your bed. “So you’re like, famous famous now, huh?”

“Not that famous,” he sighs, “but quite a few people know me now.”

“So I’m dating a rockstar,” you joke, taking a seat on the uncomfortable mattress, watching as the male follows you and invites himself into the sheets.

“Something like that.”

A smile overtakes your features at that, and your room breaks into silence. Something about the quiet makes your skin scatter with goosebumps, the discomfort of his stare making you almost hate the fact that he’s here now, after not talking to you properly for a couple of weeks, but at the same time, you know you don’t really hate it. You love it, actually– the fact that he came to surprise you in the middle of the night, the fact that he’s here, the fact that he thought of you, spared you the time of his day. You love it and you love him and the fact that he came back to you. He came back for you. Only you. That sounds like a prize, doesn’t it?

Still, you feel a bit of a distance in between the two of you, and you can’t believe the fact that he feels further despite being closer in space. Maybe it’s because you can’t blame his lack of words for him being busy now– he’s right in front of you, paying you his full attention.

“How long are you staying?” you ask, picking at the skin of your cuticles.

Yuta averts his gaze from you, looking almost shameful at his reply. “I have to leave tomorrow afternoon,” he whispers, “I left suddenly, but we gotta get back on the road.”

You hum at that, not offering him a vocal reply– you don’t have any words to say to him anyway. What is there to say about a fact you can’t change? You only have to accept it.

“We only have a couple more stops to go. It will take another three weeks or so, and I’m back with you,” he says, this time locking his eyes with you in a sincere gaze, “I promise.”

The sentence has you gazing at your hands, clasped in your lap, nodding. Holding eye contact with him is suddenly hard when you feel just how far away he is from you, in another world, in other circles– and you can’t help but not see yourself fitting those, you can’t help but hate the fact that you’re so far away from everything that completes him as a person now. Maybe you’re a burden now– maybe you’re a nuisance, a baggage he has to carry even though he doesn’t have to, but keeps holding on to just because of a promise.

You remember how you chanted to yourself– believed– that nothing’s gonna change, and if so, only for the better. But you’re not so sure it came true, looking at everything now. And you do admit, you feel a little silly. Both for making the promise to yourself, and both for feeling so defeated when your world is shifting. Because things did change, and you should’ve expected it, and for Yuta, they did change for the better. He’s chasing his dream and everything’s coming out well for him. You should be happy.

You should be happy that he’s texting you less, talking to you less, having less time for you. Because that’s proof of him succeeding, after all. You just wish you could’ve been there to witness it with him.

“It must be so hard for you,” Yuta suddenly hums, leaning closer to you and wiping your cheeks. You haven’t even realized you were crying– you failed to keep your emotions in control– but instead of pushing him away and not showing him just how much the distance hurts you, you only hold him closer, crying into his chest.

His hands caress your hair, smoothing down the strands and providing you comfort, your body folding into his hold. He lays you both on the bed and tugs the blanket over you, strong arms shielding you from the pain. “Are you- are you having fun at least?” you ask, hiccuping through the sobs.

“I am,” he hums, and something about the sentence comforts you, making you fail to address everything you’ve witnessed when you came to visit him and just how much it made you worry, “wish you were there with me, but I know it’s hard. We just gotta hold on and get through this, and it will only get easier as we go, alright?”

You hum, fists bunching up the fabric of his thin black shirt. “Promise me to hold on for me, pretty girl? It’s gonna be okay. I swear.”

Another silent sob accompanied by an eager nod, hands letting go of his shirt and instead sneaking around his waist, nose burying into his chest intaking his scent. “I promise. It’s hard, but the thought of you having fun and chasing your dream comforts me.”

“That’s my sweet girl,” he hums, smoothing down your hair, “now stop crying. There’s nothing to be sad about.”

Nodding, you try your best to relax. He’s right– you were being unreasonable. Silly, even. Everything’s okay and everything will turn out just fine, you just gotta hold on for a few more weeks. Once Yuta’s back, your relationship will go back to normal and things will get better.

Leaning your head back, you press a kiss to his lips. He holds you to his chest, deepening the contact of his mouth with yours, wiping the last tears off your cheeks and placing pecks all over your face. When his lips find their way back to yours, his kisses are deeper, more firm, experience making him smoothly slip his tongue into your mouth to battle with yours, passion dripping off the muscle and tasting just like honey.

He makes your heart race, just like he did when he first kissed you in his garage, and when his lips smoothly travel down your neck, placing bites and kitten licks to smooth the area after, you let him work his magic. You relax under his touches, you let him unravel you from your clothes, big hands testing flesh, calloused fingers pressing into all the right places. It feels amazing. It feels rewarding– and even though you’ve never done this before, you’re glad he’s your first. It’s good to look back at your first time when it’s done with someone you love– someone that’s admired, older, but still so fond of you. You feel beautiful with his hushed compliments, whispered promises. It’s like you’re running on a high, and you’re not sure if and when you’re ever gonna get back down.

You ache a little when you wake up for your morning class the day after. Throwing on his shirt you find on the floor, taking a seat next to him on the bed and brushing back his disheveled hair, his arm finds yours and tugs you back towards him.

“Stay,” he hums.

“I can’t,” you reply, “I have class in a few,” you explain, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek.

He sighs, dissatisfied, but lets you go. When he chants a goodbye at you as you close your door after with the knowledge that he won’t be there when you come home in the evening, you chew on the inside of your cheek with the crushing feeling of living in a different world than he does. And it shouldn’t matter to you– because he loves you and showed you so last night– but still, it keeps annoyingly eating you up from the insides.

He’s in a rising punk band, and you… you have to get to class.

VII. he used to sing me sweet melodies

The news hit you on a Thursday afternoon, on your way to dorms after your last class of the day. You feel exhausted, both mentally and physically, and so you decide to take the bus– the journey isn’t long, but you don’t feel like walking, and so you slung your pained body onto one of the free seats after pressing your travel card against the terminal to pay for the ride.

Fingers searching through your tote bag, a small sense of victory filling your veins when you finally find your phone in the mess of things, you grip the device and unlock it, deciding to search through social media to pass time and let yourself dissociate.

A flood of uninteresting posts flashes through your vision as you absent-mindedly scroll through your feed, unfunny memes making you roll your eyes at the absurdity of the jokes, political discourse just making you sigh. After a while, posts from Neo zone update pages that you selfishly and amidst a little foolishly followed quite some time ago start appearing one-by-one on your Twitter feed, the face of your boyfriend smiling at you from fan-taken pictures from the last few stops of their festival tour. It’s been three weeks since you last saw Yuta, and even though you’re glad he’s enjoying his life to the fullest, you can’t help but admit to yourself that you oh so desire to have him back home as soon as possible.

One post in particular makes you stop in your tracks, furrowing your eyebrows as your eyes scan over the headline of an article with your boyfriend’s face clearly staring down at you through the screen. It’s not often that Yuta or his band get interviewed– or at least, it wasn’t the standard before, but you heard from him that he did get an interview from one of the local newspapers right after he got signed to an agency– but it seems that after getting interest from the punk scene during the festival, everybody wants to know more about the lead singer and his friends; press included. The existence of the interview itself isn’t what makes you so startled, though– it’s the headline of the article, each word like a sharp knife to your heart, making you more and more confused.

“No, I’m not dating anyone right now.” Neo Zone’s frontman reveals in our latest article, the title reads, your shaky fingers pressing down on the picture to have the text pop up, making you brace yourself for the impact. You know that the press loves to twist words and put statements into people’s mouths, but you don’t really know how those exact words could come out meaning something completely different– your very much taken boyfriend told everyone he is very much single. Do you not deserve to be talked about, after everything? Is he ashamed of you?

Sighing, taking a peek out of the window to see if you’re at your stop yet– you’re not, and you think you have just the right amount of time to read the whole article before you have to get off. And so you do that– eyes quickly skimming through the words, Yuta’s answers transcribed so perfectly you can almost hear his voice saying the words in your head, the essence of him everywhere, making your chest tighten on itself.

The Seoul-based punk band Neo Zone is picking up everyone’s attention as they take over the Warped tour festivals with their ecstatic performances and amazing stage presence. Their sound is like no one else’s, making their fanbase rise quickly, the fastly growing popularity making a lot of questions rise in the heads of the public– one question in particular mostly in the female side of the spectrum.

We met with the frontman, 28-year old Yuta Nakamoto, to ask him a few questions about the band’s slow, but steady journey towards stardom, and also a bit about his personal life. Stay with us to get all the answers to questions you’ve been wondering about!

Eyes only briefly reading over the questions that ask about their journey– since you do know how they got where they are now, being there to witness it all; from band practices on Fridays, Yuta’s worried words at midnight over your night shifts, the songwriting sessions they had with Doyoung, where Yuta would send you pictures of his lyrics, asking for advice from his one and only muse, to them getting signed and going from playing local gigs at bars filled with cigarette smoke to venues filled with thousands of fans, all in the course of a few months. There’s only one thing you’re searching for in this article– although you’d read it all anyways, taking your time to patiently skim over each sentence, cheering Yuta on silently, there’s a thing in particular that makes you so jumpy to get to the bottom of the headline.

Finally, you get to it. You can only imagine the voice of the woman who did this interview with Yuta to be annoying, her eyes sneaky and coy as she asked him the question– but you soon catch yourself and sigh at your antics, at disbelief with what you managed to turn yourself into just for attention of a man that deemed you worthy.

“I’m sure a lot of girls are wondering the same thing, Yuta– especially after seeing you play on stage. I mean, you have an amazing stage presence, one that can’t help but attract people. The public– me included– wants to know: are you dating anyone right now?”

The singer laughs at the question, shrugging to himself. The words don’t take long to come out of his mouth. “No, not at all. With how things have been going for us, it’s been really hard to find some time to date, but I’m sure that if anyone shoots me a wink from the audience, I can change my mind quickly.”

The words make you scoff. You rest your head against the seat, your tongue poking the side of your cheek, when you notice that you’re at your stop– resulting in you scrambling for your things and practically throwing yourself out of the bus so the doors wouldn’t close on you and drive you away from the bus stop you need to get off on. Yuta’s response keeps repeating in your brain– ‘it’s been really hard to find some time to date’ – at least he’s not lying about that, you think.

And yes, maybe you should’ve understood his motives. Maybe he wanted to protect you from the hate, maybe he simply wanted to give you your privacy, but still– something in you breaks at being denied, at being hidden, and that burning, green feeling has you dialing Yuta’s number, waiting for the singer to reply.

It takes him a few seconds to pick up the call– you expected it, since it’s an usual occurrence now, with your texts going unanswered and calls mostly ignored, if taken, then either after a lot of ringing, or being returned to you after a few minutes when you get through to the voicemail. Still, you’re relieved when you hear his voice on the other side of the line, a little low and groggy, but still familiar.

“Hello, my love,” he says, and the pet name makes you equal parts warm and furious. So now you’re his love? What about the time he did the interview?

“Hi,” you breathe, walking down the sidewalk to your dorm building.

“Why are you calling?” he asks. Do you need a reason to? He seems to be asking this a lot lately, but now that you actually have a reason is when the question hurts you the least.

You hum into the phone, finding the right words to say. Something inside of your gut is screaming at you, telling you just how silly and childish you’re going to sound– at just how demanding and clingy you’re going to look. But still, you can’t help but let the words slip past your mouth. “I was just wondering… about the stuff you said in the interview,” you say.

The male is silent for a little, not really responding to your worries. When he seems to gather that you’re not going to explain– and you don’t have to, since you’re aware that he knows what you mean by your subtle prompt– he talks to you with lightness in his tone, something akin to playful teasing in the reply that has you feeling stupid, so stupid for calling him.

“About that? Y/N… you know you don’t have to worry about the two of us,” he says, laughing, “it’s just… I couldn’t just tell them I’m dating. My manager said I couldn’t, since it may damage the band’s image. I have to stay desirable to keep up the interest.”

You’re silent. So he did it for the band. Not your privacy, not your safety.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I’ll make it up to you when I get back, okay?”

You find it in yourself to hum at his explanation– no matter how unsatisfactory it was, no matter how it made you feel even worse about the situation than before you called. It’s okay, though– you know that his band always comes first. You can’t tarnish his dreams like that. If a secret is what you have to be, then you’re more than okay with that, if it means Yuta gets to shine like the star he’s always been in your heart.

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” he asks. “I have to go now, if you don’t have anything else.”

“That’s- that’s all, yeah,” you mumble, sighing as you walk over to the dorms, opening the door with your student ID and slipping inside.

“Okay,” he hums, “I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

No I love you, no how was your day, no I miss you. No I’ll see you soon, no I can’t wait to see your face, no I can’t wait to hear your voice. It’s okay, though– he must be tired.

VIII. broke, but gave all money to an airline

The next time you allow yourself to travel to see Yuta (despite all your responsibilities at college, with finals coming up and assignments piling up, making you bring your laptop to work with you and type away to finish up all your essays in between customers, having Jaechan read over the passages when your sleep deprivation gets the best of you and you can’t even recognise if you’re using the correct grammar and punctuation anymore), is on the last show of his festival tour. Something inside of you is telling you that you should go watch your boyfriend’s last gig for the time being, to congratulate him and show him just how much you support him, despite your busy schedule (that he is unaware of. You don’t want him to worry).

And on top of that, it’s his birthday– the surprise visit to the show is only an addition to the gift you bought him, though. The personalized lyric journal and a box of his favorite chocolates seems too silly of a gift for somebody like Yuta Nakamoto, but it’s all you can afford, all you can give him. Still, you hope the sincerity and love is able to be felt through the action; you hope he realizes just how much you love him and just how much you missed him all those months.

The journey to the last state was long. You didn’t get enough sleep, you felt jittery and anxious, everything in your bones was screaming at you and cursing you for allowing yourself to make such a trip so early after the old one. Traveling is exhausting, you realize– both mentally and physically– when you have to walk distances and flash all your savings down the drain just to get bus tickets, when you have to rack your brain over to not get lost and take the right directions, make the right turns and walk the right distances. You guess you could understand Yuta a little bit better now– you’re not the one traveling somewhere else every night, and still, you feel insanely tired.

You didn’t tell Yuta about your visit. All you texted him the night before was that you wish him good luck on stage today and that you’re proud of him– sentences that get a short-cut response, an uninterested tone. You guess he just got bummed out that you didn’t stay up and wish him happy birthday the first thing at midnight– a thing he did for you when you weren’t even dating yet, the action warming you up so much back then– but even though it broke your heart, you couldn’t blow your own cover. You wanted to wish him happy birthday in person, to his face.

There is a buzz in the tips of your fingertips when you arrive at the festival. You’ve watched countless of clips online, experienced the concert first-hand multiple times before– you’re sure you could recite the setlist and the exact order of the acts playing if you were woken up in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat– but still, you can’t wait to see Yuta perform. You can’t wait to watch the joyful look on his face, the dreamy eyes gazing over the crowd, the raspy voice calling to you like a siren in a love song you were told was about you in the middle of the night, holding him in your dorm bed.

You didn’t stand in the front rows this time. For some reason, you don’t want the singer to know you’re here. You want to watch the show unnoticed, unannounced, enjoying it like every other fan would– except, you’re expecting to meet him after, the way so many girls dream of every night, but never get to experience.

And in a perfect reality, the show ends and you run backstage. The security acknowledges you as his girlfriend and lets you in, smiles at you and pats you on your lower back– go get him, he’s all yours– as you excitedly grin and get ready to finally close the distance between you. In your perfect dreams, that don’t become reality, you’re meeting Yuta and holding him close, chanting whispers at the universe and telling them see? We made it, no matter how many obstacles you threw our way. We made it despite the distance.

Maybe somebody should’ve told you you were a naive dreamer before you came here to embarrass yourself. Nobody did, though– and so here you are.

“Unfortunately, fans aren’t allowed backstage,” the security says, and you understand him– your relationship is secret, not public, so really, he couldn’t have known you were not just a fan, but his girlfriend (despite still thinking that you are Yuta’s biggest fan, always. Nobody could ever support him the way you do).

“I’m not a fan, sir,” you grin, “I’m his girlfriend. I know anyone could say that, but if you just get someone from the back and tell them my name, they will tell you that I’m his partner, trust me,” you explain, a desperate inkling in your voice.

“I don’t have time for that, kid,” the man says. And it’s fair. He’s just doing his job.

“Please, I went here to surprise– there he goes!” you point towards your boyfriend walking off the stage, his head snapping towards you at the sound of your voice, still recognisable even through the flood of screams around. The man locks eyes with you and you wave at him, a fond smile overtaking your tired face, the flame inside you that’s currently giving you third degree burns of anxiety finally starts to get more subtle when recognition flashes through Yuta’s face, but again– you were naive. Naive to think he would appreciate your visit, naive to think he’d like the surprise, naive to think nothing would change between the two of you, naive to think he wouldn’t get tired and find someone new.

A naive kid.

That’s what you are.

Nakamoto Yuta runs off stage, envelopes an excited girl around her shoulders when she runs after him from backstage. Her hair is longer than yours, her face more mature, her smile similar to the ones you saw all the time at the diner whenever Yuta was around, a flirting spark somewhere in between her pearly white teeth. She kisses his jaw and he grins at her, not bothering to look around. The crowd around you gets silent, but your brain tells you it’s foolish to think everyone suddenly stopped talking– it was just your senses slowly shutting out, your vision getting blurry.

So this was the problem all along, you think.

“Anything else? If you’re done being delusional, you can get lost,” the security spits at you, and you chuckle to yourself.

Delusional. That hits the nail on the head.

Nodding, you chew on the inside of your cheek as you stumble backwards, running off through the crowd as you try your best not to get your legs tied and fall over. Your vision is hazy and you refuse to look up, too embarrassed, humiliated by the events of the day to show your face to anyone, resulting in you bumping into someone, your figure limply falling to the ground. Sobs make your shoulders shake, all motivation to stand up and move leaving your body when somebody crouches down next to you, a considerate female voice reaching your ears.

“Everything okay, hun? I’m so sorry, I should’ve watched my step,” she says, a hand patting your back, the smell of her perfume filling your nostrils. “Why are you crying? Are you hurt?”

Shaking your head, you refuse to speak. The female considerately sneaks her arms around you, pulling you to her chest. “What is it? You can tell it to a stranger, I won’t spill.”

“Yuta-” you choke out. Embarrassment is finally the least of your concerns.

“What? What about him?”

“I loved him and he– he threw it all away,” you finish, now completely breaking.

The girl rocks you back and forth, hand running up and down your back to get you to relax. It’s strange, since you haven’t even seen her face, haven’t even asked her name– for all you know, she could think you’re just a crazy fangirl, crying for no reason. But the universe has its way of looking out after you tonight– the soul next to you holding you tight, fingers running through your hair. “It’s alright, babygirl. Cry it out,” she says, “he doesn’t deserve you… I know, I’ve been there. That’s a lesson you have to learn, though– you never date a band guy.

He’s always gonna break your heart.”

EPILOGUE - try not to abuse your power

Yuta Nakamoto was your hero.

He was your everything. He was someone you admired, someone you longed for, someone whose attention you craved for ever since the day you met him for the first time. It’s not every day you get to hang out with a guy that’s in a band, and it’s also not every day that the said guy shows you any type of interest or gives you any type of attention– and in your foolish heart, you took all of that and ran with it, chasing down the adrenaline and calling it love.

You guess it’s never a good idea to date your hero. See, people tend to idolize the ones they admire. People tend to put their heroes on the pedestal and do everything for them, putting them as their priority and disregarding their own needs and interests just to be worthy in the eyes of the other. You were too young to differentiate between healthy love and toxic obsession. You were too young to realize the relationship you had with Yuta wasn’t built on healthy grounds.

Yuta was your hero, yet, he managed to ruin you in a little not over a year. You bet it wasn’t even that hard.

Yuta was sweet. He tasted of honey and adrenaline, of chasing your dreams and running through empty streets with sparkles in your eyes. Yuta was someone older than you, more mature, promising you security and safety that he failed to give you despite your delusional beliefs of having your haven in him. You were young; thinking that guys your age don’t know how to treat you, won’t ever know how to treat you right– being with someone like Yuta was only right in your eyes. You were his fragile piece of pottery, the thing he was supposed to handle with care, and yet, you found yourself shattering at his touches. You should’ve expected it– his fingers were always too calloused to know how to touch anything gently anyway.

And yes, you do feel guilty. You do feel like it’s your fault that you let someone do this to you. You should’ve known better– you shouldn’t have been so childish, so naive. But really, you didn’t know any better. No one ever told you it was wrong. No one warned you. No one told you how it’s supposed to look.

No one told you that you weren’t supposed to spend all your money on plane and bus tickets just to see him for a couple of days. No one told you you weren’t supposed to support him unconditionally, ignore all the bad signs and pay no mind to the way his treatment made you feel worthless. No one told you you weren’t supposed to believe his sweet words, put trust into his empty promises.

It makes you sick, in a way. He knows your freckles, he knows your skin. He knows you like the back of his hand. Maybe, just maybe, you’d still fold under his touch if he dared to get close to you again. You don’t know if you’re strong enough to resist.

And maybe you do know better now, you do hate him for what he did, but you still miss him like a little kid. It’s like you were put on a drug that made you hate everyone and make him the only one you miss when you’re gone.

You do miss him. You do sometimes look at his social media. You do read the headlines of magazines when his face is on the front page. You do think of him whenever you wipe the counters during your night shifts, gazing at the spot he used to sit in whenever he came to keep you company, almost as if you could wish him back into existence. It’s a weird battle. The strangest type of inner conflict.

Driving down the road, back to your dorm in the car you saved up for, the radio humming lowly to keep you company in the silence, you recognize the first few tones of a G chord, the song sending chills down your spine. You listen for a few seconds, waiting for his voice to start– the raspiness, the strongness of his vocals still making you feel some type of way– before you chuckle to yourself.

You guess he did end up releasing the song, after all.

You sigh. It feels like ages have gone by since you heard the song for the first time. It feels like you aged a thousand since you last saw his face.

It’s still strange to hear him on the radio. He made it big, you think.

After all, you still wish him well. Somehow, you still think he deserves the glory.

You skip the song.

You park the car.

You get inside your dorm.

You live your life.

#nct #nct x reader #yuta #yuta x reader #yuta fic #yuta fluff #yuta angst #nakamoto yuta #nakamoto yuta x reader #nct 127 #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct angst #nct fluff

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caelesjjk · 2 years

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sanguine - jjk- part one

⟶title: sanguine

⟶au: vampire au, arranged marriage au, royalty au

⟶ pairing: vampire king!jungkook x human queen fem reader

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ genre: romance, kinda slow burn?, smut, angst

⟶wc: 10.5k

⟶warnings: some swearing, mentions of blood, lots of sexual tension, one kiss, a bit angsty, reader is a badass. No smut for this part my fellow horny bitches, but there is certainly smut in the future.

⟶ summary: Marry the vampire king. Save the kingdom.

Your father is the king of a rare human kingdom that has been plagued by famine and sickness. And in a last ditch effort to save the kingdom, he has arranged for you to marry the vampire king to the north. Your hand in marriage in exchange for his help in saving your kingdom.

Everything you swore could never happen between the two of you begins to unfold as you spend more time in the vampire kingdom with its king and his subjects. Can you learn to love this place and it’s beloved ruler?

⟶ authors note: hi friends. this has been a whirlwind of a fic and this is only part one lol. it’s my baby in a way because I’ve had this idea for so long. I started writing it long before my king decided to actually grace us all with his vampire concept for his folio. that only encouraged me more to get this done.

A few shoutouts need to be made because without these people I don’t think I’d ever finished this. @jeonjcngkook jords, not only did you beta the shit out of this, but you’ve been there for me while I’ve written it and listened to me whine and cry for weeks. u have no idea how much it means. @haliiimede for reading through and convincing me that it wasn’t trash and giving me such lovely feedback. And also a huge thanks to @tea4sykes for reading through and encouraging me the whole way, ur the best Kay. @missgeniality siya, you absolute angel, I literally owe you big time for this amazing banner. and thank you for making me a new one when jungkook dropped all the vampire content lol. It’s so stunning.

(Vows found at vampireweddings.blogspot.com)

Alright enough blabbing, please enjoy! Send me all the feedback!

For the good of the kingdom.

For the good of mankind.

That was what your family kept telling you��no, they insisted that this was the only way.

Your father’s kingdom had become wrought with sickness, famine, and the people were starving. All of the resources available had been drained, there was nothing left.

And so, in a desperate plea for help, your father went to the vampire kingdom in the north, with whom your kingdom shared a border. And while the vampire king was willing to help, he wanted to make sure that this alliance was official and binding. He asked that you marry him to join your kingdoms, and that way there would be no reason for any type of betrayal.

You hated the idea. You fought it with everything that you had. The vampires disgusted you with their lust for blood and their strange habits. It was the worst thing you thought could happen.

But your father was right, it was the only choice your kingdom had left, and you had a duty to the people.

With that realization, is how you find yourself under this gorgeous oak tree in the middle of the night. The stars and moon and a few scattered candles are the only light to be found in this open field.

“Welcome one and all, witnesses to both His Highness the King and ______, princess of the human kingdom to our South, as they pledge their dedication to walk the night together. From the night we come, to the night we go, Cursed or blessed to walk the moonlight alone.”

The wedding dress that is chosen for you to wear is dark crimson, a bloody reminder of just who exactly is standing before you. With full lace skirts that drag against the ground, it’s light, airy even. It feels incredibly soft against your skin as your finger tips brush against the fabric but none of that matters as you still feel like you’re suffocating. It’s the absolute opposite of the dress you imagined yourself wearing on your wedding day but it is tradition here in the vampire kingdom for the bride to wear red.

“Sometimes another soul walks our path, Then two become one, in love everlasting. Come forward, Children of the Blood, And welcome this couple to your brood, Within each other, these two are found, Bear witness as their souls are bound.”

The hardest part of this is that it needs to be believable, and at the same time, the subjects from both kingdoms wanted you and the king to hate each other. So the wedding had to be done with official vows, ones that made it sound like the two of you were in love. It makes your stomach churn as the priest continues to speak.

“Please bring your left wrists forward towards me.” The priest said with a soft smile. Though it was gentle, his fangs are still visible, sending a shiver down your spine.

He takes out a red sash from his pocket and gently ties it around both of your wrists, Jungkook’s cold skin brushes against yours and makes you jump slightly. Though it’s as cold as stone, it’s also as soft as cashmere.

Finally, you allow yourself to look up at the man standing next to you.

You hate that he is so beautiful. Possibly the most beautiful being you have ever seen. Soft, thick, black hair slightly smoothed back away from his forehead, eyes almost as black as his tresses and lips that were sharp and hued pink.

When he catches you staring for a bit too long, he merely smirks and turns his attention to you.

“Sorry.” The king mouths to you, no sound coming from his mouth. You look back towards the priest quickly. He holds out a golden goblet beneath your bound wrists.

“Stand now as ye will stand forever, Like this crimson cloth your hearts are tethered, This goblet's contents are your symbols of devotion, So take the rings from the Goblet.”

Your hand shakes violently as you reach into the cup to retrieve the silver band that is to be placed on Jungkook’s right finger. You swallow thickly as you toy with the silver band in between your fingers, your pulse quickening because you know that not only can Jungkook hear the beating sounds of your heart, but all the other vampires present as well. Jungkook does the same with your wedding ring but with more confidence in his motions.

The ring he holds for you is a silver band as well, but it also contains a dark shaded ruby, cut into the shape of a blood drop or possibly a tear in the case of this marriage. But even then, it was stunning.

“______, please repeat these vows after me:

I will stand by your side, hunt at your back, and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.”

These vows had been written hundreds of years ago, meant for two vampires binding themselves together…not a vampire king and someone like you who is so very human. But you say them anyway, your heart still hammering in your chest as you turn your body towards the king and take his hand into yours, noticing just how soft his hands are before you slip the ring onto his awaiting finger.

“I will stand by your side, hunt at your back…” You pause when your voice shakes for a moment, “and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.”

You place the ring onto his finger and release the breath you have been holding the entire time. Jungkook smiles and takes your hand into his.

“King Jungkook, please repeat the vows to your bride.”

Jungkook waits a moment for you to look up at him, his eyes hold yours and his thumb rubs gently over the back of your hand. You wish you could pull it away…even more, you wish you wanted to pull it away.

“I will stand by your side, hunt at your back, and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.” His voice is alluring and even, as if he isn’t nervous about this at all. He slides the ring down your finger and lets it sit perfectly against your warm skin.

The priest hands the goblet to one of his assistants and turns back to the two of you after you’ve both finished.

“Above you are the stars, below you are the stones. As time passes, remember, like the star should your love burn brightly, like the stone should your love be firm. Be close, yet not so close that you restrict one another. Possess one another, yet grant each other the freedom to grow. Be understanding and compassionate, and have patience with each other, for storms may come, but they will quickly pass. Be free in giving affection and warmth. Fear not, lest the ways or words of the unenlightened give you unease.” He clasps his hands over your joined ones before he finishes the last part of the ceremony.

“As both your arms and the cloth form the symbol of eternity, may your love endure through this life and all others. As the Gods and the old ones are witness, with those of us present now, I proclaim them Husband and Wife, and thus are they bonded in Blood. The Two are now one. I present to you the Blood King Jungkook and Queen ______ forever bound, eternally free! You are husband and wife for all eternity. You may now kiss each other to seal your eternal bond of love.” The priest opens his arms and presents the two of you to the guests.

A kiss…was it necessary? Would they believe you if you didn’t kiss him? Would he be able to resist biting you? Would he taste of blood on his lips? So many thoughts plagued your mind in the moments before he cupped your cheek and tilts your face towards his.

“It’s just a kiss.” Jungkook whispered, only loud enough for you to hear. Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion at his gentle touch.

“One kiss.” You step forward and wrap the arm holding your bouquet behind his back as he leans down to mold his lips against yours.

You weren’t expecting the softness of them, assuming that their appearance would be deceiving. His cool hand on your cheek brings you just the slightest bit closer as your lips brush over his once…twice…three times before your brain catches up with you and you remember who you are kissing.

There are whispers amongst the wedding guests who watch the scene unfold in front of them. Some with disgust. Some with curiosity. However even with the divided opinions in the crowd, they all share the same opinionated attitude. You try to ignore them as best you can.

Your lips separate from his a little too quickly and your hand immediately flies up to cover your mouth and the gasp that escapes you. Jungkook smiles, a flash of fangs when his lips pull back, and gently touches the veil hanging from your head and cascading over your shoulders. He takes your free hand in his and turns you both towards the guests, who clap but don’t seem to be pleased.

“And now the crowns.” The priest turns back to his assistants and picks up the crown that belongs to Jungkook first. The king bends slightly at the waist and the crown is placed gently atop his head.

The crown looks too perfect on him, black and silver metal twisted into spikes with small red gems at the base. It’s as if he has always worn one, perfectly designed with Jungkook in mind. And maybe he has, you don’t know how long he’s been the king after all.

You hadn’t actually seen your crown until this moment. The priest picks it up from a black silk pillow and presents it to you to observe. Like Jungkooks, it too is also made from black and silver metal twisted into even more dramatic spikes. Large, jagged diamonds and rubies cover it in its entirety. It looks ridiculously heavy, and when the priest places it on your head, you find your assumption to be correct. Heavy and cold.

From somewhere nearby, horns and trumpets start to play, signaling the end of the ceremony. Jungkook takes your hand again, and the two of you make your way back down the makeshift aisle your father had nervously walked you down less than an hour ago, and already things feel so different.

You’re quickly whisked away by carriage. The space inside doesn’t feel big enough, you can’t get far enough away from him, but he simply stays on his side of the bench seat and doesn’t move towards you on the ride back to the castle.

Once you’ve arrived, you’re met at the doors by Jungkook's advisor, Namjoon, who you had met a few times beforehand during meetings with Jungkook and your father. He has a kind face, gentle like he could do no harm, but that did not change the fact that he is a still a vampire. Standing next to him is the Captain of the vampire kingdom's army, Yoongi. You had also met him previously, but he doesn’t speak much unless it’s to Jungkook regarding the royal army.

“Did everything go accordingly?” Namjoon asks as the two of you ascend the stairs to the castle.

“It was my wedding, Namjoon, not a transaction.” Jungkook moved to the side and motioned with his hand for you to walk ahead of him through the doors.

“Is that not exactly what this is?” You hear Namjoon say just before you’re inside, Jungkook sighing as he follows.

“He’s right.” You grumble.

“Beg your pardon?” Jungkook says from beside you, his hands clasped behind his back as the two of you walk towards the great hall where the celebration and dinner is being held.

“It wasn’t a real wedding. It’s part of a bargain.” You stop to face him and he does the same, looking at you bewildered.

“Perhaps the circumstances aren’t ideal, but the wedding was real, my queen.” He bows to you, and you’re sure the scowl on your face is as deep as they come.

“Let’s get this night over with.” You grab the skirt of your dress in your fists and begin stomping off towards the great hall. You can hear Jungkook laugh quietly, but you choose to ignore him.

You’re forced to mingle, your hand wrapped through Jungkook's arm as the two of you make rounds through the room. You absolutely despise the whole experience. But soon enough, you’re thankfully seated at the head table and wine is poured into your cup.

You notice that yours and your parents' place settings are the only ones with plates. But of course they would be, no one else in this damned kingdom eats food.

Downing the first glass of wine in one gulp, you signal for an attendant to bring you another one. You can feel Jungkook's eyes on you as you down one glass after another, unable to bring yourself to care about what he could possibly be thinking.

“Do you want any?” You finally ask him after your third glass. A very unladylike hiccup following.

“I think you know the answer to that question already, my queen.” He smiles softly but his jaw is tight with annoyance.

“I’m not your queen.” You say a little too loudly. Some of the guests begin turning their attention to you.

“You have every right to be angry, _____.” Jungkook tries to say under his breath, but you scoff loudly, reaching for the bottle of wine and rudely snatching it from the attendant.

“Angry? That does not even begin to cover it. I am outraged.” You take a swig from the bottle and laugh bitterly. “I am disgusted…and I am not your queen. You and your people are just…fucking vile.” You look up from the bottle of wine to see a look of horror on your father’s face from where he sits at the next table. You know you’ve said too much. You’ve been cruel. “Jungkook…” You start to correct yourself but he cuts you off by standing up from his chair with so much force that it flies back against the wall, causing the guests to look up and stare.

“One thing you are not going to do is insult my people. You can say all the terrible things you want about me, but not them. Not when they’ve given up so much so that your people can live.” He grabs your wrist and pulls you to your feet. “Let’s go.”

“Let go of me.” You try to pull your wrist away, but it’s no use against his inhuman strength. “Release me this instant!” Jungkook continues to pull you towards the door, your legs wobbly from wine and the heels on your feet.

“The evening is over. You need to sleep it off.” He pushes open the door and drags you into the dimly lit hallway.

“I am not sleeping with you!” Even though it’s futile, you scratch and pull at the sleeve of his embroidered jacket.

“As if I’d expect that of you.” Jungkook scoffs and swings you around to face him. He maneuvers your body until you’re pressed against the wall with your arms above your head, one of his hands pinning your wrists there.

“Let go!” You try to kick at him but he dodges every time.

“Whether you like it or not, my queen, this is your home now and these are your people. I have and will continue to do what’s best for everyone involved, including you.” His eyes are almost pitch black, a deep red threatening to spill into the iris’ as he speaks through his clenched teeth.

You must stop forgetting that Jungkook is a monster.

“You know nothing of what’s best for me.” You begin moving to spit in his face, but he knows what you are about to do before you have even finished the thought. His free hand comes up to cover your mouth, leaving you to glare at him without being able to talk.

“Listen carefully, my queen.” The grip on your wrists tightens slightly. “You are not the only one making sacrifices around here. So when you decide you want to act like royalty and not some drunken heathen, by all means come to me.” You jerk around in his hold, you just want him to get the hell away from you. He seems to understand your request as he slowly takes his hand away from your mouth.

“I fear you’ll be waiting a very long time, your highness. Possibly until my death, but I’m sure you’ll find that day ever so joyous.” You use your body weight to push at him once more and he finally releases you, but stays in close vicinity.

“Don’t assume you know anything about what I find joyous.” Jungkook looks over his shoulder towards the guards who are standing near the doorway to the hall. “Escort her majesty to her chambers, she’s not to leave them for the night.” Jungkook straightens his shirt and jacket, and begins making his way back towards the dinner hall.

“You can’t just lock me away! Do you hear me?” One of the guards motions for you to walk towards the opposite hallway.

“No more talking tonight. Go to sleep.” Jungkook says over his shoulder before he disappears into the dinner hall. You scoff loudly, taking off walking as fast as your drunken legs will allow you to go.

“Stupid, ignorant, pig headed blood sucker.” You grumble under your breath as you continue down the hallway. The dim lighting from the candles doesn’t allow you to see much, but you can see there is art on the walls that you would rather enjoy if you were not so pissed off. And if they did not belong to the most ridiculous man you had ever met.

The guards lead you to a winding staircase where you quickly find out that in your drunken state you are unable to climb them unassisted. At the top of the first set of stairs they split, one set going left and the other going right. The guards gesture for you to head to the left.

“And where does the right go?” You ask with a hiccup.

“To the king's chambers.” One of them replies. Jungkook had not been lying, he really had prepared your very own chambers. You reach the doors to your bedroom soon after.

One of the guards opens the door for you to enter the room. You cross your arms over your chest and practically stomp inside, turning around to face them.

“Your king is sadly mistaken if he thinks he can lock me up for the rest of my life. I’d rather die.” You aren’t sure what you expect them to say, but they merely bow before shutting the door.

As soon as it clicks shut, you grab the skirt of your dress into your hands and begin ripping the fabric apart, tossing the pieces around the room.

“Stupid, ridiculous, hideous dress.” You screech, grabbing the sleeves at the shoulders and ripping them apart too. You bend down to grab the heels off your feet, stumbling around before yanking them off and chucking them as far away from you as possible.

Your chest heaves with short breaths as you feel yourself burning with rage. Reaching up into your hair, you hastily pull out as many of the pins holding it into place as you can. You start to walk towards the wardrobe when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the far wall. You look like a forest witch. And not the good kind.

Changing your mind about finding other clothes, you begin to notice that there isn’t much in your room. A few vases with fresh flowers and a bed with soft, silky white sheets. There’s a white fur rug at the foot of it and a very large trunk atop that. There’s also a small fireplace in the corner with a few small logs in a basket nearby. The room was otherwise quite empty.

Looking through another set of double doors, you find the washroom. There’s a claw foot tub in one corner with several shelves of soaps and oils on the wall behind it.

As badly as you want to bathe, you need to find ways to protect yourself. Weapons. You need to learn the layout of the castle so that you know where all the exits are at all times. And you also need to find some food. Food in a castle full of creatures who don’t eat it. You sigh loudly, almost tripping over some pieces of your skirt on the marble floor.

Looking down at what's left of your wedding dress on your body is almost laughable. It’s mostly just the bodice and a few pieces covering your lower region in a tattered disarray. You cannot bring yourself to care, this dress was a mistake. It was all a mistake.

You walk out onto the balcony and see a ledge that looks just big enough for you to make your way over to the next room. Wasting no time, you swing your leg over the side, feeling a bit dizzy and suddenly remembering that you’re still quite drunk. But there is no time to sober up now, you have missions to complete.

Still barefoot, you balance onto the ledge and carefully side step your way along the stone. It's only about ten feet from your balcony to the next one.

You get a little too ahead of yourself and almost slip just once, but manage to climb over the railing of the next balcony successfully. You slink over to the window and peer inside, seeing what appears to be an empty guest room. Trying the handle for the doors, you’re overly pleased to find that they are unlocked.

Once inside, you press yourself against the wall and move towards the bedroom door. You pray that once you open it, there will be no vampire guards waiting for you. You have yet to secure a weapon and this might be your only chance to do so when so many of the castle's occupants are still at your wedding reception.

Slowly, you open the door, poking your head outside to see the guards are still occupied with watching over your bedroom door. You silently thank the gods, tip toeing into the hall, you're able to make a mad dash as soon as you’ve rounded the corner and gotten out of the guards sight.

You run until you find the winding staircase that you had come upstairs on. Its familiar shape lets you know that you’re going the right way. Eyes darting from side to side, you descend the stairs, making sure there are no vampires lurking about in the halls.

With absolutely no idea where you are going, you take the hallway to the left, and to your surprise, you smell food. The scent gets stronger and more distinct the further you travel down the hallway. You notice a swinging door, the sounds of clanging pans and a soft voice coming from inside. You brave a peek inside the small round window on the door, the person inside has their back to you for a moment, but when they turn around to face you, you almost cry.

Hoseok.

You shove open the swinging door with all your might, jumping onto a very unsuspecting Hoseok, who screams bloody murder at the sight of you. He almost falls backwards, but catches himself on the corner of the counter.

“Get off of me, witch!” Hoseok yells, reaching for a frying pan in hopes to knock out the creature currently hugging his torso.

“Oh, Hoseok, I’m so happy to see you.” You cry into his chef's coat.

“______? Is that really you?” He grabs your shoulders and moves you back to get a look at you. “My god, it really is you. What the hell happened to you?” He picks up a piece of your dress from the floor that must've fallen off in your rush to get to him.

“How are you here? Why?” You sniffle, tears streaming down your face.

“The king asked me to come stay here and be your chef…since you know, they don’t eat food and you do.” Hoseok pats the top of your head affectionately.

Hoseok is your closest friend. You had grown up together back in your father’s kingdom. His mother had been a long time servant of your parents, the most loyal that you could ask for. Hoseok had inherited that particular trait from her. He began cooking as you got older and soon became one of the best chefs in your kingdom. You were very surprised when you heard your father was so willing to let him go.

“My father let you come? Who will make him those banana pancakes he loves so much?” You laugh, wiping your face so you can get a better look at him, making sure that he’s really here in front of you.

“No, not your father, I meant King Jungkook. He apparently gave your father a rather large sum to make sure that I came here to cook for you.” Hoseok shrugs his shoulders and smiles widely.

“Why would he do that?” You hiss.

“I don’t know, _____. Maybe he just wanted you to be comfortable here.” Hoseok gives you another small hug, then moves around you to continue what he was working on before.

“I find that hard to believe.” You scoff.

“Do you want to explain why the hell you look like a swamp witch?” Hoseok is packaging some food and placing it into the cold room that was filled with ice.

“I…may have gotten drunk at the reception…and got sent to my rooms like a child. And I may have thrown a fit of rage about it.” You plop yourself down on a wooden stool in the corner of the kitchen. You learned a long time ago not to get in his way when he was working.

“You? Throw a fit? Could not imagine such a thing.” He laughs before closing the door to the cold room. “So you haven’t eaten?”

“No. I’m starving Hoseok, please make me food.” You whine to your friend and he rolls his eyes in response.

“You’re lucky I don’t beat you with this plate of food. I made this damn dinner for the reception and they brought your plate back to me untouched? You’re on thin ice my friend.” Hoseok pulls a plate of food from the oven that he had been keeping warm there and sits it in front of you.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” You don’t bother waiting for him to hand you any utensils as you grab the food with your hands, dismissing the fact that it’s too hot to be eating. You’re too hungry to care.

“One day in the vampire kingdom and you’ve already lost your mind.” Hoseok places a fork beside your plate, but still, you ignore it.

“Do you have knives in here?” Your face lights up, looking around the kitchen.

“I’m a little hesitant to give you any sharp objects right now _____.” Hoseok looks at you with concern reaching his face.

“It’s for protection, Hobi. We’re the only two humans for miles, aren’t you a bit concerned about that?” Your mouth is half full of food as you speak and Hoseok looks disgusted as you stand up and start rifling through his kitchen.

“Of course it’s a little…unsettling. But the king isn’t going to let anything happen to us. Especially you.” Hobi walks behind you, picking things up as you make a mess. You scoff at the last part.

“He cares about me as much as I care about him, which is not at all.” You finally find the drawer that holds the kitchen knives. “Finally! Why didn’t you tell me where they were?”

“Because I think you’re slightly insane.” He puts his hands up in front of him in surrender when you turn around to face him, knife in hand.

“I’m not insane. I’m being…prepared.” You close the drawer and move back towards the kitchen door, peaking out into the hallway through the circular window. You don’t see any movement.

You aren’t sure where to keep this knife if you finally managed to get your hands on, looking around the kitchen for something to use.

“Here, just use this.” Hoseok sighs, handing you a long leather string. “Wrap it around your thigh, that's what all the female warriors do.”

Looking at Hobi inquisitively, wondering how he could possibly know that bot of information, you take the string from his hand and wrap it around your thigh until you can tie it. You’re able to secure the knife between the leather well enough for now.

“Do you even know how to kill a vampire, ____? Is a knife even going to work?” Hoseok crosses his arms over his chest as he looks at you.

“Father told me once that you have to remove their heads.” You don’t look at him, just continue looking into the hallway.

“And a kitchen knife is going to remove a vampire's head!? I’m going to pretend you didn’t get that from me if anyone asks.” Hoseok motions towards your knife with his head before he goes back to cleaning up the mess you had left in your wake.

“I’m going to go look around some more. I’ll come find you later.” You look at him now, as he picks things up off the floor.

“Please don’t.” He teases, crossing the small kitchen to stand in front of you. “Be careful roaming around this castle.”

“I’ll be fine, Hobi.” You wrap an arm around him and he does the same to you, giving each other a much needed hug. He kisses the top of your head before he lets you go.

“Go on then, Blood Queen. I’ll bring you your breakfast in the morning.” He shoos you away.

“Do not call me that.” You glare at your friend. “Eggs and lots of coffee?”

“As you wish.” He rolls his eyes again and you can’t help but smile.

Pushing open the swinging door, you carefully step out into the hallway, keeping your back pressed to the wall as you follow it through the castle.

There isn’t much to see. Some extra bedrooms, one room that looked like a study and one door that had led to a small patio. You mentally mapped that door in your head and hoped you could remember it well enough to write down when you got back to your rooms.

As you approached the end of the hallway you began to hear voices. You knew you should turn around but your curiosity was too much to battle with. So instead, you made your way to the double doors that had been left slightly ajar.

Inside, the room was full of vampires seated at a very long table. Jungkook is sitting at the head of it, his fingers adorned by silver rings, stroking his chin with worry. You aren’t sure how you know that he’s worried, but you just know. Namjoon paces the floor behind him, babbling to no one in particular it seemed. Yoongi, who is sitting to his right, still appears to be his quiet and stoic self. Not much different to how you saw him for the first time.

There are several others present around the table that you do not recognize. But the real question is why are they here instead of attending the wedding reception?

“Is this a threat we need to be prepared for sooner rather than later?” You finally hear Yoongi say, his voice deep and rumbly.

“We knew taking on the human kingdom was going to cause issues with Taehyung. Because not only did you agree to help them, you married the fucking princess.” Namjoon says, distaste thick in his voice.

“They required protection. This was how we gave them that.” Jungkook doesn’t bother looking up, he merely sits back in his chair and crosses his legs.

“At what cost? Why are we paying for their ignorance?” Namjoon continues to pace the floor behind Jungkook's chair.

It surprises you how Jungkook continues to defend your kingdom when he clearly did not have much reason to. It isn’t as if you had married him on happy terms. The only thing he is really getting out of this arrangement is land, and it isn’t like there is much of it to give in the first place. You’ve been so angry that you really had never taken the time to consider that.

“Excuse me for a moment.” Jungkook says, abruptly standing up from his chair.

You feel panic rise up as you notice that he’s heading towards the door that you’re still standing in front of. You look around the hall frantically, seeing a large statue in the corner to your left.

You dash towards it, trying to keep the sound of your bare feet padding across the marble floor as quiet as possible. You hear the door creak open all the way as you fling yourself behind the statue, flopping against the ground with a thud.

“Shit. Shit that hurts.” You whisper, trying to right yourself into a sitting position.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the mouth of a sailor?” Jungkook is suddenly standing above you, making you jump with fright, banging your head against the statue that had apparently done nothing to hide you from him.

“Has anyone ever told you that it’s rude to just appear out of nowhere like a damn ghost?” You rub the back of your head and manage to get to your feet to stand in front of him. Jungkook scoffs, trying to hold back a laugh.

“What in the world have you done to your dress?” He asks, reaching towards your torn up skirt. Before he can touch them you slap his hand away, making your hand sting at the contact.

“I had a moment. Not that it’s any of your business.” You attempt to smooth out what’s left of the skirts at your waist.

“You look like a swamp witch.” Jungkook can’t help the smile that graces his face and you want to slap it away for being so beautiful.

“I do not!” You shove past him, stomping back down the hallway where you had come from.

“Would you please stop for a moment?” Jungkook calls after you.

“I will not.” You refuse to give him any further satisfaction. He does not seem to take the hint, his footsteps following after you.

You’ve had enough of him for one night. You reach into the band you had made and wrapped around your thigh to hold onto the kitchen knife you had gotten from the kitchen, spinning around and pointing the sharp end of the blade right at Jungkook’s throat, making him stop in his tracks in front of you.

“Where did you get a knife?” Jungkook dares to ask, an eyebrow raised in question.

“That is also none of your business.” You move the knife so close to his throat that the slightest movement could make you cut him.

“Were you keeping that knife strapped to your thigh?” Jungkook's voice lowers as he slowly raises his hands in surrender. You choose not to answer him, only stiffening your stance. “Incredibly violent…” Jungkook smiles and his fangs extend slightly, making you feel bewildered at his reaction.

“Why are you smiling?” You poke the tip of the knife against his skin.

“Because I like that you’re beautifully murderous.” Jungkook is suddenly out of your sight, making you whirl around to find him, only to be pressed roughly against the wall, the hand holding the knife anchored above your head.

“Get off of me!” You move to knee him in the groin but he’s too fast. Inhumanly fast.

“I want you to be a part of this, you know. I want you to help us help your people.” His grip tightens slightly the more you move around.

“Why?” You seethe.

“Because you’re the queen. My partner in this life. Why is that so hard for you to understand?” The look on his face is so sincere that it makes you halt your movements.

“Jungkook…this is not a real marriage. Why are you so convinced that it is?” With one last push, he releases you and takes a step back.

“I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to make you see that it is.” Jungkook tells you with a quiet sigh. “But for the time being, please just come inside and listen to what we’re speaking about. You should be a part of it too.”

You feel the tiniest sliver of hatred melt away from your heart. It makes your chest feel lighter, like you can breathe a little easier. You don’t understand it. You don’t understand him. But you can’t deny that you want to know what’s going on in that meeting room.

“Fine. Let’s go.” You rip your eyes away from his face before it becomes too noticeable that you were looking at him at all.

“Do you perhaps want to change first?” Jungkook asks. “The dress has become rather revealing.”

You glare at him before propping your foot up against the wall, exposing your bare leg to him. You slide the kitchen knife back into the homemade holster on your thigh, adjusting it slightly and letting your foot slip back to the ground as you keep direct eye contact with the vampire king.

“No. I think I’ll attend the meeting just as I am.” You can’t help but smirk a little, pointing your nose to the ceiling before making your way into the meeting room. Jungkook laughs quietly in disbelief, but follows you inside.

All the eyes in the room are suddenly on you. One of the men sitting at the table visibly chokes on air as he watches you walk into the room and takes in your appearance.

“I suggest you get yourself together, Seokjin.” Jungkook walks ahead of you to pull out the chair to the left of his for you.

“Apologies, your highness.” The man named Seokjin splutters slightly, then straightens in his chair.

“Were you attacked, my lady?” Yoongi says, his voice low but still holding a bit of concern.

“No…I was…it's nothing. Don’t let my clothing distract you from the discussion.” You move around the table, choosing to ignore the chair Jungkook has pulled out for you, but instead decide to move to his chair at the head of the table and sit down there. “Shall we?” You ask, a smug look on your face.

“Incredible.” You hear Jungkook mumble under his breath, only meaning for you to hear it, but obviously all the other vampire ears in the room do as well, making everyone shift uncomfortably in their seats.

“Does the queen need to be present?” Namjoon remarks from the seat next to Yoongi.

“Yes, she does. And I won’t hear another thing about it.” Jungkook makes his point clear and moves to sit in the chair he had originally pulled out for you.

“Fine then. We need to start preparing for a war with Taehyung. And we also need to consider that in order to avoid it, we should give up the human kingdom. We don’t need it.” Namjoon is very monotone as he speaks about giving up your kingdom to an apparent enemy.

“Absolutely not.” You say without thought.

“No disrespect, your highness, but I was speaking to the king.” Namjoon dismisses you and you can feel anger start to bubble beneath your skin.

“You say that you mean no disrespect, but you’re sitting there suggesting that we turn over my kingdom, full of innocent people, to your enemy.” You lean forward in your seat, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you look at the king's advisor.

“I’m not sure you understand the ramifications of going to war with Taehyung, your majesty. He is not to be underestimated.” Namjoon leans forward as well, meeting your gaze with a challenge in his eyes.

“Perhaps someone could explain to me who Taehyung is, and how he has become such a threat to the most powerful kingdom in this realm?” You don’t let your gaze fall from Namjoon’s, challenging him right back.

“If you two are finished with your vicious little disagreement you’ve got going, I would be honored to get the queen up to speed on the situation.” Seokjin says from a few chairs down. His voice makes you look away from Namjoon with a scowl on your face.

“Please. Tell me what you know.” You give Seokjin your attention, ignoring the mumbled curses Namjoon says under his breath.

“Taehyung is the king of the werewolf kingdom to our west, your highness. And I…well I know more than most about werewolves as I myself am one of them.” Seokjin looks up at you then, a golden glow flashing across his eyes when they meet yours.

“I’m confused. If you’re one of them, what are you doing here?” Your curiosity is peaked at this very unexpected bit of information.

“Well you see, my lady, I owe my life to your king. Many, many years ago he had mercy on me and I have pledged my loyalty to him until my dying day.” A smile plays at the corner of Seokjin’s mouth as he looks from you to Jungkook, who also shares the same smile of fondness on his face.

“He saved your life?” You ask, enthralled by this story. A vampire saving the life of a werewolf is unheard of, the two of them becoming friends is even more unheard of.

“He did. And now he has me at his side, even if he wishes I wasn’t at times.” He laughs a little and Jungkook’s smile grows wider.

“You’re too humble sometimes, hyung.” Jungkook says, sharing one last fond smile with Seokjin before he looks back at you. “Seokjin is vital to the way this kingdom is able to live and operate on a daily basis. Don’t let him talk lowly of himself.”

You wish their story wasn’t so endearing. That you didn’t feel a pang of something in your heart for the fondness they share for each other. But no matter how hard you try to bite back your smile, it betrays you, pulling your lips up slightly.

“I am happy to meet you, Seokjin.” You say, sharing one more look with him before the moment is interrupted.

“Could we get back to the point?” Namjoon says, obviously annoyed by the friendly conversation. Why was he so frumpy?

“Of course. My apologies.” Seokjin sits back in his chair with a small bow of his head.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a sour puss?” You say to Namjoon, almost causing Yoongi to choke on a laugh.

“My lady, this is not a joke. If you’re insistent on being involved, I beg you to take this seriously.” If Namjoon could blush, you suppose he would be at this point.

“I’m listening.” You roll your eyes a bit and turn to Jungkook, who is watching you with a smirk on his face.

“Taehyung isn’t happy about this…union. He believes your land should be his and we are almost positive he isn’t going to sit back and let it go.” Yoongi takes the initiative to explain this time.

“And for now, as I’ve said before, we double the guard at the border but we don’t engage. I’m not starting a war without reason.” Jungkook speaks now, everybody forwarding their attention to him. “And perhaps we need to set up a meeting with Taehyung.”

“A meeting? What do you hope to come of that, your majesty?” Namjoon looks with disbelief on his face.

“I’m avoiding a war at all costs. I won’t bring unnecessary danger to either of the kingdoms.” Jungkook stands up. “And this discussion is over for now. I’m sure the queen would like to sleep.” You nod, quickly being able to tell that Jungkook is done talking for tonight.

You stand from the table, bowing to the others who stand at the same time as you do to bow deeper in your direction. Jungkook motions for you to walk ahead of him with his hand as you take one last look over your shoulder at the men sitting at the table. More monsters than men…but it was easy to forget such a thing.

“I’m glad you joined us.” Jungkook's voice startles you from your thinking.

“Yes well…I won’t let anything happen to my people. We can’t just throw them to the wolves.” You hope he detects the seriousness in your voice.

“I hope that you can see that isn’t my intention. It never was.” Jungkook walks next to you, his arms crossed behind his back.

“As long as that is clear.” You reach the bottom of the stairs that lead up to your separate bed chambers, stopping on the bottom step and turn to look at Jungkook.

“Loud and clear, my queen.” Jungkook steps up closer and you almost trip over the step trying to create space. “Where is the knife now?”

“It will be in your chest if you do not step away from me.” You growl through your teeth, making Jungkook grin wickedly, fangs appearing under his lip.

“Beautiful and violent. Where have you been all my life, darling?” Jungkook steps up onto the stairs, making you stumble up a few more to get distance.

“You’re some kind of masochist, aren’t you?” You put your hand down onto the handle of the knife. Jungkook throws his head back in laughter. The sound is…certainly not what you expected. He seems so human as he laughs and tries to compose himself.

“Would you like to find out?” He takes one more step up towards you and you’ve had enough.

You lift your bare foot from the wooden stair and press it into the middle of his chest as he stands two steps down from you. You watch Jungkook's eyes as they take in what is happening, roaming over the exposed skin of your legs and thigh.

“Stop flirting with me.” You push slightly against his chest with your foot. “It’s very annoying.”

“Your heart is beating so quick, I’m not sure that you mean that.” Jungkook says in a low tone. The sound of his deep voice tries to pry its way between your thighs, but you won’t let it. “I think you rather like it, actually.”

“You’re not amusing, your highness.” You try to remain unfazed.

“You can’t lie to me. I can hear the blood rushing through your veins…and your breath struggling to even out.” Jungkook tries to take a step up but you push him back down with your foot.

“You’re delusional. Whatever you are hearing is simply because I am fending off a vampire, not because I find that vampire to be maddeningly beautiful.” You wish you had said that differently…surely he will know you’re lying now.

“Why do you fight it?” He questions.

“Fight what?”

“The attraction between us.”

“Because there isn’t any. None. It is nonexistent.” You shove your foot into his chest once more but he doesn’t budge of course.

“Liar.” Jungkook says quietly, you can feel his breath on the skin of your leg. His cool fingers come up to ghost over the skin of your ankle, allowing goosebumps to find home on your skin as your body betrays you even more. “Shall we test your theory?” Fingers continue their featherlight touch up your calf.

“You’re…it’s not affecting me at all.” Your voice shakes slightly as you fight to keep your eyes open.

“More lies, my queen.” When his fingers get to the inside of your thigh, your brain suddenly remembers what’s happening. You kick him in the chest with more force and Jungkook stumbles slightly, giving you a chance to jog up a few more stairs before you speak to him again.

“No more of your unrequited flirting. And especially touching. None of that.” You yell down to him, wishing you could smack the grin on his face.

“As you wish.” He bows to you.

“Goodnight, your highness.” You pull the knife out of your holster and point it towards him as you back your way up the rest of the stairs, making Jungkook laugh out loud again. You don’t look back this time as you dash your way down the hall to your bed chambers where the two guards are still standing. “I’ll be going to bed now.” You huff past them and into the room as quickly as possible.

You press your back against the cool wood of the door, trying to catch the breath you had not realized were holding . He was absolutely infuriating. Ridiculous. Egotistical. And yet… soft and endearing at times. Like when he was speaking to or about Seokjin. It is something you never expected to see.

Looking down at your hand, you see the wedding ring he had given you just a few short hours ago. Shaped like a drop of blood and every bit the color of it. You had forgotten all about it and now you aren’t sure you wanted to take it off. You and this ring have been through a lot already.

Finally, you bring yourself to move towards one of the tall armoires on the other side of the room. Perhaps it’s time to finally change out of your tattered wedding dress.

You look through some drawers until you finally find some silky night shorts and matching camisole. It seems revealing for pajamas, but you also don’t have the energy to keep digging for something else.

With a sigh, you head into the bathroom and make a beeline for that glorious claw foot tub in the corner of the room. You look around and notice the gold crusted faucets at one end of the tub.

Running water. The vampire kingdom had running water for baths. This was not a luxury that you had back in your human kingdom.

“Something decent has come from this.” You mumble to yourself as you turn on the faucets and watch the crystal clear water start to fill the basin of the tub. You grab one of the first glass bottles of soap that you can reach, breathing in its scent and finding it to be lavender. A scent you missed about the gardens in your father’s kingdom. You pour a plentiful amount into the stream of water and watch the bubbles begin to form and you can’t help but smile.

Stripping out of what’s left of your wedding dress, you toss it away and carefully step into the tub. The water is so warm already, instantly loosening your tired muscles and cleanssng your dirty skin. It felt like heaven.

Once the tub has filled you turn off the faucets and sink down into it. You let your head dip beneath the bubbles, letting it washclean your hair and , making it easier to pull the rest of the pins out of it.

It’s quiet in this washroom. Almost too quiet. So you decide not to dawdledauddle for too long, getting yourself cleaned up and grabbing a robe from one of the hanging hooks on the wall.

Making your way back into your bed chambers, you dress into the pajamas you had found earlier and climb into the bed. You feel alone all at once. Too alone with your thoughts.

How would your life play out now that you’re here? Married. To the king of vampires. Jungkook. The blood king.

You want to know more. Need to know more about him and this place.

In order for you to do that, you have to change your sleeping schedule. You need to be awake at night when everyone else is awake.

It took some time for you to get used to but after a couple of weeks you are able to get up and join the vampires during their meetings regarding Taehyung.

You are also able to explore the castle and its grounds more thoroughly. Finding it full of vast libraries and art from different centuries…different worlds it seemed.

Most recently though, you had discovered the gardens. Gardens that had been somewhat neglected by visitors if you were being honest. They were clean and well kept, but they were mostly empty. Not many flowers and things to fill all the spaces in between the manicured bushes and small trees. You wondered if it was because no one could come out during the day to care for them. And the more you thought about it, the sillier it seemed.

You love walking around outside nonetheless. Sitting on the stone benches and watching the fountains. But your urge to do more is constantly bouncing around in your mind.

Tonight, you find yourself changing into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater. You had decided you were going to start digging around in the gardens, whether it is something a queen should do or not, you didn’t care. It would busy your mind and give you something productive to do.

“Where are you off to?” Hoseok calls behind you as you make your way to the back doors.

“To the gardens. I think I’m going to start digging around. Maybe plant some new things.” You turn to see the bright smile on his face. One of the few bright things here.

“There are groundskeepers for that, you know?” Hoseok teases as he approaches you, taking in your very unqueenly outfit.

“I am aware, Hobi. But I’m bored and I need to find something to occupy my time.” You wave him off with a sigh.

“Do you know where the gardening equipment is?” Hoseok asks, hands moving to his hips as he looks at you expectantly.

“Well…no. But I assume that you do?”

“Perhaps. What’s in it for me?” He continues to tease.

“I’m the queen, you have to tell me if I ask.” Your arms cross over your chest.

“Oh now you want to be the queen? Only when it benefits you, I see.”

“Come on, Hoseok, pleeeeease?” You’re growing tired of his antics.

“Let me use your bathtub twice a week, and I’ll tell you where it is.” He puts his hand out for you to shake.

“As if I would deny you that bathtub.” You laugh a little and shake his hand. “Come on then, to the gardening tools.” You jump onto his back as he turns around to lead the way, making him carry you.

“I don’t remember carrying your spoiled ass around being in my new job description.” Hobi laughs, adjusting you on his back so he can walk with more balance.

“It’s in your best friend job description, check your paperwork.” You place your chin on his shoulder and squeeze your legs tighter around his middle.

“Ridiculous.” He laughs louder, making his way towards the back doors to show you where to find the gardening tools.

Hoseok takes you to a small building outside the castle, inside of which are plenty of gardening tools for you to get started with your plans. He doesn’t stick around though, making his way back to the castle to finally get some sleep. Hobi is having a harder time adjusting to the new sleep schedule than you had.

With your arms full of shovels, rakes, and other tools you may or may not need, you find an area near the fountains that you plan to start with. The dirt in this area seems a bit dry and sad looking, so you think if you dig into the soil, you’ll be able to bring the good dirt to the top.

You spend a few hours tilling the soil and sure enough, it already looks so much better than it did before. And even though autumn is in full swing and you’re working by the light from the moon, you’re still a bit sweaty.

“I think digging your way out of here may be a bigger task than you bargained for.” A now familiar voice says from behind you, making you jump at the sudden sound.

“Will I have to live out the rest of my days here wondering when the next time you’ll give me a heart attack will be?” You place your hand over your hammering heart while Jungkook smiles.

“Apologies, my queen.” Jungkook walks closest to where you’re kneeling on the ground, his hands behind his back. “What is it that you’re doing exactly?”

“I’m gardening. Is that not obvious?” You sit the small shovel down and wipe your hands off on your thighs.

“Yes. But why?” He asks curiously.

“Something to do? A hobby? I’m tired of wandering around this castle like a ghost.” You look up at him when he comes to stand next to you. “Is that something I’m allowed to do, your highness?”

“You’re rather snarky for a queen.” Jungkook smiles again, the sharp points of his fangs showing behind his lips.

“I have been called much worse.” You huff, standing up from the ground, wobbling slightly from being in that position a bit too long.

Jungkook is inhumanly fast, gently steadying you on your feet. One hand on your hip and the other on your shoulder. His skin is so cold it sends a shiver through you, goosebumps covering your warm skin.

“So long as you’re here, no one will dare to call you anything less than you deserve.” His eyes are almost black as they meet yours. “Are you okay to stand?”

You shake away the trance you feel when you look at him, stepping back slightly and out of his hold.

“Yes, I’m fine.” You awkwardly stumble over the shovel on the ground, righting yourself before Jungkook has a chance to try and help you again. “Thank you.”

“Shall I help you with this?” He asks, bending to pick up one of the rakes.

“Oh…that’s not necessary, I can manage.”

“I’m well aware that you can manage. But would you like some help…and some company?”Jungkook almost looks shy as he asks. “I think it would be good for us to spend more time together.”

You aren’t sure what to say. Part of you despises the thought of spending time with him. But a bigger part tells you that you long to know him more. To hear his infuriating tone when he teases you.

“Fine. But you start over there, and don’t crowd me.” You point towards an area a few feet from the one you had been working on. Jungkook laughs quietly.

“As you wish, my queen.” He bows at the waist and makes his way over.

“I’ve asked you several times to stop calling me that.” You sigh, pushing some hair away from your face before you continue tilling the soil.

“Why does it bother you so much?” Jungkook gets down to his knees, the brown slacks he is wearing meeting the dirt.

“I am not a vampire, Jungkook. Being the Blood Queen seems like I’m pretending to be something that I’m not.” It bothers you. All those vows that you took about protecting each other are just lies.

“You don’t need to be a vampire to be the queen here. No matter what you hear or what you think, you only need to try and understand.” Jungkook’s quick hands are making much faster work of things than yours ever could.

“Understand what?” You ask.

“Will you let me show you some time? It will be much easier to show than to try and explain it in so many words.”

You don’t understand what he means, but the look on his face tells you that he’s sincere in what he says. And even though you should probably say no, you’re too curious not to indulge him.

“Okay.” You simply state. Jungkook smiles softly and continues his digging.

Another week passes, and Jungkook joins you out in the gardens every night. He brings you new tools to use and lists from the florists in the kingdom so that you can pick out flowers to plant wherever you please. You choose as many as you can find that grow at night, because though they carry all the usual things that flourish in the day time, you know you won’t get to enjoy them as much as you will the ones who bloom at night.

You spend hours in the many libraries within the castle researching the plants and what they need to live well at night. Jungkook joins you there often, following you through the stacks of books and listening to you babble on and on about the flowers.

As much as you wish you didn't enjoy his company, as much as you don’t want to be fond of the sound of his voice, you are very much beginning to.

“_____?” Jungkook says quietly, closing the book that you’re holding in your hands. He doesn’t call you by your first name often, it’s a strange feeling that follows it.

“What is it?” You slide the book back onto the shelf in front of you, turning your attention to him.

“Would you please do me the honor of accompanying me into the kingdom tomorrow night?” His hands are behind his back as he speaks, stepping closer to where you’re standing.

“May I ask why?” You try to pretend his close proximity does not affect you. Jungkook is still a vampire after all.

“I told you I would help you to understand why being human does not mean you cannot be the queen here.” Jungkook brings a hand from behind his back and reaches out gently, brushing your fingertips with his.

“What are you going to show me, Jungkook?” You slowly pull your hand back from his touch, making him smirk at your stubbornness.

“Everything, darling.”

#jungkook #vampire jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #bts fic #bts smut #btscarnivalnet #btscreatorscorner #bangtaninn #bangtansorciere #btshoneyhive #52hertz #btswritersclub #btsdreamcourt #bangtanarmynet #clubzerooclock #btswritingcafe

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haeyeongs · 1 year

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I love the way Crash Course in Romance explored class in its 8th episode! It’s subtle enough to go almost unnoticed for now but the fact that Chi Yeol had to chose between the piano recital and the chicken party leaves no doubt that it’s written like that on purpose. Chi Yeol is the star of the academy, he’s super popular, crazy rich, and is expected to date people from a high rank like the pianist he went on a blind date with. It’s not like he enjoys this life, it literally makes him sick, but that’s just what is expected of him. To get closer to Haeng Seon, he has to ditch this lifestyle. I feel like this is what episode 8 was about, telling it mostly through food.

Haeng Seon’s food an obvious part of this. She’s a cook but she sells ordinary side dishes. When she sees Chi Yeol in front of the store, Sua’s mom even says she "expected him to have a more sophisticated palate" because it’s not fancy enough for rich people like them. So when he suggests having a party to the family, he invites them to a western gourmet restaurant. Very far from the party they had at home to celebrate Hae Yi’s perfect grade in math in the previous episode... The family feels awkward, out of place, in this fancy and cold restaurant. When Chi Yeol asks to have every course served at the same time, it feels like home again. They speak again, eat big bites of food and food goes from one plate to another. The table was so big for the four of them before, now it feels like it got smaller and they sit closer to each other.

Fancy food like the one from that restaurant or like the snacks gifted by the pianist are great, they make you feel good. It’s new, different, it’s expensive. You want to get it from time to time. But what fills you up is basic, familial food, like Haeng Seon’s. It’s what makes you healthy, what comforts you when you need it. It’s the food you share with your loved ones or those who need it. It's the recipes you get from your mother. Chi Yeol thought he could only stomach Haeng Seon’s food but he ate without problem chicken she didn’t cook because it’s not just her cooking he needs but people to eat with. A family.

#crash course in romance #omg i didn't think it'd be so long #i had more stuff to say but it feels like it would be endless so i'll leave it at that lmao #honestly i love the way food is portrayed in fiction #and i hated blue is the warmest color but #it's probably the movie that sparked that interest #because it showed class differences through food and it stuck with me #also i feel like what im saying here sounds super obvious #but i just love the way ccir explores food #and makes it a major theme #.txt #commentary

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aisclosed · 1 year

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Match Found ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - 18 . Match Found ʚ♡ɞ (finale)

Synopsis: Jungwon is sick of his friends' constant teasing over his lack of gaming skills. Determined to secretly improve and prove enha wrong, Jungwon sets out to learn to play, except he has no clue where to begin. Luckily for him, y/n is a girl with too much time on her hands, a desperate need for distraction and is more than happy to indulge him. Only, things are never that simple and Jungwon soon finds it difficult to explain exactly what the pair have become. college Student! Jungwon x gamer! Reader

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(5.2k) written work :: warnings: cursing

It had been going so well.

Jungwon had woken up to the song of birds chirping outside, he had opened the window to warm rays of sun and clear blue skies. It felt like the stars had aligned to present him with the perfect day to finally make his move.

Jungwon should’ve known better.

It had been four days since he had seen you last. Four days since you had showed up at his doorstep and dropped the equivalent of a nuclear bomb in his lap and left him with nothing to defuse it. True to your word, you had given him space to sort through his thoughts and feelings.

So it had been up to Jungwon to make sense of the jumbled mess that you had left in your wake. Luckily for him, his friends had taken it upon themselves to guide Jungwon through his existential crisis.

“Fuck I think I’m in love with her,” Jungwon whimpers into his palms. His hands doing little to hide the red flush that had crept up his neck to his cheeks.

“You just figured that out?” Niki questions, looking at Jungwon’s crumpled figure incredulously.

Jungwon lowers his hands slightly to look up at his friends with wide eyes. At the sight of each of the matching disbelieving looks on their faces, Jungwon’s eyes widened further. “You all knew I was in love with her? And no one thought to tell me?”

“How the fuck did you not know?” Sunghoon scoffs, “It's been extremely obvious to everyone that’s been forced to hang out in the same vicinity as you two.”

Jungwon lets out a strangled noise as he mentally reviews the last months with you and he realizes that he indeed, had been in love with you for an embarrassing amount of time.

To be entirely transparent, there was a part of him that already knew. How could he not when you consumed every waking minute of his thoughts? But with his intense will to convince himself that his feelings were unimportant in the grand scheme of your future and happiness, Jungwon had neglected to consider what those feelings exactly were, much less identify them as love.

But now Jungwon was face to face with the extent of his adoration with nowhere to hide. It was overwhelming, he needed to do something, anything.

“I gotta go,” Jungwon stands with shaky legs, looking around hazily for his phone and wallet.

“Go? Go where?”

“To tell Y/N I love her too! Before she changes her mind and decides she’d rather be with fuck ass Na Jaemin,” Jungwon blabbers spinning around in place, “Where the hell is my phone and wallet, I need to go.”

“Woah. Okay, slow down Romeo,” Jay laughs, clasping Jungwon’s shoulder soothingly, “ I think both you and Y/N need some time to process everything.”

“Not to mention, you need to do a lot more than just say you love her to make everything better,” Sunoo voices with a raise of his brow, “You literally ghosted her publicly for two weeks and ignored her confession.”

“Oh,” Jungwon slouches back down onto his bed in defeat, “I guess you’re right.”

Day One

Jungwon wakes up the next day feeling like death personified. Everytime he had finally felt himself slipping into his slumber, the memory of your kiss had his eyes flying open and his heart thumping painfully in its cavity.

Some time during his sleep-ridden haze, Jungwon’s mind had started to wander again to darker territory. He revisited the same insecurities that had gotten him into this whole predicament. His mind ran to a thousand scenarios where you had chosen him and it had only ended in bitter words and regret. And in the darkness of the night, with only his thoughts for company Jungwon began to dig himself into the same insecurity ridden pit he had just gotten himself out of.

It had been Niki who had picked the lock to his room, promptly entering and dragging the blankets off of Jungwon’s huddled figure. “Alright Jungwon the fuck is your problem now?”

Jungwon merely turned, his voice muffled as he buried his face into the pillows, “You’re gonna think it's stupid.”

“Probably because it is stupid,” Niki snarks, trying to pull Jungwon away from where he clung to his pillows pathetically.

Giving in, Jungwon gives Niki a rueful pout, his eyes ringed with the evidence of his turmoil. “What if she regrets choosing me later on and she resents me for everything she missed out on? What if we don’t work as well as a couple like we thought? What if she loves me as a friend but not as her boyfriend-oW what the fuck Niki” Jungwon rubs the side of his head tenderly, shooting daggers at his exasperated friend.

“You’re right, you are being stupid. Look, what’s the point of lingering on all these what ifs, you don’t even know that half that shit will happen. What if it’s the alternative, what if she realizes it’s the best decision she’s ever made? What if you both end up being perfect for eachother, platonically and romantically? She said she loves you, and you love her. Is that not enough for you to take the risk? Is she not worth it?”

Jungwon stares at him slack jawed, before chuckling to himself, ruffling Niki’s hair affectionately. “When did you grow up and get so mature huh?”

“I’ve always been mature, if anything you’re the one who’s dangerously close to losing your hyung title if you keep moping around like this. Have some confidence Jungwon, there’s a reason Y/N has chosen you over and over, even when you haven’t given her a motive to.”

Jungwon nods resolutely, setting his shoulders back in determination. It didn’t matter that he might not be the best choice, for you he’d make sure he was the right one. Now that he had a glimpse of what it was like to have lost you to someone else, even if only for a night, Jungwon was dead set on never giving anyone else the chance again.

Day Two

Jungwon chews on his lips, his fingers drumming against his leg as the call rings obnoxiously. Please pick up pleaseeee pick up.

The ringing stops abruptly and for a second Jungwon thinks he’s been declined.

“Hello? Jungwonnie?”

He breathes a sigh of relief, mustering up his best saccharine tone. “Heyyyyy Haechannie hyung, I’ve been dying to catch up with you.”

“You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that if you want to get back on my good side, Jungwonnie,” Haechan scoffs into the mic, “Y/N might have forgiven you but I certainly haven't forgotten just how upset she was when you were doing your little ghosting.”

“Yeah, I know hyung I’m sorry I really am,” Jungwon winces, rubbing the back of his neck, “I just thought I was doing what was best for her, I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Yeah, well you did dumbass. And you better not be calling me to tell me you’re gonna break her heart again.”

“No! No, the opposite actually,” Jungwon says hurriedly, taking a deep breath, “I uh- wanted to ask her out, properly. She deserves it after everything I put her through. I was wondering if you had any ideas as to what she might like.”

“Well I’ll be damned, I thought you’d never grow the balls Jungwon,” Haechan cackles, his tone softening into something more familiar and honeyed.

“Look lover boy, Y/Nnie likes you a lot, almost as much as she likes me; trust me that's a lot . And you two have been through a lot of shit that was way more complicated than it had to be. I think what Y/N would appreciate and love most of all is just your honest feelings and having you back again. She’s not really one for big gestures and obnoxious gifts. I know it's not the answer you were looking for but it's what makes sense to me. I hope it kinda helps.”

“It actually does, thanks hyung. I promise I’ll take good care of her from here on out. No more complications,” Jungwon states firmly.

“I’m glad to hear it Jungwonnie. I like you, we all do, and we’ve been rooting for you and Y/N through all of your melodrama. Good luck and don’t let anything fuck it up.”

Jungwon accepts the blessing gratefully, a satisfied smile stretched across his lips as the call ends. He flips back onto his bed, looking up at the ceiling feeling the buzz of anticipation warm his chest. For once it felt like everything was slowly clicking into place.

Day Three

“What about this one?” Jay holds up a white shirt with a ruffled collar, waiting for Jungwon’s verdict.

“Ew no hyung, what am I? A vampire?” Jungwon scrunches his face in distaste, turning back to the racks of clothing.

Sunoo sighs next to him, taking a loud slurp of his nearly emptied milk tea. “I still don’t get why we have to get you a whole new outfit, is this really such a big occasion?”

“Of course it is!” Jungwon gives him an affronted look, chin jutting petulantly. “You saw how pretty Y/N looked when she came over, how well she was dressed. I have to make a good impression on her too when I ask her out.”

“Yeah but that was because she came straight from a fancy date, it's not like she was dressed up for- what are you hitting me for hyung I’m right,” Sunoo rolls his eyes dodging another one of Jay’s swats.

“Ignore him Jungwon, I think it's sweet that you want to look nice for Y/N,” Jay pats Jungwon encouragingly, “Do you know what kind of look you want to go for? Maybe something that Y/N likes on you?”

“Uh…. she likes my shoulders and collarbones. And one time she said that it's unfair that I have a slutty ass waist?” Jungwon offers up with a helpful shrug.

Jay deadpans, dragging a hand down his face wearily, already regretting his defense of you two. “I was looking for more like colors or types of shirts but yeah I guess that works. Let's go with a slightly loose button up tucked into some fitted cigarette pants then.”

With that Jay walks off in search of his desired items, and Jungwon turns to give Sunoo a smug smile. “I’m gonna look so good, Y/N won’t be able to resist me.”

Sunoo waves him off with a tired exhale, “As much as I hate the idea of inflating your ego, knowing Y/N you’re probably right.”

Jungwon’s smirk morphs into a dopey smile at the simple affirmation. The slightest reminder of his reciprocated feelings turning him into complete putty where he stood.

It still felt a bit unreal, to know the full extent of your feelings, and Jungwon was itching to just be able to do the same for you. It wouldn't be much longer now, everything was going to be perfect.

Day Four

“Do you have any Barbie movies? Maybe a collection set?”

To the employee’s credit the commercial smile she’s plastered on barely falters, the only indication of her surprise being the slight twitch of her eye. “Barbie movies sir?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon beams at her, fingers tapping on the counter in excitement, “Like the animated American ones? You know, Barbie & the Diamond Castle, Fairytopia, Barbie of Swan Lake, all of those.”

“Ah, those Barbie movies, of course,” she responds with the thinly veiled irritation that could only belong to a highschool part-timer who definitely did not get paid enough to deal with these oddly specific requests. “Let me go check in the back sir.”

Jungwon hums in acknowledgement, taking the opportunity to look around the quaint video store as the worker walks off. When she reappears from the backroom she’s holding a pink box set shaped like a chest, fit with a latch boasting a bold Barbie logo in gold. “Here you are sir, the 19 movie collection dvd set of the classic Barbie movies,” the worker slides the chest over to Jungwon.

He gives it a once over, his fingers trailing over the edges and checking the details to make sure all of your favorites are included. The employee watches in amusement as Jungwon straightens with a satisfied smile. “It’s perfect, I'll take it! Thank you so much for your help.”

She nods, ringing his purchase up, “So, are you just a big Barbie fan or is this for a younger sibling or something?” she asks as she takes his credit card.

“For my girlfriend actually,” Jungwon grins before faltering slightly, “well she’s not my girlfriend, yet. But I’m hoping after I give her this and I ask her properly she will be. I’m kind of in love with her.”

The worker gives a small laugh handing over his bag and receipt, “That’s cute actually, good luck I hope she accepts and it works out.”

“Me too,” Jungwon smiles giddily, ducking his head in a quick bow before exiting. Tomorrow. It was finally time.

D-Day

Jungwon should've known better.

Everything was going so well up until 30 minutes ago. Jungwon had woken up feeling amazing, his body filled with vitality, his mind was clear and his skin glowing. Sunoo had helped him style his hair, running it through the straightener until it fell perfectly across his forehead the way you liked it.

He had gotten his outfit from where it hung after Jay ironed it for him, it fit him perfectly accentuating his frame in all the right places. He had even sprayed some of the cologne Sunghoon got him, his nose only slightly wrinkling at the fumes. It would be worth it, for you.

Jungwon finished by swiping some chapstick across his lips, definitely because they felt chapped and nothing to do with his wishful thinking that maybe today he could seal the deal with a kiss. As he gave himself one last look in the mirror, Jungwon was extremely satisfied with the reflection that looked back, he looked good and he felt good. Today was the day.

Heeseung had offered to drop Jungwon off at your building but he had declined, for sentiment’s sake. Jungwon wanted to stop by Taeil’s PC bang, where you had first met, and pick up some snacks. Yes, he knew he could easily get them at any convenience store but he would know it was from Neo Tech and you would know it was from Neo Tech and that was enough for it to be worth the trouble.

The wind had picked up slightly as he arrived at Neo Tech, causing Jungwon’s brows to knit in worry but he had looked up to see clear skies and shrugged it off. Taeil had greeted him with a warm welcome and a hearty clap on the back. After shyly sharing his plans for the day, Taeil had gladly packed up some snacks, pushing them into Jungwon’s arms with a refusal to accept any payment and whisper of good luck.

Jungwon left the pc bang with his hands full. The bags filled with snacks and your gift swinging gleefully from each arm as he walked down the familiar streets to your building. As he retraces the steps to yours, Jungwon thinks of the first day you had taken him to your home, the first day he had truly stepped into your life. How differently would everything had turned out if he had just accepted a rain check?

Jungwon thinks of the way your eyes light up when they find his, the way you fit like a key in a lock in his arms, and how it feels as if the only breath he’s ever really taken was the one against your lips. It's enough for him to be sure that one way or another you would’ve found your way to him.

With a mind clouded with thoughts of you, Jungwon fails to notice the actual clouds that rapidly darken the sky, until a wet droplet hits his nose. He looks up startled, only for another drop to land on his cheek, and another in quick succession until suddenly, it’s pouring.

Fuck. Jungwon breaks out into a run, there’s only two blocks left until he reaches your place with his only possible solace from the rain until then being the meager cover of the trees that decorate the road. He vaguely remembers Jake rambling about how scientifically you’re more likely to have more raindrops land on you if you run opposed to walking in the rain, but how can he heed Jake’s advice when the rain beats down on him, his shirt already darkening under the weight of the water.

So he runs, he runs until he finally reaches shelter under the awning of your building. Only then does Jungwon stop, hunching over as he tries to catch his breath, his lungs protesting as they strain to fill with air.

“Jungwon?”

He looks up to make contact with the concerned gaze of Na Jaemin, who stands awkwardly with his umbrella at the ready as he gets ready to leave the building. “Are you alright?” he voices again.

Jungwon quickly straightens, “I’m fine thanks,” he voices, trying his best to steady his breath.

Jaemin nods silently, smiling politely, “I’m Jaemin by the way, it’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot of great things. Are you heading up to see Y/N?”

Jungwon should say no, he’s a sopping wet mess and the food is probably a mess after being rattled with the force of his movements. It’s only logical to go home and recuperate and just try again tomorrow. He’s spent far too much time making everything perfect to let it go to waste.

But he’s here now and Jaemin’s standing in front of him with an expectant smile, leaving your house looking put together and polished. So Jungwon can’t back down, not again, he’s missed you far too much and prepared far too much to lose his nerve now.

“Yeah I am,” Jungwon gives a firm smile and Jaemin breaks into a wide grin.

“That’s great, she’s been missing you a lot. I hope everything goes well, I’ve got to head out but we should definitely catch up another day.” It’s a bit unnerving, how genuinely sweet Na Jaemin seems. Jungwon nods hesitantly in agreement and the elder seems satisfied and takes his leave with a wave.

Jungwon turns to face your building, and before he can lose his nerve he enters. He draws a few curious stares from the reception desk and passing residents. Normally Jungwon would flush under their gaze and hurry his steps, but each step he takes he can only register as a step closer to you.

And so, unabashedly, Jungwon’s feet squeak and squelch and carry him across the lobby, into your elevator and up all 42 floors until he’s back at your front door. He can hear his heart thumping in his ears matching the rhythm of the code he punches in, the steps he takes until he can hear your voice carrying through the open slit of your bedroom door.

Jungwon takes a last shaky breath and raps lightly on the wood, pushing into your room. It’s been four excruciatingly long days since he’s last seen you and the sight of you knocks the air out of his lungs. You blink at Jungwon’s sudden appearance before your eyes soften into the familiar crescents that accompany your smile, “Hi Wonnie.”

“Hey Y/N,” Jungwon exhales breathily, his eyes glued onto your features. He had a confession planned, feelings he wanted to express and promises he wanted to make. Feelings that were currently betraying him, rendering him dumb struck and speechless.

Jungwon was usually good at things like this, suppressing his feelings to get what he needed to do done, it came easier to him than breathing. He was good at things like this, but not when it came to you.

You bite back a laugh at his dazed expression, raking your eyes down his figure, pausing momentarily on the bags in his hands. You meet his eyes with a stifled laugh, “You’re uh dripping, Jungwon.”

He snaps out of his stupor looking down to find his clothes waterlogged and plastered to his body, a small puddle forming at his feet. Jungwon rubs his neck sheepishly, “Yeah I got caught in the rain.”

“I can see that,” you smirk, sliding your headphones off and rising to your feet. You make your way towards Jungwon and for a second his heart stutters, thinking you were going to pull him into another impromptu kiss.

He swears he’s not disappointed when you walk by him, instead rifling through your drawers to pull out some clothes and a towel. “Here, you should get out of those clothes before you get sick.”

“What? No, I mean- yes I will, but first I want to talk to you. I uh got you something as well,” Jungwon lifts the gifts slightly.

You roll your eyes fondly, unfurling the towel and draping it over his head, rubbing it gently to drain some of the water out of his strands. You take the bags from his grip, instead pressing the clothes into Jungwon’s hand. “You’ve already made me wait this long, I think I can wait a little longer. Go change Wonnie.”

Jungwon sends you a wounded pout which you ignore with a pointed glance at the bathroom. He gives in with a sigh, disappearing to change his clothes. The sweats and shirt you’ve handed him are foreign, probably Haechan or Chenle’s, but the hoodie is suspiciously familiar.

He’s still examining the hoodie when he walks back out, “Is this mine? I swear I have one just like it and I haven't seen it for a while.”

You pause slightly at his words, twisting in your seat, “Uh yeah, I kinda stole it the last time I slept over,” you admit in the most off hand tone you can muster but Jungwon doesn’t miss the subtle reddening of your cheeks.

He doesn’t bother hiding the smug grin that splits his face, walking over to pull you up out of your chair and into his arms. He sways you slightly in his embrace, leaning down to whisper cheekily, “You’ve been stealing my clothes to wear when I’m not around? You miss me that much Y/N?”

You roll your eyes, pushing Jungwon away from you, he lands on your bed with a playful yelp. “If you weren’t busy being a delusional jerk then I wouldn’t have to miss you in the first place. I think you owe me at least one hoodie as collateral for emotional damages.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” Jungwon chuckles, sitting up on his elbows, “thanks for the clothes, I didn't realize how cold I was until I got out of them.”

Taking a seat next to him, you brush the damp strands of hair off of Jungwon’s forehead, “No biggie, why were you so dressed up anyways? Are you heading somewhere after this? I can put your clothes in the dryer if you need.”

“No,” Jungwon says hurriedly, flushing when you look at him inquisitively, “I’m not going anywhere, I just wanted to dress up and look good, since it’s been a while since I last saw you.”

His eyes are trained down on the floor, the tips of his ears turning red and you can't help but giggle. “You always look good Jungwon, no need to try and impress me,” you nudge him playfully and he bats your hand playfully with a whine.

“Yeah, but I wanted you to see me in some nicer clothes,” Jungwon meets your eyes carefully, “because today’s important, I wanted to dress accordingly.”

You hum in acknowledgment, trailing your hand against the edge of his sleeve, smiling when Jungwon’s fingers capture yours. “You looked nice, it was different. But I like you like this, sweats and a hoodie. Makes you look cozy and comfy, like my Jungwon.”

Jungwon stills, staring at you with an unreadable expression and you tilt your head in silent question. Jungwon had a plan, a script for how this was going to go, but when those words fall so effortlessly from your tongue he can’t help but want to abandon his plan. And when has he ever known self control around you, so he does. “Can I kiss you?” he asks calmly.

It’s your turn to fluster, “what?” you splutter. Jungwon sits up fully, leaning closer until the tip of his nose is lightly grazing against yours. His hand releases yours, snaking up your neck to rest against your jaw, his eyes burning unwaveringly into yours.

“Can I kiss you? Please?” his breath ghosts over yours and you barely nod before Jungwon’s lips brush faintly against yours.

Jungwon pulls back slightly, glancing quickly to assess the way your eyes flutter shut and you instinctively chase after his mouth. It’s enough of a final confirmation for him to truly throw caution to the wind and he captures your lips in a proper kiss.

His fingers and cheek are cool to the touch, but every bit of skin they graze against blazes in response. You’re sweltering, melting in his hold, your arms curling around him , clinging to his shoulders desperately for any purchase to keep you from falling apart.

Jungwon grips you with equal intensity, he releases his hold on your jaw to undo the claw clip holding your hair, tossing it to the side. His fingers slink back up your neck to tangle in your hair, pulling you even closer.

It isn’t until his lungs burn insistently against his ribs that Jungwon finally parts from you. It’s silent, save for sharp inhales as you both gasp for what little air is available in the junction of your lips. Jungwon rests his forehead against yours and whispers breathlessly, “I love you.”

You’re still lightheaded from the pressure of the kiss and his words do nothing to quell the way your mind reels and your stomach flips incessantly. Giggling, you knock your head against his playfully, “Took you long enough idiot.”

Huffing in mock annoyance, Jungwon grabs your face bringing it to his, “Say. It. Back.” he mumbles against your lips, pecking them insistently with each word.

You smile into the kiss, your rising cheeks squishing against where Jungwon holds you firmly. “I love you,” you plant a final peck onto his lips and he sighs in satisfaction, nuzzling into your neck.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you.” Jungwon murmurs gently, his hands sliding down to wrap around your waist, “I’m sorry for trying to push you away without even giving us a chance. I thought I was doing the right thing for you, and I let my ego and insecurities cloud my judgment. I was scared, you’re everything I could ever dream of having, and yet for some unfathomable reason you wanted me. It felt too good to be true honestly, and the whole situation with your dad and Jaemin just confirmed every negative outcome in my mind. I just didn’t want to fuck up and become a regret, you know?”

Your brows scrunch together in a frown and you open your mouth to refute him but Jungwon is already shushing you with a swift kiss. “I know what you’re gonna say. I just wanted to properly talk you through my thoughts. I’m done being stupid now, seriously I am. I’m far too in love with you to give you up. You make me want to be selfish. You deserve everything in the world Y/N, and if it means I can keep you by my side I’d rob the sky of all its sun and stars. I want to be better for you, I’ll be better for you, so that one day I can truly say I deserve to be yours. But for now I’m going to be greedy and ask you to be mine. Officially.”

You chuckle breathily, reaching up to cup Jungwon’s cheek with shaky fingers. “I meant what I told you before Wonnie, I’ve always been yours and I always will be. When I first met you I already knew I was in for it. You were the perfect distraction, my little sanctuary to escape all my worries and sorrows, an escape from reality. But then you crossed that line, you became a part of my reality, and you changed it into one that I wanted to be in. You’re my greatest comfort and my uttermost happiness Jungwon, and that’s something that no one else will be able to give me. I’d choose you in every reality and that’ll never change.”

Jungwon beams, his dimple in full display and he pulls you in peppering kisses all over your face, not leaving a single stretch of skin untouched. “I can’t believe everything literally went the opposite of what I planned and yet it somehow still worked out. Look, I even prepared a present for my proposal to convince you to say yes.” He leans over you slightly to pull up the bag sitting at the foot of the bed, placing it gently in your hands.

“You prepared this for me?” you shake the bag curiously, and Jungwon nods, gesturing excitedly for you to take a look. “Holy fuck, you got me the Barbie Movie Collection?” you gape at the pink box, tracing the letters in awe, “Jungwon I love it.” You grab his face, placing an exaggerated smooch on his cheek.

“Yeah, I’m kind of the best boyfriend ever, I know,” Jungwon shrugs smugly, observing your enthralled expression with a small smile. “I was planning on showing up looking dashing and all, and you would be caught off guard by my adverse charms and fall for me. Then I was going to give some spiel about how I don’t deserve you but these movies are a token of my dedication to you. And you would be extremely touched by my thoughtfulness and immediately start begging to be my girlfriend and telling me how I have unmatchable rizz. But I guess I can settle for how it went down,” he teases, pinching your cheek impishly.

You swat his hand away from your cheek with a roll of your eyes, “you’re insufferable Yang Jungwon.”

This only fuels Jungwon further, and he leans in, tilting your chin up to meet his mischievous gaze, “but you loveeee me, don’t you baby?”

You scoff, ignoring the way your cheeks heat at the pet name, “unfortunately for me, yes I love you Wonnie.”

Jungwon grins broadly at the admission, planting a warm kiss on your waiting lips. “I love you more,” he says sweetly.

Jungwon’s still not quite sure how he ended up here. How a simple desire to best his roommates had culminated into him sharing soft kisses with the love of his life.

And Jungwon’s still not quite sure what the future will hold for the two of you. But as he pulls you into his lap and you lean into his touch happily, pink cheeks and bright eyed, Jungwon can’t help but feel that no matter what the pair of you end up pursuing, at the end of the day your nights will always end up looking a little like this.

match found :) <3

prev masterlist next

a/n: hi <3 well!!! That's it hehe!! i hope u liked the finale and it wasn't too underwhelming :(

this is the barbie dvd set wonnie got for y/n lmfao. very romance we love.

This is the official last chapter plot wise but I'm going to be posting some bonus SMAU posts in a day or two :) but here's a taglist form for my upcoming works!

ok now that I got those out of the way i rlly rlly rlly want to take the time to thank everyone who read match found up until now. This series is my very first time writing literally anything so to think that people actually enjoyed it is mind boggling. I'm incredibly lucky to have readers that are so sweet and supportive and so interactive. I appreciate and think about every single comment and reblog and i truly truly adore you all so much. I hope I can continue to be able to talk and interact with you all <3 Thank you for being here for me throughout everything and being so patient and kind with me MWAH!!

most of all i rlly want to thank kat, lela, celine, angewa and my subak for being there for all my crazy rambling, mental breakdowns and jungwon delusions. you've been the biggest part of my creative process and the series wouldn't have been the same without you <3

i honestly am really worried about this chapter and if I could meet the expectations of you all and I really hope i didn't disappoint ajhdjk. let me know what you loved and what you hated, about match found about this chapter, anything :)

special thanks to my garden :) for being the greatest inspiration i could ask for <3

taglist: open! send me an ask to be added! <3 / taglist google form

@woncloudie @itsactuallylina @ifearjwn @fadedluvv @mangowonyo @shinsou-rii @aki1e @makiswrld @jaehaki @criyiy @ilovewonyo @zeraaax @climbingmandevillas @pkjay @flower-lise @haodnd @beomgyusonlywife @dimplewonie @lacimolela @enhacatalog @llama-lyna @ahnneyong @coalalalinha @cupidsheqrts @curly-fr13s @jungwonsgfnameyukie @sserafimez @run2seob @luvlee1313 @strwberrydinosaur @sweetjaemss @kimipxl @simp4jakesim @chirokookie @astrae4 @mimisamisasa @w3bqrl @captivq @rindomo @aylauwon @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @shinrjj @deadgirlwalking3 @dearremmy @esther-kpopstan @hoonsunivrs @ttalgi @cieluna

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taylortruther · 3 months

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Ok so I was listening to Maisie Peters recently and she's got a lyric about an ex that goes "I can write you out the way I wrote you in" and let me tell you my jaw DROPPED...and now with all The Manuscript talk it makes me think that what if it's similar to that line?

Like half of Taylor's discography, all the storytelling and worldbuilding was for HIM (as in he was the muse for all her love songs since Rep to Midnights), SHE glorified his existence to a level where after the breakup there's fans taking HIS side based on the way she portrayed him in the story.

Makes me think about how when you're in love with someone all their flaws start to look like good traits and romanticism is a disease that we've all been sick from atleast once.

Maybe Taylor is going to reference her old songs and scenarios that were in those songs, and write bout them from a new and honest perspective throughout the album.

So Long, London being a direct reference to London Boy corroborates my theory, but maybe Manuscript's whole theme is just. I wrote this story and made you the main character, I can reclaim the narrative just the same.

Everything we know about Jaylor (ugh) was from her writing. We all thought it was a fairytale star crossed romance because of HER. Also, cue themes of Taylor deluding herself into believing that everything was perfect through themes of fiction, because that's how SHE wanted the story to go, maybe there were cracks In the armor that the songs didn't talk about. Maybe she'll rewrite everything from a clarified perspective now that she is ready to tell the truth.

A manuscript very literally means the author's version of a text that's handwritten, raw and unpublished. No proofreading, no alterations done yet. Truly just an unfiltered form of work. We're getting the skeletal versions of all the floral and grandiose love songs written over the years. Draw your conclusions from that freely.

JUST A THEORY BTW

i strongly feel this - her ownership of her side of the story, her ownership of her art in a literal and figurative sense - is going to be a big part of the album. the snippet we have, "so i enter into evidence...my muses, acquired like bruises" and the imagery (of files, artifacts, evidence) implies that as well. to me anyway!

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slugtranslation-hypmic · 7 months

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Haiiiii ^_^ can you translate Rivals! from the block party album? pretty please with CHEESE 🧀

Sure. Under a cut for length.

This one just seems to be goofy vibes and doesn't have as much imagery or anything requiring reworking as the last three requested songs. As a result, the translation is pretty darn literal. No attention paid to rhyming, line length, or rhythm.

Don't let screwing up or getting screwed over get you down! Action plz For everyone born under an unlucky star: Passion plz We're constantly flipping out over where we went wrong. 1, 2, 3! Turn it up, yo! Action plz I feel like I'm pulling a blunder, shooting craps and betting on big 6 [1] at the last second. Don't stop the game! Oh please, can't I get some fiction plz? [2] To hit the button to go back and redo everything. Just you wait; I'll destroy the current reality! Aren't you about to go off the rails? Aren't you about to fall off the tightrope act? Take it easy, baby, now. Take it easy, baby, now. [3] And screw it! Let's play it fast and loose! Let's gooo!

Don't let screwing up or getting screwed over get you down! Action plz For everyone born under an unlucky star: Passion plz We're constantly committed to flipping out over where we went wrong. We say, "Boo-hoo! Boo-hoo!" Go, go, go, go! UGH. Time to bolt down the meal I paid for with my overtime. Hm? My cellphone's ringing off the hook. Slapping down hardcore rhymes on my time card, Participating in another joint effort so we can all clock out with a bang. 1, 2, 3. Yup, let's all line up. 2, 2, 3. And march in step. We take our lyrics very seriously, and we're strongly committed to providing you with a great singing experience! [4] My eyes can tell, tell, tell what it takes to win. [5] The one and only guy to cross the most ridiculous lines, living on nothing but adrenaline, taking each day as it comes and winning! Yeah, take it easy, baby, now. Take it easy, baby, now. And screw it! Let's play it fast and loose! Let's gooo!

Don't let screwing up or getting screwed over get you down! Action plz For everyone born under an unlucky star: Passion plz Everyone's gotta struggle and put in the hard work, even the folks you're sick and tired of. We say, "Boo-hoo! Boo-hoo!" Go, go, go, go! I bet all my chips right from moment one. It's all or nothing. It's the uprising of the corporate drones. Don't mess with guys who've got nothing to lose. There's no doubt about it; we're gonna burn out sooner or later. That's just our fate. Poor us! Dead or Alive in da house Crazy DOPPO in da house Yeah, yeah, high, high, let's gooo! [6]

Don't let screwing up or getting screwed over get you down! Action plz For everyone born under an unlucky star: Passion plz Wishing you all the luck--or, well, as lucky as you can ever be. Someday we'll laugh over this together, but until then we're Rivals! Rivals!

[1] Craps big 6

[2] This part's written in English, but I assume he means "fiction" in the sense of 空想 or 絵空事--something he wants that's too good to be real. In this case, it's a button he can hit to go back and redo everything.

[3] If I am correctly assuming what they're trying to say, this is more naturally worded as "Now, take it easy, baby." [4] Admittedly, this part's not very literal haha. I was having difficulty with the tone otherwise. Like a lot of Doppo's raps, it's written in a style reminiscent of business language. I drew inspiration for this bit of PR BS from some real life companies in a BBC article. [5] This (勝ち線, kachisen, lit. "victory line") is a pun on 勝ち戦 (kachisen, a fight someone wins). Dice then uses this to perform a piece of wordplay on the phrase "一線を越える/cross the line" which, unlike its English counterpart, can carry a connotation of breaking an established norm in a good way. (Hence the Cross a Line song--ie, breaking the norms by going above and beyond in new, revolutionary ways)

[6] Partially a pun on how はい (yeah) 灰 (lit. ash, part of the line I translated as "burn out") and English "high" all sound similar and partially evoking a sense of high energy.

#hypmic translations

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laurrrelise · 2 months

Text

i’m losing my mind over the fic stingers under skin by @saplesss-tree on ao3.

i go so feral for derek danforth for absolutely no intelligible reason at all and i literally cannot get enough of the fics written about him, but holy shit this one DESTROYS ME.

if you haven’t read it for the love of god PLEASE run don’t walk. (it’s about an alternate plot line where eloise doesn’t kill herself and adam kidnaps derek as a ransom to get the money he stole back!)

derek’s backstory is so sad and complicated and clay is so evil and self-righteous and i cannot explain how canon the writing seems, like genuinely, reading this feels like an extension of the movie. i don’t know how @saplesss-tree manages to write derek, adam, jessica, garnett, and eloise to be so on-point with their characters in the movie but i genuinely forget it’s just a fan fiction when i read it.

tree, literally just some of your talent would be nice, please and thank you 🙏🙏

i’m adding some (probably way too many, actually) of my favorite lines because i literally think about them way too much:

• “Don’t tell my mom, okay?” The driver didn’t answer, but one of his strong hands found Derek’s and clasped tightly. Held his hand with firm, steady reassurance as he drifted off.

• “Oh, fucking spare me. If you know who we are, then you know that the president of the United States does not pay ransoms. She does not negotiate with fucking terrorists or psychopaths or whatever the hell you call yourself--” “I’m a Beekeeper.” “Great. Fucking good for you. She doesn’t doesn’t negotiate with fucking beekeepers either. What are you going to do, sick a thousand bees on the US military?”

• “Whatever. And I’ll bet that’s real cheese,” Derek accused. “Yes, it is.” “I’m lactose intolerant, so fuck you.”

^ this line will never fail to make me laugh.

• “But once I receive payment, this little inconvenience will--” “Inconvenience,” Derek laughed humorlessly. “Guy fucking kidnaps me and calls it an inconvenience.”

• “Speaking of accommodations, five-star bathroom you’ve provided me here. You’re not even gonna give me a bucket or something? There are fucking dogs that live in better conditions than this.” “You can come upstairs to use the bathroom.” “Should I bring the fucking pipe I’m chained to with me, or does that stay here?”

• Derek frowned at a picture frame hanging on the wall. “It’s still got the stock picture in it.” Clay paused. “I liked the flowers.” And they stood there for a long moment. “Alliums,” he added eventually. “They’re very attractive for bees, butterflies, and other pollinators. Though, some alliums can spread too quickly and become invasive. It’s a fragile balance.” They continued to stand there. Derek shifted his weight from one leg to the other and said, “yeah. The, uh, the purple is pretty cool.” Clay regarded the stock image seriously and nodded. “Yes,” he agreed, “the purple is cool.”

• "It's just awful, isn't it?" Eloise asked, wiping her hands on a rag and shaking her head. "That poor boy." "Never thought that about him before when all those scandals came to light," Clay said, but kept himself from being too harsh. "How many times has he thrown money at what should've been a jail sentence?" "Oh, he's just lost." Clay tilted his head at her. "How do you mean?" "Exactly what I said. He's just lost. I can't speak to the way he was raised, but I see all the bad things that end up in the media about him, and I see someone acting out for attention. I see a boy crying for help."

^ oh my god just let me sob right now.

• "Do you want to come upstairs and use the bathroom?" Derek peeled his eyes open and looked at Clay. "I want to carve into your face with a dull knife and crack your skull open with a rock. I want to put my bare hands into your head and just pull everything out. I want you to fucking scream." A beat. “Okay, so you still have a headache?”

• "I fucking hate you," Derek said, voice wavering. "I know you do. Come on, come take a bite."

• Clay took the cigarette, placing it tenderly on Derek's bottom lip, allowing him to take the thing into his mouth. Clay produced a small lighter from his pocket and lit the cigarette. On the first breath, Derek melted. Eased into Clay's hug and sighed with a kind of relief he didn't know it was possible to feel. Being rescued right this second wouldn't have felt as good. More tears.

^ i don’t know what it is, but something about the way that clay is so gentle and nurturing with derek (not always, but most of the time) even though they despise each other gets me right in the heartstrings. their physical intimacy despite literally wanting the other to die brutally will never not hurt. tree is a genius, end of story.

• “I thought ginger was only for between servings of different kinds of sushi to cleanse your pallet.” Clay stared for a moment. “We live very different lives.” “You fucking think?”

• Exhaustion won over the little part in the back of Derek’s mind that cowered like a threatened, wild animal. Derek blew out a breath and turned his head toward Clay. “I don’t believe you. It feels like you want to hurt me.” They held each other's gaze for a long time, no sound passing between them besides their breaths. “Sometimes,” Clay allowed eventually. “But only when you’re being difficult.” Clay rubbed his forearm. “Biting me. That’s no way to behave.” “You fucking kidnapped me.” “I know, but you don’t have to be such a brat about it.”

• “That’s like if I told you ‘you don’t need to breathe anymore,’” he muttered. “‘Just learn to breathe underwater because I fucking said so,’ and, ‘I’m the one with the oxygen tank. Just stop fucking breathing air.’”

• “You don’t know how to shave your own face?” Derek’s brows drew together, voice defensive. “I’ve never needed to know how before.” Clay studied him for a long moment, some mixture of disbelief and maybe sadness there in his eyes. “Nobody’s ever taught you how to do anything for yourself, have they?” A boy crying for help. Maybe there was something to Eloise’s words.

^ STOPPPP STOP IT RIGHT NOW

• The grin spread across Derek’s face completely involuntarily. And it was infectious. “I did it.” “Yeah, you did it,” Clay chuckled. “Fuck yeah!” Derek pumped his fists, buzzing trimmer still in hand. “Damn, and I didn’t even cut myself. Fuck, I did that.”

• “We’re going to clean you up around the edges here on your cheeks, your neck, and,” Clay rubbed a finger along the side of Derek’s jaw, “whatever silly sideburns you’ve got going on here.” He rubbed his palms down the sides of his face. “They’re not silly.” “You don’t actually want to keep those do you?” “Well now I fucking don’t with the way you just said that.”

• “Look, I know you’ve really never approved of the guys that Derek--” “My problem is not with my son’s sexual preferences, my problem is with you personally, Mr. Garnett,” she said.

• “Madam president, with all due respect, I don’t fucking care what happens to me, as long as Derek gets home safely.”

• He had Eloise. He had the boy in his basement, who he occasionally didn’t hate. And it hit Clay suddenly that the hive was growing.

• It pissed Derek off. It wasn’t just the drugs and self-indulgent habits and social media obsession. Clay had forcefully detoxed him from his entire life. From himself. And he was better for it.

^ THIS LINE FUCKING KNOCKS THE WIND OUT OF ME. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

• “I don’t fucking know anything about you except for your bee fetish.”

• Well, I’ve got Wallace. He’s kinda like my-- I don’t know-- my protection detail, bodyguard, babysitter, pain in my ass, conscience guy.” “So he cares about you.” “He works for me.” Derek shrugged. “Well, and, to be perfectly honest, I think he’s fucking my mom…” “Oh.”

^ again, i will never not laugh at this line

• “Like, you picked the worst possible hostage ever. I’m such a fuck-up, there’s zero motivation for anyone to pay my ransom.”

• “You are a defective offspring,” Clay said. “Wow, okay fuck you,” Derek replied.

• “It’s not wholly your fault,” Clay continued. “You were born broken because of her. You’ve never had a chance to be anything more than broken, and you never will. When a queen bee produces defective offspring, we rise up and slay her. Ordinarily, I'd kill your mother for bringing a wretched thing like you into this world, but that money-- the ransom-- it’s the money you stole from a dear friend of mine.”

• “Do it,” Derek said, voice quiet and almost as shocked as the expression Clay sent his way. He cleared his throat. “Fucking do it. I want her to fucking agonize over every second she leaves me here with you. I want the guilt to eat her alive until she either coughs up the money or kills herself.”

• "You're all right, just sitting you up a little." And Clay cushioned Derek's head in his lap, letting the boy use his thighs as his new pillow as Clay looked down at him.

• Made him hate the stairs and hate this house and hate himself for not being able to move properly and hate his mother for leaving him here. And Clay for… something. Derek had had the beating coming to him-- had literally asked for it-- so not that. But he was pretty sure he hated the guy for something. Hating Clay for kidnapping him just seemed too understated. Hating the man for kidnapping him didn’t do justice to all of the other things he could hate him for. It was like there was so much anger and aggression and fear and resentment surrounding Derek’s perception of Clay that he couldn’t even hate him.

• "You got it?" "I'm a grown fucking man, I don't need you to hold my dick for me while I piss." "There's no need to be crass," Clay said, backing off. "Fuck you."

• Maybe Mom really wasn't as much of an unfeeling, soulless bitch as he'd expected.

• “I fucking hate you,” Derek said quietly. Trying to remind himself. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” “I've never hated anyone more than I hate you,” he said again. Drilling it home for his tired, aching heart. “But I've never been more real with someone either. I think that might be part of it, maybe.” Clay squeezed Derek’s shoulder, loosening another tear in the boy. “What do you mean?” “I just… hate myself, you know?” His voice a mere whisper. “And being myself around you, it makes me hate you too.” Clay hummed solemnly. “You’re a very angry young man.” “Yeah, well,” Derek cleared his wobbling voice, “I’ve got a lot to be angry about. Even if I went home right this second, I think I’d still find myself up in that glass box.”

• The hand carded through his hair again. Goosebumps prickled on the back of his neck, down his back, and along his arms. Against every instinct screaming at him to pull away, Derek leaned into the touch. Not because the gentle, rhythmic motion of fingers raking gently along his scalp was comforting. Not because it was the first genuine distraction he'd had from the relentless headache and the throbbing hurt throughout his face. And definitely not because he couldn't remember the last time someone had tenderly run their fingers through his hair like this.

^ again with the physical intimacy i’m going to jump off a cliff

• “And I want real shampoo and conditioner. Your three-in-one shit is ruining my hair, I don’t know why you use that stuff.” Derek felt the soft vibrations of Clay’s nearly inaudible chuckle. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he said, brushing a few curls out of Derek’s face, “but I don’t have nearly as much hair as you.” “Oh… right.”

• Sitting down next to the mattress, Clay sighed. Ran his fingers through the young man’s messy, tangled curls. “You know, I think you’re the only one that appreciates what I’m trying to do here,” Clay told him. “Under all your disobedience and profanity and needless crying, I think you’re the only one that really gets what we’re doing.”

• “Are you watching me sleep?” Derek rasped, voice sleep-laden. “No,” Clay answered softly. “The fuck are you doing then?” “I was telling you about my day.” Derek’s mind took a few moments to catch up. “While I was asleep?” “You’re a much better listener when you’re asleep.” “Okay, well fuck you too, I guess,” Derek muttered.

• “If something happens… would you visit me?” Clay asked. “In prison, I mean. Would you come visit me?” Derek lowered himself on the mattress, rested his head on the pillow, reeling. “Yeah, sure.” The words escaped without Derek really thinking about it. And he was almost surprised to realize he meant it.

• “You surprised me earlier. You almost sounded like you wanted to live, or at least like you were trying to want that.” Clay flipped to the next page. “I thought I’d let you try and figure it out for a little while longer.”

• "It's such a sure thing, the sun," Clay said. "Every evening it sets, leaving with a colorful, beautiful goodbye. Almost like it doesn't want to go. And every morning it returns with just as much enthusiasm. It's something you can always count on." There was a lengthy pause where neither one of them said anything, and Clay was the one to break it. "There will always be another tomorrow, whether you're there or not. But dead men can't watch sunsets."

alright i think that’s enough (but if given the avenue i could continue this even more trust me) anyways again PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read this fic if you haven’t already, 8 chapters are out so far and they’re all of very generous length.

the way it delves into derek’s backstory, the way he grew up and was treated by his mother, the way he’s reduced to a little boy (and is repeatedly called “the boy”) because of the way he was forced to grow up too soon, the way he acts as a defense mechanism, oh my god i could ramble forever it makes me so sympathetic to him even if he’s a douchebag idc idc i love him.

im so emotionally attached to this fic and im literally on the edge of my seat to know how it ends (especially with the way chapter 8 ended, tree you knew EXACTLY what you were doing 🤬)

anyways here it is please read it thank you 🙏🙏

#derek danforth #the beekeeper #holy shit. words could not describe my love for this fic #i’m so deadass #josh hutcherson #jhutch #jhutch1992

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aquaquadrant · 4 months

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hey aqua, i'm here to ramble about your stupidly amazing au that's got me bouncing off the walls between chapters being posted

firstly, i put all the fics in a doc (because you know, I gotta keep track of what i've read and haven't read, and it's totally not because i want to save it forever and pass it on to my grandchildren)

the doc contains the warnings, summaries, a/n's and everything in between but i wouldn't think it would make a huge difference to the 100K WORDCOUNT

so here is is, the horrifying word count that is honestly longer than most actual published novels and the amount of pages, which to be honest, would be larger if this was actually printed in book size (font size proportionately to the page size), to which the page number would be.... too much, honestly. even I don't want to calculate that and i'm insane

now i assume you knew all this already, since you probably have also been writing this in a google doc to keep track of it, but then again docs slows down dramatically under 397 pages of brainrot-inducing writing so i dont expect you to be using it too often. if you are, congratulations and have a gold star

it's more of i'm collecting useless bits of information like this to show to whoever has read the series, because it's so good, it's so ridiculously amazing, and it so could be turned into a book if someone tried hard enough and i need people to back me up

heck, it's written so much better compared to most novels, it's just that good. i even turn to it when i don't feel like writing. i read it, and then through some miracle, i have all the writing talent and motivation in the world, seemingly having absorbed it from your work.

tldr: htpau is amazing. if you haven't read it you should read it. and it's that good that it literally could be a book. zero exaggeration. (can you tell that this thought has kept me awake many nights)

now hopefully you weren't too baffled to see such a long ask in your inbox, and hopefully you don't question me, as someone who hasn't read a proper novel in years, who has basically reread every chapter once or twice basically as soon as it comes out

i don't need therapy, i need more of your writing. (because hels no does chapter nine end like this) ba dum tss

and then, i leave you, with a gold star and many thanks ⭐

HAGAJDHJA HOLY SHIT

i do use google docs but i make a new one for every chapter for the reason u mentioned, once they’re past a certain page count it gets real slow and i don’t have the patience for that. so uh yeah, i don’t think i ever bothered to calculate the total running word count. it’s not the longest fic i’ve ever written, and i don’t think it will be by the time i finish it, but that’s definitely a NOT INSIGNIFICANT number of words, goddamn.

someone did bind one of my fics into an actual hard cover book once, just for their own personal use. man, that was sick. now i don’t think i’d ever try to alter a fic of mine to actually publish it, cuz so much of what i write hinges too much on the original content, but fan-bindings are A-OKAY so long as i get to see pics :3

anyway, no worries about the long ask, i love hearing from u guys. i’m flattered u went thru the trouble of consolidating it and i’m glad ur enjoying the au!

#hels to pay au #HTP ask

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angstyaches · 1 year

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from the prompts you just reblogged, would you do 10 for shayne and charlie? they’re literally so cute and i just love how flustered they both get when shayne’s tummy is upset. shayne always seems so embarrassed when he has to acknowledge having a physical form and charlie is adorable when he’s trying to pretend that he has a normal level of affection for shayne’s tummy

The ending to this did not want to be written. I'm sorry if it's awful.

Another one from @butterfliesornauseous's lovely prompt list.

I've been in a plot/character development mood lately so this ending up being about 10% character dynamic, 70% Charlie angst, and 20% Shayne having a stomach ache.

I just thought the idea of Shayne feeling sick but still focusing on Charlie's problem was nice 🖤

CW: anxiety, stress, crying, mention of childhood depression and trauma, food mention, slight bloating, implied body issues, stomach ache, stomach noises, burping, belly rubs, mutual hurt/comfort.

___

Charlie idly stroked the side of Shayne’s arm and let his mind wander.

They were sitting next to each other in the surprisingly spacious conservatory – one of the better selling points of Trevor and Ingrid’s latest fixer-upper. The four of them had eaten a late dinner and then moved out here to continue catching up.

As nice at it was to get some use out of the conservatory, it wasn’t the most well-insulated, so Charlie was glad that Ingrid had suggested making hot chocolate. He could still feel it warming him up inside, even if his mug was empty and cool in his hand.

He was also enjoying the mundane view, if he was being honest; streetlamps blacked out the sky, erasing the stars, but the sights of other people’s – strangers’ – driveways and gable ends was comforting. He loved Mulberry, but the knowledge that it was the only house around for miles wasn’t exactly his favourite thing.

He wondered if he would always have this need to seek out crowds and repetition and anonymity.

This was the only room that had been completely cleared of construction clutter, leaving just the two wicker loveseats and matching coffee table. Even the blinds had been pulled all the way up, their cords rolled and sellotaped out of reach of anyone shorter than three feet. Belle wasn’t old enough to walk about by herself yet, but Charlie’s parents were taking no risks.

She would be here tomorrow. In this room, at the same time as him.

Charlie’s chest fluttered. He was trying to convince himself that he was feeling the good kind of nervous, but this didn’t feel like that. He knew he needed to get over it. Did he really want his five-month-old niece to look at his face for the first time and see all of his fear, all of his insecurity there? Was that the kind of role model he wanted to be?

“... Charlie –”

His thoughts jerked back to the moment at the sound of his own name.

Shayne was speaking towards the other loveseat. Trevor and Ingrid were seated over there, holding mugs that matched the ones that Charlie and Shayne were using.

A warm feeling swept in to soothe the anxiety in Charlie’s chest as he realised Shayne hadn’t said his name to get his attention; he was in the middle of telling his parents a story.

“And then, um... w-well, Brian says, ‘oh, Charlie’s a nice name. Is she pretty?’”

Ingrid snorted softly.

“And – and I panic, right?” Shayne said, “and I say, ‘Yeah, Brian, she’s beautiful’.”

Trevor bent his head forward, cackled, and slapped his knee.

Warm feeling rapidly retreating, Charlie gaped at his boyfriend. “Excuse me?”

“Shayne,” Ingrid chided outrageously, lifting a hand to her mouth to hide her grin.

“What? I’m sorry,” Shayne groaned, sinking back in the loveseat and sliding down a few inches. “The guy is ninety-one. For all I know, I could have given him a heart attack if I corrected him.”

Trevor, Charlie noted, was still chuckling away. Great. Thanks, Dad.

“Charlie,” Shayne said softly, looking up from his slumped position. He had one hand balled into a fist and was half-heartedly covering his mouth to hide his grimace. The other – Charlie couldn’t help noticing – was holding his empty mug in place at the top of his tummy. “Forgive me?”

Charlie smiled. He didn’t even have to think about it. The fact that Shayne was relaxed enough to even tell Charlie’s parents a story about his life was enough to make Charlie’s insides flutter.

Definitely in the good way this time.

“I forgive you,” he said, “but are you saying that if I ever visit the nursing home with you, I’ll have to wear a pretty dress and pretend to be a girl, all for the benefit of a ninety-year-old man who thinks you have a girlfriend?”

“Ninety-one,” Shayne corrected him.

“I don’t know, Char,” Trevor chimed in, “I think you could pull it off.”

“Can we take it easy with the gendered stereotypes, please?” Ingrid demanded, partially tongue-in-cheek, partially genuine. “I’m a girl, and I haven’t worn a ‘pretty dress’ in years.”

Shayne tilted his head to one side. “And I’m... fairly sure I've seen Felix in a dress.”

Despite not even knowing who Felix was, Ingrid gestured towards Shayne, raising an eyebrow at Charlie.

“Alright, alright,” Charlie half-smiled, lifting his hands in surrender. “I was describing a... a caricature more than anything –”

“Too late, son,” Trevor declared. “You’ve been cancelled.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “On that intellectual note, I think I’ll be off to bed with a cup of tea and my book. Have to savour the peace before it all kicks off tomorrow. Are you boys staying down here a bit longer?”

Charlie glanced at Shayne, who shrugged. He was still sitting a little too low in the loveseat, mug propped on his belly, and he looked adorably established.

“Yeah,” Charlie said. “I think so.”

“Don’t be too long, though.” Ingrid wrinkled her nose and shuddered. “It’s cold.”

“Your bed’s all made up for you,” Trevor reminded them for the third time since they’d arrived. Charlie had a feeling his dad’s emphasis was on the word your, insisting that the spare room in the fixer-upper belonged to Charlie as much as it would have if he’d been living with him permanently. Charlie couldn’t think about it for too long without his eyes fogging up, so he flashed his father a grateful smile.

“Oh – do either of you want more hot chocolate?” Ingrid asked. “There’s still some left in the slow cooker.”

Shayne was instantly shaking his head. “No, thank you, Ingrid.”

Confused, Charlie glanced at the empty mug in Shayne’s hand. He hated the thought of Shayne pretending to like something just to be polite or to not hurt his parents’ feelings. He’d had a similar thought at dinner, when Trevor had given Shayne a slice of lasagne the same size as Charlie’s, and Shayne hadn’t said anything despite the look of dread on his face.

“Um, yes, please,” Charlie smiled widely as his mum passed him on her way to the kitchen.

She gently clicked her tongue and took his mug. “How did I know you would? Hmm?”

“I mean, I can get it mys–” Charlie uncrossed his legs and started to stand up.

“No, no, no, stop that. Relax, sweetie.” Ingrid poked his shoulder. She always made a point of fussing over him on the first day of one of his visits. By tomorrow morning, he’d be hard-pressed to get her to pour him a cup of coffee from a pot she was already holding, at least not without a raised eyebrow.

He waited until both his parents had stepped out of the conservatory and into the kitchen before he turned towards Shayne again.

“You didn’t like the hot chocolate?” Charlie asked softly. He was a little bit disappointed that sipping hot chocolate on chilly night wouldn’t become one of their regular shared activities.

“I did.” Shayne narrowed his eyes. “I just didn’t want any more.”

Right. Charlie had spent so long battling his own serotonin-starved brain that he forgot that some people actually believed that too much of a good thing could be bad. When Charlie found something he liked, he tended to indulge in it as much as he could before his brain decided to give up rewarding him for it. If there was a button that he could have pressed for instant serotonin, Charlie would have mashed it to pieces a long time ago.

Next to him, Shayne turned his head away, raising a fist to stifle a low belch. “Sorry.”

Charlie put a hand on Shayne’s leg, his heart dropping. Had Shayne been waiting for Trevor and Ingrid to leave before burping? How long had been holding it in?

“Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?”

When Shayne didn’t immediately say no, it was usually because the answer was yes. And Charlie’s first reaction was a mixture of sympathy and indignation.

Holy shit, he’s so cute; I need to cuddle him right this second.

It wasn’t supposed to make his tummy hurt.

“No,” Charlie keened softly, glancing towards Shayne’s empty hot chocolate mug. “No, no, no, we made it with soy milk so it wouldn’t –”

“Ssshh,” Shayne whispered, his eyes pleading as he looked towards the door to the kitchen.

Charlie wanted nothing more than to fuss over his boyfriend and forget everything else, but that was when his father came back to the conservatory.

“Here you go,” Trevor said, arriving beside Charlie with his cup of hot chocolate, refilled. “Watch it, it’s hot.”

“Night, boys!” Ingrid called out from the hallway.

“Goodnight,” they both responded.

“Jon said they’ll probably be here around eleven,” Trevor said. “So, you two’ll be up and about by then, won’t you?”

Charlie’s heart sank again as he was reminded of the countdown to Jon’s arrival with his girlfriend and child. “Yeah, of course we will be.”

“Now, Char, remember. If you want to open that window in your room upstairs –” That time, Trevor definitely nodded in time with the words your room. “It sticks sometimes. So, you have to lift the frame, pull it in slightly –”

Even though he’d heard all of this twice before, Charlie smiled and nodded.

“Okay?” Trevor said.

“Can do. Thanks, Dad.”

Trevor still looked unconvinced that Charlie had understood his instructions. “You’ll figure it out. Goodnight, you two.”

“Night, Dad.”

“Goodnight, Trevor, thank you.”

And then they were alone.

Shayne held his empty mug in his right hand, propping his arm on the side of the loveseat. His left hand rested on his belly now, and Charlie’s head was flooded with all the different ways he could take over that job. Each image made his own stomach flutter, made his head feel like it was full of glitter.

He took a few mouthfuls of his hot chocolate, hoping to wash down the guilt and shame rising to his throat.

I’m so mean.

I’m so weird.

It had taken a lot of trust-building for Shayne to feel okay with letting Charlie know he didn’t feel well. Would he still be holding his stomach like that if he knew what kind of thoughts it sent spiraling through Charlie’s mind? How his face was burning with heat, and not just because of the scalding hot chocolate?

“Hey, I’m fine.” Shayne frowned as he saw Charlie's expression. “Will you stop worrying?”

Charlie panicked, thinking his stupid face must have betrayed his guilty elation, but Shayne must have interpreted the look as one of concern.

“Seriously.” Shayne tilted his head to one side. He pulled himself forward and sat up a little straighter, his torso turned towards Charlie. “Are you okay tonight? Why are you so jumpy?”

“I’m not jumpy! Who said I was jumpy?”

Shayne was leaning forward to place his mug on the coffee table. His eyes flicked off to the side, then met Charlie’s again. “Me. I just said it.”

“Um...”

“Here.” Shayne pried Charlie’s mug away from him and placed it on the coffee table too. “Hold my hands.”

Charlie was horrified to find that his hands were shaking, but that didn’t seem to bother Shayne as he took them in his.

“I know why you’re freaking out.”

Shit.

“I know you’re scared that Belle won’t like you,” Shayne said.

Wait... What? Charlie blinked. His head felt like it had been hurtling down one road, only for someone to slam on the brakes and crash through a barrier onto a different road. How –?

“But, like... god, how do I say this without sounding like an asshole?” Shayne muttered. “She’s a baby. She doesn’t even know that colours have names yet. You could be a murderer, and I doubt she would even care, as long as you made enough funny faces at her.”

Charlie should have been relieved that Shayne hadn’t noticed the other reason for Charlie’s nerves, but his heart kept fluttering anyway.

“That... probably didn’t come out right.” Shayne rubbed both of Charlie’s wrists with his thumbs. “Did I sound like an asshole?”

“No,” Charlie laughed incredulously. “Take it easy on yourself.”

Shayne arched an eyebrow. “Take your own advice, my love.”

“Hmm.” Charlie’s smile faltered.

Truth was, this had been weighing on him all week, ever since he’d gotten a message from Jonathan to say he, Nicole, and Belle would be visiting Trevor and Ingrid that Sunday. It hadn’t been an enthusiastic invitation; just a statement, left floating in the ether. It was like Jon had tossed a chunk of leftover ham between himself and a hungry dog, saying it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference to me if you eat this or not, but it’s there.

But that was how it’d always been between the two of them.

Charlie had gotten on the phone to Ingrid – it had been the first time she’d heard of this arrangement – and half-hoped that she would say that she and his dad wouldn’t be able to put him up on Saturday night, meaning the trip wouldn’t be worthwhile. She’d been delighted to offer him the spare room, though.

His last hope had been Shayne. He had been counting on him to decline Charlie’s offer to join him at his parents’, at which point Charlie could offer to meet him somewhere else instead. Sorry, Jon, he could have said. Plans with the bf this weekend. Catch you next time!

But Shayne had agreed to accompany him as soon as Charlie had explained the situation. He hadn’t even hesitated. He’d made Charlie simultaneously the most grateful and most disappointed boyfriend in the world.

Charlie blinked and fought to get the smile back on his face. His chest ached with guilt towards the part of him that resented Shayne for not giving him an excuse not to be here.

“What if...” His voice wavered. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

Shayne blinked in surprise. “I already covered that. Remember? My definitely-not-an-asshole speech?”

“I-I know. I know she’s just a baby now, but –” Charlie licked his lips. He had the urge to get up and try to walk off some of the nervous energy, but he didn’t want to let go of Shayne’s hands. “Even if tomorrow goes okay, she’s... she’s always going to have me in her life, and I just... I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

Charlie tried not to think too hard about the next part. He just talked.

“I didn’t exactly have the most optimistic outlook on life when I was a kid, and... and I don’t know if I ever got over it, or if I just learned to live with the depression at some point? Coexist with it, just like I did with CT? But I’ve always – I've always needed things to help me get through the negative feelings, you know? Even just... little things.”

“Like Mr. Teddy?”

Charlie paused, surprised that that was the first thing that popped into Shayne’s head. “Vincent.”

“Right. Vincent. Sorry.”

“Not just him, but... yeah.”

Shayne nodded sincerely.

“But beneath all of that... effort I made –” Charlie fought hard not to cringe; did he think his own attempts to stave off his depression had been some noble act of service to the world? Was he a hero for finding ways to cheer himself up? “For a long time, I felt like there was nothing worth looking forward to. Sometimes, the world felt so harsh, so scary, so...”

Shayne’s eyes glittered with sadness.

“Empty,” Charlie whispered. He wasn’t even sure if it had come from himself or from CT, but that didn’t even seem to matter.

Shayne sighed like he’d been holding his breath.

“What if...” Charlie swallowed again, his throat drying up as his eyes became wetter. “What if Belle comes to me one day, and asks me what the point of everything is? What if she asks me if things get better, if everything will be okay, if the world really is as messy and confusing and infuriating as it seems?”

A sob clawed at Charlie’s throat and he gulped against it, shuddering.

“What if she’s in pain, like I was, and she asks me to make it better, and I can’t?”

“Then...” Shayne squeezed both of Charlie’s hands. “Her Uncle Charlie won’t lie to her.”

Charlie took a deep breath, letting his mind wrap around that. He had been so lost in feeling and hearing his own despair that he had almost forgotten that Shayne could talk, too. “What?”

“I was lied to my whole young life,” Shayne said. “I wish that I’d had someone who just... told me the fucking truth. Even if it was messier and more fucked-up than any of the lies they could come up with.”

Charlie’s stomach twisted. He wasn’t sure that the psychological abuse Shayne had gone through fell into the same category as the little white lies that adults told children to preserve their world view. But he had a point, and the more he thought about it, the more he realised that if someone – anyone – had told his ten-year-old self that there was a name for the feeling he was so afraid of, maybe he’d have had an easier time of things. He could have gotten help. He could have sought out connections with other people who felt the same way.

Maybe he’d have had a better relationship with Jon. Maybe he’d have a father who could look him in the eye and say I miss you instead of always dancing around the subject.

“What?” Shayne frowned. “Was that – now am I being an asshole?”

“No. No, you’re right.” Charlie shook his head. Teardrops started to run down his face. “You’re so right, lovely...”

He lifted his arms, looping them around Shayne’s waist as he shifted forward to draw Charlie into an embrace.

“I’m just so scared,” he wept into Shayne’s shoulder. “I’m so – so scared that she’ll – that I won’t be able to help her.”

“You will be,” Shayne whispered to him. “Maybe not in the ways you want to, but... you’ll be the exact person she needs you to be.”

Charlie loved his parents. They were wonderful people. But there were subjects that just weren’t spoken about in their family when he’d been growing up, and the person Charlie had needed was someone who wouldn’t pretend that things were normal when they weren’t. Who wouldn’t pretend that life was supposed to be unbearably stressful or you just weren’t doing it right.

He’d needed someone who wouldn’t pretend that they had all the answers, just because they were expected to.

He needed someone like the person he was now.

Sobs quietly racked his body, dissolving into shivers. He tried his best to keep quiet; the last thing he wanted was for his parents to hear and to start worrying about him again. There was definitely a conversation he needed to have with them, but there was enough drama happening for one weekend already.

For now, he just let himself be held. And Shayne held him until the trembling subsided, until Charlie could breathe steadily without triggering a shudder inside his lungs.

“Thank you,” Charlie whispered, still not letting go. In fact, he held Shayne even tighter, turning the hug into an embrace that was for both of them, not just him. “I didn’t realise how much I needed this.”

Where Charlie inserted a little extra force, Shayne seemed to let go of some. He let his head sag against Charlie’s shoulder and sighed. “I’m so full, Charlie.”

Once again, the brakes on Charlie’s mind screeched – this time, the surprise was delightfully welcome. He felt goosebumps break out across his body, and a grin split his face, which he buried in his boyfriend’s neck.

He’d completely blanked on the fact that Shayne had just comforted him through all of that while he had a tummy ache. It felt like a tornado of confetti had suddenly ripped through Charlie’s brain. He loved Shayne so much, and almost said so out loud, but realised it might sound a little out of place right now.

Instead, he scratched the back of Shayne’s head and rubbed a circle over his lower back.

“Aw,” Charlie said softly.

Shayen let out a low groan of appreciation.

“Mmph. Sorry.” He shook himself and lifted his head. He kept one hand on Charlie’s side but pulled the other arm towards himself to lightly cradle his stomach. “Are you okay, love?”

“Yeah.” Completely okay, and outrageously normal. Charlie’s nerves fizzed with some delightful cocktail of adrenaline and dopamine and probably a million other things. “I feel so much better now.”

“Really?”

“Promise,” Charlie smiled. “Thank you.”

Shayne’s eyes were still a little glassy, but his frown relaxed a bit. He was taking slow, deep breaths, as though inhaling too sharply would make the pain worse.

“Lie back,” Charlie said. They were both still sitting near the edge of the loveseat, which Charlie realised was unnecessary. He twisted into a comfier position, looping an arm around Shayne’s waist as he joined him.

“Do you feel sick?” he asked, realising that he’d never gotten a proper answer earlier.

Shayne shook his head. “Not sick, but I can feel everything just... sitting there, though.”

His hand was now splayed over his belly, and Charlie couldn’t take his eyes off of it. He couldn’t help himself. It was practically an invitation, right?

He slid his hand across the top of Shayne’s stomach, his heart fluttering as his boyfriend let out a sigh and moved his own hand to the side. Charlie happily smoothed his hand downwards and slipped his fingers beneath Shayne’s jumper and t-shirt, glancing at his face for confirmation that this was okay.

His eyes were shut, and his frown was no deeper than it’d already been.

On the sweeping upward motion, Charlie could feel the extra pressure and tension around and above Shayne’s belly button. Charlie’s hand lingered, and he tried to figure out whether Shayne’s stomach was actually taut and spasming, or if his muscles were just clenching from being touched. But the longer he spent running his fingers back and forth, the more certain he was that Shayne’s tummy was pushing out a little further than it usually did.

Charlie felt a shifting motion under his hand, and a few seconds later, Shayne was turning his head away to let out another low, rumbling burp.

Shit. Charlie had to restrain himself from smiling.

He reckoned he must have still been gazing at him a bit too intensely though, because he instantly frowned when he met Charlie’s eye again.

“I – sorry.” His voice prickled with defensiveness.

“What? Don’t be sorry,” Charlie grimaced. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’re fine, except your stomach hurts.”

“I – yeah.”

“So not fine,” Charlie pointed out. He let his hand glide a little lower, enjoying the warmth and the softness until it was abruptly cut off by the top of Shayne’s jeans. “You should probably take these off.”

Charlie’s throat clenched as he heard himself a second later. He buried his head against Shayne’s shoulder, still cupping his belly under his shirt.

“Shut up. I know that sounded like such a line."

“Didn’t say anything,” Shayne said.

“What I meant was that you should take your jeans off so they’re not hurting you.”

Shayne narrowed his eyes.

"So... I can get you some of my spare pyjama bottoms..."

“What are you getting at, Charlie?” Shayne's voice was only lightly seasoned with sarcasm.

Charlie rolled his eyes as he lifted his head to look his boyfriend in the eye. “I’m not getting at anything, lovely, except that when you're too full, your tummy can get a little bit bloated... and that’s when you should change into something looser or softer, to keep the pressure off.”

Shayne lowered his head, his mouth tilting into a sulk. Charlie pressed his lips to his cheek, wishing he could kiss away the look of muted discomfort on his boyfriend’s face.

“Hey. It’s completely normal.”

Oh, and really fucking adorable, but let’s not say that part out loud.

Shayne let out a little hum – though whether it was a response to the kiss or the verbal reassurance, Charlie wasn’t sure. His stomach had just gurgled while Charlie had been absentmindedly rubbing a few light circles into it, so maybe he'd just been humming to try to cover that up.

"So, do you want those pyjamas?" Charlie asked quietly.

“Did you actually pack spare pyjamas for a one-night stay?”

Charlie frowned. "Yeah."

“Did you pack some for me?”

“Yeah...” Charlie blushed. “We don’t have our own bathroom here. What if one or both of us needed to pee in the middle of the night? We can’t just wander around the house in our underwear.”

Shayne let his head rest against the back of the loveseat, eyes closed again. “I would have just put my jeans back on, gone to the bathroom, came back, took them off again –”

“No. No. No boyfriend of mine is putting his jeans on at four in the morning," Charlie said. "That...”

Shayne opened his eyes.

“That... goes against my religion." Charlie's voice wavered and he bit back a nervous grin. "What are you staring at me for?”

"Nothing. You're just an idiot sometimes."

"Okay?"

"For not realising how fucking brilliant you are."

Charlie let the grin win. "Okay."

#StW Charlie #StW Shayne #sickfic #stomach ache fic #angst fic #angst #hurt and comfort #hurt comfort #tummy kink #belly rubs #belly rub fic

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