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rrxnjun · 2 years

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I'm not angry anymore (well, sometimes I am) ;; lyy

pairing: liu yangyang x fem!reader starring: singer! lee jeno, drummer! wong hendery, bassist! zhong chenle, huang renjun, lee donghyuck, na jaemin, mark lee, aeri uchinaga genre: band au, guitar teacher au, strangers to friends to not-really-lovers, college au | angst, fluff, slice of life, coming of age wc: 20k (20.481) warnings: the main characters smoke, one mention of drugs, swearing, alcohol, the whole thing is kind of corny, jeno is a bad guy, a mention of sexual intercourse, a lot of pining, unrequited love tagging: @jaynaur bc she asked me to and also because i want to thank her for the support and excitement she shared for this fic<3 playlist: funeral grey - waterparks ; the only exception - paramore ; tantrum - waterparks ; 21 questions - waterparks ; sex sells - lovejoy ; freaks - surf course ; it follows - waterparks ; gloom boys - waterparks ; perfume - lovejoy ; high definition - waterparks ; i'm not angry anymore - paramore

living the rockstar life is not as easy and exciting as it seems-with a frontman that cares more about clubbing than the band, unrequited love for the girl that's, sadly, in love with the said frontman and a huge inferiority complex, liu yangyang finds himself tangled up in the mess of being the guitarist of the next rising local punk band.

FLOAT MY WAY, I’M MELTING FOR YOU

“Are you sure they’re coming?” Yangyang asks, illuminated by the subtle light of the lamp post shining at the end of the neighbourhood. The spot he’s standing in right now is the exact border between the calm, sleeping streets of the place he grew up in, and the rowdy nightlife of the centre of the town. Only a few steps across the road and he’s in the middle of it all– bars scattered all across the corners of the town square, havoc caused by teenagers at the early stages of the evening erupting through your eardrums with a lively sense of freedom.

Liu Yangyang is standing at the border, quite metaphorically, but also quite literally as well. A few steps back into his neighbourhood and he’s back in his parents’ house, ready to go to sleep and waste another evening watching a few more episodes of Netflix Unsolved Mysteries before bed. A few steps back into his bed and he wasted another day of his youth– doing nothing, meeting no new people, having no memories he can tell to his children once he’s 45 and too old for the party life. A few steps to the other side of the street, though, and he’s walking straight to the excitement, straight to a new life, perhaps. The choice is his, and he could turn either way at any moment. There’s only one thing keeping him from walking away from the stoic place at the edge of the neighbourhood, though, and that’s his best friend Huang Renjun and his promising offer.

The thing is, he and Renjun have known each other since middle school. They’ve been through thick and thin together, skipping through their high school years together, and finally, graduating on the same day, in the same class. They’re quite the best friends, and everyone knows that. While everyone thought that no one could ever break these two apart, there was one thing that wasn’t a constant in both of their lives, and that was the fact that while Renjun went to university, Yangyang never even applied. He had bigger dreams, ones that didn’t require a degree, and even though his mother wasn’t happy with his life choices, he insisted on making them anyway.

But with Renjun attending university, there comes a bigger issue that Liu Yangyang didn’t expect to face, and that is the issue of his introverted, short bestie being more sociable than he ever was in high school. Soon enough, the older one had more university friends than Yangyang could count on the fingers of one hand, and while he was happy for him, cheering him on with both his studies and his social skills, he can’t lie, he still feels a bit threatened in the place of Huang Renjun’s best friend.

And that’s exactly why he’s now standing in the same spot at the edge of the neighbourhood for the last 25 minutes– Renjun is going out with all his university friends, and being the nice and considerate pal he is, he invited Yangyang to come with him. And Yangyang, known to have a big fear of missing out mixed with a hint of jealousy whenever his friend had more fun with other people that weren’t him, couldn’t find any other answer in him than to agree and head out with him.

“Of course they are coming! Just… let’s wait for a little more-” the boy cuts himself off when he hears a loud yell somewhere in the distance, making him turn his head around and stare into the space, looking for the source of it, because he’s very familiar with the tones of the voice and the ruckus that’s following each and every one of his friends’ step.

There’s a group of five that arrive, diverse and interesting to look at. Yangyang assumes he’d be intimidated by them if he was to walk past them in the mall, but when he thinks again, he feels like that in this very moment as well– their gazes are sharp and every person looks like cut-out from a magazine or a coming-of-age movie he’d watch with Renjun when they were fifteen and figuring everything out.

Looking at the small crowd, Yangyang wonders how Renjun even managed to be friends with them. They don’t seem like the kind that would be easy to approach, and they for sure don’t seem like they share interests with the young male. When he looks at the fairly tall man wearing a leather jacket that came towards the two of them first, it doesn’t seem like he enjoys art or reading in the quiet of his room at dawn like Renjun does. The other one, even taller and more muscular, seems like he enjoys racing more than he enjoys going to university, and so do the other ones– each one of the crowd is unique, but more intimidating than the other.

Or maybe Yangyang just isn’t used to making friends anymore. Who knows.

“Hi! You must be Yangyang!” one of them announces, smiling and cheerful. His smile makes the ice break, the panic Yangyang felt on his insides stalling for just a minute, before he nods and smiles at him.

“Yeah, it’s me. And you are…?” he trails off, eager to hear the person’s introduction. There’s still faint hesitance in every move he makes, but he figures that he might as well start speaking to the little crowd soon, or he might embarrass himself in front of the cool university kids, and he really doesn’t want that. Three guys and two girls– must be easy. Let’s get it over with.

“Na Jaemin! It’s nice meeting you,” he says, politely smiling at him again and turning around, looking at the rest of the group. The seven of them start walking, the destination not known to the boy, but he follows them nonetheless, okay with not even knowing the rest of their names yet.

“I heard a lot about you,” Jaemin snickers, “Renjun can’t stop mentioning you in conversations. Every time us two are in a Chemistry class, he can’t stop chuckling and saying how you would absolutely despise it.”

Laughing, Yangyang nods. “That’s probably why I didn’t go to university.”

“Good. I regret going, but oh well…” Jaemin shrugs, already getting more comfortable with the conversation. “Anyways, since the rest of the group is totally unhinged and didn’t introduce themselves, I’ll be the nice guy and do it for them,” he grins, pointing to the guy that approached him and Renjun at first, “that is Hyuck. I promise he’s less intimidating than he looks, he just really desperately wants to be cool.”

“Got it,” Yangyang laughs airly, nodding.

“There next to him is Renjun, but I figure you know him… That bloke behind him is Lee Jeno. He’s what Hyuck desires to be, but isn’t. Next to him we have our ladies– to the left, Aeri, and hanging off his right shoulder, finally, Y/N.”

Grateful for the friendly introduction, Yangyang nods with a smile. “Great. Any idea where we’re going?”

Jaemin shrugs, pointing to the convenience store that’s magically appearing in front of them. “My best guess would be there, and then we head off to the skate ramp. It’s empty at this hour of the day, and there's plenty of room for all of us there.”

Yangyang tries his best to pay attention to everything that’s going on around him on his way in and out of the convenience store. He bought himself some Gatorade and Pringles, tagging along with Renjun and Jaemin, yet, he can’t help but ask himself why the rest of the group hasn’t paid any attention to his presence. Perhaps he’s too invisible– not interesting enough to spark a conversation with them, not cool enough to hang out with the rest of the group.

He’s not quite sure if it’s the insecurities getting to him, or if he’s just right about his assumptions. Sometimes, it’s better to not know, though– reality might make him more hurt in the long run.

Finally getting to the skate park, Yangyang makes sure to stay close to the only people he knows how to talk to. Offering chips to Jaemin and Renjun, he manages to listen to the conversation just enough to know that Hyuck and Jeno are talking about some concert they’re going to over the weekend and that Aeri and you are talking about the project that’s due on Tuesday. Quite normal topics for teenagers to talk about, he thinks– the intimidation seeping off them must be a facade, or maybe his lack of judgement. Maybe he should reach out first and talk to someone, he thinks, but as soon as this thought creeps into his mind, it’s taken out of his head when a girl walks into his point of vision and offers him chewing gum.

Seeing him turning the offer down with a smile, you shrug at him and kick the rocks under your feet. “You’re Yangyang, right?”

For the second time that night, he finds himself nodding. The whole scenario looks like it’s cut-out from a teenage drama, the scenery reminding him of an Avril Lavigne music video that he spent his childhood watching religiously. “Yeah.”

“I’m Y/N,” you say, offering him a hand to shake.

“Nice to meet you,” he replies, wanting to be as polite and as approachable as possible.

Looking at you, he finds himself getting intimidated again. He feels like a kid hanging out with upperclassmen in high school– like someone who’s desperately trying to fit in and be mature about everything, waiting anxiously to be made fun of by the cooler kids around. You’re wearing dark clothing, long black pants and a grey hoodie thrown over your upper body, even though the heat of the summer makes Yangyang sweat in every crevice of his adulting figure. You look bold, not in your appearance, but in your aura– and something about you is dangerously pulling him in, leaving him wanting to get to know you better.

You only hum, seating yourself next to him on the tiny bench. Your thighs are touching as you stretch your legs in front of you, leaning back and supporting your body with your hands pressed into the surface you’re sitting on. “So, Yangyang,” you start, “what do you do in your spare time?”

Surprised by your question, and also acknowledging the way his name rolls off your tongue in a way he likes it the best, he shrugs. What does one reply to a stranger asking about their interests? It sounds like a trick question, when in reality, it truly isn’t. There are no wrong or right answers, yet, Yangyang feels like if he doesn’t choose the right one, he failed, and he can no longer hang out with Renjun’s friends and see you ever again.

“Oh,” he hums, “well, I used to babysit, but I realised that I swear too much to be around children,” he replies, earning himself a chuckle from your side.

“I asked what you do in your spare time, not what you used to do for work,” you repeat, catching the boy off-guard with your insistence.

“I- well-” he stutters, suddenly ashamed of each and every interest he has, for he thinks they’re not cool enough, or that they’re not interesting enough to mention to someone like you. Short in time, with his imagination not as good to think of something unique, he spills the truth. “I like music, I guess? I play the guitar and I’m actually teaching guitar lessons to get some money so I can start a band one day, or something…” he explains, bashful.

He feels the heat slowly arriving to his cheeks, a pinch of shame behind his teenage dreams, when he’s met with a hum and a pleased tone of your voice when you reply.

“That’s cool,” you say, “Jeno has a band, actually, but they’re kind of shit,” you giggle. “I bet yours would be better, when you’re good enough to teach guitar, you know.”

“Well, I don’t know about that…” he mutters, not wanting to offend anyone.

“Jeno’s in uni as well, so he can’t really focus on music. You gotta show me how you play one day,” you say, the lightness in your tone making him feel like he’s imagining everything. He wasn’t expecting this outcome, and he for sure didn’t think you wouldn’t find him embarrassing. With your proposition to show you how he plays, even though it might be just a nice gesture from a stranger, he feels on cloud 9.

“And what do you like doing?” he asks, eager to get to know you better.

Shrugging, you point your gaze towards your shoes. “I dunno. I like art,” you say, reminding him of his best friend. Perhaps you’re the one that attends the art class with him, perhaps you’re the one he met first before he was introduced to the rest of the group. In the light-hearted conversation, Yangyang doesn’t find you as intimidating as before, but looks at you as rather approachable, the least scary of them all.

“Well, if I gotta show you how I play, you gotta show me your art sometimes, then,” he says, throwing the ball back to your side of the court. Smiling at his proposition, you only nod as you search the pockets of your jacket, seemingly looking for something.

“Sure,” you say. Yangyang dares to say he hears a spark of interest in you, a glint in your tone from the way your conversation went. He doesn’t want the moment to disappear, desperately needing you to find him cool, to be his friend, because you interest him so much– but at the same time, he fears that with one bad move, he might ruin everything. Talking with you felt like walking on a shattered glass, just waiting to get pricked by the sharp pieces scattered all over the floor.

When you finally find what you’ve been looking for– a pack of cigarettes and a lighter– you open the box and take out one of them, slipping it in between your lips. “Do you want one?” you ask, offering him the box.

Now, Yangyang wants to fit in– of course he does– but at the same time, he has his boundaries. Shaking his head in disapproval, he smiles at you with tight lips. “No, thanks. I don’t smoke.”

Shrugging, you light the cigarette and breathe in the nicotine, letting the smoke captivate your lungs. Blowing out a steady stream of greyish clouds, Yangyang watches you with fascination. He won’t go as far as saying he found you attractive like that– you were still damaging your health– but in his mind, he can’t imagine you without that pack of cigarettes in your hand and without the smoke blowing out of your lungs. It’s like you were completed by that small addictive box, like you two fit together, even though he wishes you didn’t have to. He likes you like that, though, he figures– he might need to throw it all just onto the aesthetics, though.

“That shit’s gonna kill you,” he mumbles, seeing you peek out at him from under your eyelashes.

Smiling, you lean into him, your face dangerously close to someone who you just met a few minutes ago, he feels like he’s melting under your gaze. Shrugging, you blow the smoke into his face, white clouds floating his way in slow motion, a snicker escaping your lips before you move to your initial place, once again putting the cigarette between your plump lips and inhaling.

“Well, now you gotta die too.”

Looking at you, trying to come up with a better comeback, desperately needing to find out when he’s gotten so smitten with you, when you’ve engraved himself into his mind; trying to get you out and forget about you, he finds out, although a little shamefully,

that he’s willing to let you be his best mistake that he’s ever going to make.

AND I’M ON MY WAY TO BELIEVING

Running his hand through his hair, he stops at the doorway of one of the houses in his neighbourhood. It’s only three streets away from his home, and he’s sure his mother would know who lives there, if he managed to ask before leaving, but to him, the people he’s going to meet are a mystery for now. Sighing heavily, he notes that he should get a haircut, since the hair he managed to push out of his face is now back in his eyes, prickling his eyeballs in the most annoying way possible, before he rings the doorbell and waits for someone to open the door for him.

It’s an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, the clock reads 4:25pm– he’s 5 minutes early, just to be sure– and he’s going to one of his paid guitar lessons.

Usually, he has fun in these. Mothers all across the town reply to his insert that he posted on Facebook Marketplace, and some grandmas even send him letters, replying to the advertisement they saw in the local newspaper. The kids he teaches are almost always very polite and easy to work with.

When he arrives, he asks them what they know already, and he progresses from there. He’s not trying to act like he’s a licenced music teacher, because he’s not– everything he knows is all self-taught anyway, from watching youtube videos and playing the same songs with the same simple chords over and over again, desperately wanting to get his favourite songs right, until he progressed up to the point when there’s pretty much no song he couldn’t play after hearing it a few times and taking a look at the chords online. To the local neighbourhood kids, that’s enough– he’s an affordable teacher, and much more approachable one than the elderly men Yangyang’s parents wanted to hire when he was a kid. He refused back then, and he can’t say he regrets it.

Waiting at the doorway, he wonders who will wait for him behind the dark-wooded entrance. Perhaps a little boy– these are always the easiest to work with. They choose the rock, sometimes punk songs they heard on the radio or saw randomly pop out on the recommended page on youtube. Yangyang is happy with that, because that’s what he’s familiar with anyway. It brings him joy to see their faces light up when they get the chords right and when the strumming is similar to the one in the original song, and when he sings along, although a little silly, they even laugh at him and show gratitude with gummy smiles.

He won’t lie. He likes his job.

When the door finally opens, his eyes catch the sock-clothed feet of the person behind it. Eyes going up, noticing that the figure in front of him seems oddly familiar, his breathing catches in his throat and he feels his palms getting sweaty.

“Y/N?” he asks, a little taken aback.

You offer him a tight-lipped smile, an expression you pull when you see another teenager in the mall with their parents, both of you shopping for groceries. It’s the awkward smile that says that you recognise their torture, for you are experiencing the same; that awkward smile that reads don’t laugh at me, because you’re in the same position.

“Hello,” you greet, taking a step to the side so he can get inside.

Yangyang freezes in his spot. His legs don’t move, too hesitant to enter the house you live in, and he suddenly regrets not asking his mum about the residents of this house before he left. Not that he would know that it’s you anyway, for his mum always provides him with the last name and the occupation of the parents, but at least a hint would be nice, perhaps a mention of a daughter his age, even; both of these would let him prepare for the rush of heat in his cheeks and the awkwardness in his visit.

“Um…” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck, “am I… am I in the right house?” he asks suddenly, embarrassment creeping into his veins. Mentally going back to the address in the text message he got three days ago, checking the house number only a few metres to the right of the front door, it’s as clear as daylight– he’s at the right place, at the right time.

“Yeah,” you nod, furrowing your brows in confusion. “Will you get inside already, or are you going to stand there all day?”

Eyes wide, Yangyang nods hurriedly, finally stepping inside of the house. Taking off his shoes, making sure he takes his sweet time so he can calm his racing heart, he thinks of every possible thing he could say to you to make the whole encounter less awkward. Or is he the only one that feels awkward at this moment? Are you alright with everything that’s going on? You don’t even seem to be surprised, to be fair. Maybe you expected to see him at the door.

“So,” he starts as he finally straightens his back and meets eyes with you, “um… I came to teach guitar, so… where’s your sibling?” he asks, cracking his knuckles in the process.

“Sibling?” you repeat.

Feeling like he’s said something wrong, but continuing in his interrogation, Yangyang furrows his brows. “Yeah. To… teach guitar to?” he says, feeling more confused than ever.

“I don’t have a sibling,” you simply reply, spinning in your place and taking the stairs up, making Yangyang freeze in his spot in hesitance once again. This whole thing feels like a fever dream, and he doesn’t think he can wake up that soon.

A few seconds pass in complete silence, the uncomfortness of it all making Yangyang’s ears ring, when footsteps march through the space and make him swing his head up, seeing you standing at the top of the stairs. “Are you coming? I thought I was paying you for teaching me the guitar, and not for standing around,” you mutter.

Teaching you the guitar? Now, every other person would comply and run upstairs, apologise for being all over the place, maybe even mumble a poor excuse of how they haven’t slept well and that’s why they’re not in their right place today. But this is Liu Yangyang– and you’re Y/N, the girl he met almost a week ago and hasn't been able to stop thinking about since. And that’s why Yangyang only simply stumbles over his own legs and drags himself upstairs, still trying to make his mind comprehend the whole situation and let himself process what’s happening.

He appears in your room in a moment. The journey there has no memory in his brain, for he thinks he acted on auto-pilot, too lost in his thoughts. When the smell of you lingers all around him and punches him somewhere deep in his gut, that’s when he finally wakes up and proceeds to do what he’s supposed to.

The room looks just like he’d imagine it to look. It looks so, so definitely yours; with posters of bands hung all across the walls, stitched between with artwork and polaroid pictures, not one spot left empty in the whole room. The rug in the middle of the space is white and fluffy, the long bristles reminding him of the dog he used to have when he was a kid. There’s not much furniture in your room, and it’s also fairly small, but there’s everything a university student would need in a room at their parents’ house: a big bed, a closet, a bookshelf filled with literature and a desk that’s a little too messy, but still looks oddly organised. The last detail that completes the aroma of you in the room is the easel set in the corner of the room, right next to the guitar stand, like a little pair of necessities that belong together, never to be seperated.

He finds you sitting on the bed, the black acoustic guitar already nestled in your lap, glancing up at him through your eyelashes. The look you give him is unreadable– or he doesn’t know you well enough to read in your expressions yet. Taking a mental note of the urge to get to know you enough to know what you want to say even from a simple look thrown his way, he sits next to you and clears his throat.

“Shall we start, then?” he asks, hearing you snicker.

“I’m waiting until you finally get a grip, you know,” you say, “I’m ready when you are.”

Your words make him feel the heatness in his cheeks again, embarrassment a familiar emotion to feel whenever he’s in your presence. He once again recognises that he feels strangely intimidated by you in this setting, suddenly scared that he forgot all the chords and he doesn’t know how to play anymore, even though the thought of that is ridiculous and unbelievable, since before, he was sure he could play Smells like teen spirit even in his sleep.

“Okay, so…” he starts, “let’s start with what you already know, and then we can progress from there, I guess?” he chooses the tactic he always does when he teaches the neighbourhood kids, but at this moment, everything about the guitar lesson is making him unsure in his skills. This is the first time he’s working with someone his age, and to find you being the one replying to his insert, it makes it all even harder for him.

“I mean… I know the basic chords, but that’s about it,” you shrug, averting your eyes off him.

This is the first time Yangyang notices you shying away from his glance. He doesn’t dare to pin much importance to it, for he thinks it must be nothing, but something deep inside of him makes an assumption already and the air is suddenly lighter to breathe for him. He’s in charge now– he’s the one that knows everything, and you’re the one that wants to listen to him and learn from him. He’s not about power dynamics at all, since it would feel strange to pay importance to that, but suddenly, he no longer feels like he’s less from you, but rather on the same level, only a little more skilled, and that makes him feel more sure in his conversation and more strong in his moves.

“Okay, great,” he muses, “that’s a good start. Do you have a particular song that you would like to learn how to play? That’s usually the best way to learn, I think,” he suggests, glancing at you with curious eyes.

If he tried hard enough, he could maybe make out the song you’d choose by looking around your room and paying more attention to the posters on your walls. He’s quite sure he’ll be familiar with it, your music taste overlapping with his, although there are a few bands he’s not familiar with on the pictures on your walls and he suddenly wants to ask you all about them and let you recommend your favourite songs to him. He’d listen to them all afternoon, making sure to get every detail and search for everything that makes you enjoy them so much, trying to get to know you through your favourite melodies. He knows it’s too soon for a step like that, but he makes sure to keep it in his mind for later, when you two are closer; if that moment ever comes, of course.

“Hmm,” you hum. Suddenly, you stand up with the guitar still in your right hand, searching for something in the mess on your desk. There’s your phone in the grip of your left hand now, and with a few taps to the screen, you offer it to Yangyang, a site with the chords to the song you chose now shining on full display. “This one,” you mumble.

Now it’s your turn to look bashful. Yangyang notices the sudden shift in the atmosphere, liking how the awkwardness is suddenly out of his blood system but rather entering yours. Scrolling through the page, his eyes scan the chord progressions, nodding to himself as he recognises the tune, already playing in his head.

“Great! Let’s get to it, then,” he says.

Nodding, you stay glued in your place at the other end of the bed. Your guitar is still placed neatly on your right thigh, resting against it, waiting to be played. “Maybe try playing it so I can see what you need helping with?”

The suggestion makes you nod, a nervous lick to your lips is made as you take the guitar pick into your right hand and nestle a little in your seat, trying to relax. Not wanting to make you more nervous, Yangyang makes himself not look at you while you play, resulting in letting his eyes roam all across your room, trying to remember the details just in case he’s never invited over ever again.

You start playing in no time. Even a complete beginner could hear that you’re not used to the instrument yet– your strumming is inconsistent, the changing of chords slow and not all strings play when you press them– too weak for the note to ring. It’s okay, though; everyone starts somewhere and this was a good effort. The G chord is played wonderfully, as Yangyang recognises that this one in particular is not an issue amongst his students, but when you get to the D minor, Yangyang suddenly hears a sigh full of frustration as the strums don’t ring and you seemingly get a cramp into your left palm.

The melody, although a little chopped up and wonky, suddenly stops. You look over at your guitar teacher sitting to your right, trying to find help in him.

“Your hand got cramped up?” he asks, voice full of consideration he uses when he teaches the small children. He let it slip unknowingly, but now that he recognised it, he prays you don’t make fun of him for the endearing tone of it.

“Yeah,” you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“I see,” he nods, shifting closer to you. He tries to be full of confidence, because then, it’s easier for him to mask the effect you have on him and the growing aspect of it the closer you physically are to him. Taking the guitar softly from your hold, he presses down the strings in the right order, three fingers used for the simple chord, strumming to let you hear the chord out loud.

“What you’re doing wrong is keeping your thumb too far up on the back of the neck,” he says, showing you the way you were playing the chord before, “this way, you have to make more pressure to hold the strings down, and the uncomfortable position makes your hand cramp up. Try moving your thumb a little lower,” he explains, once again showing you.

You hum, taking the guitar back from his hold when he offers it to you. You try to hold the strings down in the way Yangyang’s shown you, but your fingers just won’t comply, too used to the way you were playing the chord before. Watching you with amusement, Yangyang chuckles to himself and unconsciously moves to you, reaching for your hand from behind, and manually moving your thumb closer to the bottom of the neck of the guitar.

The contact of your skin on his burns him a little, even though he was the one that initiated it and touched you first, and he suddenly feels like a teenager once again, hating that the way he feels about you reminds him of the silly crushes he used to get on his classmates and never acted up on them in the fear of being rejected.

Moving back to his initial place, he sees you bite down on your lower lip as you strum down the strings, hearing the chord loud and clear, your hand in a way more comfortable position now. Humming again, perhaps in understatement, perhaps in satisfaction, you look up at Yangyang again, smiling a little. “Thanks.”

He shrugs. “It’s okay. That’s what I’m paid for,” he snickers.

You roll your eyes at him, but your lips mirror a cunning smile. He teases you back with the words you used when he first arrived, making him wonder if you find him more fun now, when he’s relaxed.

Sitting quietly, you try playing the song again, now a little more smoothly. Yangyang finds himself humming along, not daring to sing the lyrics just yet, since he’s not that eager to embarrass himself in front of you with his singing as he is when he teaches the kids. But when you look up at him and grin in amusement, he knows he did the right thing– the atmosphere is lighter now, the weight falling off his shoulders.

“You didn’t mention wanting guitar lessons when we last talked,” he says, going back in time just a week ago.

“Yeah, well,” you stop playing, “I wasn’t really set on it back then yet.”

“I see,” he hums, “what made you change your mind, then?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you laugh to yourself. Putting the guitar down, between your bodies sprawled out on the bed, you fold your hands on your stomach. “If I tell you, promise you won’t laugh.”

Surprised by your request, for Yangyang thought there’s not anything in the whole world that could ever make you ashamed, he nods and agrees. “I won’t laugh. I promise.”

Squinting at him, as if to see if he’s truly honest with his promise, you breathe in heavily, getting ready to speak. “Well… remember how I told you that Jeno’s in a band?”

“Yeah,” he nods. How could he forget? That dude has everything Yangyang ever wished to be.

“So… his guitarist is kind of a dick,” you start, “he doesn’t go to practices, skips the gigs, shows up high sometimes… so Jeno wanted to kick him out and find someone better. And I kind of wanted to be the replacement, but…” you trail off, not daring to look at Yangyang in fear of hearing his laughter.

“Yeah, well, you’ll have to pay me for way more lessons to be the next lead guitarist of an underground band,” Yangyang notes, not trying to make fun of you– rather just tease you, to lighten up the atmosphere.

“Yeah,” you giggle, “you’re right. But maybe you could join them.”

“Me?”

“You said you wanted to have a band,” you mumble, shrugging, “this comes close, at least.”

Grinning to himself at the proposition, Yangyang shakes his head in disbelief. “You haven’t even heard me play. For all you know, I could be a total fraud.”

You turn your head to look at him, eyes squinting in examination once again. “You’re right, dude,” you mutter to yourself, “play me something, then. I’ll be the judge if you’re the one suitable to be the next lead guitarist of an underground band,” you say, throwing his own words back at him, trying to act out his voice in a teasing manner.

Singing, Yangyang shakes his head at your proposition. You must believe him– otherwise, you wouldn’t have texted him to give you guitar lessons, after all. To fulfil the promise he’s given you back in the skate park, though, he takes the guitar laying between your bodies, straightening his back and sitting in a more comfortable position, he presses down the chords you so desperately wanted to learn just a few minutes ago, before you two got lost in the conversation.

A simple G, D minor, a C major 7. Repeating over and over, a strumming pattern so easy and comforting, it’s forever engraved into his brain. He remembers hearing the song for the first time when he was younger, too embarrassed to admit to Renjun that he likes it, since he was always posing as the emo kid in the town. The band might suit the genre, but the lyrics are as sweet as sugar, so romantic it makes his heart clench.

Caught somewhere in between it all, in the midst of the moment, hearing you silently hum the lyrics to the song you’ve shown him, Yangyang foolishly finds himself dedicating the song to you. This is the second time you two have met, but your whole presence, the way you scrunch up your nose when you laugh, the way you are so genuine and straight-forward, with nothing to hide, he finds himself pulled towards you, wanting to know you deeper, desiring to explore every last crevice of your inside.

He never wanted to be in someone else’s band. He always wanted his own, so he can be in charge of everything, so he can be the leader everyone follows. But if being in Jeno’s band meant meeting you more often, he figures he could try it out. Who knows, he might even like it.

He’s never tried so hard for a girl before. He never really had the urge. Spending his days with blissful carelessness, wasting away his youth by doing nothing, he never really found anyone to yearn for as hard. He swore he was content with loneliness, but perhaps, no one before was ever worth the risk.

Just like in the song he’s playing, you are the only exception.

SO EXCUSE MY TANTRUM, CAN’T YOU SEE I’VE GOT MY HANDS FULL?

Leg nervously bumping up and down, Yangyang chews on his bottom lip as the buildings behind the windows of the car blur into themselves and motion him forward. Hearing a low beep coming from his lap, where he threw his phone after aimlessly checking Instagram for the seventh time today, he reaches for the device and unlocks it.

y/n: are you close yet

Looking around, trying to find out where the hell he’s even going, he turns to his best friend on the driver’s seat. “Are we close?” he asks.

“Who’s asking?” Renjun mumbles, turning on the left blinker and taking a turn towards that direction, pulling up to a street Yangyang’s never seen before in his whole life.

“Y/N,” he answers, checking all the houses, as if to try to see if you show up at the doorstep of one of them, awaiting their arrival.

“We’re quite literally 15 metres away from Jeno’s house,” Renjun mutters, turning down the music playing on the radio. Yangyang hums in understatement, quickly looking back over to his phone and typing a swift reply.

yangyang: we’re here

As the car comes to a halt, parking at the edge of the sidewalk in front of one of the houses on the street– each and every single one of them looking the same, with white walls and a brown roof, creating a homely atmosphere– Yangyang finds his nerves rise even more. It’s not like he’s meeting Renjun’s friends for the first time, after all, so he really doesn’t get the sudden rise in adrenaline. Sure, he only saw Jeno, Jaemin and Hyuck once, but at least him and you are pretty acquainted by now, considering that he gave you guitar lessons three more times since the last time, before he finally agreed on meeting Jeno and his bandmates for a band practice; just to see if he’s fit, nothing more.

Maybe he just really wants to impress everyone. The rest of the band is filled with strangers, so maybe that’s where his anxiety is coming from.

He almost opens his mouth and tries to talk about it to Renjun, since the boy always gets his emotions and tries to help him calm down whenever his overthinking is getting too irrational, but when he jumps out of the car and closes the door behind him, there’s a screech coming from the small gate leading to the property, making his eyes drift towards the source of the sound.

You wave at the two, standing in the open gate, a shining grin plastered onto your face. After Yangyang gets out his guitar from the backseat– the electric one, as you specified in your texts last night– you run up to him and envelope him in a quick, yet, comforting hug.

He didn’t realise you’ve gotten this close, but he welcomes the embrace with open arms. He catches a sniff of your perfume– a mix of roses and vanilla, sweet, but also light. It travels from his nose all the way up to his brain, numbing his senses. If this was the only smell he could feel until the end of his life, he wouldn’t complain.

“Finally! They’re all waiting for you in the garage,” you say, leading the pair towards the house. The gate to the garage is open, revealing a group of people clammered in the small space, leaving Yangyang at least some time to prepare for all of them.

Going up to the make-shift practice room in Lee Jeno’s garage, Yangyang puts on his best charming smile, hoping to seem at ease and not at all awkward. Adjusting the guitar in his hold, he comes up to the group and greets them with undeniable ease.

“Hello,” he says, watching Renjun as he fist-bumps the rest of his friend group and sitting at the old, orange couch in the corner of the garage.

“What’s up, man,” Jeno says as he comes up to him, once again, with a handshake. Yangyang begins to wonder why he always looks so cool– even when he’s wearing simple sweatpants and a Nirvana shirt enveloping his torso, he looks like he’s cut-out from a Rolling Stone magazine. He doesn’t even need that bloody leather jacket to look good. Life truly is unfair.

After greeting everyone, Yangyang finds himself awkwardly leaning against the arm of the couch. There wasn’t much space for him to sit, but that was okay– he was here to play the guitar anyway, he could stand. The garage was filled with people he knew, and also didn’t. It felt weird to have such a big audience. He felt like that time when he applied for the school’s talent show; he almost pulled out the minute he saw the tens of people sitting on the folding chairs in the school’s auditorium, waiting for him to begin playing.

He recognised Jaemin– who warmly smiled at him when he went up to him and greeted him with a rehearsed fist bump– and he also recognised Hyuck, Jeno and you. There was a guy sitting in the corner of the room, who he was told was Mark and he was here to ‘hang out’, and the other two were Hendery and Chenle, the band’s drummer and bassist.

“Want some beer?” you ask, looking at him brightly from your spot next to him. He shakes his head in disapproval– he didn’t really like the taste of it, and much to everyone’s dismay, he was a light-weight and he really didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of everyone sitting in the garage, watching him perform.

Yangyang’s left feeling lonely even in the full room of people. It’s somehow alarming, but also understandable. He’s not close to any of the people here, except from Renjun, and he’s been with him for the last few hours, so it’s only natural for his friend to drift towards someone else now. Looking around the garage, he spots a sign in the corner of the room, a long, white fabric spray-painted with red.

Chucky Tribute, it reads. Finding himself chuckling under his breath, you look over to him, raising your eyebrows to find out what he’s laughing about. Pointing towards the sign, you only roll your eyes with a grin.

“That’s the band’s name,” you whisper sincerely into his ear, “Jeno’s a fan of the Chucky movies.”

Upon hearing this, Yangyang already knows he signed up for a wild ride.

After some more catching up between Renjun and his friends, and some awkward conversation that sparked between Mark and Yangyang after he recognised the anime on his shirt, Jeno turns to him with the true reason for his visit today.

“Okay, so,” he starts, “we could try to play something together, so we can see if you’re the fit to be in the band,” he says. Something about his sentences makes Yangyang feel like he’s looked down upon– as if Jeno was the master of everything, not believing that someone like Yangyang could be good enough to be in his band, however small and underground it might be. Looking over at you in the corner of the room, seeing that you’re a regular at the band practices, gazing at him with a hopeful smile, he complies, though.

“Not that we have any doubts about you, though,” Chenle, the bassist chirps from the other side of the room, “our last guitarist was a stinker anyway, so there’s no way you could be worse than that, really.”

“What they’re trying to say, essentially, is that their standards are low in the first place, so there’s nothing to be afraid of,” Renjun teases from his spot next to Jaemin, earning a laugh and a playful bump to his shoulder from Hyuck sitting on his other side.

“Right,” Jeno rolls his eyes, trying to organise the whole evening at least a little, “anyway. Back to what I was saying… maybe you can try playing something and then we’ll see, I guess… I don’t really know how to go about this anyway,” he shrugs, watching Yangyang with curious eyes.

Yangyang feels his palms sweat, but he gets up from his spot nonetheless, getting his trusty, beloved guitar he got from his mother for Christmas out of its case and plugging it into the speaker. Strumming the strums a few times, as if to practice, he nervously clears his throat and points his gaze towards the neck of the guitar– even though he’s certain he could play it even if he went blind– just so he doesn’t have to look anyone in the eye.

Putting his fingers into their right places, he starts improvising. No one really told him what to play, so he assumes they don’t really want to hear any song in particular, so he doesn’t even try to imitate something or fish for chord progressions to anything in his mind in the first place. Moving fast across the guitar’s neck, he masters a melodic play, something he himself is kind of impressed with, something he doesn’t feel ashamed to play. He gets really into it, momentarily forgetting all about his surroundings, as he often does when he plays the guitar, when a low rhythm of drums flows into his ears and makes him look up, seeing Hendery grinning at him from his place behind the drumming kit.

Not a moment passes before Chenle gets to his bass guitar, completing the rhythmic section of the band. The melody flows through the walls of the garage, making Yangyang smile in joy, because only now does he truly feel in his element, when Jeno picks up another guitar and the whole make-shift symphony makes the audience cheer and yell in amazement.

When the players get tired and the song is done, Yangyang finds everyone clapping, making euphoria run through his veins. Perhaps this is what he was always destined to do– and even the slightest hint of the cheering of an audience, all because of his song, is like a gas fueling an engine, a spark that creates the fire in his soul.

His eyes subconsciously find your figure, standing up from your seat. Your eyes light up and your lips are tugged into the brightest smile he’s ever seen on you, running up to him with much force, arms only dangling by your sides,

before you pass him and he finds himself turning around, watching you envelope Lee Jeno in a fierce embrace.

“That was so good! You did so well, oh my god!” you cheer.

The euphoria fades. Yangyang’s smile drops only a little.

I WISH THERE WAS A SITUATION TO BE MAD AT, OR A PERSON I COULD BLAME

Sitting cross-legged at the edge of your bed, strumming your guitar softly, the sun starts setting and the orange hue makes the features of your face soften. Your room turns into a quiet abode, only filled with the sound of the guitar, mindless chords blending together beautifully as Yangyang continues playing, staring at your face.

“You know you still have to pay me if you call this a guitar lesson, right?” he says, watching you as you lay on your bed, legs pressed against the wall and your head hanging off the edge of the mattrace.

“Yeah,” you reply, “it is a lesson, just so you know.”

“You haven’t picked up the guitar the whole time I’m here,” Yangyang notes, laughing.

“I’m practising listening today,” you mumble, looking at him with eyes squinted from your teasing grin.

“Didn’t realise I was your personal jukebox.”

“Shut up and continue serenading me, won’t you?”

Snickering at your comment, Yangyang continues to mindlessly strum the guitar, wondering how and when exactly he got into this situation. A few weeks ago, he didn’t even know about your existence, and now, he’s locked up with you in your bedroom multiple times a week, giving you guitar lessons and sharing small-talk with you when you invite him for dinner to your parents’ kitchen and feed him dry cereal instead.

He’s not confident enough to sing in front of you just yet, but humming the lyrics in his brain is enough for him in this situation, for they fit the whole scenery with a 100% accuracy; I think I've lost my mind/ blurring the fact and the fiction/whilst simultaneously fixing/myself up with a girl named Panadol.

“Have you ever written a song?” you ask suddenly, not once initiating eye contact with him as your head is still hung down the edge of the bed.

“Not really,” he replies, but if the two of us continue meeting this often, I might start, he thinks. “You?”

Humming, you take a few seconds before you reply to him. “I have.”

Your words surprise him, making him halt in his movements. “No shit,” he blurts out in awe, “show me!”

Awkwardly laughing to yourself, you finally plop yourself up on the bed and sit opposite of him, shaking your head in disapproval. “No. Not a chance.”

“Come on!” he insists. “You can’t expect me to not be curious about it, now that you mentioned it.”

“We don’t know each other well enough for me to show it to you,” you mumble, “not even Aeri knows about it.”

“We meet up multiple times a week, and since I’m your trusted guitar teacher, I think I deserve to hear your music progress,” Yangyang pouts, trying very desperately to get you to show him what you’ve written.

“There’s no use in trying, you won’t convince me,” you laugh, set on your decision.

“What do I gotta do, then?” he snickers. “Play 21 questions with you?”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “maybe I’ll show you after that.”

Knowing damn well that you won’t– because Yangyang knows that it’s not as easy to show someone you don’t know that well something that you treasure so close to your heart– he nods and sets the guitar aside, getting ready to play the stupid game with you, just so he can finally know more about you. Sure, he might just learn some trivia about you; things that barely matter in the bigger picture that is life, but he will get anything he can, because you’re basically his biggest interest in life at the moment, right behind music.

“Okay,” you nudge him with your foot, “shoot.”

“Why do I always gotta start?” he gasps, a little offended.

“Because!”

“Okay, alright,” he rolls his eyes, “what’s your favourite colour?”

Sighing at his generic question, you shrug and point towards your torso, hugged in a grey hoodie. Realising it’s the same one you were wearing when you two first met, Yangyang smiles a little, but resolves into teasing you again. “That’s not a colour, that’s a shade.”

“Don’t disagree with me,” you snap back, furrowing your brows. “It’s a colour.”

“It’s a shade of black, actually, so it can’t be your favourite colour-”

“Fuck, okay,” you roll your eyes at him again, irritated, “fine. When did you start playing the guitar?” you ask, changing the subject.

Searching through his mind for an answer, Yangyang hums, lost in thought. “I think I was like eleven, or something?” he says, sounding more unsure than in his final exams, when he forgot what the topic was about.

“Eleven?”

“Yeah. My mum got me my first guitar for my eleventh birthday. I kind of sucked, but I enjoyed it anyway,” he says, smiling to himself.

“When did you first want to be in a band?” you ask again.

“If you ask now, that means you’ve wasted another one of your questions and I can go twice in the row next time-”

“Just answer the damn question, Yang!” you curse at him, playfully hitting his knee.

“Jeez, alright,” he mutters, “chill out.”

“I can’t chill out if you take the rules of 21 questions this literally!”

“Okay, okay!” he puts his hands up in a defending motion, grinning at the annoyance in your face. Something about pushing you over the edge, making you completely annoyed with his antics, makes a spark of joy illuminate his insides. It’s like he’s doing his job right– getting on your nerves, but still being the tiniest bit endearing with it. “It’s actually kind of funny, you know.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “I was in surgery when I was like… nine? Maybe ten, I’m not entirely sure. And when I was in a coma, I had this dream where I was on the stage performing my most favourite song, and I had the best time ever. So that’s kind of when I decided that this is what I wanna do when I grow up.”

Looking at him with endearance, you laugh at his story. The noise makes Yangyang feel like he’s on cloud 9 again, the state of euphoria you bring him into once again swimming through his veins like he’s on drugs.

“No way!” you giggle.

“I’m serious!”

Laying on the bed, getting more and more comfortable in his presence, you plop your feet into Yangyang’s lap and rest your head in your crossed hands. The sight of you like this, making physical contact with him, comfy and snuggled up in the blanket, Yangyang almost makes his imagination run too far. It almost feels like he’s in your personal space, the only person you let in, it’s like he’s your boyfriend, sitting in your room and chatting about everything and nothing at all at the same time, just enjoying your time together.

“Your turn now,” you say, waiting for his question.

Humming in response, he carelessly rests his hands on your ankles, finding their place there as if they were made to be there from the very start. “What is your song about?”

“Yangyang.”

“What? I didn’t ask you to sing it to me, or to show it to me. I’m simply just asking about it, that’s different,” he explains, a voice of a know-it-all that always got on everyone’s nerves.

“Still! Can’t you ask something else, then? I’ll answer everything, but that.”

“Okay. What’s the name of the song?” he asks, grinning teasingly.

“Okay, that’s it. We’re not playing anymore-”

“Fine!” he stops you, tugging you back to your place by your ankles when you dare to move away, as if you wanted to escape him altogether. “I have another one.”

“I swear to god that if you mention my song again, I will physically-”

“When did you start liking Lee Jeno?” he asks.

Your voice cuts out, the whole moment freezes. He feels like he’s in a youtube video, put on pause, stood in the same motion, holding the same expression. In reality, he’s trying to stay stone cold, expression stale, so you don’t realise just how much he cares about your feelings towards the boy.

You’re shocked, he can see it in your face. Maybe no one’s ever noticed before. Maybe he’s the first one; but the truth is, it’s not that difficult to see when you get so cheerful whenever he’s around, subtly touching him and sending compliments and light-hearted teasing his way whenever you get the chance.

Or maybe it’s not that obvious at all. Maybe Liu Yangyang just pays too much attention to who’s the object of your interest.

Strange, isn’t it?

PILLOWS PRESSED UNDER YOUR KNEES

Grinning to himself, playing the last few notes of the song Jeno and his friends wrote a few months ago, Yangyang finds you sitting at the old couch in front of him, your phone pointed towards the little show. The video of him playing the guitar will soon hit your Instagram stories, and Yangyang will widely grin as he realises it’s him that you’re showing to the whole world on your social media, and not Lee Jeno, as one would expect.

Once the song is done and over, you clap with much excitement and Yangyang smiles at you. The band practice is now over and he moves to the guitar case he left next to you on the floor, hiding his guitar in it so it doesn’t get damaged.

“That was good,” Jeno says, sitting at the armchair in the far right of the garage, getting out a pack of cigarettes from somewhere and lighting one between his lips, “we’re gonna rock that show. It’s good you got the songs so fast, Yangyang, or else we would be fucked.”

“I’m a professional,” he shrugs with a grin, earning himself a laugh from Chenle.

Sitting on the couch next to you, he finds himself enveloped in a weird sense of euphoria and excitement. In a week, he’ll be playing his first ever concert– Jeno said not a lot of people will attend, since they’re not known as much in the town, but it’s still something. A first step towards something, if you will. And Yangyang is happy with taking things slow this time around. Sure, he’d be happier if the band wasn’t called Chucky Tribute, and yes, admittedly, he’d be glad if the songs he played were his and the lyrics were more thought-out and not as surface-level as they are, but he’s happy with what he’s got. Better than nothing, right?

“I better head home soon,” Yangyang mumbles, standing up from his spot on the orange couch. Being around all those people without Renjun still feels kind of awkward, but he concludes that he can work on it some other day.

“We’ll just pack our things and go as well,” Hendery nods, “this was a good one, guys!”

“Man, I would do anything for a spicy McChicken right now,” you mutter, looking around at Jeno, “wanna order and watch Netflix?” you ask him, the question feeling like a knife in Yangyang’s back.

The thing is, you two established that Jeno is the guy you like a few weeks ago, back in your room. Yangyang promised to himself that he’ll try to get over you, but it’s not as easy as it seems when you’re everywhere he goes; your presence is enough to make him like you even more and more, and that’s a fact that feels more like a curse than a blessing.

“Nah, I’m not really feeling it today,” Jeno mutters, not even meeting your eyes as he scrolls through his phone and takes another drag of his cigarette, letting the ash fall to the dirty floor.

“Oh,” you say, the hint of disappointment in your voice is too noticeable, breaking Yangyang’s heart a little. He wonders how Jeno could be so blind, and mentally curses at him for turning you down, because god knows that if he was in his place, he’d never say no to you. “ I- I better go as well, then…”

Paying your goodbyes to the rest of the band, Yangyang finds himself outside of Lee Jeno’s garage, hesitantly scratching his neck with the offer he’s about to propose. “Still up for that spicy McChicken?”

“Hm?” you hum in question, looking at him with big eyes.

“We can drive to Maccies together, if you wanna. I’m starving,” he proposes, seeing something behind your eyes shift– perhaps relief, or hope, from seeing that someone is still up for hanging out with you, even though you’ve been turned down from the object of your desire.

Kicking the rocks under your feet, you shrug. “I mean… I’m down, I guess.”

“Okay, sweet,” he nods, striding towards his little Volkswagen Golf that he got from his father when he decided to buy a new car, “let’s go.”

Your body drags itself into his white car, slumping into the passenger’s seat. The disappointment in you is still very much seen in the slouching of your shoulders and the frown that is ever-so delicately written into your face, but Yangyang makes it his quest to make you feel better. Turning the engine on and turning up the music in the radio, being quite satisfied with himself that he put the Paramore CD in before he left, he drives off Jeno’s driveway and strolls through the city, into the McDonald’s at the edge of the town. The one in the centre is closer, but that one doesn’t have a parking lot– that’s why he’s opting for the safer choice.

When he finally gets there and parks in one of the vacant parking spots with much struggle, to be fair, since this was the part where he almost didn’t make his driving test when he was getting his licence, you follow him outside of the car, a little more stride in your step than before. When you get into the McDonald’s and find your place in the line of people wanting to order, Yangyang’s body situates itself right behind you, looking through the menu. He usually gets the chicken wrap, but just to be fancy, he will get it with fries and a coke today as well.

“One spicy McChicken,” you order, smiling at the cashier behind the pult.

“Coming right at you. Anything else?”

“No-”

“And one chicken wrap with fries. And two cokes, please,” Yangyang orders, catching a glimpse of your confused expression, “it’s on me,” he mentions, seeing you roll your eyes.

“You know, in any other circumstance, I don’t let men pay for me,” you say, “but I also could not care less today, so go ahead. I’ll pay next time,” you promise, seeing him get his card out and paying for your meal.

Once the order is ready and you two take a seat in one of the ugly red booths in the corner of the room, you unwrap your burger and get right to it. Yangyang watches you with undeniable adoration. Everything about you is full of amazement for him– the way you manage to not get the sauce all over your face, the way you don’t bat an eye over the spice in the burger. He studies your face, grateful that you don’t look at him, but rather watch the world behind the window, making him not caught.

“Want some fries?” he asks, offering you the pack and glancing at you. Turning your head to him, you sigh.

“I really wanna get over him, you know,” you start, putting the burger down and pulling at your hair in frustration, “I hate that I’m still so caught up with him. I despise it. But he’s so sweet, and he’s so charming, and I’ve known him since forever! It’s just so hard to let go of him, but I know that I should, because none of this is good for me in the first place…”

“I mean… that’s not what I was asking, but go ahead,” Yangyang mumbles, seeing you crumble in front of him, all frustrated and heartbroken because of his bandmate.

“It would be easier for me to move on if he was a complete dick, you know,” you mutter, pouting a little from the sadness in your heart. The expression is kind of adorable in Yangyang’s eyes, but a little heartbreaking nonetheless, for he knows the frown is genuine and there’s nothing he can really do about it.

“Give it some time, Y/N,” Yangyang finds himself saying, “time heals everything. Don’t push yourself into anything, because that’s only gonna make you feel worse in the long run. Let yourself feel things, you know,” he shrugs, seeing you watching him with eyes big, resembling pools full of emotion he’s not even going to try to decipher.

Taking a bite from your burger, you smile at him with a full mouth, an expression that would look disgusting coming from anyone else, but you. “Wow,” you say, “didn’t think I’d get actual, useful advice from you, you know.”

Gasping, Yangyang acts hurt. “So you’re saying my advice is useless? Haven't heard you saying that when I teach you the guitar.”

“We could argue and say that that’s not really advice,” you grin, kicking his leg under the table, “but no, I’m serious. Thanks. I guess I really needed to hear that right now.”

Smiling at you, grateful that he was able to help you at least a bit, Yangyang offers you the fries again, watching you take one and plop it into your mouth. “I’m glad you understand me, though. Aeri doesn’t help much, since every time I talk about Jeno, she keeps bad-mouthing him and telling me how I’m blind if I like him that much. You should have heard her what she said when she found out that we-”

Raising his eyebrows at you in question, Yangyang hums. “You?”

“We…” you nervously laugh, trailing off.

“You what?”

“I- well… Promise not to tell anyone? I wouldn’t be telling you this at all, but I already started and you seem like a person that I can trust with this, but please, swear to god that this will stay between you and I only,” you say, quite sincerely, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” he nods, “what is it, then?”

“We… me and Jeno hooked up once,” you say, chewing on the inside of your cheek, eyes drifting away from Yangyang’s, “it… it was a while ago, after one of their shows back in July, and I thought it was getting somewhere after that, but Jeno… Jeno didn’t really seem like he wanted something more, so I just never talked about it with him after that.”

Blinking a few times at you, feeling like someone’s just suddenly unplugged his brain, leaving him with no power to gather his thoughts, he stays silent, trying to process everything. His blood goes cold and the food in his mouth suddenly tastes like dirt, his mood dropping instantly, for Lee Jeno had more of you than Yangyang ever will, and all of that while not caring for you near as much as he does.

“Don’t judge me,” you say, awkwardly laughing to yourself.

“I’m not judging.”

“Yes, you are, I can see it on your face!”

“I’m not judging!” he insists, finishing the last bite of his chicken wrap.

“What is it, then?” you push him, stomping your feet under your table. “Your face changed. You’re judging.”

“Yeah, maybe I am,” he blurts out, “not you, though.”

Looking at Yangyang for a few seconds, your eyes soften. Pulling your lips into a tight line, an expression only vaguely reminding him of a smile, you nod and sigh in understatement.

“Yeah. That’s why I’m getting over him.”

I DREAM OF YOU ALMOST EVERY NIGHT, HOPEFULLY, I WON’T WAKE UP THIS TIME

The drums ring all the way from his feet towards his heart, making it bump quicker and quicker as the rhythm changes and Hendery starts playing the opening melody of their last song of the night. Yangyang scans the crowd once more, trying to engrave it into his brain forever, trying to remember all the faces and all of their expressions, their outfits and haircuts, their lively smiles and cheers coming out of their mouths at each song they perform. This is the first time Yangyang is playing for a crowd that seems to be enjoying itself– he never knew that Chucky Tribute could have this many fans.

According to Chenle and Renjun, Jeno is kind of a big deal at their local university. He can only imagine that half of the crowd are his admirers; each girl in a prettier outfit than the other, screaming louder than the other in a non-spoken competition over his heart.

The view of the crowd enjoying the music is a lovely one, for sure. But when Yangyang’s eyes finally land to the very middle of the crowd, the spot he was saving for last, he realises that the sight of you in the crowd, holding your hands high as you jump around to the familiar songs, occasionally taking a picture of the band or recording a short video, that this sight– the sight of you, is for sure his absolute favourite.

“Are you ready to jump? Let’s go!” Jeno cheers into the microphone, the whole crowd that is currently packed in one of the medium-sized bars in the centre of the town listening to him and doing as he pleases– going absolutely crazy, jumping around and screaming when the chorus hits and some of them recognise the lyrics.

A doll with red hair lands on stage, thrown there by a grinning girl in the first row, making Jeno chuckle and take it from its spot on the floor. Yangyang soon realises it’s Chucky– Jeno’s most favourite fictional character, the one he named his band after. It’s kind of funny, the sight of the rockstar running around with the doll in his hands, screaming the lyrics to his song, and he almost lets out a loud laugh when the frontman gets to his new guitarist and makes the doll rest at his biceps, like a newborn baby. The crowd laughs at that, followed by a loud cheer, as they like the sight of their new guitarist and find it funny.

The sense of euphoria that comes with the last chorus is something Yangyang never knew he could feel. Lost in the music, enjoying the melody of a song he didn’t know a few weeks ago, he feels at home. He’s not good with crowds of people, for he always feels like he is watched and judged, examined by a microscope, but right now, he feels like he is in one unity with everyone present– music connects them all, no barriers left.

“Thank you so much everyone, this was Chucky Tribute! Make sure to stream our music on Spotify and Soundcloud, we’ll see you again soon!” Jeno says, moving to the edge of the podum and bowing, leaving the band to follow his lead and wave at everyone as the group leaves the stage.

Running off the stage, still grinning, Yangyang chugs some water in the backroom and once again, packs his guitar. If anyone would see him right now, they’d surely think he won a lottery or something, with how cheerful and genuinely happy the boy looks.

“The best part of playing at bars is the thing that comes after,” Jeno laughs, making Yangyang furrow his brows in confusion.

“Now, we party,” Hendery concludes, shooting a serious look at the newbie.

Once they’ve wiped their sweat off and drank some more water, the small group is heading towards the door to the bar. Now, Yangyang is not usually the one up for a party, but today is a special day. Of course he won’t miss out on the first afterparty with his new band.

You find him at the entrance. Your smile mirrors his, and your eyes only leave him for a second, as Jeno passes by and you greet him with a strange sense of politeness. Once Yangyang is close enough to run towards, you envelope him in a bear hug, jumping around in excitement. He takes notice of your perfume– this is not the first time he’s smelled it, but the light aroma of roses and vanilla always manages to make him feel a strange sense of bliss.

“You did so well! Oh my god, I’m so proud of you!” you yell encouraging words into his ear, making him jump a little from the loudness of your voice.

“Thank you!” he says, jumping around with you and squeezing you harder for a mere second. Something about you being the first one to congratulate him on the first step towards his big goal makes his heart swell, the sight of the light behind your eyes making him feel a tad emotional.

“Now let’s go party! Renjun and Jaemin are waiting at the bar,” you say as you move from him, “Jun ordered you a beer, he insisted that you liked it. If that’s not the case, blame him, not me.”

Laughing as you two disappear deeper into the bar, you quickly find the two at the bar, accompanied with Hendery, Chenle, and who he remembered was Mark, even though he’s only met him once. “Where’s Jeno?”

“Most likely somewhere with his groupies,” Renjun shrugs, sliding the beer closer to his best friend. “You did well, by the way. You looked like a rockstar,” he says, a teasing tone sent his way with a grin on the older one’s face.

“Oh, shut the fuck up-”

“I mean it! Now, have your beer so we can get some shots,” he says, making Yangyang roll his eyes and chug the beer, although not in one go– he’s not a monster. Or an alcoholic. Yet.

Once he’s done with his drink, the group moves to one of the booths in the corner of the bar. It was full just a moment ago, but the group that was sitting there before left, so they were free to take their spot. It was more comfortable to sit on the royal-blue sofas than the tall, lanky barstools, and Yangyang was happy for the support of the cushions under his bottom, if he was about to drink more. His centre of gravity is always a little messed up once he has something to drink, so a tall barstool wouldn’t really help him in this case.

Glancing at you, sitting right next to him, you don’t seem as unhappy with Jeno’s lack of presence. It makes him feel a bit relieved, especially after the talk you two had at McDonald’s a week ago. He knows that one can’t just get over someone in a week, but the idea of you still yearning after someone who was so out of reach was making Yangyang’s head hurt, so he was happy to see that you’re not running after him, or trying to look for him in the crowded bar.

You take your phone out of your pocket, yelling over the loud music as you read out the text shining on the screen of your phone. “Hyuck should arrive here any minute! He says he’s sorry for missing the gig, but he had to watch his baby sister, so there was nothing he could do.”

“It’s okay!” Chenle yells back, taking another sip of one of the cocktails you ordered for him when he was still in the back. He complained about it looking too girly for his current look, but he liked the taste nonetheless, so the argument was quickly settled.

“Yeah!” Yangyang chimes in, “family comes first. And babysitting,” he adds.

“Wait! Didn’t you use to babysit too?” Jaemin asks over the music, pointing his eyes at Yangyang.

“He did!” Renjun agrees with a laugh.

“But they kicked him out because the girl he was babysitting learned the word fuck from him,” you add, laughing as you remember the story he told you once when he was over at your flat.

“That’s not why they fired me-”

“It was! You told me!”

“It really wasn’t, you’re just-”

“Listen. We all know that’s why, every other word that comes out of your mouth is a swear word,” you say, grinning at him as he gets worked up over the small argument.

“I don’t fucking swear-” he tries to argue, when it hits him. He… he just did. Right there.

“Anyways!” Jaemin chimes in to lighten the mood, “I believe it’s time for shots!”

“I-”

“No, Hendery, you can’t skip this round and no, we don’t care that sambuca makes you sick. Now, let’s get to it, lads!”

The shot glasses with the clear liquid are distributed amongst everyone in the circle, all of them taking the shot. Once the glass is pressed against Yangyang’s lips, he catches a telling look from Renjun on the opposite side of the table; a one that asks what is going on between you and the girl you were too shy to talk to when you first met her, but he ignores it and just lets the sambuca shot hit his throat, swallowing. No one is brave enough to not make that disgusted face after taking a shot, but at least no one gets made fun of. Just yet.

With Yangyang’s low alcohol tolerance, he can sense that the teasing is only yet to come.

More and more shots in, he can feel his head spinning and all jokes shared along the group get only funnier. Somewhere along the way, Hyuck arrives, squishing himself next to Mark at the edge of the seat, greeting everyone and congratulating Yangyang on his first ever gig. When there’s a promise to drink to that with him, Yangyang is suddenly tugged by his hand, making him almost fall over as you try to make him stand up from his place.

“No, pretty boy, you’ve had enough for now,” you say, “let’s dance it out, shall we?”

“Probably not the best idea, Y/N,” Renjun notes from the other side of the table.

“We’ll be fine.”

“No, you don’t understand, like, he will fall over. It will happen,” Renjun explains once more, the sureness in his voice not making you even bat an eye.

Yangyang doesn’t even try to advocate himself. There’s no use– Renjun is most likely right, and he will fall over. But he also doesn’t really pay attention to the conversation you’re having anyway, when your hand is still in his, fingers intertwined, and the nickname you used for him, although a little mockingly, is still ringing in his head.

Dragged across the dance floor, you two find your place in the corner, where there’s not that many people around. It’s getting late and the bar is only getting more crowded, leading towards the rush of the night, but Yangyang doesn’t find himself minding as you hug him loosely around his neck and swing with him to the music playing through the speakers.

“Are you alright?” you ask, looking at him with honest concern.

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Do you feel sick? Do you want water?” you ask him questions, all caring and making his heart swell. No one’s ever made sure he was okay when drinking before, so the sight of the frown on your face is making him feel content in your hold, as he dances with you– although not really catching the rhythm, since balance is the thing he’s trying to catch at this very moment.

“I’m fine,” he says, smiling at you, “just a little drunk.”

“I can see that,” you laugh, “are you having a good time?”

He nods. “Are you?”

“I am,” you agree, smiling at him.

Yangyang finds himself pressed closer to you, but it really might just be because of the alcohol, when he talks closer to your ear. He doesn’t have to yell as much this way, and he finds it more comfortable, considering that he would still like to have his voice when he wakes up in the morning.

“Thanks,” he says.

“For what?”

“For… watching me play, I guess,” he shrugs, “and for staying here after.”

“I think you’re forgetting that all those other people are my friends as well, Yang,” you tease him, the tone of your voice making him shake his head in disbelief and roll his eyes at you.

“Okay, well, that’s true. But… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I do. I just don’t know how to articulate myself.”

You laugh at the simple honesty behind his drunken slurs, finding the tired boy endearing. “It’s okay,” you don’t push him.

“It’s just… if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here tonight, that’s all,” he says, finally, not knowing that he secretly articulated everything he wanted and more, making you smile at him.

One of the hands that was previously clasped with your other one around his neck moves up towards his face, brushing the hair that’s falling into his eyes out of his face. The boy watches you with big eyes, mouth a little agape in shock. This action feels intimate to him, only treasured between you two, tugged secretly in the corner of the club. He feels weak in his knees, and although he manages to hold himself up, he knows that it’s no longer the effect that alcohol has on him, but yours.

“Don’t thank me. You were made for this,” you say, “you shined out there, you know? Give it a few more gigs and you’ll have even more groupies than Jeno,” you giggle, pressing your forehead against his for a brief second, just to be close to him, allowing yourself to be sincere even in the loud atmosphere of the night.

Swallowing hard, Yangyang chuckles airly, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “You should probably stop looking at me like that.”

“What? Why?” you ask, confused.

“Because it’s making it really hard for me to act like I don’t like you,” he confesses, watching your expression shift– the wrinkle between your eyebrows appearing for a second before your palm moves away from his hair and briefly touches his cheek and you move away from him, shaking your head.

“You’re drunk, Yang.”

He is. But even being sober can’t make his feelings for you go away.

“Yeah. I am.”

KISS ME LIKE NOBODY WOULD WHEN I WAS SIXTEEN

When you and Yangyang meet, it’s usually either at your place, in your little room covered by posters and artwork, or in town with all your other friends; going to the skate park, or having boba at the local mall. You rarely have time for just each other alone, and the only times when Yangyang has you all for himself is in your quiet room, where you learn to play the guitar, and he stares at you with fondness when he casually plays you love songs just for the sake of playing something, not wanting you to see the intentions behind his song choices.

Today, though, you’re nestled at Yangyang’s place– at his little balcony, to be exact. His parents were going out to the theatre, they said, so you only met them briefly, but Yangyang is glad for that fact, because he’s almost certain they’d embarrass him in front of you with childhood stories or prying questions, assuming you two were together, and he’s not entirely ready to face that yet.

Alone in the whole house, you tucked yourselves into the small space of the balcony, sat at the floor with pillows under your bottoms, looking out to the hills. Yangyang used to complain to his parents about the placement of the balcony– when he was little, he didn’t understand why someone would want to look outside and see nature, only metres and metres covered in tall trees, when they could look out and see the busy street, people living their lives, laughing and screaming in joy. The older he gets, though, the more he understands why this is so much better; the sight of nature calms him down, creating the balcony into a humble abode, a relaxing spot for him to watch the trees move with the wind. If he’s lucky, sometimes, he can even spot a stray deer, looking out of the forest, tasting the city on its tongue. He subliminaly tells it to come back where it came from, for it’s safer for the animal to be kept in the woods, but he feels like the sight of it makes him appreciate what he has even more.

It’s early November, the leaves of the trees in front of you are starting to turn all the pretty colours of the rainbow, orange hues making the place look ethereally beautiful. You sit next to him, legs crossed, your outfit the most casual he’s ever seen you wear. The sight of sweatpants and the loose hoodie on your frame makes him unconditionally happy, for it means that you’re comfortable with him to the point of not even needing to dress up.

“Why is your guitar so different to mine?” you ask him, furrowing your brows in question.

“Mine’s an acoustic, yours is the classical one. The strings are different,” he notes, seeing you nod in understatement.

Your guitar lessons are not as frequent as they used to be– truth be told, you only paid for an actual lesson a few times. The other times, when you two just laid in your bed and talked about everything, only sometimes taking your guitar into your hands and playing a song or two, Yangyang refused to take any money from you. It would be like paying him for hanging out with you, and that’s not the case here. Sure, he helps you with playing, he shares advice, but it’s not the regular guitar class he gives to the kids in the neighbourhood, and that’s why he’d feel bad to make you pay for them.

“They hurt my fingers,” you scowl, making Yangyang giggle at your hurt expression.

“They’re harder to play, ‘cause they’re steel,” he says, “want me to play instead?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head, “I wanna show you something.”

Opening his eyes wide in surprise, Yangyang only nods, becoming you to start. When you came over into your room, you didn’t say much. Your eyes travelled around the walls, adoring the few posters he hung up above his bed, squinting at the collection of energy drink cans at the top of his wardrobe. There’s a bowl full of guitar picks on his table, which you scanned over faintly, and a hoodie, the only thing he forgot to clean up before you arrived, draped over his chair. When your eyes found one of his guitars– the acoustic one– in the corner of his room, you asked to borrow it, taking him by surprise.

Strumming the guitar a few times, testing it, trying to get to the rhythm and the sound of the new thing, you clear your throat and look at him again one last time before you start. “I practised some more, since your guitar lessons are pretty much useless now, when you won’t shut up for one minute-”

“That’s entirely your fault!”

“Whatever,” you mumble, “but, basically, I think I finally learned that song.”

Smiling faintly, perhaps a little nervously, you start playing the song you requested him to teach you in your first guitar lesson. The chords fall smoothly from your hand now, the strumming rhythmical and exactly like the original, everything falling into its place nicely.

You even start singing, and although your voice is not the prettiest one when you sing, the notes sounding flat and the high-notes a little shaky, although your voice isn’t like from the movies and you’re not a princess that’s good at everything, something about this moment feels truly special to Yangyang. When you notice the seriousness of the whole thing, his examining eyes and the lost expression, your singing turns more silly, purposefully not hitting the right notes towards the end of the song, dragging the lines for longer than you should, making Yangyang laugh.

He thinks that perhaps, he’ll remember this moment forever. When he’s old and the memory of you fades, his brain no longer able to make out the sound of your voice, he’ll go back to this day, to the strumming of the guitar, and he’ll have you back, for at least a second. He’ll remember the way your hair reflected in the golden hour, he’ll remember the sound of your voice when you sang the chorus of the song, he’ll remember the way you smiled at him after, a little proud, but still shy, and he’ll feel the same things he does today, looking at you in real time.

“How was it?” you ask, a hopeful glint in your tone.

“Wonderful,” he replies, and he means it– it’s an easy song to learn, sure, but he knows how much you’ve tried, how much work you truly put in. To work on something so hard and finally get to the goal, must feel fulfilling. He’s proud of you, in a way.

The grin that appears on your face is wider than he’d ever seen, as you put the guitar down next to you and try to battle it, as if you were afraid to show him just how much this moment meant to you.

“Thank you.”

“For what? This was all you, as you said, because I can’t shut up for one minute in our guitar lessons, so…”

“Fuck off, you know I was only joking,” you say, “we both know that I wouldn’t have done this without you. It’s a small victory, but it’s still important to me nonetheless.”

Your body shifts closer to him, a hesitant look on your face flashing for a second before you wipe it off and hug your companion from the side, both of your hands enveloping around his torso. Warmness spreads all through Yangyang’s body, making him wonder that perhaps, it’s the appreciation you are trying to convey, sending it to him through your touch. Your head rests on his shoulder, staying in your position for a few more minutes, just listening to the silence that’s only occasionally ruined by the chirping of birds or the shuffling of the wind in the trees.

Yangyang doesn’t dare to break the silence. He only lets you do as you please, when you pry your hands off him and move so you’re more comfortable, with your head still resting on his shoulder. It’s a simple act, but it means a lot to him– a subtle hint of affection, perhaps, which he treasures close to his heart.

Your hand silently finds his, resting in his lap. Taking it into your hold and playing with his fingers, Yangyang finds it hard to not think about just how much he’d like to kiss you right now. The smell of your shampoo mixed with the hint of your perfume hits his nose, lullying him to sleep.

A little naive, perhaps, he thinks of the paradox– you started playing the guitar for someone you were chasing after, and proceeded with it for someone that was chasing after you.

Or maybe, it was all because of yourself. You just needed someone that would support your little dreams. And with the dreams treasured somewhere deep in Yangyang’s insides, some that no one else but you knows, perhaps you two are a great duo. Nobody else would hold you up just as much as he does.

SO SPIN THE BOTTLE IN YOUR BRAIN AND MATCH THE WEAKNESS WITH A NAME

“If I knew that you’d just be doing your homework, I wouldn’t have come,” Yangyang mumbles as he lays on your bed, looking at his phone. His screen shifts with Tiktoks– the social media is almost embarrassingly too addictive for him not to check up on it once in a while, and now, when he has nothing better to do, he naturally gravitates towards it.

Also, just for the record, that’s a lie. And he knows it– he just won’t admit it. Of course he would come anyway. Even if you told him that today’s activity is staring at the ceiling for three hours straight, he’d come. He’d come for any event you invite him to, because it means that he can spend time with you, stay in your presence. And that’s enough for him.

“Shut up,” you mumble, “I already pushed this assignment back too much, because you wanted to go get boba the other day.”

“So it’s my fault you’re late on assignments?” he gasps, offended, as he puts his phone down to put his whole attention towards you.

“Yeah,” you nod, a little absently, “of course it is. You were distracting me from my studies.”

Scoffing, Yangyang shakes his head in disbelief. Truth be told, he’s happy to be your distraction. That means you gravitate towards him whenever you need to get your mind off things– that means he’s your safe space, in a way. The realisation warms his heart a little as he proceeds to climb off your bed, joining you on the floor.

You’re sprawled out on your white fluffy carpet, with a plastic white tablecloth thrown over the surface, a canvas plopped in the middle of it all, tubs of acrylic paint carelessly situated all over the floor. As an art major, your homework is different to the usual. You don’t write lengthy essays, although the time for them comes every once in a while when you take your Art History class. Your assignments mostly include doing art itself, not only studying it, but experiencing the beauty of creating on your own skin.

“What are you painting?” he asks, eyes scanning the canvas.

It’s not a big one, it’s just the right size to fit on the plastic covering under it, making sure your pure white carpet doesn’t get paint stains on it. He notices the brushes all over the place– one is even thrown under the bed, making Yangyang chuckle as he remembers your sudden outburst of frustration a few minutes ago, huffing through the silence and throwing something to the other side of the room.

“Don’t look. I hate when people look.”

“Why?” he asks, confused.

“It makes me feel watched. I don’t like it,” you mourn, stopping in your process and finding his eyes for a split second, truth mirroring in them.

“I’m not watching you,” he mutters, “I’m just looking. I’m appreciating the art, if you will.”

“You’re gonna judge it. I hate when people judge my art,” you say as you get back to painting, mixing the shades on your pallet and then moving back to the canvas, plopping them on there, creating all sorts of images in the small space, “it makes me wanna cry when they say it’s bad.”

“Isn’t that like… the whole point of art school?” he asks, confused.

“Yeah. Exactly,” you nod, making the boy hum in understatement. “Makes me feel fucking miserable, to be honest.”

Yangyang chuckles. The room falls into silence again, as you let him watch you paint. He feels special, for you said you don’t let people watch you, but even with his eyes plastered on the whole scene– your art, but mostly you, scanning your focused face– you don’t glare at him, you don’t curse him off, you just let him peacefully sit next to you, appreciating you.

After a while, you start to hum a song, seemingly happy with your progress on the painting. Your eyebrows relax and your face doesn’t look as tense, and when Yangyang takes a look at your painting, it seems like you’re almost finished; not a blank space left on the canvas, your hand taking the smallest, tiniest brushes, adding small details to the whole thing.

“What did you paint?” he asks again, making you chuckle.

“Don’t you have eyes?” you ask, making him roll his eyes at your question.

“I do,” he replies, “but I wanna know what it symbolises, you know. Like.. What was the theme you were supposed to paint and shit, that’s what I’m interested in.”

Your eyes meet his for a brief second, smiling. Perhaps no one’s ever asked you about your art in such depth before. “It’s a William Oliver replica. It’s a scene from Much Ado about Nothing,” you say, finally done with your piece, stretching back to straighten your neck.

The painting is a beautiful scenery, Yangyang would even go as far as saying it looks like the original, although he’s never seen it before. It’s a picture of two women sitting on a bench in the woods, one of them looking past her shoulder at a couple walking by, her expression distraught. He wonders why you chose the piece, but before he has time to ask, you’re already giving him the reply.

“We were supposed to replicate a painting that resembles one of our deepest emotions and… I chose this one,” you add, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Taking one last look at the saddened woman, her expression dark and solemn with the sight of the couple passing by, Yangyang suddenly understands it all, he no longer has the need to ask you what the deepest emotion you have is, because it’s clear as day, right there in front of him, served on a golden plate.

And you might try to mask it, try to hide it from him as hard as you can; perhaps that’s why you haven’t told him the original name of the painting, after all, but he can see it in your eyes, he can sense it in the way you speak about him when he comes to your mind.

Perhaps Yangyang understands your art so well because he deeply resonates. He too feels the way you do, he too looks at a pair passing by, the sight of them together making his heart clench with the feeling you can only describe as Unrequited Love.

I CAN STILL SMELL HER PERFUME, DID IT RUB OFF ON YOU?

“And…” Jeno’s singing suddenly trails off, his eyes shooting towards the ceiling as he searches for the next lyrics in his head, sighing when they don’t come to him as naturally as they always do. The band practice isn’t going well today, and frankly speaking, it’s getting on everyone’s nerves.

Hendery slams the drums with much furiosity, cutting the rhythm off abruptly. Yangyang finds himself following him, his strumming coming to a halt as an angry figure appears from behind him, screaming close to his ear.

“What the fuck, man?” Chenle yells at the leader of the band, sighing. “We have a gig in three days and you can’t even focus on a single band practice?”

Jeno shrugs, pacing around. The frustration smeared all over his face is enough to make the whole group even more annoyed, the tense atmosphere making the air in the old garage feel particularly heavy.

“You come to the practice late,” Chenle starts his little rant again, counting all the reasons why he’s annoyed with his bandmate on his fingers, “and mind you, the practice is at your fucking place. You live here and you’re half an hour late. Then, you’re all over the place; not paying attention to anything we have to say, forgetting the lyrics, playing the chords wrong in the few little songs where you actually have to play the guitar-”

“Are you done?” Jeno cuts him off, the tone of his voice stern and cold.

“I mean, I could go on, but it seems like you don’t really wanna hear it,” Chenle says, pacing towards the sofa and taking a seat on it.

“Glad you caught that,” he scoffs, not meeting anyone’s eye.

Yangyang doesn’t say a word; he’s not the one for verbal or physical fights. Sure, he does have some pent-up anger inside of him, most of it aimed towards Jeno, but he won’t dare to show it. It’s not his place to say anything. He hasn’t been in the band for long, and for all he knows, the frustration he feels towards the boy may as well be because of the unreciprocated feelings you have for him. And now, that wouldn’t really be fair of Yangyang to act on, would it?

So instead, he wanders over to the corner of the room, figuring that it’s time for a break, sitting on one of the old, dusty armchairs.

“What’s gotten into you?” Hendery asks, making the other boy frown.

“I don’t know, man,” he shrugs, indifferent, “I’ve got a headache.”

“Hangover again?” Chenle asks, the tone of his voice ironical and snappy, snickering to himself when the boy doesn’t reply and instead just looks ahead of him, too shameful to answer the simple question. “Of course. I could’ve guessed that.”

“Look, it’s not my fault that you don’t take the opportunities you’re getting into your hands,” Jeno shrugs, grinning to himself. Leaning over to the small coffee table in the middle of the garage, he takes the can of Redbull into his hands and takes a sip from it.

“What opportunities, you say?” Hendery asks.

“Well,” he starts, “the parties, the invitations, the attention…” he trails off, before a snarky look falls to place onto his face, “the girls…”

Chenle scoffs in response, putting his legs up onto the table. “Maybe if you gave more attention to responsibilities, the music and the band, we wouldn’t be still stuck in this fucking garage,” he shrugs and Hendery only hesitantly locks his eyes with him, nodding to show him that he agrees with his point.

“Well, it’s still my fucking garage, isn’t it?” Jeno grins, meeting the others’ eyes.

After another set of sighs, nothing being able to loosen up the atmosphere and make the air lighter, Hendery moves from his spot on the sofa and takes the bag from the floor. “You should probably get some sleep. We’ll practise tomorrow, since you’re pretty much useless today.”

Chenle follows his actions, feet pacing around the garage to gather his things and hide his treasured bass guitar into the case, taking it with him. “See you tomorrow,” he says, turning around to wave at Yangyang, still sitting soundly in the corner of the garage.

With only the two of them left in the dusty practice room, Yangyang feels himself get awkward. The truth is, it’s easier to get on with Hendery and Chenle. He finds them to be more approachable, less intimidating and also more friendly. Yangyang doesn’t recall ever hearing Jeno speak to him with the niceness they always use, and he also doesn’t remember the prideful boy to ever look at him with eyes that would show that he finds him equal. Something about their relationship is always based on a feeling of superiority and however hard Yangyang tries, there’s nothing he can do to make the feeling go away.

Figuring that it’s his time to leave, he stands up and moves towards the sofa, where his bag is.

“I hope you’re in better shape tomorrow,” he mutters, getting closer to where Jeno’s sitting.

“What, you’re gonna give me another lecture? I’ve heard enough, trust me,” he snaps back, making Yangyang furrow his brows in confusion and shock, sighing to himself. Leaning closer towards his bag on the sofa, something lingers in the air, and it’s not the awkwardness or the unsaid rivalry between the two.

It’s the smell of roses and vanilla, the faint aroma of it hitting his nose and making his stomach twist in anger. Suddenly, everything clicks into place– the hangover, him being late and all over the place, the smell of your perfume lingering on him wherever he goes.

“Were you with Y/N?” he asks.

“What?” he furrows his brows, pointing them onto the other boy as he scoffs. “You’re jealous?”

“Jealous?”

“Yeah. Because I can get her whenever I want, and you can’t?” he says, cocky and full of confidence. “Don’t worry, I caught the way you feel about her long ago. Too bad she’ll never be yours, man.”

Gathering his things, hands trembling and his whole body lighting on fire, he finds himself walking off towards the exit. Turning around only once, he finally gets out what he’s been thinking of for the past few weeks.

“You know what? Fuck you, Jeno. You can look for a new guitarist for your next gig now. I hope you find someone that doesn’t find you absolutely fucking insufferable.”

You might be completely his, magically under the rockstar’s spell, but the truth is, sadly, that Lee Jeno can never be truly yours. You’re always gonna have to share him with every single girl at the club, with all his crazy fans that post about him on Facebook. You’re always just gonna be his second choice, the girl he turns to when no one else is around, the girl he uses for his pleasure when there’s no other person willing to get on with him.

And that makes Yangyang perhaps even more furious than if you were dating.

This might be his deepest dream, the thing he’s felt the most happy and excited about in a long while, but still, he can’t find it in him to continue in a band with someone that only finds you when they feel like it, stripping you off of everything, using you to their best and then throwing you out like a piece of trash, not satisfied with you anymore.

He could never go on with someone like that.

IT’S 3:45, THE TAXI’S NOT ARRIVED, I DON’T THINK THAT HE’S COMING

The rain hitting the asphalt does nothing to make Yangyang feel better about everything– truthfully, it makes him feel even worse, as expected with the gloomy weather, as he walks down the street towards the bus stop at the edge of the neighbourhood, the one that is the furthest away from his house, away in the crevices of the roads that he doesn’t know that well, despite living there his whole life.

It’s a little past eleven and he’s gotten your text just about ten minutes ago. The contents of it were simple, just a single sentence asking him to meet you at the bus stop at the edge of the neighbourhood, far away even from your house alone.

You two haven’t spoken in a little over three days. After quitting the band, he’s pretty much sheltered himself from everyone. Even Renjun’s calls were getting ignored, and while the rest of the group just figured to leave the poor boy alone, his best friend made it his quest to walk down to his house and scream at him in person, for the little angry human was worried that his friend was six feet under a long time ago.

Nearing the little glass box, acting as a bus stop, Yangyang already sees your figure sitting at one of the benches, knees up and pressed towards your chest, hugging yourself. The sight of you makes Yangyang’s heart break just the slightest, for he already knows what’s going on just by reading your text message. It would be healthier for him to stay at home and leave you to deal with everything on your own, but he was never the one for good life choices. Somehow, he always has to fuck himself over. His own sweet self-sabotage.

Drenched in rain, droplets of water falling off the tip of his nose, he finally makes his way towards you and sits on the bench next to you. Sniffling a little, presumably from the cold, he waits for you to talk first. It’s hard for him to find words to say to you at this moment. No conflict happened between the two of you, but he’s sure you already know about what happened between him and Jeno, and he doesn’t have it in him to talk about it. He doesn’t know what you think about the whole thing; he also doesn’t know how Jeno explained it to everyone. All he knows is that the uncomfort he felt whenever he was around him is not something he should be putting up with, and that the decision he made was final, and also good for him, in the end.

“Why didn’t you take an umbrella with you?” you ask him, your voice faint in the silence of the night.

Shrugging, he snickers. “Dunno.”

The truth is, Yangyang doesn’t like umbrellas. Walking anywhere with them feels awkward and embarrassing, and he’d rather die than to feel humiliated. It’s a habit of his, to walk everywhere without an umbrella, even when it’s storming outside. The struggle of getting his wet clothes off before he hops into a hot shower is not really worth it, if he really thinks about it, but old habits are hard to break.

Taking the hood off his head, Yangyang runs his hands through his hair, shaking the water out. You lean away from him for just a second, trying to shield yourself from the droplets of water flying everywhere, but there’s no use– you end up getting a little wet anyway.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he finally breaks off the awkward silence. “There are no buses coming at this hour.”

You nod. “I know.”

“So… why are you here, then?” he asks.

Shrugging, you sniffle from the cold as well, making Yangyang notice the lightness of your clothes. The fabric looks thin, the mesh long-sleeve doing nothing to shield you from the cold, and he suddenly regrets not bringing another jacket with him to keep you warm.

“You already know why, Yangyang,” you mumble, “you already know.”

“What happened?” he asks.

The truth is, Yangyang has a faint idea. He may have quit the band, but he hasn’t forgotten the schedule yet– today is the day of the gig. It’s a special one, presumably, because it’s away from the town. A big bar somewhere in a big city called Chucky Tribute to play on the opening night, so there must be a lot of people there, leading the band to getting more recognition than ever before. Everyone went– the whole friend group, including Renjun and Donghyuck, although the latter always seems to be late everywhere. Everyone went… except for you two.

“Jeno was supposed to drive me,” you say, “but he never showed up. I called him numerous times, sent him lots of texts, but he just wouldn’t reply.”

“Have you tried reaching the others?” he asks.

“I have. They arrived safely, had a great show…. Jeno didn’t mention me… you know, it’s funny,” you chuckle ironically, bitterness behind your tone, “Jaemin thought I just didn’t feel like coming today. They’re all there and now I look like a douchebag that doesn’t want to support their friends. It’s ridiculous.”

“That makes two of us,” Yangyang scoffs, trying to lighten the situation.

Humming, you only resolve to nod. “Then, Jeno texted me saying he’ll send a taxi for me and that I should wait here.”

“He did?”

“Yeah,” you faintly reply, shuddering from the cold. “So I’m… waiting, I guess.”

Yangyang smiles to himself. Everything about you screams devastation– the way your eyes don’t meet his, the way you refuse to change your position into another one, hugging yourself to comfort. The makeup under your eyes is a little smeared, but he won’t mention it. You look devastatingly lonely, and something about you texting Yangyang just to battle the feeling makes him feel at least a little valued by you. It’s a sign of something– a sign of your trust, perhaps.

You’re waiting for Jeno’s taxi. It should make him seep in envy, but it doesn’t. Strange.

“You know, I finished my song the other day. I could show it to you sometime,” you say, starting a conversation, “it had a lot to fix and I wasn’t quite happy with it, but I think you’d like it. It’s… it means a lot to me.”

“Sure,” Yangyang nods, scooping himself closer to you. Seeing you shudder from the cold once again, he bites on his lower lip, hesitating on his next question, but saying it out-loud nonetheless. “I know this might sound a bit out of place and as if I’m being stingy by not offering it to you, but I’m really cold as well, so do you wanna share my jacket?”

Looking at him for the first time since he got there, you shake your head in disbelief and break out into a grin. “You’re unbelievable,” you say, “but yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Moving closer, Yangyang takes off one of the sleeves on his jacket, pressing his side flush to yours, watching you as you take his jacket and drape it over your right side. Soon enough, taking the boy by surprise, your left arm moves under the jacket and hugs him around the waist, making yourself more comfortable in the awkward position.

“Thank god for your ridiculously oversized clothing,” you mumble as you sigh in warmness, making him snicker.

Sitting in silence, the time passing without either of you knowing or noticing, the intimacy and closeness of you two occupying both of your minds, Yangyang wonders how he ended up in this mess. Living his teenage dream for a little over a month, playing one show, getting to know you and falling for you harder than he’s ever fallen for anyone before. He thinks he’d rather be unaware of his growing feelings for you. It’s not like they hurt him, it’s not like the idea of not being loved back by you makes his heart break or anything, but he feels like slowly, it’s ripping on his edges and making him feel a little worn-out.

He wonders why your actions towards him haven’t changed since he drunkenly told you that he liked you. You showed no signs of discomfort with him, no awkwardness. It’s like somewhere in the depths of your soul, you were content with the idea of Liu Yangyang being in love with you. What that says about you, he doesn’t know, but it’s sure that it has to mean something.

Your head slowly falls onto his shoulder. The steady rhythm of the rain falling on top of the roof of the glassy bus stop acts like a lullaby, the darkness, only lightly discarded with the yellow hue of the lamppost a few metres away providing you a shield of some sort. The neighbourhood is almost scarily silent, but it’s no wonder due to the late hours of the day.

“I’m glad you came,” you mumble.

“Of course I came,” he replies. The choice of his words is quite obvious– there’s nothing else he could do, but to help you ease the pain of being thrown away to the side by Lee Jeno once again. After some time, it almost looks like he’s getting used to it.

“Sometimes, I wish I loved someone else. Sometimes, I wish that someone was…” you trail off, not finishing your sentence, but rather choosing to start a new one instead, “Jeno doesn’t deserve it. I’m done with him now. For good.”

Yangyang doesn’t reply, leaving your words to sink in. Noticing the familiarity of your sentences, the things you’ve already said to him multiple times ago, he only snickers in half-amusement, half-pain. “Are you?”

Thinking, you shrug. “Most likely.”

“I mean… it’s okay. You can’t really make your emotions go away like that,” Yangyang says. He knows what he’s talking about, after all– he tried.

“Yeah,” you agree, “but I think it doesn’t hurt to try.”

Remaining silent, Yangyang pays attention to the rhythm of the raindrops falling to the ground. Your body hangs off his, holding on to his clothing as if to keep yourself afloat. Somewhere along the way, his arm found its way around your waist, but he doesn’t really remember when it happened. All he registers is the faint movement of his fingers against your skin, trying to calm down the storm you refuse to show him, but he knows too well is going on inside of you at this very moment.

Eyes travelling towards the red neon sign outside of the bus stop, Yangyang finds that it’s 3:45am already and the time he spent with you passed by without him even noticing.

“It’s getting late,” he says.

“It’s been late for at least a few hours now, Yang,” you mumble, the nickname rolling off your tongue soundly.

“Yeah, but I mean… I don’t think the taxi’s coming,” he explains, a bit of hesitance in his voice, trying not to break your illusion.

“Oh, I know,” you muse, “I know. I knew it the very moment he sent the text that he’s gonna call it for me.”

Your statement confuses him, makes him furrow his brows and search for an answer. When you don’t explain further, he gets it, somehow, and the realisation both breaks him and makes him feel content all at once, as most things about you always do.

You already knew you could never trust a word that comes out of Lee Jeno’s mouth. And in times where you most need comfort, you call Yangyang.

You always call Yangyang.

“Let’s go home then, shall we? I’ll walk you.”

I’D LOVE TO BE IN LOVE WITH YOU ENOUGH TO WRITE A LOVE SONG

Looking at you plucking the strings of your jet-black guitar, sitting in your room, Yangyang is enveloped with a strange sense of nostalgia that cuts right through his bones and sits inside of his stomach. You’re sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, not looking him in the eye as you strum an unfamiliar melody.

Nothing much changed since the two of you met for the first time. You’re still the same you that surprised him with a sharp remark as he entered your house for the first time, the same you that he silently adores and watches, paying attention to all details; the freckles on your skin, the calluses on your fingers, the hesitant smile you flash him as you start singing the lyrics to your song almost absent-mindedly. And he’s still the same person you met in the park; the boy with a dream, only waiting to be fulfilled, the boy that tries so hard to find his place in the world. The boy that quietly supports you with each step you take, the boy that fell for you fast and hard, without knowing how to control it.

Your room is still the same shade of white, splashed with colour on the edges, where the posters reach. The comfort and the easiness of the atmosphere is still the same as well.

The truth is, everything stays the same. Time passed, but nothing happened. Ignoring the mess in the middle, it’s like you’ve come full circle, stayed exactly the same, stuck in motion, but progressing nowhere. Yangyang can’t choose if it’s scary or comforting.

But when your eyes meet and you sing the lyric, your voice unsteady, but absolutely, 100% raw and honest, Yangyang thinks that perhaps something changes over time. His feelings for you don’t disappear, not at all, but they progressively grow. They deepen and he starts to understand them, getting in touch with them, welcoming them despite knowing they will never get received and reciprocated.

“I’d love to be in love with you enough to write a love song,” you sing, the easy chords forming a melody, the lyrics hitting the boy in the stomach.

It’s like they’re addressed to him the same way they were addressed to yourself. A silent confession, opening yourself up to him completely, because after all this time, he’s the only one you can get yourself to fully trust and let see everything. The truth is, he deserves it. After being so patient; after being so calm and caring with you and your emotions.

When you’re finished with the song, putting the guitar aside, Yangyang can’t help but grin at you.

“Us two could make a band, you know,” he smiles, seeing you roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t think the rockstar life is for me, dude,” you say, moving closer to him, but still keeping your distance. That’s how it works between the two of you all the time, in a way; you always somehow get closer, but the pit between the two of you never really disappears. Maybe, it never will. But that’s okay.

Yangyang is okay with that.

He’s not angry about it anymore. The truth is, some situations can make him truly furious; seeping with jealousy, cursing at his fate for making him feel the things he does, asking himself all the what ifs and why me questions. But after taking a step back, Liu Yangyang can finally recognise what he found and what he learned, and appreciate the anger for being there, for it’s an emotion as well and he has to let himself feel it, and finally let it go.

Maybe, he’ll never have a band. Maybe, he’ll never be the same as Lee Jeno. Maybe, he’ll never have you.

But he’s not angry about it anymore.

Your body slowly shuffles next to him, putting your head on his shoulder. Something about the gesture makes him feel all warm inside, a slight smile creeping up his lips at the sight of you curled up to his side.

And once again, he thinks that perhaps, he’ll remember this moment forever. When he’s old and the memory of you fades, his brain no longer able to make out the sound of your voice, he’ll go back to this day, to the strumming of the guitar, and he’ll have you back, for at least a second. He’ll remember the way your hair reflected in the golden hour, he’ll remember the sound of your voice when you sang the chorus of your song, he’ll remember the way you smiled at him after, a little proud, but still shy, and he’ll feel the same things he does today, while looking at you in real time.

And that’s okay for him. Sometimes, even a glimpse of someone is enough.

When you cuddle up with him in the bed later that day, watching Netflix like the old times; when a kiss lands into his hair and makes him shy away from your touch, he wonders if he’ll ever live up to Lee Jeno and if he’ll ever get loved by you the same way you loved him before.

He’s not angry anymore.

Well, sometimes, he is.

523 notes · View notes

moonctzeny · 2 years

Text

kun + food play

pairing: kun x fem!reader

genre: smut

wc: 497

warnings: foodplay, nipple play, oral(female receiving)

It was a Saturday night tradition. You and your boyfriend would scour the internet for the most delicious looking recipe, try your best to recreate it, then enjoy the sugary outcome of your joined efforts. Currently, you’re going through step two, finishing up your batter as Kun makes fun of your stirring skills once again.

“We should probably taste it before we put it in the oven”, he suggests, and your eyes immediately light up in mischief.

“Here”, you offer boldly and quickly dip your finger in the chocolate liquid, spreading the batter messily over his lips. You laugh at his disappointed face and even manage to take a picture, before he grabs the phone right out of your hands.

“Clean it up right now”, he orders you sternly, yet his softened eyes give him away.

“Aye, chef.”

You pinch his chin, pulling him closer, until your faces are only an inch apart. Your tongue swipes over his lips, collecting the sweet cream, before slipping it inside his mouth as you bring him into a kiss. He deepens the pressure, chasing after the sweetness, and turns you around until your lower back presses against the edge of the kitchen table. You sit on it with his help, stabilizing yourself over the flat surface, and don’t complain in the slightest as he starts to take off your clothes.

“Lay down”, he tells you and you listen, shivering when your bare back comes in contact with the cold wood. Even more goosebumps errupt over your skin when he smears some of the batter over your chest. Then your navel. Then some more over the softest part of your upper thighs.

You can only moan his name when he leaves kitten licks over your nipples, cleaning you up. He sucks his way down your stomach, making you squrirm, and you feel yourself melting when he starts getting closer to your pussy.

After what feels like forever, you finally feel his tongue where you need him most, your legs resting on his shoulder as he makes you moan louder and louder. Your breathing gets sharp when he starts to draw all kinds of pretty shapes over your clit, teasing your opening with his eager fingers.

He’s been working you open for quite some time when the pad of his index finds your g-spot, applying pressure on that same spot by sucking your raw skin between his swollen lips. Your orgasm washes over you suddenly, blinding you, and you desperately try to make your legs stop shaking, yet you can’t.

The sight of your boyfriend emerging from between your thighs panting, hair all messy and chin wet is enough to make you horny all over again.

“This is probably very unhygienic.”

“Mmm too bad”, he teases, hiding your smile in the hollow of your neck. A squeal escapes you when he sinks his teeth in your skin, his weight pushing you to lyt down over the table again. “I’m not full yet.”

#neohub #neohubkinktober #neowritingsnet #kun smut #wayv smut #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct x reader #kun scenarios #wayv scenarios #wayv drabbles #nct drabbles #kun imagine #wayv imagine #wayv x reader #kun x reader #kun fanfic #wayv fanfic #nct fanfic

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blu-joons · 2 years

Text

When He Finds Out That You’re Ticklish ~ WayV Reaction

Kun:

You smiled across to Kun as he walked into the kitchen, unscrewing the cap of his water bottle. You were busy sorting your lunch as Kun walked behind you to get past, his hand suddenly brushing against your waist and making you laugh.

“Are you alright?” Kun laughed as he looked back to you in surprise.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you smiled back across to Kun as he studied you closely, not quite sure what had made you laugh.

“You’re not laughing at my hand grabbing your waist, are you?” Kun quizzed, knowing that that was the only explanation that made sense to him.

It took you a few moments to reply as Kun’s eyes stayed looking across at you. “Perhaps that might have tickled me a little bit,” you admitted, bringing a chuckle from Kun straight away.

He walked closer towards you, forgetting about what he was doing. “How have I never found out that you were ticklish before?”

“I guess I just hid it well,” you smugly told him.

“I’m so glad that I can use this against you now.”

“Hey, you can’t do that, that’s unfair.”

Ten:

The lack of smile on your face was hard for Chittaphon to see as he watched you walk around the house. After finishing what he was doing, he walked across to you, suddenly pressing his hands into your sides to pull you in.

“Well, that was easier than I thought,” he joked as you suddenly laughed.

“What are you doing?” You sighed back at him, noticing the wide smile that was on his face as Chittaphon saw yours.

“I was trying to cheer you up a little, but I didn’t quite realise that tickling you would be all it took,” he laughed back at you, resting himself against your shoulder.

You couldn’t help but carry on smiling as Chittaphon continued to tickle you gently. “I was enjoying being moody after the day that I’ve had at work,” you teased in response to him.

His head shook as you pouted, “I’m enjoying seeing you smile again, I hate seeing you in a mood with a frown on your face too.”

“You can blame my boss for that,” you sighed.

“Shall I go and tickle him as well then?”

“Trust me, he’d never laugh at that.”

WinWin:

The sudden feeling of a hand brushing against you as Sicheng got into bed took you by surprise, a slight gasp coming from you. Sicheng had no real idea what had happened until your body jumped around and looked at him.

“What’s that look for?” He asked in confusion as you stared back at him.

“You tickled me,” you informed him, tapping against your waist where he had caught. “I wasn’t prepared for that.”

“Sorry,” Sicheng hummed, not meaning it at all as he noticed the surprised expression that was on your face. “I didn’t think something like that would tickle.”

Your head shook back at him as you still felt the brush of Sicheng against you. “I’m not normally ticklish,” you quickly tried to explain, worrying that you were giving your game up.

Sicheng’s eyes widened questionably back across at you too, “are you really sure you’re not ticklish? Because I hardly even touched you then.”

“I might be a tiny little bit,” you lied to Sicheng.

“Just a tiny little bit? Are you sure?”

“Maybe a tad more than that.”

Lucas:

A gasp came from you as Yukhei suddenly came up behind you, attacking your sides straight away. The laugh that came from you was exactly what he wanted to hear, stepping back and chuckling himself once he was done.

“That was so good,” he grinned, feeling your eyes staring widely at him.

“What was that for?” You questioned, still feeling the lingering feeling of Yukhei’s hands against your body.

“I wanted to see if you were ticklish,” he shrugged as if it were no big deal, “and I definitely think that I got my answer then, you went crazy.”

Your head shook back at him as you tried to compose himself, “you didn’t even warn me that you were going to do that. You’re so lucky that I went to the toilet not too long ago.”

Your comment had Yukhei sniggering as his hand came up to cover his mouth. “Are you really that ticklish that you would’ve done that?”

“Do you want to find out?” You pushed.

“I’m not brave enough to risk that one.”

“I thought you might say that.”

Xiaojun:

The smile on your face soon muffled a laugh that came from you as Dejun began to trace against your body. He knew what he was doing with his gentle touch, almost as if a feather was brushing against you and tickling you.

“I can hear you,” Dejun whispered to you as you tried to keep your laugh quiet.

“Stop tickling me,” you warned him, swatting against his hand only for Dejun to move it back to where it was.

“What are you scared of?” Dejun grinned, his eyes firmly on you. “If you’re ticklish, that’s not my fault, you’re not worried about laughing, are you?”

Your head shook in reply to Dejun, “I’m not worried about you making me laugh, but I know that if you find out that this is my ticklish spot then you’ll start using it against me instead.”

Dejun’s eyes widened as you spoke, “I can’t believe that you would ever think that I’d do something that bad, I’m not that mean Y/N.”

“You are such a liar,” you chuckled in response.

“I’m not doing anything wrong Y/N.”

“You’re never as innocent as this.”

Hendery:

Your body tensed up when you felt a pair of arms suddenly wrap around your waist, glancing back to see Kunhang beside you. His hands held onto your hips tightly, fingertips tapping gently against you, tickling lightly into your sides.

“Does that tickle?” He asked, noticing you biting your bottom lip down.

“Never,” you responded, refusing to look back at his eyes, “there’s no way that you could ever tickle me you know.”

“Are you sure about that?” Kunhang grinned as he began to tickle his hands further into your waist, “I’m not going to move from this spot by the way.”

Your head shook as you realised that Kunhang knew exactly what he was doing. “Why do you have to do this to me?” You asked, finding it harder and harder to stop a laugh escaping.

A shrug followed from Kunhang, “I don’t think I’m doing anything, all I’m doing is standing here and cuddling you, what’s wrong with that?”

“You’re just cuddling me, are you?” You asked him.

“Why? What else do you think that I’m doing?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

YangYang:

Your eyes darted around as you felt YangYang prodding against you, biting down on your bottom lip. You tried your best to ignore him, but as YangYang dug in more, eventually several muffled laughs came from you in response to his tickles.

“What was that?” YangYang laughed as soon as he heard your laughter.

“N-nothing,” you told him in between laughter as YangYang continued to poke against you unknowingly.

“It didn’t sound like nothing,” he smiled, beginning to pick up on why you were laughing. “I don’t suppose that I’m tickling you by any chance, am I?”

Your head shook, but the smile on YangYang’s face let you know that he knew exactly what he was doing to you. “I’m definitely not ticklish,” you protested as you tried to compose yourself.”

As you denied being ticklish, YangYang decided to poke into you a little bit more. “Are you absolutely sure that you’re not ticklish Y/N?”

“I’ve never been surer,” you sharply responded to him.

“I’ll only let go if you admit it to me Y/N by the way.”

“Alright, I guess I might be ticklish.”

---

Masterlist

174 notes · View notes

ligayangdala · 2 years

Text

para sa filozens,

enjoy our works, mga mare! ♡ (.◜◡◝)

keys: (a): angst, (f): fluff, (rom): romance, (s): smut, (m): mature, (🎭): admin's personal fav

— 𝟏𝟐𝟕 ⌗ ; 07.07.2016 ♡゛

WHO'S THE BABY DADDY? | soon 🔜

taeil moon. ⊂⊃ ﹫mo.on_air

soon !

johnny suh. ⊂⊃ ﹫johnnyjsuh

dad!johnny (a)

taeyong lee. ⊂⊃ ﹫taeoxo_nct

husband!taeyong (s, m)

yuta nakamoto. ⊂⊃ ﹫ yuu_taa_1026

soon !

doyoung kim. ⊂⊃ ﹫do0_nct

husband!doyoung (s, m)

jaehyun jeong. ⊂⊃ ﹫_jeongjaehyun

basketball player!jaehyun (s, m) 🎭

ceo!jaehyun (s, m)

dad!jaehyun (f)

milan, oh, milan! (ig au)

jungwoo kim. ⊂⊃ ﹫sugaringcandy

soon !

mark lee. ⊂⊃ ﹫onyourm__ark

sakristan!mark (s, m)

busy bf!mark (a, f)

birthdays with mark (s, m) 🎭

dad!mark (ig au)

donghyuck lee. ⊂⊃ ﹫haechanahceah

bumble date!haechan (s, m)

secret bf!haechan (f) 🎭

jealous bf!haechan (s, m)

husband!haechan (a, s, m)

— 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 ⌗ ; 08.25.2016 ♡゛

DREAM FILMS | 7DREAM camboy series, ongoing

renjun huang. ⊂⊃ ﹫yellow_3to3

soon !

jeno lee. ⊂⊃ ﹫leejen_o_423

boyfriend!jeno na mahilig dumede (s, m)

husband!jeno (f, s, m)

husband!jeno (s, m)

orgmate!jeno (s, m)

sakristan!jeno (s, m) 🎭

college lovers to husband!jeno (f)

taguan ng anak with jeno (a, s, m)

taguan ng anak with jeno, part 2 (a, s, f, m)

jaemin na. ⊂⊃ ﹫na.jaemin0813

kuya's bff!jaemin series (s, a, m) | completed masterlist

fuckboy!jaemin (s, m)

dad!jaemin (f) | kuya’s bff universe setting

chenle zhong. ⊂⊃ ﹫kh1000le

soon !

jisung park. ⊂⊃ user not found !?

bf!jisung (f)

— 𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐕 ⌗ ; 01.17.2019 ♡゛

kun qian. ⊂⊃ ﹫kun11xd

soon !

ten lee. ⊂⊃ ﹫tenlee_1001

soon !

sicheng dong. ⊂⊃ ﹫wwiinn_7

soon !

dejun xiao. ⊂⊃ ﹫djxiao_888

soon !

hendery wong. ⊂⊃ ﹫i_m_hendery

soon !

yangyang liu. ⊂⊃ ﹫yangyang_x2

bf!yangyang sa loob ng bago niyang kotse (s, m)

380 notes · View notes

xiaothejun · 2 years

Text

Nicknames WayV would give their S/O

Kun:

Honey/hun

Candy

Sugar

Dear

Precious

Ten:

(My) Princess

Kitty

Sunshine

Bae

Sicheng:

Sweetie

Sweetheart

Baby

Yukhei:

Beautiful

Hot stuff

Babe

Mami

Gorgeous

Dejun:

Sweetheart

Angel

Sunshine

Boo

Hendery:

Bro (in a loving way!!!!)

Babe

Kiddo

Precious

Yangyang:

Bunny

Mommy (this boy looks kinky don’t come at me)

Wifey

Gorgeous

✨Schnappi ✨ iykyk

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0710studios · 2 years

Text

LGD REINCARNATION !?

WORKS WILL BE LINKED BELOW, CURRENTLY UNDER CONSTRUCTION.

keys: (a): angst, (f): fluff, (rom): romance, (s): smut, (m): mature, (🎭): admin’s personal fav

— 𝟏𝟐𝟕 ⌗ ; 07.07.2016 ♡゛

taeil moon. ⊂⊃ ﹫mo.on_air

johnny suh. ⊂⊃ ﹫johnnyjsuh

taeyong lee. ⊂⊃ ﹫taeoxo_nct

yuta nakamoto. ⊂⊃ ﹫ yuu_taa_1026

doyoung kim. ⊂⊃ ﹫do0_nct

husband!doyoung (s, m)

jaehyun jeong. ⊂⊃ ﹫_jeongjaehyun

basketball player!jaehyun (s, m)

ceo!jaehyun (s, m)

dad!jaehyun (f)

jungwoo kim. ⊂⊃ ﹫sugaringcandy

mark lee. ⊂⊃ ﹫onyourm__ark

sakristan!mark (s, m)

busy bf!mark (a, f)

birthdays with mark (s, m)

donghyuck lee. ⊂⊃ ﹫haechanahceah

bumble date!haechan (s, m)

secret bf!haechan (f)

jealous bf!haechan (s, m)

husband!haechan (a, s, m)

— 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 ⌗ ; 08.25.2016 ♡゛

renjun huang. ⊂⊃ ﹫yellow_3to3

jeno lee. ⊂⊃ user not found !?

boyfriend!jeno na mahilig dumede (s, m)

husband!jeno (f, s, m)

husband!jeno (s, m)

orgmate!jeno (s, m)

sakristan!jeno (s, m)

college lover to husband!jeno (f)

jaemin na. ⊂⊃ ﹫na.jaemin0813

taguan ng anak with jeno (a, s, m)

taguan ng anak with jeno, part 2 (a, s, f, m)

kuya's bff!jaemin series (s, a, m) | complete masterlist

fuckboy!jaemin (s, m)

dad!jaemin (f) | kuya's universe setting

chenle zhong. ⊂⊃ user not found !?

jisung park. ⊂⊃ user not found !?

bf!jisung (f)

— 𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐕 ⌗ ; 01.17.2019 ♡゛

kun qian. ⊂⊃ ﹫kun11xd

ten lee. ⊂⊃ ﹫tenlee_1001

sicheng dong. ⊂⊃ ﹫wwiinn_7

dejun xiao. ⊂⊃ ﹫djxiao_888

hendery wong. ⊂⊃ ﹫i_m_hendery

yangyang liu. ⊂⊃ ﹫yangyang_x2

bf!yangyang sa loob ng bago niyang kotse (s, m)

— 𝐔 ⌗ ; 10.12.2020 ♡゛

shotaro osaki. ⊂⊃ ﹫_shotaroo_

sungchan jung. ⊂⊃ user not found !?

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scvrletstrange · 2 years

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy | Yesung’s ending

Read part 1 here!

Dedicated to @lullabaesstuff uwu ily!

You still were not sure about your decision after these days of making your mind up. Maybe you would stop everything right now. But inside you thought Yesung will be the right person for you.

He was sweet, caring and a gentleman. And you were almost the same age, going almost the same path. You wanted something serious and you knew he did too. That was, at least, the hint he gave you before.

It was a little weird at first when Ten came back for his lessons. His eyes were different after that day he bumped into you and Yesung. There was a lot of tension between both of you.

You stopped him before saying goodbye on the aisle after the class was over.

"Ten, I want you to be honest with me. Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"You're a great man, but do you like me?"

The question caught him off guard. For a moment he tried to hide himself from you, but just decided to give up.

"I love you... However, you don't, right?" he knew already the answer.

"I'm sure you'll find the right one," you took his hand. "I just don't want you to fall in love with someone who doesn't feel the same. I'm sorry."

Ten's lips made a sad smile on his face. His arms wrapped around you, as if saying goodbye. You knew this was the best for you. So he could stop seeing you in that way, hopefully this wouldn’t change your friendship you thought.

After your shift, you searched for Yesung on the building. You avoided him on lunch time, even didn't answer his calls, but now you made a decision.

You waited for him outside the practice room. Some staff said Super Junior was there, so you better waited outside with Yesung's jacket on your hands. Thankfully, Yesung was the last person to leave the place and you surprised him grabbing his hand from behind.

“Hi!”

“Y/N? I thought you were avoiding me."

He looked back to his members walking away, but decided to stay with you. The practice was over so if this was the time to see you he would take it.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't. I was just nervous, that's all," you apologized with a smile. "Here, your jacket. Thanks."

Yesung took the jacket from your hands, smiling. “So you came to see me?”

“I think that’s this looks like, yeah.”

“I’m all sweaty, sorry you have to see me like this,” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Is ok. I just want to say I would like to go out... with you, I mean...”

Yesung’s eyes sparkled.

“I would love that too, to be honest,” he chuckled. “I just didn’t know if you wanted to see me again.”

“I know, again I’m sorry I left like that. I just made up my mind and I would like to continue this.”

He smiled and kissed your forehead with his soft lips. “Dinner? Tomorrow?”

You nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Ten’s ending

GENERAL MASTERLIST | KPOP MASTERLIST

#yesung x reader #super junior yesung #super junior fanfiction #super junior scenario #super junior imagine #suju fanfiction #suju yesung #nct ten #ten x reader #nct imagine #nct fanfiction #nct scenario #wayv fanfiction #wayv imagine

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oiiimakeu · 2 years

Text

rendezvous and courtship

— xiaojun ver.

𝘅𝗶𝗮𝗼𝗷𝘂𝗻

*ੈ xiaojun surprised you to a 3 day camping at the beach.

*ੈ due to both of your busy schedule, you never had him for that long and you were definitely making it worth your time.

*ੈ he took you island hopping and cliff diving. you rowed a little boat together and explored the fish and pretty corals.

*ੈ the both of you would chase eachother by the sandy shore and pick pretty rocks and shells.

*ੈ you'd eventually just lay down on the sand, appreciate every moment with xiaojun.

*ੈ xiaojun waited for the sun to set and kiss the water as he pointed out the night sky above you.

*ੈ you stargazed under the moonlight and the both of you would point on the starts and form silly shapes and figures.

*ੈ he eventually hugged you to sleep as you both spooned eachother by the water.

*ੈ xiaojun woke you up to a beautiful sunrise as he prepared breakfast in front of you camping tent.

*ੈ you sat and ate together as you watch the sky form pretty hues of crimson and mustard.

*ੈ as you finished the dish he prepared for you, xiaojun gave you an annklet with all the stones and shells you've collected.

*ੈ "just like the deep as the sea and and wide sky, my love for you will always be infinite and boundless. will you marry me, y/n?"

— hiii everyone ^^ you can find me on instagram for more nct imagines~ <3

#nct #nct fluff #nct imagine #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct au #nct fanfic #wayv #wayv imagine #wayv imagines #wayv fanfic #wayv scenarios #wayv au #wayv fluff #xiaojun #xiaojun fluff

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starlightkun · 4 months

Text

❧ word count: 7.6k ❧ warnings: cursing, mm and that’s really it! i mean like they fight and stuff but just read the genre tags lmao ❧ genre: exes to lovers, angst with a happy ending (look at what blog ur on rn), christmas-themed (if the title wasn’t apparent enough), getting snowed in trope, cuddling to share warmth trope, just a fun, cheesy, time ❧ extra info: i wrote this in a 24-ish hour fever. it’s moderately proof-read. beware. ❧ author’s note: a starlightkun fic under 10k! it’s a christmas miracle!

“I just said, it’s not that simple!” You yelled, your hands curling into fists at your side. Kun let out a huff, walking away from his armchair to pace in front of the Christmas tree across the room from you. You weren’t going to let him off that easily, though. “Why did you stop loving me?”

“Any big holiday plans, Y/N?” Your boss asked as you handed her some documents to sign.

“Oh, staying in town,” you answered nonchalantly. “What about you, ma’am?”

She told you about her own Christmas and New Year plans with her wife, kids, and parents with a bright smile on her face as she flipped through the pages. After giving you the signatures you needed, she handed the papers back to you.

“Can you run those over to Dr. Oh’s office for me? The undergrads all went back home for break.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“After that, you can head out for the day. My Christmas present to you.”

“Oh, thank you, ma’am.”

“That, and also this.” She handed you a red envelope before standing up from her desk and closing her laptop. “Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Thank you, you too,” you flashed her a genuine smile. “Happy Holidays to your family as well. See you in a week.”

“See you.”

Tucking the envelope into your bag, you quickly tidied up your workstation before heading out of the research lab to do your final task. You were a research fellow at a rather prestigious university, and while running papers would typically be asked of the interns and undergraduate students who helped out in the lab, as your boss—the head of the lab—had already pointed out, classes let out for their Winter Break two weeks ago, so you were fresh out of fresh meat.

You pulled your scarf tight around your nose and lower half of your face as you stepped out into the chilly winter air. Dr. Oh was the Dean of Graduate Studies at the university, and you’d been to his office a couple of times before, so your feet followed a familiar path as you hurried through the cold and into the building. The air was almost oppressively hot inside, and you tore off your scarf as you ran up the stairs.

There was light pouring out from Dr. Oh’s office at the end of the hall, the only one on. You poked your head in through the open door, greeted by the sight of a seemingly empty office. Must have stepped out.

Just as you had dropped the papers into his inbox on his desk, you heard footsteps at the doorway and whipped around to greet the older man, breathless smile already on your face.

Except it wasn’t Dr. Oh standing there. Your greeting died in your throat as you stared at the newcomer with blatant shock.

“Oh, Y/N,” Qian Kun rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. His hair was a bit longer than before, a shaggy length that covered most of his ears and neck, and he’d forgone his contacts in favor of a pair of silver wire-rimmed glasses, but there was nothing that time could do to conceal his identity from you. The way your heart dropped to your stomach as soon as he said your name was undeniable. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” You sputtered back harshly. His PhD program was at a completely different university in the area and should have ended in the spring. What business did he have here of all places?

“I started assisting Dr. Oh last month. Uhm, sorry, I sort of thought you graduated already, or I wouldn’t have interviewed for the job.”

“I did graduate.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Two years ago. I’m a research fellow now.”

“Of course. Well, congrats.”

You let out a small noise of acknowledgement that could’ve also been interpreted as a cynical chuckle.

“So, did you need to see Dr. Oh? He’s left the office for the year, I’m just finishing up a couple things here.”

“Oh, no,” you shook your head, vaguely gesturing to the inbox over your shoulder. “My research head asked me to drop something off.”

Kun nodded. “Right. I’ll make sure he looks it over first thing when he gets back.”

“Thank you.” There was a pause of tense silence, and you looked around the office uncomfortably. “So, can I go, or…?”

“Yeah, of course, sorry.” He moved out of the doorway, stepping aside to clear the exit for you. “It uhm, it was nice to see you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You’d just brushed past him when he called your name out again. Against your better judgment, you stopped just short of leaving the office and turned to look at him.

“What, Kun?”

“What uh, what are you doing for the holidays? Are you going back home? Or, celebrating here with… someone?”

You weren’t sure what compelled you to answer other than basic social niceties. “No. Airline tickets were crazy, couldn’t find anything that would get me back in the lab in time that wasn’t ridiculously expensive. All my friends are traveling, so I’ll be eating ramen by myself on the couch, presumably.”

You had answered his half-asked question. No, you didn’t have a significant other to spend the holiday with. Just your family back home that you couldn’t afford to go see, and friends who had all left town.

“Oh…” He looked down at his feet.

“What about you?” You asked pettily, fully expecting him to be visiting a significant other’s family in town, flying home to see his family, something much merrier than the picture you had just painted.

“Same for me,” he admitted quietly. “Plane tickets back home were so expensive… and I just left my old job and haven’t really made new friends here yet. At least not ones that are on the level of them inviting me to their family Christmas.”

While you wanted to be bitterly vindicated by Kun making himself as alone on Christmas as he had made you, it somehow just weighed twice as heavy on your heart. All that came out of this was two lonely people, far away from home.

“Do you… maybe want to come over? For Christmas?” Kun’s hesitant proposition knocked the wind out of you.

“Why?”

“Well, neither of us have any other plans. And, I don’t know, I thought it might be nice… to be with someone you know. Better than being alone on Christmas eating instant ramen, maybe?”

You took a couple deep breaths, gnawing on your bottom lip as you thought over his offer. “Fine. Christmas dinner. No presents.”

He grabbed a pen and pad of sticky notes off the desk, scribbling something down. “Here’s… my address. Let’s say six?”

You plucked the yellow square from his fingers delicately. “Six.”

“See you then.”

You reached into your bag to affix the sticky note to the red envelope from your research head, then pulled your scarf back out. “See you then, Kun.”

For the next three days, that sticky note sat on your coffee table and stared at you. Even as you went about your day trying not to think about it, busying yourself with jigsaw puzzles, books, and whatever cheesy Christmas movie was on at the time. That yellow square was stuck to your forebrain, plaguing your every waking moment.

Every night you were kept up with memories. You hadn’t seen Kun in three years, since you’d picked up the last of your possessions from your old apartment. The apartment the two of you had lived in together. A brief flash of picking up your things, cut by the first time you’d opened the door to your new place together, hand-in-hand, absolutely bursting with excitement and hope for the future.

As you started getting ready to go over to Kun’s place, your body moved by itself, despite the sinking pit in your stomach threatening to swallow you whole.

Rooting through your spare closet, you finally got a small blue box out of the back. You opened it up, a bittersweet sigh leaving your mouth. Nestled in among some tissue and spare ornament hooks was a three-dimensional figure of a sea turtle, covered in glitter and with a navy blue loop of string for hanging coming from its back, but otherwise pretty realistic. You placed it in your bag, carefully cushioned by a scarf.

Before you left, you finally opened your card from your boss. She had written you a very nice note about how much she appreciated your work at the lab, and wishing you all the best in your future endeavors. There was also a gift card loaded up with a considerable amount of money, which you pocketed for later.

Kun’s place wasn’t terribly far from yours, about a fifteen-minute walk, but the heavy snow that was starting to fall slowed you down a bit more. You’d probably have to get a taxi on your way back at this rate. Hopefully your awkward, polite Christmas dinner would be very short.

Knocking on the evergreen-painted door, which sported an elegantly beautiful wreath, you checked the time on your phone. So you were a few minutes late. Oh well.

Kun opened the door with a bright smile, dressed nicely but casual enough in a dark brown knitted sweater, loose-fitting dark pants, and socks with cartoon reindeer on them. “Hey, you made it. Come on in.”

“Thanks.” You stepped into the warmth of the apartment, and he closed the door behind you.

“When I saw how hard it was snowing out there, I started getting worried.” He helped you out of your thick overcoat, hanging it up on a hook by the front door for you. “I hope you didn’t walk.”

“I did. It wasn’t too bad.” You peeled off your gloves, moving to put them in your purse at the same time that you grabbed something from the bag.

“Did you see they’re forecasting 30 to 90 cm of snow by tomorrow morning? We’ll have to get you a cab home tonight before it gets too bad.” He was still talking as he started leading the way from the narrow hallway entry into the rest of the apartment.

His living room was cozy, especially with the crackling fireplace, delicious smells emanating from the kitchen, and festive decorations put up everywhere. One corner was taken up by a modest-sized Christmas tree, covered in colorful lights and an eclectic mix of ornaments.

“Is that a real tree?” You asked curiously.

“Yeah,” he admitted almost sheepishly. “Your uh—your Christmas tree purism rubbed off on me... Doesn’t feel like Christmas unless I’m sweeping up pine needles.”

You chuckled lightly at that, remembering that your first fight as a couple was around your first Christmas together, specifically about whether to get a plastic tree or a real one for his apartment, which you were practically living in at that point. Your family had always gotten real ones when you were growing up, and you could never get behind the fake ones. Kun, on the other hand, didn’t really care either way, but got frustrated when he couldn’t convince you on the cost-saving aspect of being able to reuse your tree every year. The spat fizzled out the very same day, and you ended up having a very cute date when you went to go pick out your first (real) tree together.

“I know I said no gifts, but I don’t think this really counts, since I’m just giving you something back that was yours in the first place.” You brought the sea turtle ornament out, holding it out to him by the loop of string. “It ended up in my stuff and I couldn’t... see you again. Sorry for holding onto it for so long.”

Kun accepted the glittery marine creature in his hand, a fond smile coming to his features. “I thought I’d lost it. Thank you for not uh, throwing it out or something.”

“I paid good money for that, I wasn’t going to be the one to put it in the trash,” you joked half-heartedly, watching as he turned to hang it up on the tree. In the branches among his other ornaments, it looked at home.

Your first date had been to the aquarium, and your first kiss that same day by the sea turtle exhibit, which was why you had picked that specific ornament to give him for your second Christmas together. It was actually from the very same aquarium’s gift shop— meaning that it was wildly overpriced, but cute nevertheless.

“You have a working fireplace, too?” You gestured to the very real fire nearby.

“I do!” He beamed proudly, going to readjust some of the logs, the flames growing to a steadier burn. “I got really lucky with this place.”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you nodded in agreement.

A couple of beats of silence passed, then Kun gestured towards the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

You followed him into the kitchen, where there was a small square table with four chairs around it, and two places already set across from each other. A few full dishes were already on the table as well, and you wondered how much more food he could be making, as it looked like there was already enough to feed a family of eight at least.

“Smells good,” you commented.

Kun gave you another small smile, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he leaned against the closed oven. “Thanks. I uh—got excited to cook for someone else again, and sort of went overboard. So you’re welcome to take a bunch of leftovers, too.”

“Cool, thanks.” No fucking way would you be doing that. Taking leftovers home in one of his containers, that you would then have to wash and bring back to him? Absolutely not.

The beeping of a timer went off then, and he spun around to turn off the numbers flashing at him from the stovetop. He opened the oven, putting on oven mitts before taking out the last dish.

After putting it down at the table, he announced, “Alright, dinner’s served!”

You took a seat, watching as Kun continued to bustle around the kitchen. Putting the oven mitts away, turning the oven off, grabbing a wine bottle, corkscrew, and two wine glasses from the cabinets.

“Oh, I don’t drink anymore,” you informed him casually.

“Oh, sorry.” As he went to go put everything away again, you interrupted him.

“You can drink around me, it’s not... anything like that. I’ll be fine. Just sort of lost the taste for it.”

Kun poured a glass for himself over at the counter before putting the bottle away. “So, what can I get you? I have some sparkling water, sodas, eggnog...”

“Just regular water is fine.”

He rushed to do that, and as he set your glass down in front of you, you noted, “You remembered how much ice...”

“You did give me a ten-minute lecture on the proper ratio of ice to water, if you’ll recall.” He took his seat across from you.

“Alright, lecture is doing a lot of heavy lifting there. I was simply explaining myself thoroughly so as to not be misunderstood.”

“I understood you crystal clear afterwards,” Kun chuckled, lifting his glass of red wine. “Merry Christmas, Y/N. Thank you for agreeing to do this kind of weird thing I asked you.”

“Merry Christmas, Kun,” you clinked your glass to his in a toast. “That’s what I do, remember?”

Dinner continued with civil, even sometimes amicable conversation. Mostly catching up on what had happened in both your lives in the past three years, how your families were, your jobs, fairly neutral topics.

Kun had just finished his doctorate program in the spring, and had taken the position with Dr. Oh at your university while he looked for something more aligned with his studies. You wanted to do some research before possibly going back to pursue a doctorate in your own field.

Kun’s family was doing well, his baby brother Chenle was graduating high school in the spring, his middle brother Dejun was now in his fourth year of undergrad at your own alma mater back home, and his parents were going to be celebrating their 30th anniversary next year on a cruise— which they were both very excited about, as it would be their first one.

You had to belatedly break the news to him that your grandmother passed two years ago— she had always loved Kun and you never did have the heart to tell her that the two of you broke up when she would ask where he was on your visits, since her dementia just meant that you would’ve had to re-explain it to her again the next time you saw her. You elected not to mention any of that to Kun in the moment. Other than her passing, your family was alright. Your parents had just gotten a new old cat from the shelter a few months ago, your older sister welcomed her second child, a baby girl, and you happily showed off pictures of your niece, and now five-year-old nephew to Kun.

“Wow... I can’t believe Little Bear is so big,” he gushed at the photo of your nephew on your shoulders.

“Oh, he’s an absolute menace now,” you laughed and shook your head. “That little docile baby you knew who would just fall asleep in anybody’s arms is nowhere to be found.”

“And his sister?”

“Oh, she’s going to be even worse than her brother, I just know it.” You swiped to another photo of the baby, fond grin on your lips.

Kun’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, then he cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “Are you finished?”

“Oh, yeah,” you looked down at your empty plate, having completely forgotten about it in the moment. “It was all really delicious, thanks, Kun.”

“Better than the instant ramen you had planned?”

“By far. You’re a great cook, as always.”

He stood up to grab your plates. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Realizing that this was the end of dinner, of your commitment for the night, you felt simultaneously disappointed and relieved. On one hand, it was kind of nice seeing Kun again and being able to catch up—you especially loved hearing about how his little brothers were doing, you had adored doting on them while you were dating, since you were the youngest sibling yourself. But on the other hand, it was all a façade. Neither of you were addressing the elephant in the room, and it was getting exhausting trying to keep up the friendly chatter and not veer into anything serious, to only put your best foot forward in representing yourself and your life.

“Thank you for inviting me, I don’t think I said that before,” you said indicatively, standing from your seat. “You were right, it was nice being with someone you know, someone who’s from the same place as you, on Christmas.”

Kun gave a half-smile, taking his phone from the table. “We should order you that taxi, huh?”

“Right.”

As you started putting all your layers back on in the hallway, you could hear Kun’s end of the phone call with the cab company.

“What do you mean you’re not dispatching? I know it’s Christmas but— How much?! Seriously?!”

You poked your head out to look at him with concern, but he wasn’t facing you. Instead, he was at the window of the living room, throwing the curtains aside to look out.

“Alright, well, you can’t help that, no, sir. Thank you. Yep, Merry Christmas.”

After he’d hung up without giving his address, you knew something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” You asked cautiously, still slowly pulling on your gloves one finger at a time.

He looked at you over his shoulder, now leaning one forearm against the window. He jerked his head for you to come over. “Come see for yourself.”

You walked over hesitantly, and saw nothing but white. “Oh my God.”

“Forecasts were off a bit. Apparently there’s already been 100cm of snow, and they’re projecting at least another 50 before tomorrow.”

“Holy fucking shit.” Your jaw dropped. “So we’re...”

“Snowed in. Yeah,” he confirmed bluntly. “Guy at the taxi company says they’re not expecting the roads to start being cleared until New Year’s, and they’ll start with businesses and shopping districts first.”

You continued staring at the snow piling up against the window in shock, and Kun took a step back.

“So, you want some eggnog?”

After you had once more removed your coats, scarf, gloves, and boots, you sat down on Kun’s couch, fervently texting all your family. They had apparently seen on the news about the crazy snowstorm hitting your area, and were checking in on you. You reassured them that you were just fine, and were staying at a friend’s place until the storm blew over and the roads cleared. You deigned not to tell them who exactly this ‘friend’ was. You hadn’t told anybody who knew Kun that you were going to his place today, actually. While your family and friends had been supportive of you during the breakup, you could tell how disappointed they were that you two hadn’t worked out—and a couple outright said so. You knew it was in the ‘we’ve never seen you so happy’ sort of way, but that didn’t make it feel any better at the time.

A mug dipped into the top of your vision, accompanied by Kun’s voice. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks,” you flashed him a smile as you accepted it, and set your phone down on his coffee table. “Just letting the brigade back home know I’m not dead under a hundred meters of snow.”

He sat down in the armchair caddy corner to the end of the couch you were at. “My family has been blowing up my phone, too. For some reason my parents aren’t very amused about Chenle and Dejun daring me to go build the world’s largest snowman right now.”

“Probably have enough snow for it,” you mused. “What is the record for the biggest snowman, do you think?”

“Got to be at least ten meters, right?”

“Oh, definitely way more than that.”

“Really? You think?”

“For sure,” you snorted, picking your phone back up and quickly searching online. “It looks like the official Guinness World Record is 37.21 meters, in Bethel, Maine. But Donnersbachwald, Austria made a snowman that was reportedly 38.04 meters, named Riesi.”

Kun whistled lowly. “Well goddamn.”

“And look!” You turned your phone to show Kun the photo of Riesi. “It’s so cute!”

“Is that a top hat?”

“I think?”

As you looked at the picture one more time and put your phone to the side, you reclined back in your seat, lifting your mug up to your lips to take your first sip of the eggnog. The fire continued crackling in the background, and you hummed a Christmas carol to yourself. So you couldn’t make your great escape exactly how you’d planned. But you and Kun had tolerated each other pretty well so far, you could probably make it out of here in a few days relatively unscathed.

“Hey, uhm, what did you mean earlier?” Kun quietly shattered all of your hopes and dreams for peace with just one vague question.

“Huh? When?”

“When I thanked you for going along with my weird idea to get together for Christmas despite… everything. And you said: ‘It’s what I do, remember?’ What did you mean by that?”

“Oh… just… you know— You’d have some weird, or crazy, or slightly irresponsible, or fun idea and I always said yes,” you kept your tone conversational and nostalgic. “Blowing your whole paycheck on a LEGO set that you’d always wanted but your parents would never buy you as a kid, skipping classes in undergrad to laze about your apartment, taking the long way back to your car after Sicheng’s film festival even though it was pouring rain because you remembered I had said on our first date that I’d always wanted to dance in the rain, submitting my paper to the undergraduate research panel…”

“Moving out here,” he filled in for you flatly.

You pressed your lips together in a thin line before nodding. “Moving here…”

“Is that really how you feel? That I was always dragging you around places, making you do stuff that you didn’t want to do?”

“Kun, we’re going to be stuck in here together for who knows how long, can we not do this?”

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “I mean, I knew you were bitter about coming here, but apparently I was holding you hostage the entire four years before that too and had no idea.”

“That is not what I said,” you said through gritted teeth, narrowing your eyes.

“What else am I supposed to think about what you said?”

“You don’t!” You snapped. “You don’t think about it, you don’t read into it, they’re just words! Not everything has a deeper meaning, sometimes people just say stuff, you know.”

“Well you never actually say what you mean, so I have to try to read between the lines.”

“Or maybe I’m saying plenty, and you’re too far up your own ass trying to decipher me like some cosmic puzzle instead of listening to the actual words I’m saying!”

“So I don’t have to ask if you’re still bitter about it, then,” he scoffed.

The final shred of decency and civility left in you burned up right then, and you got to your feet as you exploded, “You convinced me to leave my family, my friends, my home, everything and everyone I knew, to come here for your dreams! And then you told me you didn’t love me anymore! Of course I’m fucking bitter!”

Kun got to his feet too, staring you down intensely. “Then why didn’t you go back home? After you graduated, you stuck around. Why?”

“I was offered the position at the lab—”

“There’s other labs.”

“The studies we’re doing—”

“There’s other studies.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“If you hated it here so much and hated me for dragging you here, why didn’t you take the first chance you had to leave?”

His features turned apologetic for a moment. “Y/N—”

“You knew how much I loved you, that I’d follow you anywhere. I chose to study here even though it was my second choice because your top pick had already accepted you. I thought we were planning our life together, but then you dropped me like it was nothing. So why? Why did you stop loving me?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Just answer the question, Kun,” you demanded. “Why? You had to have an inkling before you took me from everyone I loved—”

“I didn’t take you anywhere, you’re not some helpless waif! We were grown-ups and we made grown-up decisions!” He raised his voice again, face red with anger and veins bulging in his neck and forehead. “If I remember correctly, I suggested being long-distance while we did our graduate studies.”

“I loved you, Kun! I loved you, and I wanted to see you thriving and to support you from right next to you, not be in the sidelines of your life.”

“I never stopped loving you.”

“What?”

“The answer to your question is that I never stopped loving you, actually. I just told you I did.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, slack-jawed, before you were filled with even more white-hot rage than ever, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Y/N, we were fighting every other day, we never saw each other because we were working so much and when we did we just fought—Like this!” He gestured between the two of you zealously as he defended himself. “—about the stupidest stuff. I could see how much you hated being here, and I knew you resented me for bringing you here, but you wouldn’t ever talk to me about it. I thought that if I was the only thing keeping you here, then I needed to stop being so selfish and let you go back home where you would actually be happy again.”

“And you didn’t think to consult me on any of that?”

His jaw clenched as he took a deep inhale through his nose before answering, voice absolutely incensed, “I couldn’t get you to talk about it! Whenever I tried to ask you how you were doing settling in here, how you liked your program, anything, you just gave me these- these hollow smiles and placated me with the same ‘oh, it’s great, I really like it’ over and over again! It was like being in love with a brick wall!”

“Because I didn’t want youto blame yourself! Because it wasn’t your fault!” Your chest heaved as you caught your breath from so much shouting. The white-hot anger was gone, leaving only a cold sorrow inside you as you were confronted with your own admission. You hugged yourself as you followed it up with a much quieter, “It wasn’t your fault, Kun… It’s just been so much easier to blame you this whole time.”

“Y/N…” Kun sighed, running a hand through his hair as his tone changed from anger to remorse, his face softening. “I should’ve made sure our focus was on your career as much as it was on mine. I let my ambitions become the priority for both of us instead of seriously considering yours as well. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for blaming you the whole time. You’re right, I was a grown-up, and I made a grown-up decision.” You shook your head at yourself, staring into the dynamic flames of the fireplace. “It was so much easier to hate you for dragging me here than to hate myself for following you here.”

“I’m sorry for lying, too. When I told you I stopped loving you. I really thought that would get you to leave, to go back home where you could be happy again. But it was just needlessly cruel. I’m so, so sorry.” His voice was shaking, and when you looked back at him again, you could see that the whites of his eyes were pink.

“I didn’t go back home because it wouldn’t have meant anything to go back without you,” you finally answered his question, swallowing the lump in your throat. “When we first moved here, and I’d imagine going back home, I would always imagine us going back together. Because it wouldn’t have been home without you, for me. That’s why I stayed. Not because you were here—I really never wanted to see you again. But because you—the you that I wanted, that still loved me—weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry…” He blinked and the first of his tears slipped slowly down his cheek. “I know I said that a lot the first time we did this but… I wasn’t apologizing for the right thing.”

The corners of your lips twitched with a bittersweet, cynical smile. “You didn’t know any of this stuff the first go around.”

“I did know that you loved me. And I really thought that if you could just get over that one little thing then you could be happy again. I underestimated you and what it meant for you to love me.”

“It wasn’t that simple…” You repeated feebly. “You made me happy too, Kun. I should’ve told you that, all of this, everything, instead of pushing it down and letting myself resent you just because that’s what seemed easier at the time. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“None of this was fair on either of us.”

“But saving our relationship wasn’t your sole responsibility, Kun. We were partners, it was on both of us, and I didn’t try.”

“It was everybody’s fault and nobody’s fault,” Kun declared with another sigh, dropping his body back down in the armchair.

“Yeah…” You sat down in the corner of the couch. “It was…”

The apartment was silent as you took another sip of your eggnog, and Kun wiped his damp cheeks.

“So… now what?” You prompted as you met his gaze.

“You still like jigsaw puzzles?”

Kun and you worked together on a puzzle on the floor of his living room. Once put together, it would show a full Winter Wonderland scene. He had put on Christmas music in the background, and your assembly was interspersed with sing-alongs, easygoing conversation, and long, comfortable stretches of silence.

When the puzzle was about halfway done, you let out a big yawn, briefly checking the time on your phone. “Oh, jeez, it’s after midnight already.”

“I think that’s plenty for tonight,” Kun declared, slowly getting to his feet. “We can finish up the rest tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” You twisted around in place to crack your back.

“I’ll go get you some pajamas.” He gave your head a gentle pat before walking off, taking both of your now-empty eggnog mugs with him.

He returned just a couple minutes later in a pair of lounge pants and simple longsleeve shirt, holding out a stack of clothes to you. “Here.”

“Thanks, Kun,” you accepted them gratefully. “But you really didn’t have to—”

“Y/N, were you seriously going to wear the same clothes for like a week straight?” He raised an eyebrow doubtfully.

“I mean, you have a washing machine, presumably.”

“And you would’ve… stood by the washing machine naked? Until they were done?”

You covered your face with one hand as you laughed. “Good point, good point.”

“Seriously, it’s fine.”

“Thanks.”

In the bathroom, you fully appraised the clothes as you changed, a funny sort of tug in your chest when you recognized the sweatshirt he’d given you. It was a plain black crewneck sweatshirt, save for a small rose embroidered on the left wrist, just above the cuff. It had always been your favorite of his to take and wear for yourself before.

The sweatshirt was as soft as you’d remembered, and when you put it on, you were awash not only in Kun’s scent, but warm, happy memories of being held, loved, treasured, safe. You folded up your clothes and left them on the bathroom countertop.

The fire had been put out when you returned to the living room, and the lights on the tree unplugged.

“I uhm, I’m not sure where you wanted me to put my clothes, so they’re on the—” You cut yourself off when you looked up from where you’d been fiddling with the hem of the sweatshirt to see Kun looking at you with an off-putting, oddly mournful look of tenderness. “What? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved off your concerns, his voice tight. “That’s fine, I’ll throw them in the wash with mine tomorrow.”

“Do you have some extra bedding I can use out here?”

“What?”

“I mean, your couch already looks super comfy, but a real pillow would sort of be nice…”

“No, no, you can take my bed,” he shook his head. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Kun, I’ll be fine out here for a few nights,” you pushed back. With humor in your tone, you added, “You’ve done enough sleeping on the couch to last the rest of your life, okay? I think it’s my turn.”

He seemed to understand your joke, but also the sincere intent behind it, and held up his hands in surrender as a smile cracked across his face. “Alright, I know when I’m beat. I’ll get you some pillows and blankets.”

Kun set up your makeshift bed on the couch for you, with a couple of real pillows, a very fluffy blanket, and heavy quilt to go over that. He refilled your water glass from dinner, and set that down on the coffee table for you.

“Oh, phone charger—”

“I have one.” You stopped him with a hand on his arm, going to grab your purse and root through it. “I keep an extra on me. Never know when your phone is going to die reviewing notes in a random café.”

“Right. Cool.” He watched you plug it into the outlet closest to the pillow end of the couch, then stand back up.

“Well, goodnight, Kun. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Goodnight, Y/N. Thanks again for coming, and uh, sorry for getting you stuck out here…”

You sat down on the couch, smiling up at him. “Hasn’t been all bad.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t,” he agreed with a chuckle.

When he still hadn’t moved, you realized the both of you must have been debating the same thing. Should you hug goodnight?

To save yourselves, you opened your arms in a half-invitation, and Kun bent over to give you a one-armed hug, briefly rubbing your back before standing back up. He gave you a final hesitant smile and nod. “Night.”

“Night.”

As you laid down, you could hear him walking across the room, and pause at the threshold. Just as you’d finished readjusting your covers and getting cozy with your head on the pillow, the lights were turned off, and you listened to Kun walk all the way into his room and the door creak closed behind him.

You watched the last of the dying embers in the fireplace as you started trying to sort through your muddied thoughts. You and Kun no longer had the awkwardness of bitter exes, but it had just been replaced with a new kind of awkwardness. Now that you didn’t hate each other, what was left? How did you feel about each other?

You still hadn’t figured it out by the time you fell asleep.

Full-body shivers woke you up, and you blinked rapidly trying to readjust to your surroundings. You pulled the blankets tighter around you, but that did practically nothing. Every inch of you from your fingers to your toes felt like a block of ice, and your muscles were shaking to try to generate some kind of heat. Your teeth even chattered a couple of times.

A hasty look at your phone showed you that it was only two and a half hours after you’d fallen asleep. You turned on your phone flashlight, looking around the walls for the thermostat. Having spotted it at the start of the hallway, you made the hasty decision to throw your blankets off you and run over to it as quick as possible, fumbling to look at the controls. But as best you could tell, the heat was definitely turned on, and it was set to a perfectly comfortable temperature.

You felt terrible for what you were about to do, but you were going to get hypothermia sooner than you would get back to sleep at this rate. Lightly knocking on Kun’s bedroom door, you paid attention for any signs of life. After a moment of no response, you knocked again, a bit louder.

There was a groan from inside, followed by a half-intelligible, confused mumble of your name.

“Yeah, Kun, it’s me,” you responded through the wood.

You heard the sounds of him rolling out of bed, then lumbering over to the door. He opened it, rubbing one of his eyes.

“Y/N, what are you— Shit, it’s a fucking meatlocker out there!” He exclaimed, grabbing at his own arms.

“Yeah, I know. I’m really sorry to wake you up, but I can’t seem to figure out your thermostat and it’s freezing out here.”

Kun pushed past you, shutting his door tight behind him before going to inspect the thermostat himself. “Doesn’t make sense… The heat should be working fine…”

“Oh.”

“God, of course it’s fucking broken,” he grumbled. “I’m sorry about this, Y/N. I’ll go call the maintenance line right now.”

Just a moment later, and you heard more swearing from his room. He came back out with his phone in hand. “Got a text from the management company… Heat in the whole complex is busted, but they can’t get anybody out here until the roads are clear.”

“Shit…”

He spun on his heel back towards the bedroom. “Come on, it’s at least a little warmer in my room. You’ll freeze to death out here.”

You followed him in without complaint, and he shut the door firmly behind you. He grabbed a towel from his attached bathroom and stuffed it under the crack of the door.

You couldn’t see much about his bedroom in the dark except for a few vague shapes, but the air felt noticeably warmer in here than it had been in the living room. Kun opened up a couple of drawers on what you were now realizing was a dresser, and grabbed a hoodie for himself, then handed you a zip-up hoodie. It was big enough to fit the sleeves of your sweatshirt through, and you could feel the chattering of your teeth dying down.

Kun sat down on one side of the bed, and indicated to the other side for you. You obliged, following his lead to slip under the covers. The sheet, blankets, and heavy quilt were still pleasantly warm, and you rubbed your frozen feet together in contentment. You accidentally bumped Kun’s leg, a flash of accidental heat.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” You jerked your limbs as far back as you dared without leaving the security of the blankets.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re an icicle,” Kun said disapprovingly.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“Come here,” he sighed and lifted the blankets in between you two.

“Wh—”

“I’m not going to let you freeze to death literally right next to me. Either you come here or I go over there.”

You shuffled a couple inches closer to him, but either he was impatient, or wasn’t sure that you’d follow through, because he moved to close the gap himself, meeting you in the middle and wrapping an arm around you to pull you closer to him.

You gulped, and hoped he couldn’t hear it. “That’s a lot better, actually.”

“I was always much warmer than you,” he pointed out.

Readjusting to lay on your side facing the same direction as him, your hand brushed against his that was slung over your middle.

“God, you feel like you’re about to lose your fingers to frostbite, too.” He covered your hand with his.

You instinctively spread your fingers so his would slot together with them, and it felt so familiar and comfortable that you almost burst into tears again on the spot.

“Y/N?”

“Y-Yeah?” You tried and failed to keep your voice casual.

“I think you’re cutting off my circulation now.”

“Oh God, sorry!” You loosened the death grip you didn’t even realized you’d had on his appendages.

“It’s alright,” he reassured you. “Are you warming up?”

You nodded hastily. “For sure. Thank you, again.”

“I was thinking… about earlier.”

“Kun, for real, if there was ever a time not to fight.”

“No, it’s not— Well it is about that, but I’m not looking for a round two, promise.”

“Okay…”

“I was thinking… about how I didn’t really accept your apologies, and you didn’t accept mine.”

“That’s fine, Kun. Not every apology is made to be accepted.”

“I know, I know. And I’m not fishing for your forgiveness right now. I was just thinking, about how I’m kind of relieved, that we still haven’t you know, finally gotten our closure or whatever.” His breath was getting quicker. “Because I don’t want this to be over, actually. And closure feels like it’d really be the end.”

You squeezed your eyes shut tight and opened them back up again, staring into the inky darkness. “What do you mean by that, Kun?”

“I mean… When I said I never stopped loving you, I didn’t just mean when we broke up. I still do.”

“So you… What? Want to get back together?” Your voice was a hoarse whisper.

“At least talk about it,” he confirmed. “I’ll do anything you want, lovey. Complete restart, take you on a new first date, or we can even just try to be friends first. I’m not saying we have to jump right back in where we left off. I think we need to leave space for the people we’ve become since then but… I know I want to try again.”

You swallowed down your sniffles as you turned over to finally face him. Despite the lack of light, you could find every feature on Kun’s face, holding a caged hopefulness in them. You gently caressed his cheek with the back of your knuckles.

“Okay…” You murmured. “We can try again. I-I want that too.”

You caught just a flicker of Kun’s bright grin before you were tangling your fingers in his shaggy locks and pulling his mouth to yours. It was somehow even better than you remembered, than you had imagined, because it felt like coming home all at once. Like all of you, body, mind, soul, heart, had come home.

Kun kissed you back just as ardently, tangling his legs with yours and pulling you even closer—if it were even possible. One of his hands cupped your cheek while the other wrapped around your waist, bunching in the fabric at the small of your back.

When your lungs were screaming for air and you were light-headed for more than one reason, you broke away, resting your forehead against his.

“Looks like neither of us followed the no gift rule,” Kun said in the negligible space between your mouths, the tip of his nose bumping yours for a moment. “I think I had my heart gift-wrapped for you from the moment I saw you again.”

You chuckled as you stole one, two more kisses from him. “You’re as cheesy as ever, pooks.”

“I have three years’ worth of lines like that stocked up,” he teased, giving you another peck. “And you’re stuck in here with me until next year, lovey.”

sequel :･ﾟ✧｡･:･*

⤷ 2023 hallmark movie marathon | blog masterlist

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nctynuniverse · 2 years

Text

There is a man pretending to be my Fiancée

Yangyang x Reader

«a;f»

Words: 1003

Trigger warning: major mental health issue / brain damage

A/N: this story is based on a r/nosleep post lol, but I decided to make it less creepy I guess. Also I believe that this works perfectly with Yangyang :P

"What do you mean I am 'not myself'?" - Yangyang -or the person that was pretending to be him- looked at me with a serious expression.

I was sitting in the hospital room, with a heavy bandage around my head and really confused. Having just woken up for what seemed like the longest nap ever, I was feeling a bit odd.

Once I was back on track, I looked at my boyfriend but something was off about him. Yangyang was... not him. I cannot really recall what was wrong but it just wasn't him.

"Where's Yangyang?" - I insisted to this stranger, and he looked at me with soft eyes. He looked exhausted.

"I am Yangyang, what do you mean? Can't you see me?" - He pointed at his face in disbelief, while a big grin showed up on his face. It was exactly like his smile, but it looked kind of sad.

"Look, y/n, I know it is hard and too much, you've just woken up from a week-long coma. Let's just wait until you can come home"- He tried to explain, but I was sure he was lying. A week-long coma? Last thing I remembered was going on a trip with my fiancée, Yangyang -certainly not this extremely similar dude- and next thing I know is I am on a hospital bed, clearly beaten up and with a stranger claiming to be the love of my life. Bullshit.

The doctor entered to the room, followed close by my mother. What was she doing in South Korea? Why didn't she tell me that she would come? Why did she treat the imposter as if he was Yangyang himself?

She looked at me and started crying, came up to hug me and whispered that she was so scared. That she thought she had lost me and some other stuff I couldn't really understand.

I was, indeed, shocked. Maybe the accident the imposter had mentioned actually happened but then what the hell happened to my boyfriend?

After the doctor checked me entirely, he determined that, if I remained stable for 24 hours, I would be able to go back home. And that's when I got nervous: home? With this weirdo who claimed to be my boyfriend but certainly wasn't?

There was a moment when the imposter left to get a call -apparently from Ten, but I was sure he was lying, why would Ten call someone that was clearly not Yangyang?- and I took my chance to tell my mother the issue:

"That guy. He is not Yangyang. Where's Yang?"

"What do you mean he is not Yangyang?"- Her face had dropped and her tone was extremely concerned.

"I know, he looks exactly like him and he talks like him and I was almost fooled by his impression but that is not Yangyang"

And by the time I said that last sentence, the imposter was already back in the room and scoffed.

A few days passed and I was already back home, with the imposter, and my mom had already left the country. I had coexisted with this guy for a few days already, but only after he had agreed on sleeping on the couch while I slept on my bed, with the door closed.

This guy seemed caring, he answered correctly all the questions I asked about my private life with Yangyang, even the little details. He was patient with me, cooked, chose my favorite movies to watch, would always be there playing some of Yangyang's favorite music. Ten and the guys would often come to visit and treat him as if he was Yangyang himself. My own friends would do the same too.

But I was not one to be fooled. I could not be the only one to notice.

A month happened since I had left the hospital and this wanna-be Yangyang took me to a psychiatrist. He told me that it would be for the better, but I was truly concerned about his plan.

And that was the first time I've heard about Capgras syndrome. And of course I was sure that they were playing tricks on me. To suddenly believe that my fiancée had been replaced, but in the end it being him all along? No way.

The psychiatrist prescribed some pills, which I was not willing to take but this guy who claimed to be Yangyang knew all my little tricks and made me take them. Just as if he was actually Yangyang.

The imposter was so caring that I found myself actually believing that, only maybe, it was all in my head. I was not crazy, I was sure about that. But the way this guy knew everything about me, about us. The way his eyes looked at me and how patient and kind he was towards me, made me actually consider that option.

Maybe it was the pills, but one night I googled the Capgras Syndrome for the first time. It read: "Capgras delusion is a psychiatric disorder in which a person holds a delusion that a friend, spouse, parent, or other close family member (or pet) has been replaced by an identical impostor".

Ah, now it all made sense.

And I started crying and Yangyang, for the first time, hugged me without asking me beforehand. He was, indeed, my fiancée. And I had spent months pushing him away because of some stupid brain damage.

I cried and turned around to hug him properly and, for the first time in months, I kissed him. And with his lips on mine, I was able to understand it for once: this was, indeed, my boyfriend. And he had, once again, proven that he is the most important, relevant and caring boy on earth.

That night I let him sleep in our bed. Finding myself enveloped in his arms was the most comforting feeling ever. And just as I was drifting off to sleep, he whispered in my ear: "I'm glad this is over".

Didn't know what he meant by that, but I was glad too.

#wayv x reader #wayv imagine #yangyang x reader #wayv imagines #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct drabbles #wayv

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sassy-author · 2 years

Text

summer promises [yangyangxoc]

genre: slice-of-life / slight-angst / slight-fluff / bestfriend-au word count: 2.7k+

“Xiao Yaaaaang!” Yangyang immediately distanced his phone from his ear at the sudden outburst by his correspondent. At the same time, he blamed himself for going deaf for a few seconds since she would always do that.

“It’s 4 in the morning here Summer, how many times did I tell you to check the time before calling.” Yangyang sighed as he could hear Summer pout at the other end of the line. “What is it this time?”

“Well I had great news, but judging by how grumpy you are, I’ll just call later.”

“Stop being a baby, I am up now, what’s up?” Yangyang sat on his bed, trying not to be too noisy since his housemate, Ten, was probably still sound asleep.

“I thought that you would be more excited than that to hear that your dear best friend is coming back to Korea for a month but figures, I should have called Ten-Oppa first.”

“Are you for real? When are you getting here?” Now Yangyang could not contain his excitement and was already as loud as he could be, not caring about Ten’s beauty sleep.

“I’ll be there tonight, so you better clean up the mess that is your room.” And without another word, Summer hung up in his face with a giggle to seal it all.

Just on cue, Ten barged in Yangyang’s room, hair all over the place and clearly not amused. However, before Ten could even nag about this situation, Yangyang said:

“She’ll be back tonight, for a month.”

“A month, that's it? Oh my… get the water boiling, first coffee then cleaning. Get your ass ready Yangyang. I won’t take Summer’s nagging about how messy this apartment is again.”

Yangyang sighed and went to freshen up with a meaningful smile to his face. ‘Today is going to be a long day’ he thought, ‘but a good one.’

Initially, YangYang and Summer met in Germany. Both being born in Taiwan and having the same age, they naturally bonded. Best friends seemed to be their destiny as coincidentally, they both dreamed about going to Korea one day. Yangyang wanted to live there and open his own dance studio. While Summer was more of a travel person, she could see herself living in Korea, but not for long at all. She wanted to have the option to live in Korea one day, Taiwan the next and why not Thailand or Japan the following month. Being a travel blogger only boosted her dream to achieve such opportunities. They both got to Korea at the same time and spent a solid 6 months together before meeting Ten. Ten and Yangyang bonded over their dancing ambitions and soon became partners in crime and business. Henceforth, they rented an apartment all three of them. Summer would be there only around 6 months out of a year but it had been like that for the past two years and the boys were used to this lifestyle. Rent was not that big of an issue since Summer would still send her share while being away, despite the guys insisting that it was not necessary.

The only issue per say would be Yangyang missing her like crazy but he was comforted by the fact that she missed him just as much.

The clock was dangerously ticking. Yangyang was restless, waiting for his best friend to barge through the front door at any time now. Ten and himself, had spent the whole day cleaning the apartment’s every corner, also making sure that Summer’s room was still untouched but squeaky clean. The last time she was in Korea was around 3 months prior. Summer did mention that she would be in the country for only a month this time, which means that she most probably had a new project in mind and only needed to rest before embarking on a new travel journey.

“Staring at the door won’t make her come any faster Yangyang.” Ten teased his younger counterpart knowingly with a smirk. He might have known them for only a little over 2 years but Ten was much more perceptive than he let on.

“Yeah but she should already be here by now. I don’t understand why she doesn’t allow us to pick her up every time.”

“Oh come on, you know well enough that it’s because she needs to enjoy Korea’s polluted air on her own first before being spoiled by our manly aura.” Ten teased once again which caused Yangyang to laugh his heart out. Both men ended up laughing a little more, maybe nervously since both were expecting the door to barge open at any second now.

“I see that you guys have been getting much fun while I was away.” Summer was at the door, her suitcase next to the door, duffle bag over her shoulder and a plastic in her hand.

Both men simply stared at her for a few seconds.

“Wow okay, I didn’t expect such a greet-“

As if on cue, both men screamed to the top of their lungs: “Summer!”

They both took her into a bear hug and she could only chuckle. “Glad to see you both too.” She pinched both of their stomachs before, rolling her suitcase to Yangyang’s feet, shifting her bag to his shoulder as well. “Quick I bought some spicy rice-cakes on my way over, I’m starving.”

Immediately, Yangyang sauntered to her room to drop her bags while Ten grabbed the take out and took it to the kitchen. Summer looked at the apartment and smiled tightly. ‘This feels like home,’ she thought with nostalgia.

The first weeks went by normally. Yangyang and Ten followed their work schedule closely while Summer was out and about around the city, taking pictures and visiting her favourite snack-joints. At night, all three of them would gather around in the living room and have dinner together round the coffee table in front of some re-running shows of Knowing Brothers or Running Man.

It is only during the third week of her stay that Yangyang had a day off from work. He proposed to take Summer out for the day but she miraculously wanted to stay in that day.

Yangyang was woken up by the delicious smell of newly baked pancakes. Looking at his bedside alarm clock, it was already 9 a.m which meant that Ten was already off to the dance studio. After freshening up, he got his lazy self to the kitchen and gave Summer a quick back hug while she was still at the stove. Summer leaned into his embrace with a warm smile before Yangyang could turn his attention to the warmly brewed coffee on the isle.

“Pancakes. What is it this time?” he said carefully.

“What do you mean?” Summer seemed focused on her last batch of pancakes, back facing her best friend.

“You only bake pancakes when you want to discuss something rather concerning. So what is it this time?”

Summer sighed as she turned off the stove and set the isle for them to have breakfast. “Let’s eat first and then we’ll talk.”

Indeed, while eating they only talked about a few of Summer’s anecdotes from her recent trip to Indonesia and a few of Yangyang’s new choreography ideas and themes. The plate of pancakes soon vanished and Yangyang was doing the dishes while Summer was cleaning up the kitchen’s surfaces.

“Alright so we are done eating now…” Yangyang dried his hands before grabbing Summer’s shoulders and pushing her towards the living room, forcing her to settle on their couch. “What is it?”

Yangyang was clearly worried but only his gaze gave it away. Summer and him went through literally everything together that he couldn’t really fathom what was going on this time. It was the first time that she was beating around the bush for this long and he could feel the tension in the air. Out of habit, Yangyang grabbed one of her hands and started playing with her fingers to hopefully comfort her and encourage her to speak up as well.

Summer on her end was just nervous because she knew how the upcoming announcement would change everything, at least for a while. Taking a deep breath, she finally said:

“I got a new project, as a tourism magazine writer/editor.”

“Oh my god, that’s great! Where?”

“Canada…”

Yangyang laughed, “It’s funny cause’ I thought I heard Canada.” Summer bit her tongue as she slowly nodded. Yangyang inhaled sharply before continuing on a more serious tone: “For how long?”

“For two years…”

“Please tell me that you are not seriously thinking about taking on this project?”

“Xiaoyang, don’t do this to me, you know how much this means to me. And it is not just any country, it’s Canada.”

“Two whole fucking years Xià Tiān. Not a month, not even a year but TWO years. I thought that we had agreed that you would never be away for longer than 6 months.” Summer winced at Yangyang’s use of her birth name. He was hurt, she could see that, but so was she.

“I know… but it is only this once. I cannot refuse this opportunity. The exposure I would get from this is enough to double my network in a month alone.”

“Then have the gig for only a month!”

Yangyang was visibly growing more and more frustrated. And Summer was only passive since this reaction was just like what she imagined it would be.

“You know that I can’t do this Xiaoyang… two years will go by fast. I promise. I’ll call often. I promise.”

“What about us?” Yangyang asked dangerously, risking it all. He knew that there was a line to never cross in between best friends however, between him and Summer, it was different. They may have never took things to another level, but there was a mutual understanding that she was in his heart and he was in hers. It only came down to the fact that their respective careers was top priority for now.

Summer was teary-eyed at his sudden question and could not utter another word.

Yangyang scoffed before grabbing his coat and exiting the apartment in a storm, leaving Summer devastated. She knew where he was headed but she also knew that he needed time to cool down.

That night, only Ten came back home. Summer was not surprised but she was rather disappointed. She had hoped that Yangyang would be willing to talk things through sooner than later. After all, she only had one more week before leaving. Ten cooked dinner for the both of them but Summer was no way in the mood for food. Sighing, Ten looked at her, his little sister as he would always think of her and he was truly saddened.

“Give him one more day, he needs to clear his mind.” Summer simply nodded at his words. “He really thought that you would come back for good and focus on only Korea and maybe Japan at least this year. He wouldn’t stop going on about how he missed you and you missed him too.”

Yangyang had spent the night at the studio that day, dancing his stress out. He had the studio to himself so he could really dance at his ease, do what he pleases and even scream all the more he wanted. Deep down, he knew that his reaction was un-called for but two years without seeing Summer would be the longest they would be apart. What if she met someone in Canada was his first thought. But he couldn’t possibly tell her to look at him only, he couldn’t seriously tell her to give up on her dream either.

Text from: 10 out of 10 She is waiting for you in the living room man, I know that you need your time but don’t be too late either.

Yangyang sighed at this message from Ten before finally resting in the middle of the dance studio, covered in sweat and heavy thoughts. How was he to face her the following day.

At dawn the next day, Yangyang was already in front of their apartment. Hesitating to get in. He knew however that he couldn’t run away from this any longer so he made his way in slowly and quietly. There she was, laying on the couch. Yangyang sighed for the nth time before sauntering towards her, sitting down in front of the couch, taking in her appearance. She might be sleeping but she looked restless; the bags under her eyes indicated that she had stayed up until really late, most probably waiting for him to come back. Gently tucking her hair behind her ear, Yangyang kissed her forehead softly before resting his head on a portion of the couch next to her. Before he knew it, he fell asleep again and this time he was able to actually rest comfortably despite this awkward position for, she was there with him.

“Xiao Yang… wake up.” Half an hour later, a small voice was trying to stir the young man out of his slumber and this voice belonged to none other than Summer. Slowly Yangyang woke up, yawning heavily as he stretched out from his uncomfortable sitting position at the foot of the couch. “Come lie down next to me.” With no other word uttered, Summer scooted over as Yangyang took her into his embrace as they both lay on the couch. Just like that they slept for a few hours more and the previous night’s concern was forgotten, or better said, ignored.

Another week went by with the pair of best friend acting as if nothing had happened. They just did their best to make the most out of the little free time they had.

D-day approached and Summer's plane was due to take off at 21h. This time she couldn’t argue her way out of having the boys accompany her to the airport. And so they did. Ten knew not to stay around for long though. He hugged her tightly making sure to nag about her safety and keeping in regular contact before kissing her forehead. He winked at Yangyang and gave him a reassuring look before leaving the two alone as he went to the car on his own for the time being.

Yangyang and Summer sat at one of the airport benches in silence. It might seem weird to others that they didn’t talk about this situation after their first fight but to them, this seemed to be the best solution. Yangyang held Summer’s hand in his tightly, caressing the back of it with his thumb.

“Good afternoon passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight N127 to Toronto, Canada. We are now inviting those passengers with small children, and any passengers requiring special assistance, to begin boarding at this time. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Regular boarding will begin in approximately ten minutes time. Thank you.”

“That’s my flight.” Summer said with a small smile as she urged Yangyang to get up.

“Promise me that you will really call often.” Yangyang said like vulnerably.

“I promise.” Summer said sincerely as she held both of his hands tightly.

“Be careful there and let us know if anything. We’ll fly our asses to you if you need.”

“I know Xiao Yang. I know.”

They both tried their best to keep a smile to their faces.

Summer took a deep breath before saying; “I really do not want to be this selfish woman who asks you to wait for her while she is away, but I promise that I will be back in two years, with you still in my heart, so will you please still be here for me when I get back. And then maybe, can we make things right?”

Yangyang couldn’t help but smile further, not trusting himself to speak up though since Summer just showed that she would wear the pants in this relationship to be. Yangyang took her in his arms tightly, whispering through her hair. “One Summer night, when you’ll be back, I’ll take you out officially as my girlfriend and parade you all over Seoul.”

Summer and Yangyang chuckled at their own cheesiness but now they knew that they would be okay; One Summer Night.

THE END.

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rrxnjun · 2 years

Text

just saying ;; lyy

pairing: liu yangyang x fem!reader genre: college au | comedy, fluff, angst wc: 11.6k (11.602) playlist: just saying - 5 seconds of summer ; 21 questions - waterparks ; maniac - conan gray ; perfume - lovejoy ; i want u bad - r5 ; gloom boys - waterparks warnings: swearing, a mention of cheating

you got a new boyfriend. in yangyang’s eyes, he’s a total loser, and all your friends tell you that he’s got no future. they all like him, though... and so in a desperate plan, jealousy takes over and liu yangyang executes his masterplan: he has to make you two break up. all because he could treat you better than him. just saying though...

i. you got a boyfriend and he's a total loser

Slurping on his banana flavored boba, while making a noise that has successfully annoyed everyone at the table– Renjun the most, it seems, by the way he glares and kicks the other boy under the table with much force– Yangyang looks around the sprously-crowded study room and clears his throat, as if his presence wasn’t well-known already.

“So,” he starts, making sure at least someone’s eyes are on him before he proceeds and asks the crucial question– the question that’s still keeping him at this place, the question that’s been burning at the tip of his tongue for the past 20-or-so minutes. “Is Y/N not coming?”

Your best friend looks up from her textbook, the same one she’s been aimlessly staring into for the past 20 minutes, rolling her eyes at him and heaving out a heavy sigh. Yangyang doesn’t know if the sigh is addressed to the stupidity of his question or not, but he’s willing to find out as he only jabs more and raises up his eyebrows in question, making Ryujin answer his question faster.

The answer is a simple ‘No’, followed by a tight-lipped smile sent his way as the girl looks back to her textbook again and furrows her brows with much despair. Yangyang doesn’t blame her, because from the look of it, it looks like Ryujin is trying to cramp some Physics into that bleached head of hers, and even though Yangyang is a linguistics major, he can only imagine how annoying and difficult all those numbers mixed with letters can be to memorize.

The reply he was given is not enough for him, though. Don’t get me wrong, it would be more than enough for anyone else– for anyone normal, it seems– but Yangyang doesn’t even want to attend the study group he’s sitting with right now. The truth is, he’s only going because you’re there. And if you’re not there, then the whole purpose of sitting in the small room at the very end of the college campus is a waste of time for him– a waste of time he’s not willing to spend when he has one more season of Tokyo Ghoul to rewatch now that he has Netflix. Yes, it’s the account he stole from Dejun. But still. A free Netflix account is a free Netflix account…

Liu Yangyang knows you as the resident smart girl. That’s not all, though– it’s simply the way he got to know you, and it’s hard to peel that sticker off now. You were the only person that replied to him in the class group chat when he asked if someone could tutor him on the last topic of his Math exam last year– he quickly dropped the class the next semester, but he really needed the extra credit back then. Since then, you two have been meeting every Wednesday in the same small room at the end of the plain-white corridor in the Biology building– the only one that’s free at this time. Yangyang quickly fell into liking you. It wasn’t hard at all, if you ask him; you’re lively and confident, you always have something to say, and most of all, you always laugh at his jokes. Yangyang just can’t not like someone that laughs at his jokes. It strokes his ego just right, since the amount of disses he gets for his jokes from his roommate Dejun is just the right amount to keep him humble.

Yangyang likes to think he lured you in with the weekly dose of strawberry chocolate he always brought you as a payment for your tutoring services; because as soon as he dropped the class and told you he didn’t need the tutoring anymore, you brought up the idea of him attending your small study group– which, essentially, is just your group of friends hanging out every Wednesday with textbooks in their hands, pretending to study for the exams together.

Yangyang doesn’t know your friends and he’s sure as hell that he won’t be able to learn anything if you’re sitting in the seat next to him, but it’s you who we’re talking about.

Of course he said yes.

And so when on one Wednesday, when he’s sitting with all your friends, that are somehow now his distant friends (he wouldn’t really call them his friends, still. He hasn’t embarrassed himself in front of them that many times just yet), and you’re not there to be his eye candy, he doesn’t see the purpose of it all anymore. He’s a curious guy by nature, though; and he’s always curious about you.

“Why?”

Now it’s Renjun’s time to sigh and roll his eyes. Yangyang is starting to think that it’s at him, but when Lia snickers from the other side of the table and mumbles something under her nose, he’s enlightened with an information that hits him right in the gut and makes him want to throw up and scream.

“She’s with her new boyfriend,” Ryujin replies, making all of them murmur in agreement– or is it disagreement? Yangyang isn’t quite sure anymore.

“...boyfriend?” Yangyang repeats, as if he wasn’t sure if he heard your friends right.

“Yeah,” Renjun nods, “he’s a total loser, though. I can’t believe she passed on her stupid study group on Wednesday just because he insisted on a date today.”

“Just for the record, I wouldn’t even be coming if I didn’t have a test tomorrow, that’s now disgusted with her actions I am,” Lia mutters, making Yangyang widen his eyes in surprise.

“Who even is he?” Yangyang asks.

“I dunno,” Ryujin shrugs, closing her textbook shut– a sign that she’s fully immersed in talking about your boyfriend behind his back now, “he dropped out, apparently? He’s got no future. I think she met him like three weeks ago and they’re already dating, can you believe that? I don’t like him at all. The last time I saw him, he didn’t even say hi back to me. Like I wasn’t even there!”

Yangyang gasps, shaking his head in disbelief. Why would you date anyone like that? Where did that guy even come from? As far as he knew, he was one of your closest friends– why wasn’t he notified about a new guy in your circle?

“That’s ridiculous, dude,” he mumbles, furrowing his brows.

“Yeah, I don’t get it,” Lia shrugs, “and to think that we all literally had a bet that she’s gonna date you in a few…”

“Huh?” Yangyang opens his eyes wide, gulping down his built-up saliva. Did he hear her right? Dating? You two?

“Yeah,” Ryujin shrugs, “you just randomly appeared! We totally thought she had a crush on you, and don’t get me wrong, we were all for it, but it seems like we… were wrong.”

Yangyang hums, nodding. He didn’t know that everyone thought this about you two… Well, he can’t say he doesn’t like it, no– he very much adores the fact that your friends thought you had a crush on him, but it stings even more now when he realizes that your friends liked him enough to accept him into their circle, while your new boyfriend hasn’t even tried.

He’ll ignore the bet part for now.

“Yeah, seems like it,” Yangyang agrees, “what’s that guy’s name anyway?”

“Hyunho, or something?” Renjun replies, a look of disgust written on his face, “we stalked his Insta for a bit. He’s got a profile full of cringey gym pics and pics from when he went fishing.”

“Fishing,” Yangyang repeats.

“Yeah man, we told you it’s bad.”

Shaking his head in disbelief and putting his head into his hands, Yangyang lets out one of many sighs shared around the table, biting his bottom lip. He’ll make sure to stalk that guy when he comes home– just to see if there’s anything your friends didn’t mention that is a walking red flag. Who knows, maybe… maybe he still has time to talk you out of it.

Maybe.

ii. he barely takes you out and if he does he's late

Trying to catch his breath as the crowd finally leaves the café he works at– the time period between 2 and 2:35pm is always the busiest– he hangs his head low and curses under his breath. Only god knows just how much Yangyang despises his job as a barista in the campus café; and that’s only because he won’t admit it to anyone that dares to laugh at him and make jokes about it. Yes, he comes to work every day with disgust coating his senses, but at least he gets paid. And he really needs that money.

A cheerful voice breaks him out of his slumber, a voice he would, on regular circumstances, want to strangle to death, making him look up again and switch the glare for a fake smile.

A fake smile that quickly shifts into an honest one, when he realizes who’s standing in front of him in their full glory.

“Can I get the usual?” you grin, making him shake his head in disbelief.

“Y/N, you don’t have an usual, this is like the second time you’ve been here,” he notes, battling the grin that’s wanting to settle onto his lips. It’s easy to smile for him when you’re around, but he caught his jaw being in pain the last time you two hung out, and he’s not willing to live through that experience again, since it sure was humbling.

“Well, I’m making my last order my usual, then. That’s how it works, doesn’t it?” you smile, making him mockingly roll his eyes at you.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

Yangyang could lie and tell you that he doesn’t remember what you ordered the first time you were here– it was right after his exams and you were too impatient to wait for him to tell you if he passed them or not, since, and this is an indirect quotation, you have to be there for him just in case he failed and needs mental support. He passed his exams and your visit only added to his euphoria, as he chatted away with you until he had to close the café and walked you home. So, Yangyang could lie and tell you that he doesn’t vividly remember that day up to the smallest detail, but he’s not that much of a good liar, after all, so he won’t even try.

He remembers your order down to the chocolate shavings on top of the whipped cream that’s decorating your favorite iced caramel macchiato, and so he wastes no time in turning around and preparing your drink as you sit at the tall bar stool and wait for him to get it ready for you.

“You always work. I had to run over here just so I could hang out with you,” you mumble, a teasing pout sitting at your lips that Yangyang catches when he briefly turns around to peek at your face.

“Yeah, well, my rent is not gonna get paid by itself, so,” he shrugs, swirling the whipped cream on top of your drink, getting ready to sprinkle the chocolate shavings delicately to the peak of the white, cloudy mess. He briefly imagines putting a cherry on top, just because you distantly remind him of cherries, in a way, before he mentally cringes at his thoughts and shoos them out of his lovesick brain.

“I get that,” you note, “but do you even have time for yourself?”

“Of course I do,” Yangyang snickers, finished with your drink now, bringing it to you. He does have time for himself, of course– and so what if it’s in the deadly hours of night and on Wednesdays. If he’s lucky, he’s free on every other Friday too, depending on if Chaeryeong is free to cover his shift. And he’s free on weekends! That’s plenty of time.

“You’re always locked up here.”

Yangyang rolls his eyes at you. “It has its privileges.”

“Like what?”

“Like… if I wasn’t here as often, Johnny would kick my ass if he saw me chatting away with our customers,” he shrugs, seeing you snicker. That, and he also gets to study when the café isn’t as busy. They take turns with Hendery when he’s around, but he mostly just slacks off in the back, pretending to ‘stack up on coffee beans’.

“Okay, then,” you absently nod, taking a sip of your drink. A blissful expression overtakes your features, hinting that Yangyang did his job right and your caramel macchiato is surely one of the best things you’ve ever tasted. He wonders if it’s addicting enough to make you visit him at work more often– he wouldn’t be opposed to it even on the busiest days of them all.

“What brings you here?” he asks, leaning on the counter. His legs are starting to hurt from walking around so much– damn Mondays; they’re always the busiest.

“What, I can’t visit my friend at work?” you gasp, acting offended by his question.

“You can, you can,” he brings up his hands into the air in a defensive act, “you’ve just never done it before.”

Taking another sip of your drink, you look almost guilty as you nod and sigh. “That’s true,” you nod, “but… I’m kind of… waiting for someone?”

Already preparing for the impact of your answer, Yangyang curls his toes in anticipation. “For who?”

“Hyunho,” you smile, “my boyfriend. We’re going on a date, and I figured that we could stop by to get some coffee first, and since I know this café is famous for its good coffee,” you note as you point towards Yangyang, as if to praise the boy for doing his job right, “I invited him here.”

“Oh,” Yangyang nods, subconsciously pulling away from you, “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

A knowing look is sent his way, making shivers run down his spine as you snicker. “You were with Ryujin and Renjun on Wednesday. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t know.”

“Okay, so maybe I did know, but all I’m saying is that I didn’t know before. It’s… kind of sudden, you know,” he mumbles, trying to sound the least suspicious he can. It’s not every day that you talk to your crush about their new boyfriend; Yangyang never thought he’d live to the day when this happens (not that you’re not pretty or interesting enough to get a boyfriend. He just somehow always assumed that you’re gonna be single and free for him to simp over forever), but here we are.

“Yeah, well,” you mumble sheepishly, “it just kind of… happened.”

Yangyang hums in response, nodding. What else is there for him to say? He feels like all the vocabulary in his head– in all 5 languages he knows– escaped his brain and is standing somewhere in the corner of this café, laughing at him and pointing their fingers at just how embarrassing the whole situation is.

“How did you two even meet?” he asks, playing with the stack of plastic cups to his left, as if the action was meant to mask his over-interest in the topic that is your new boyfriend.

“At a party,” you say.

His eyes scan you up and down. By the way your eyes avert to the side when your eyes meet, you look a little ashamed of your answer. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing bad about going to parties, and Yangyang would never judge you for getting loose and letting your inner party animal shine, but you and parties just… don’t go together. And you know that, by the way you quickly jump into self-defense.

“You know Mark, right?” you start blabbering, not even sparing a second to let Yangyang absently nod in agreement, “well, it was his party. And Hendery was invited, and you know my friend Yuna is into him, right? And since she didn’t want to go alone– and I don’t blame her, parties are fucking scary for adolescent girls– I, as her good friend, offered that I’ll go with her! It was only a one-time occurrence. But as I was there, this guy talked to me in the kitchen as I was waiting for Yuna to come back from the toilet, which, just by the way, she didn’t– she met Hendery on the way back and they made out in one of the rooms on the second floor– and I was so bored and it was still too early for me to come home and I was supposed to drive Yuna home, so I flirted with him,, and… and… here we are,” you complete your little storytime with an overly-exaggerated hand movement.

Quickly taking your drink into your own hands, as if to occupy yourself as you wait for your friend’s answer, you peek at him from under your eyelashes and blink a few times in anticipation.

“Hendery made out with Yuna?” Yangyang repeats, mouth slightly agape in shock.

“That’s all you got from this conversation?”

“I- I mean that’s… that’s really great for you, yeah, but Hendery and Yuna? In what universe do these two belong together?”

Hendery and Yuna just… aren’t the best combination. It’s the one Yangyang wouldn’t even think of creating. It’s like chocolate and pickles. Where Yuna is the sweet chocolate and Hendery is the weird, crunchy pickle. And even though Yangyang has tried this combination before, he for sure didn’t like it– just another sign that these two do not belong together under any circumstances.

“This universe, apparently,” you shrug, sighing, “anyways, it all happened really quickly. I didn’t even have time to tell you that I was seeing someone, I’m sorry.”

Yangyang only hums. Well, what else is he going to do? Be mad at you? For… what, exactly? For not telling him about your new find? For not telling him about going to a party? That would be stupid. The only person he has every right to be mad at is himself, because even after hearing your story and seeing the stars in your eyes light up at the mention of your boyfriend’s name, Yangyang just can’t seem to feel bitter in his chest and just a little bit envious of the position that Hyunho is in after 2 weeks, while Yangyang has been pining over you for at least the last 6 months. It’s not fair.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles, “I’m happy for you.”

The smile that overtakes your features is one that would make even the shittiest of days feel like a fairytale. The slight tug of your lips upwards and the little scrunch you do with your nose is a sight Yangyang’s seen multiple times since getting to know you, but even after all this time, he feels like even a baseball bat could not hit him harder than this.

No, he can’t be bitter that you got a new boyfriend that’s not him. At least not in front of you.

“Thanks,” you grin, “you’re actually the first one to say that, so… it means a lot to me.”

He freezes. It hasn’t occurred to him before just how much the words of others could affect your relationship. In the bottom of his heart, he thought that just being in love with the person is enough to be happy– but it seems like the opinion of your friends and family matters too.

So Yangyang decides to support you, even if he might be the only one in your circle to do so.

“Where is he? He’s like 15 minutes late,” you mumble. Yangyang furrows his eyebrows at you, shrugging.

“There’s a lot of traffic around this time.”

You purse your lips, looking at the time on your phone screen– which, just by the way, is still decorated by a picture of your friend group all out on the fare, which makes Yangyang happy to see– and finish your drink. Yangyang assumed you were going to take it with you to your date, since you rarely drink more than one coffee a day.

“Do you want another one?” he asks, still.

“No, I’m just gonna wait for Hyunho to arrive,” you tightly smile.

Minutes slowly pass as Yangyang cleans the counter and throws out the plastic cup that was used to hold your drink, making coffee for the lonely couple that came a few minutes after you ordering two iced americanos. He doesn’t want to pay much attention to it, he really doesn’t, but the clock sitting right above his head as he scoops the ice into the two cups reminds him of time passing.

Three minutes, five… seven… fifteen.

Another fifteen minutes pass before the door opens with a subtle hum of a ring, revealing a man in a leather jacket passing through the entrance without a single word, nearing the tall barstool you’re sitting at. Yangyang can only assume it’s your boyfriend by the way he wraps a protective arm around your waist and greets you as silently as he can, as if he didn’t want to disturb the other customers.

“Where were you all this time?” you ask, and Yangyang can only faintly hear the subtle disappointment in your voice before you’re cut off by your boyfriend’s low voice.

“Traffic.”

“Okay,” Yangyang sees you sadly smile from the corner of his eye, a cheerful grin overtaking your features when your eyes meet, “do you want to order anything? This is my friend-”

“No, I’m fine. Let’s go somewhere else,” he says, not even meeting eyes with who you meant to introduce to him, tugging you off the barstool instead.

Yangyang doesn’t have much time to say goodbye to you before you disappear behind the entrance, only earning himself a wave as you hop by your boyfriend’s side and attentively listen to what he has to say.

Yangyang thinks that it might be harder to pretend that he’s happy for you now. And it’s only getting started.

iii. all your friends tell you that he's got no future, but they like me

“Can you believe that? He literally dragged her out of the café! I legit wanted to run after him and throw an americano down his back,” he rambles, aggressively wiping the counter with a smelly cloth that should have been washed like a week ago, “and when I asked her the other day after class how the date went, she went oddly quiet. If that’s not suspicious, then I don’t know what is.”

Throwing the damp cloth down to the floor– to the right corner, far enough to not make anyone trip over it behind the counter– Yangyang looks up to find Dejun and Renjun, the two Juns of his nightmares, as he likes to call them, staring at him with blank eyes and disbelief written all over their faces.

Sure, no one liked your new boyfriend. No one’s gotten as violent with their thoughts about him just yet, and Yangyang fears that he might just have gone too far.

“Okay, well, I can see why you’re so furious about it, but… it’s her relationship,” Dejun shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee, “why do you care so much?”

“Because she’s my friend!” Yangyang gasps, mouth hanging slightly agape from shock.

“Yeah, and? We’re friends, but I wouldn’t give two fucks if your new girl was toxic or some shit. That’s all your decision, mate,” Dejun shrugs and fully enjoys the taste of the hot beverage on his tongue. Dejun is the only person Yangyang knows that likes their coffee hot, even if it feels like a sauna outside. He never really grasped why he’s like that, he figures Dejun might just be a psychopath of some sort; but seeing him now with his blank white cup steaming into his face, Yangyang feels the utter masculine urge of splashing the contents right into his face. Or his own. Either one works.

“Well, thanks for looking out for me, I guess,” Yangyang furrows his brows and rolls his eyes in irony, “Renjun, can I get any support in this topic? You care about Y/N just as much as I do.”

“Well, I don’t know about that-” Renjun mutters under his breath, making the younger boy (even though it’s only a few months; Renjun likes to mention their ‘age difference’ every time he wants to take the upper hand, though, so it’s now kind of fixated in Yangyang’s brain as well) scrunch up his face in question.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he peeps, “but yeah, that dude’s a lost case. I overheard Y/N telling Ryujin that he invited her to sleep over at his house on Friday,” Renjun mutters, making Yangyang fume even harder with built-up frustration.

“Who does that after a month of dating!”

The brutal gaze he is sent by Renjun is one that could make anyone’s back shiver with terror. The little one can get scary sometimes, it seems. “Oh, so you’re conservative,” he sings, voice almost imitating Kris Jenner in a conversation with her dearest daughter Khloé about the wearingness of thongs in public.

“Excuse you, I’m not,” Yangyang defends himself, putting his hands to his hips in a stance quite similar to his mother’s back when she used to nag him for not washing his dishes after eating when he was younger.

Dejun’s eyes drift slowly from one person to the other, enjoying his friends’ heated debate over a man he’s never once seen in his whole entire life, feeling very much like in an episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians.

“Well, I think it’s reasonable. They’re dating,” Dejun mumbles, testing the waters with his remark.

Like a sleeping volcano, Yangyang suddenly erupts, arms waving in the air and all, looking almost comical with his animated screeches. “That means they’re gonna fuck! And what if the condom breaks? Oh no. Worse. What if they don’t wear it at all and he doesn’t pull out fast enough and then she has to carry his babies?!”

The shriek of horror is followed by a fit of laughter coming from the other side of the communication canal; the only one not finding the whole situation funny is Yangyang, though, heavily thinking of how even your pretty genes won’t outlaw the weird asymmetry in your boyfriend’s face. He quickly catches himself and rolls his eyes on his own snarky comment, forcing it out of his own head– he has no right to judge a man that’s, admittedly, a few heads taller than him and broader in the shoulders.

“You’re overthinking it.”

“Well, you have to be prepared for every possible outcome!” Yangyang mumbles, noticing new customers arriving through the glass door of the café.

One last glare is sent to his friends’ direction as he spills out his last comment, the discomfort he feels with the whole situation very much apparent on his face. “You’ll stop laughing when the day comes and I’ll be the only one that can say ‘told you so’, you fuckers.”

The smile he offers the customers standing behind the counter is so different to the expression he had before, one would think there was a shift in reality.

Thank god Yangyang is a good actor.

iv. got a big house, he says he lives alone

Liu Yangyang is not a stalker. He’s not stalking your boyfriend. That’s not at all what’s happening when he sees him at the grocery store one day and eyes him the whole journey to his car, silently following him with the bag of groceries buckled in to his passenger seat, driving down the block and praying to god that your boyfriend doesn’t see him in the rear window, or worse– notice that it’s him that’s, coincidentally, following his every turn.

That’s not stalking… right?

He doesn’t even know what he’s trying to prove here– surely, he can’t know much about your boyfriend just by simply staring at him from his car window. He can’t tell what he’s listening to on the radio– although, he can tell it’s not Nicki Minaj, for he’s not vibing as hard as Yangyang is when he almost forgets to take a turn left when your boyfriend’s car disappears out of his view for a split second. He can’t tell if your boyfriend is worth trusting behind the wheel either; Yangyang isn’t even worth trusting behind the wheel anyway. He’s got his driver’s license recently and already forgot what some of the road signs mean. He’s no judge in that.

Yangyang doesn’t know what he’s trying to prove– to anyone, but mostly to himself– when he follows your boyfriend home one day, but you could say there’s something in the universe that desperately wants him to win, in some way. A silent hint of intuition running through his bones, a spark of hope that lights him up as he feels tingling in the tips of his fingers, anticipation finally reaching the top as he sees your boyfriend park in the driveway, slowing down and waiting at the end of the street.

He goes unnoticed. Your new boyfriend must be blind, Yangyang wonders, silently chuckling to himself as he silently spectates and watches the scene in front of him unravel.

Hyunho walks out of the car– seemingly, an innocent act. The man himself walks over to the trunk, taking out the bag of groceries he’s bought at the store not too long ago, smashing the car door shut with such force that it makes Yangyang wince in terror. He surely hopes he’s not this harsh when he operates with your body, though, he doesn’t like to think about his touch on you, so he bats that thought away with a blink of his eyelashes and focuses on his investigation.

Angels, spirit guides, god… someone must be on his side today. He’s not crazy. He doesn’t usually follow people home. He’s not saying that it’s not fun, of course– it’s just something he’s never picked up before, preferring to focus his time on other, much more interesting hobbies. There must be a reason why he’s here– and the reason is unleashing right in front of his eyes.

The eureka moment suddenly hits him with much force, his lips parting, as if to scream a winning “Ha!” at the top of his lungs.

He is a good listener. Well, most times, that is– when it’s you he’s listening to, though, he’s quite sure his memory is writing down each and every single word that comes out of your mouth, paying attention to detail and punctuation. He’s your number one fan, after all.

And with that in mind, he remembers you telling him trivial facts about your boyfriend.

That he’s strong (Yangyang’s definitely stronger), that he doesn’t like his coffee hot (one of the only normal things about him, it seems), that he’s super sweet, honest and loyal. You’ve also told him that he lives alone– in a small house with a brown roof, identical to the one he’s standing in front of right now, with the bag of groceries in his hold.

Here he goes– the thing he’s been sent here for, the fact that he was supposed to acquire in this quest.

Out of the house, a middle-aged woman strides her way forward, hair an identical shade of brown to Hyunho, who is only pointing an annoyed look at her through his dark eyes, the shape similar to the woman’s. She takes the groceries inside as your boyfriend locks the car, both of them disappearing in the comfy-looking house.

The ending seems anti-climactic, sure. Yangyang’s learned something about your boyfriend right now, though– something he’s sure he can use against him, if he really wanted to.

“Hyunho lives alone, in like, a super pretty house just a few blocks away. Can you believe that?” your voice rings in his head, making him dryly chuckle and shake his head in disbelief.

That’s not true– his mum was home– and your boyfriend is a cheeky, little liar.

v. you should leave him, 'cause it really makes me sick

In another one of many meetings with his only friends– Renjun and Dejun– Yangyang complains. It’s the thing he likes the most, and it’s also the thing he’s the best at, so no one can really blame him for taking the time off his day to add every single, most unnecessary comment to each thing that’s just slightly annoyed him for the last week. It’s his second nature. A human instinct, even.

Most of the topics he brings up when he complains, though, include your boyfriend, in some way. It’s been a few months since you two started dating, and everyone’s gotten used to it by now, it seems, but Liu Yangyang is a one pretentious fucker– he can’t let things go as easily.

Not when you’re still, pretty much the only topic of his interest.

He should really get some new hobbies.

“And so- And so I drove past his house, and his mum was home! He’s a total liar. Can’t believe how Y/N can stand him-”

“You stalked Hyunho?” Renjun cuts him off, pointing a concerned look towards his friend, eyebrows all furrowed and bottom lip trapped between his teeth. He surely knows how to make someone feel bad about their actions– Yangyang should learn how to make that look the next time Renjun’s over, to be honest.

“I didn’t stalk him, come on. I just happened to see where he was going, and I just so happened to follow him and see his mum walk out of the house where he supposedly lives alone!” Yangyang rages, throwing his hands up into the air.

“She could have been there for a visit, for all we know…” Dejun mutters, opening a can of coke and sitting with them at the kitchen table. He chooses to sit opposite Renjun, because with how furiously Yangyang operates with the chopsticks in between his fingers, there’s a high chance that the take-out might end up in Dejun’s hair. And he really doesn’t want that. He washed it yesterday.

“Nah, bro, I’m telling you. He’s a bastard.”

With a roll of his eyes, Renjun sighs. “Just because he lives with his mum? It’s okay to live with your mum.”

“Do you live with your mum?” Yangyang argues, raising up his eyebrows.

“I don’t, but I’m just saying that if I did, it wouldn’t be such a problem-”

“It’s not just that, though! There’s so much that goes beyond the surface. One, he lies about who he lives with. Two, he always makes Y/N wait. Trust me, she’s been to the café at least 3 times now, waiting for him, and every single time, he arrived at least 30 minutes late. Three, he always makes her pay at the restaurant-”

“How would you know?”

“Ryujin told me. Y/N told her after she promised not to tell anyone, but I got it out of her,” Yangyang quickly answers, seeing Dejun widen his eyes in surprise and disbelief.

“So much for girl code…”

“Four! He hasn’t hung out with us once in these months they’ve been together. Five. I don’t like his eyebrows. He looks like a prick-”

“That’s not a valid reason,” Renjun sighs, making Yangyang roll his eyes.

“Okay, sure,” he admits, chewing on the last bite of the take-out he brought home after ending his shift at the café, swallowing before he starts talking again, desperate to prove his point, “all I’m saying is that Y/N doesn’t seem happy with him. Think about it! When was the last time she’s hung out with us? When was the last time she laughed so hard she cried? Huh? The last time I checked, it’s been a few months, and before that, it was an everyday occurance,” Yangyang shrugs, proving that he’s right– he always is.

“And neither of you like him anyway, so I don’t get why I’m the only one getting crucified for voicing my opinion!”

“Well, just speaking about it with us won’t do anything. What do you even want from this? You want them to break up?” Renjun barks, pointing his chopsticks towards Yangyang, an annoyed expression sitting at the top of his face.

“I mean…” Yangyang mumbles, averting his gaze from them.

He won’t admit to it. No, never in a million years– it’s enough that his friends still haven’t noticed the clear obsession in his eyes whenever he speaks about you. He truly cares about you, he does! And he means everything he’s saying about your new boyfriend. It’s not just jealousy shining through; even though he feels his blood boiling every time he sees you two together and his heart breaks a little every time you smile at him with just the right amount of lovesickness.

He can’t admit that he’d be much happier if you were single again– because that would mean that he could at least have a little bit of faith in himself, the smallest hint of hope that maybe, maybe if he tried hard enough, maybe if you suddenly woke up one day and magically liked him back, you could be his.

This way, though, he knows he’s hopeless.

And he feels like a played-out love song every time he sees you with Hyunho (where you laugh at his unfunny jokes and he doesn’t meet your eye contact), but Yangyang knows that he could treat you so much better than your current boyfriend ever has.

“You know, if you really want them to break up, maybe you should do something about it,” Dejun shrugs, meeting Yangyang’s eye.

Something clicks inside of his brain, gears finally finding their right place in his pea-sized brain; magically looking like a squirrel high on caffeine when he chuckles under his breath, Liu Yangyang has a masterplan he needs to execute.

Only if he knew that his actions have consequences– much bigger than he’d ever imagined.

That’s a problem for another evening, though.

vi. you don't need him, I'll help you get over it

Yangyang despises hipster cafés. Not only are they much different to the cafés he is used to– the one he works at, in particular– but the amount of plants surrounding him while indie music plays in the background surely can’t be enough to match the prices in the cheaply-made menu sitting at the top of the table.

There’s no rush. No screaming of the orders. No weird smell coming from the back. This is not the campus café he is employed at, and even though he should be glad he is enjoying coffee somewhere else just because he simply can, there’s something inside of him yearning for the comfort of something he knows so dearly.

You’re sitting in front of him, a sad face painted on your features. Of course you’re here– he wouldn’t be coming into a stupid hipster café if it wasn’t for you inviting him. The plants hanging above your head decorate your aura perfectly, though, and Yangyang simply can’t imagine spending his time with you in the half-empty, half-assed café at the very edge of your college campus anymore. This is where you belong, truly.

“What’s with the frown?” he asks almost a little too hesitantly, kicking you lightly in the shin under the table. You look up through your eyelashes, pointing your gaze towards him, a sad smile finding its way onto your face. Yangyang desperately wants to kick it away from its place– in his head, you’re only supposed to be smiling. There’s no place for a frown.

“It’s… it’s nothing,” you chuckle, though the sound doesn’t seem as light-hearted as you meant it out to be.

If there’s one thing about Yangyang, it’s that he’s annoying. Not in the bad way– he’s just that type of friend that constantly calls you when he wants to hang out, or endearingly keeps poking your sides when he wants your attention in a crowded place. He’s the one that keeps teasing you even though you’ve had enough. That can get a little overwhelming at times, sure, but in times like these, Yangyang chooses to put his annoyingness for a good cause.

He keeps lightly kicking you under the table, a childish pout sitting at his lips. “Tell me.”

“I’m alright,” you roll your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone. Come on! We’re practically best friends at this point, and we all need someone to listen to us at times. Spill it out,” he keeps nagging, adding a victorious poke to your hand sitting at the top of the table as well, as a bonus.

Your eyes point towards one of the many plants in the café, the nervousness making you slowly crack the knuckles of your hands. “Fine,” you sigh, looking him dead in the eye, “but promise me you won’t tell anyone else, because god knows what they would tell me if they knew. I trust you with this, so don’t be a dick about it, okay?”

A quick nod of his head and a fast nestle in his seat after, you’re taking a deep breath in and biting on the inside of your cheek as you open your mouth to speak.

“So… There’s something worrying me… about Hyunho.”

Yangyang almost hears a siren ring inside of his ears, red flashing in front of his eyes as he nods, trying to gain his composure. Of course the problem is your boyfriend. If there wasn’t a problem with your boyfriend, Yangyang wouldn’t be here right now, sitting with you in a café. That’s the thing– you’re slowly starting to lose time for anyone else. Not that Yangyang’s salty about it…

“What is it?”

“We were supposed to hang out yesterday,” you peep, averting your gaze from him, “and sometimes he comes late, that’s fine… I’ve gotten used to it by now, but… yesterday, he didn’t come at all. I tried texting him, ringing him, I tried everything, but he’s just ignoring me,” you ramble, a worried undertone coating your words as you chew on your bottom lip and look for comfort in Yangyang’s eyes, “and I know he’s fine because he sent out a stupid Snapchat streak this morning.”

Yangyang finds it hard to look for words that would comfort you right now.

Sure, he hates that guy with everything he has in him, he hates his new haircut and he hates his voice when he hears him call you baby, but even with coming late, dropping out of college, lying about living alone and being ignorant to your friends, Yangyang never thought it would go this far.

All this time, he just thought he was blowing it out of proportion because of his teenage jealousy.

But now, when you’re clearly distressed because of his actions, he feels like the stupid plan he had in his mind back when he hung out with Renjun and Dejun isn’t as crazy anymore. If it’s gonna help you in the long run, he’s gonna do it– and not think about the consequences.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, chewing on his bottom lip, “I- I don’t really know what to say…”

“It’s fine,” you nod, “maybe I’m just too dramatic-”

“Oh don’t you dare say that,” Yangyang cuts you off. There’s no way he would let you think that your emotions aren’t valid. “Actually, there’s- there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Panic flashes in front of your eyes. He would even say it’s okay for you to panic– with what he has to say next, he can only prepare for the worst outcome. You’re already becoming him to talk with a hesitant nod of your head, and he can’t back out now, can he?

“I… He’s cheating on you, Y/N.”

The world falls silent after his words. Your lips part in shock, your eyes get glossy. Yangyang can’t believe a word that came out of his mouth. Did he really get this desperate? Is he really such a dick?

Surely, he can’t be worse than the guy that left you hanging for a whole day… right?

“Are you- are you joking? Is this serious? Don’t prank me right now, Yangyang,” you mourn out, your bottom lip trembling.

What else is there to say? With just an ever-so-honest nod of his head, Yangyang confirms the lie he made up in his sick, twisted mind– all because he can’t stand to look at you with someone else that isn’t him.

What’s even worse is that even though you’re in pain, he secretly enjoys the way you curl into his chest when you cross the distance between the two of you and sit next to him in the booth, quietly sobbing into his shirt.

He really fucked up, didn’t he?

vii. he says he loves you, but it's all an act

“You did what?” Dejun stares at him in disbelief, mouth apart in shock.

The thing is, Yangyang can’t deal with his emotions alone. Also, when he does something bad, like, really really bad, there’s no way he can deal with the despair that comes with the unbelievably heavy weight of guilt alone. Liu Yangyang also loves to overshare and complain. He won’t miss his once-in-a-lifetime chance now.

His first victim? His own roommate– Xiao Dejun. He could go to Renjun, but he figures that might be too dangerous. Dejun doesn’t know you too well, so he’s not that interested in the whole case, and Yangyang’s quite sure that the fierce short boy would ignite like a match if he told him what he did, and even though he’s tiny, he can do a lot of damage. Yangyang can’t afford to get a black eye from Renjun. God knows, he might get it from Hyunho instead.

“Yeah, well-”

“Are you out of your mind? Why the fuck did you think this was a good idea?” Dejun bursts out, even forgetting to pause the TV show he’d been watching when Yangyang came into his room.

“I didn’t think it was a good idea, per se, I just thought… I-” he mumbles, shooting his arms into the air in defeat, “I was just trying to do the good thing!”

Dejun looks at him with stone cold eyes. The laughing track coming out of the laptop’s speakers does nothing to lighten up the situation; Yangyang feels chills run down his spine as the reality of everything slowly sinks and his hands turn ice cold with misery.

“No, Yangyang,” Dejun shakes his head.

Raising up his eyebrows, Yangyang blinks at his roommate. “...what, no?”

“You weren’t trying to do the good thing here, you were just doing it for yourself,” Dejun mutters, sighing. There’s disappointment coating his words and Yangyang can’t believe how scolded and defeated he feels under the weight of his roommate’s words. He doesn’t take them seriously most of the time, so this argument only proves that he should really reflect on his actions.

“How could I be doing it for myself? It’s not my relationship we’re talking about,” Yangyang rambles, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Yeah, and that’s the thing. It’s not your relationship, so why are you acting like it is? It’s not your place to lie about someone, however shitty they might be as a person, just to get them to break up! Again, you didn’t do this for her, you did this for yourself!” Dejun says, finally closing the laptop shut so the background noises don’t disturb the seriousness of the conversation.

Yangyang feels as if he is being scolded by his teacher for cheating on his exam. It feels even worse, to be exact– and he didn’t think there could be a bigger humiliation than that.

“What do I gain from this, then? If I’m doing it for myself, as you keep repeating,” Yangyang rolls his eyes in irony, chuckling at the whole situation. If it’s getting to him, he won’t let it show to Dejun. For all he knows, he didn’t care until now, so what’s changed?

Shaking his head, the older boy rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to see them together anymore, and that’s enough for you. At least your little, jealous heart will be happy now.”

“I’m not-”

“Yangyang,” Dejun cuts him off, like many times before, “do you really think nobody noticed by now?”

viii. 'cause I'm better than him, just saying

Sitting around in the park, his friends chatter away as he’s lost in thought and picks at the skin of his cuticles. Ryujin and Lia try to get his attention by talking about the new anime they’ve been watching, but there’s no use as his unfocused eyes only go through them and the smile he offers them is nowhere near an honest one. Renjun tries to drag him into a conversation by gossipping about Hendery and Yuna’s strange, but blossoming relationship, but he only chuckles at the news as his eyes drift away into the distance.

You’re not around– much like many times before, hidden away in the shade with Hyunho– but this time, Yangyang feels as if he’s the reason why you didn’t pay them a visit. It only takes a few days, hell– maybe even hours– to find out that he’s been lying, and the moment you get ahold of this information, it’s all going to get even harder for him.

Pointing his gaze towards his beaten-up converse, he plucks the grass from its place under his body and twirls the stems between his fingers, head lost in all the possible scenarios that could occur when he sees you next.

You could slap him. He would even dare to say that he deserves it; he doubts he’d be mad at you if you tried to beat him up and curse at him in front of everyone. Maybe the shame would outdo the great mistake he’s made.

You could scream at him. Truth be told, most of the possible outcomes include you screaming or cursing at him. You’re not even a violent person, but he guesses there’s no other reaction that could be the outcome of this whole situation, and he doesn’t even blame you for that.

Because Dejun is right. He did it for himself.

There was no way he could help you with this, in any way, shape or form. All he did was cause you pain.

“Yangyang?” a voice above him calls his name, causing him to look up. His heart beats wildly in his chest, heat rising to his face in anxiety; you look at him with stern eyes and lips pursed into a thin line. “Can we talk?”

Nodding, he stands up and follows you a few meters away from your group of friends, ignoring their excited waves and questions of how you’ve been and what’s up. Yangyang feels like he’s nearing his death– and from how fast his heart is beating, it could very well mean he’s close to the end by a heart attack– you stand in the shade of another tree (the one you always hang out under with your boyfriend), crossing your hands at your chest.

“What’s up?” he asks, voice low and full of shame. Even if you had no idea, now is the time you’d find out– he would gladly tell you everything, if it meant you wouldn’t get mad at him for it. That’s not how the world works, though, and so he awaits your outburst, looking like a scared dog with its tail hidden in guilt.

“Why did you lie to me?” you ask. Your voice is steady. He would even go as far as saying that you practiced this conversation with yourself in front of the mirror– you’re not a coward though, he is, and the reality must be miles away from this statement. You’ve always been good at getting your point across– no circling around the topic, edging towards the point. You go straight for it, ready for the battle. That’s what Yangyang’s liked about you perhaps the most.

“I can explain-”

“Well, that’s why I’m asking, isn’t it?” you chuckle under your breath, the bossy attitude very much in its place.

“I- I kind of panicked? In a way? All I tried was to protect you,” he desperately gets out, sweating under your gaze.

“Panicked?” you repeat, disbelief shining in the tone of your voice. “You lied to me about my boyfriend cheating on me because you panicked? Yangyang, I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid I’m not quite following,” you furrow your brows at him, your sentences worthy of a lawyer’s degree.

“Look,” Yangyang sighs, pinching the skin at the bridge of his nose in hopelessness, “I couldn’t stand looking at you two together. He’s not being a good boyfriend to you, Y/N, and it hurts me to see how you get treated, when you deserve so much more!”

“That’s not for you to say!” you argue back, the scene already nearing the images he had in his brain.

“Well, who else was supposed to say it! No one cares as much as I do!”

“Yangyang!”

“That guy keeps lying to you, he keeps arriving late! Hell, he makes you pay all the time. You didn’t even know him well before you started dating him. Did he remember your anniversary?” he asks, the empty look in your eyes being enough of an answer to him, “See? Thought so. You never hang out with us anymore, he always ignores us… He stood you up and ignored you for multiple days, Y/N, for god’s sake!”

He feels the eyes of everyone on his back right now, the tone of his voice louder than he intended it to be. There’s no time to feel embarrassed, though– not when he’s trying to save his relationship with you.

“And so what, Yangyang? That’s not your shit to worry about,” you shake your head, “you hurt me. You really hurt me with your words, you know that?”

“It was necessary!” he grunts, helplessly shaking his head at your stance.

“You hate to see me with him that bad? That’s not what a good friend does, Yang,” you chew on the inside of your cheek, waiting for the last arguments that could come out of his mouth.

His heart shakes in his throat, palms sweating as his brain turns into autopilot. Fuck it, he thinks; he can’t save this anymore, so he might as well go all out. Maybe then, you’ll understand where he’s coming from better. Maybe you won’t hate him as much.

“Fuck, Y/N, that’s because I don’t want to be your friend! I could treat you so much better than he ever did.”

He doesn’t know what he expected with his words. He doesn’t know what reaction he wanted to get after his unprompted confession. Truth is, he didn’t think this far– even his wildest imaginations and scenarios he made up in his head never got to the point of him breaking and telling you how he feels.

Also, he never wanted it to sound as ‘second lead in a cliche, overplayed drama’ as it did. What is he, a Shawn Mendes song?

The reaction you give him kicks him in his gut, slaps him across the face, hits him with a full fist right into his nose. This is where a fragment of his imagination comes true. He could even be a psychic, who knows.

“Fuck you,” you spit, tongue poking the side of your cheek in pure anger, “you’re so, so unbelievably selfish.”

ix. when you change your mind, I'll be waiting

Days that come after are not much different from the weeks before. You still don’t talk to him or his friends, but the reason behind your silence is completely different now. It’s not you being busy; you no longer send an incoherent train of messages into the group chat with apologies of not knowing about the hang-outs sooner. Now, it’s because Yangyang stabbed you in the back and when he goes down, all your friends go down together. Not willingly, of course– you just knew all along that no one is happy with your new boyfriend. And that is enough of a reason for you to stay mad.

Yangyang feels numb. Drifting apart from your friends is natural. You can’t really do anything against it– bending yourself over for something that is no longer beneficial for both of the parties is never an okay thing to do. Sometimes, you just have to watch that person slowly disappear out of the reach, walk away from your life forever.

Drifting apart from your friends is natural, but that doesn’t mean that it won’t hurt.

It hurts. It hurts so much that Yangyang chooses not to think about it any longer, because the truth is, you weren’t just his friend– you were his first love, as silly as it might sound.

Sure, he had crushes before– like on that girl in kindergarten or on that girl in middle school; the small devil that set his hair on fire in Chemistry class. It was never quite the same as the feelings he had for you, though. The nervousness and anxiety disappeared out of his body, the butterflies in his stomach not as panicky as with other girls in his life before. You made him feel calm. He didn’t have to worry about what you’d think of him when he was truly himself around you. He didn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not– he knew you liked him as he is, and that always made him so, so uncontrollably happy. He would even say he was your favorite; over time, you started acting so– but when that place in your life was suddenly taken out of his hands, with no time to prepare, he was left empty-handed and confused.

He was so, so fond of you. At times, it looked even simple– that’s how he knew he was in love with you. Love was supposed to be simple, after all, wasn’t it?

He spends his days at the café. It’s been a few weeks since you appeared at the door with your boyfriend, getting iced coffee together and then disappearing once again, on another one of your usual dates. He does his work on autopilot, his head somewhere completely else.

Exams pass as fast as they come. He is surprised with himself to still get a decent grade– although he thinks he would’ve done better if you studied with him instead. The trip to the McDonald’s with your friends and Dejun to celebrate the semester ending seems empty without your cheerful voice filling the room and he can’t get himself to focus on a single word that comes out of his friends’ mouths.

The last day of school is filled with emptiness in his stomach. It’s not that he’s not excited for summer break, but something tells him that it won’t be as exciting if you’re not there to drag him to the beach, or watch him skate around the town and fall down and scrape his knees. He was the main character of your Instagram stories last summer, and he was proud of being so. Not that he gained any new followers out of it, no– he just enjoyed the world seeing that he spends a lot of time with you.

Poking the food around on his plate, his head is hung low and his brows are furrowed into a worried expression. He doesn’t like sitting alone at lunch in the cafeteria, for it’s always filled to the brim with people and it makes him feel lonely, but all his friends are in class or at home, still, waiting for the last class of their semester to start after lunch break. He’s left alone– he’s quite getting used to it, though, so when the sound of a plate hitting the table across from him startles him from his slumber, he’s more shocked than ever before.

Looking up, he’s met with the state of you. It’s a sight that shakes him down to his core. Truth is, he wasn’t used to seeing you face to face anymore; not saying that he forgot what you looked like. He spent countless hours stalking you on social media, after all. Now, though, you look different than before– your hair looks less taken care of and your outfit looks like you put less effort into, resulting in wearing oversized clothing rather than carefully matched pieces completed with accessories. Today, you look simple, yet, even that was enough to make Yangyang’s eyes wide and lick his lips in anticipation.

“Can I sit here?” you ask. Yangyang feels himself eagerly nod, putting the fork in his hand away, as if to brace himself for the impact of your words.

Your body slungs itself into the seat in front of him, placing your arms onto the table and nestling a little in your place. Yangyang would even go as far as calling you nervous, from how your eyes hesitantly meet his figure and kick your leg up and down under the table.

“What’s up?” he breaks the silence, because he thinks that if you sit with him without a word much longer, he’s going to explode.

Shrugging, you tightly smile. “Not much. How did your exams go?”

The question catches him off guard. He surely didn’t expect such causality from you, after everything that’s happened between the two of you. “They went well,” he shrugs, “yours?”

You nod, the smile on your face growing even tighter. “Yeah, they went okay, I guess…” you mumble, “could have gone better, but… given the circumstances I was in, I’m glad I could even focus on writing the answers down, to be honest.”

Yangyang wants to ask you what happened. Surely, the fight you had couldn’t be the reason why you couldn’t focus on your exams. You were the top of the class, the best student; you never had any problems with studying. There must have been something else going on that made you be out of it. He almost opens his mouth to ask you about it, when you cut him off and ask another question, desperately wanting to keep up with the conversation.

“Do you have any plans for the summer?” your eyes light up when you finally open your mouth and take a bite of the food sitting on your plate, waiting for your friend to answer as you chew on the sandwich.

“...not really,” he shrugs. He had plans before; he wanted to take you to the beach again, but this time, you’ll have a sandcastle contest. He also wanted to go camping, and there was this latino party scheduled for the fourth week of the break he wanted to take you to. He also wanted to invite you to his hometown, because his mother wanted to see you. And somewhere along the way, he wanted to confess to you… but that plan clearly failed.

“Hm,” you hum, swallowing before you speak again, “I was wondering if you wouldn’t teach me how to skate this summer. You know, since I was too scared to try last year.”

Yangyang hesitantly meets your eyes again, licking his lips with nerves. What is it with you suddenly having plans for the summer with him? For all he knew, you never wanted to see him again after his blatant lie a few weeks ago.

“But that’s gonna have to wait a few weeks. I… I have to go home to visit my mum. She’s been on and on about how I never come home nowadays, and that I should just spend the summer break at home this time and that I need to get out of this town, but I…” you trail off, shaking your head, “all I’m saying is, I’ll meet you in three weeks. And then, we can do whatever you want.”

He stays quiet. The whole conversation is strange, the situation making his stomach twist and anxiety sit in his bones. This is not how he’s used to feeling next to you, so it’s all new to him, but just the fact that you’re talking to him, seemingly not mad anymore, is making him fill with courage as he moves closer to the edge of the seat and cracks his knuckles, preparing himself.

“Y/N…” he trails off, in a sudden loss for words.

“You were right,” you get out, a tight smile plastered on your face, “I broke up with him,” you say, nodding to prove your point.

Nothing in the world could prepare him for the words that came out of your mouth. He’s not even sure how he should feel– does he get happy? Does he feel sorry for your failed relationship? How does a man, who’s coincidentally, still kind of in love with someone, feel when that someone breaks up with their toxic boyfriend?

Is it relief? Joy? He’s not quite sure.

Perhaps he hasn’t grown enough as a person to feel worry for you at first. After a few heartbeats, though, it settles in, and he finds himself uttering out the words.

“I’m… I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N.”

“Yeah, it’s- it’s okay. I should have listened a long time ago. But that’s not important right now-”

“What happened?” he asks. The change is sudden, for sure. You seemed like you would never break up with that dude, no matter how many valid arguments you got from your friends. So what changed your mind?

“He cheated on me,” you say, chuckling a little in irony, “maybe you should be a psychic, or something, because with how accurate your predictions are, you would have a secure place on the market. Maybe I’ll get you tarot cards for your birthday, so we have more to work with-” you ramble on and on, until he doesn’t compose himself and cut you off, saving you from your misery.

“I’m sorry Y/N. You didn’t deserve that.”

You bite on your cheek, nodding. He must admit, you look down. Yes, he did want you to break up with Hyunho, but never in a million years would he really want you to hurt as much as actually finding out that he cheated on you.

“Thanks, Yangyang,” you mutter, smiling– except this time, the smile looks genuine, “so… we don’t have to talk about all of that. Let’s just… leave it in the past,” you giggle, taking another bite of your sandwich.

Your friend nods, suddenly feeling lighter. The weight of shattering the friendship you two had is no longer sitting on his shoulders, and although it’s shitty, he’s glad he has you back. He never knew just how much you could miss someone until he didn’t get to the point of missing the one person he claimed to be the most important to him.

“I had a few plans for summer, actually,” he says, smiling, “we could do them all after you arrive.”

“Really?” you light up, kicking him lightly under the table.

“Yeah! I wanted to go to the beach, since you like it that much.”

“You don’t even have to plan that, you already know I’m dragging your ass over there every third day of the summer,” you laugh.

“And we could go camping,” he mentions, “with everyone. I know Renjun has a tent he could lend us, and Dejun is learning how to play the guitar recently, so we can exploit him a little and invite him just so he can play some tunes while we start the bonfire,” he grins.

“Amazing. Anything else?”

“Hmm…” he searches in his brain, the schedule he made in his phone a few months ago opening in front of his eyes as a hologram, “there’s a latino party the week after you come back.”

“I hate dancing…” you mourn out, seeing him laugh at you.

“That’s not true!”

“It totally is.”

“Well then, I don’t care. I’m dragging you with me, because there’s no way you will get through this summer without seeing that those hips don’t lie,” he giggles, suggestively wiggling in his seat, making you burst out with laughter.

“Okay,” you nod, rolling your eyes playfully at your friend. Something in the air suggests that you both missed this– useless ideas shared at the lunch table, careless laughter flowing through the space. It’s like the universe is back aligned again, because you two are in each other’s lives, content with each other’s company. “Any other plans that need mentioning?”

“Well…” Yangyang starts, the checklist in his phone app he made before you started dating your ex boyfriend materializing in his thoughts, the last paragraph loud and clear in his mind.

4. confess or whatever; it says at the very bottom. Yangyang despises that he remembers it so clearly.

“We’ll see. I’m sure I’ll come up with something,” he says, seeing you smile widely at him, finishing the last bite of your sandwich.

Standing up from your place, he follows you as you escape the cafeteria. The hot air outside slaps both of you in the face, but neither of you care as you bathe in the sunlight, enjoying the first day of summer break together. You’re leaving for three weeks, and Yangyang’s sure he’ll miss you; but the few days are nothing against the weeks of silence he got from you when he messed up in the past. He’s sure he can live through it. At least now, he’s sure you’re coming back.

“I’m excited to spend the summer with you all,” you say when you sit outside.

“Me too,” he smiles. The sun hits his eyes, making him squint, but even that can’t make him hate the feeling of incoming summer that visits him with a promise of adventure.

And when you put your head on his shoulder, relaxed and comfortable, looking up to meet his eyes with eyes full of familiar glimmer, Yangyang almost promises to himself to confess to you again, when the time is right and you’re both ready.

Who knows. It might even work next time.

#nct #wayv #nct fluff #nct angst #wayv fluff #wayv angst #yangyang fluff #yangyang angst #nct fic #wayv fic #yangyang fic #yangyang x reader #nct x reader #wayv x reader #nct imagine #wayv imagine #yangyang imagine

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xxyutaa · 4 months

Text

nct as horny bfs

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warnings: pure smut lol

authors note: this lowkey took a while 🍷 but here it is ig! as our first post here’s a taste for all ;) ty for reading!! 💗 ≽^•⩊•^≼

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TAEIL usually gets horny in the morning, but he’s not the one waking up first. ever since he admitted to you that he likes when u suck him dry in the morning you’ve been doing it since. plus the sounds he makes are always better in the morning when his beautiful voice is a little raspy and tired and not quite settled yet. fuck he loves the way your throat feels around him, and the way your tongue swirls around him with your slow moves makes him moan louder, not caring if other members hear because he claims; “i’m older than them, they shouldn’t be fazed if i’m with my girl”. but that’s not the only time he’s horny. he can’t help himself whenever you wear tight tops with your cleavage out and bra peeping out a bit, he gets even more stressed when he sees you wearing his favorite bra. “baby you look so good, can i see them without the bra now?'' It's like an invitation for him to suck, eat, and play with you for as long as he wants (which is usually a longgg time). when he gets close, your hands go straight to where you know makes him feel good like his hair, tugging on it making him let out pretty moans. “augh~ baby, m gonna cum”. and when he lets out his pretty white stripes from him he asks you to eat some of it for him. “baby can you clean it a little please? you look so pretty eating me…” and his eyes are pleading with more lust than before.

JOHNNY this little shit figures it out fast. he’s pretty damn smart and very observant so anytime you came to watch a practice he would see how your thighs pressed together, or the way your breath hitched anytime he touched you can and will tease the ever living shit out of you with this information. back hugs are mandatory, at least once a day now, just so he can subtly press his hips against you refuses to fuck you anywhere the two of you can get caught not because he’s worried about getting caught, no he just loves to get you all flustered and then leave you to deal with it until you get home. he makes up for it every time though. stamina? high af tbh i’m talking like 6-7 rounds before he’s done for the night if necessary loves eating you out too, he could do that for hours and doesn’t even care about how much his jaw hurts because the sounds you make are just too pretty for him to stop. it’d be a sin if he gets you too horny in public and you’re wearing a skirt or dress, he’ll get the two of you somewhere crowded and slide his fingers into you just to see how quiet you can be. he feels blessed that you’re so horny all the time because he’s nearly insatiable himself tbh.

TAEYONG is exactly the kind of guy to take over an hour making you desperate and horny for him, enjoying the view of your sensitive body squirming beneath him, craving some kind of release. seeing you like that for him, all just with his words and the occasional well placed hands, boosts his ego to no end, as well as making him literally rock hard. and the sounds you make when you're a hot, horny mess~ lord, he wants to record them on his phone and play them back full volume when he jacks off. honestly, he just wants to record you in general. take a video of you mewling for him. maybe snap a pic from above of you with your top pulled up over your tits, nipples hard, thighs pressing together, and with the most desperate look on your face while he’s with the other members.

YUTA surprisingly doesn’t make it clear enough that he’s horny. it’s almost like he doesn’t give enough of a hint for you to figure it out, or at least that’s what he thinks. you get it, he’s horny, so you take your time making him finally spill out that he wants you to pump his aching cock. and when you do good lord does he praise you. like “fuck princess so good for me”, “shit don’t stop- faster peach, faster” and “take your tits out for me- fuck! so beautiful”. he loves praising you because he knows how much it turns you on. rubbing your thighs in response just gets you wet enough for him to finally lift you (once he’s covered your tits in his cum) and onto the bed where he slips into you so easily, so wet and ready for him. he can be like this for the rest of the day but he’s always so busy that whenever he cums for you, good lord is it a lot. “fuck- look princess, look how much you made me keep inside me. poor me huh baby? cmon one more time let me fuck you” and he always says it so politely you just can’t say no. several rounds later is when he finally stops and admires the work of art on your body, cum everywhere. and one of his favorite things to do is grab his cum and let you lick it off his fingers, eyes teary.

KUN when he feels so tense and pressured gives you many reasons to feel anxious. because you know his favorite way to relieve all that stress is to use your pretty little mouth. He loves the way you lick his big cock with your much smaller tongue. licking the tip gently to tease him and taking him all down making him throw his head back, groaning with heavy breaths. when he’s getting close, you swallow around him, making your throat close tight around him. fuck he loves when you do this, and when he cums he pumps it all over your face. taking a picture when he’s done with you. this led him to obtaining a whole collection of your face, and parts of your body, with his cum, red marks, spit and other things he finds so sexy on you. Whenever you’re away and he doesn’t have you to make him feel better, he gets off at these photos (and videos) and he sends you a photo of the aftermath knowing you’ll send him something back to make him go for round two. eventually his phone rings from you and well, he answers with his cock on display, still aching and covered in cum. these calls are definitely your favorite with him…

DOYOUNG gets really shy when you start being intimate with him, but he really loves it. so much so that when you ask him if there’s anything you can do for him after a concert, he says “mm… there’s this one thing but it’s okay i’ll just go to sleep”. he always does this though and at this point it doesn’t faze you. you get up and straddle him on the bed, hands flying to take off his clothes. “w-what?” he asks stupidly. but you say nothing. he can feel him squirm around you as he doesn’t know where to put his hands. at one point you’re the one pumping his dick, licking his tip and riding him, moaning out of control and cum leaking from him. but before you know it you’re on all fours for him begging and pleading for him to fuck you harder, he fucks deep into you, making you clench the sheets with your hands. “can anyone fuck you this good princess? hmm??”. you can’t even let out a yes or no as you moan and cry into the mattress beneath you. but beside being in the bedroom and in private, he also tends to appreciate you in places like restaurant bathrooms and empty practice rooms, glancing from time to time at the door preparing for someone to walk in. he loves the way it’s so quick, so heated and steamy as he pumps his digits in your soaking cunt, leaving you to moan and whine as he does so (which ultimately makes him moan and whine with you). you end up squirting on his wet fingers as the room fills up with your heavy breaths, then both of you rush to get out of there.

TEN was pressed against the after you pushed him onto it. locking the door before you even thought of touching him. his shirt was pulled off as you kissed down his neck, your tongue occasionally lapping at the soft skin which sent shivers down his spine and his hands clutching to your shoulders in an attempt to ground himself. once getting to his chest, you noticed his puffy and pink nipples poking out, the small little buds enticing you so you just had to give one of them a kitty licks, loving how he would jolt with every wet touch them and let out small squeaks in embarrassment. his hands went up to your hair and gently tugged on the soft strands while whimpering for you to stop, fearing they would get swollen and hurt but you showed no care as you mercilessly sucked and licked them like they were candy, moaning at how responsive his body was with every touch to the little buds. looking up through your eyelashes, you made eye contact as you grazed your teeth against the aroused bud which made one eye closed as a shot of pain tingled across his chest but it only made his dick twitch. "b-babe.." he panted softly, hands leaving your hair to try to push you off but you only held his push against you, not leaving any room for him to escape. pulling away, a string of saliva attached to his nipple to your mouth made him gulp, "yes, baby?" you purred, tongue licking at the perky nipple which made him whine. "can you take off my pants and touch me, please?" he asked, his voice soft and whiny. “of course my love” you smiled before placing a kiss to his nose then unbuttoned his pants, pulling the zipper down to see he wasn't wearing underwear~

JAEHYUN dirty talk. that voice. i think y'all know what I'm talking about literally orgasmic. it's so deep, and smooth, and relaxing in a way that just gets you going. there's just something about it that makes you rub your thighs together. when he presses his lips close to your ear, his voice feels like he's caressing you all over, yes all over. you basically get high off his voice. cloud nine. he absolutely loves to talk dirty to you, telling you exactly what he's going to do to you, how pretty you look with your mouth around his cock, or how you're taking him inside you so well. he's got a knack for choosing exactly the right words, and it gets your pussy dripping and aching for him. he always says about how your pussy feels like it was made for his cock it fits so snug. loose enough that he can fuck you whenever, but tight enough that he has to work for it. but the dirty talk doesn't stop there. he uses that voice of his and those delicious words to drive you closer to your climax, his words getting cruder as his hips get sloppier, praising you to no end. he's not shy about what he thinks. he's incredibly straightforward about it. you're making him fucking horny? he'll tell you. you’re pussy is the best he's ever fucked? he'll tell you flat out while he's pounding into you. he thinks you look beautiful stuffed with his cock? he won't even hesitate. communication IS key isn’t it?

WINWIN doesn't ever tell you he's horny, instead he insists on watching a movie with you. but under the blanket, around 20 minutes into the movie, he brushes his hands against your thighs, inching closer to your pussy. you know what he's doing, but you let him. “baby…can you do me a favor” is what he says before you drop down to your knees on the floor and pull the blanket off him. you want him as much as he wants you. you make sure to suck him just right, I mean you've done this countless times, so you know how he likes it. he can't help but moan for you, letting out pretty noises that go straight to your core. he fists the blanket and sofa beside him, trying his best to not just fuck your mouth right there and then. eventually he cant take it anymore, standing up to fuck your pretty little mouth, making you gag as you take in his lengthy cock. “fuck babe- feels so good!!” he moans. you would reply, but your mouth is stuffed with his cock, twitching in your mouth signaling he's gonna cum. he cums deep far into your throat, telling you to say “ah” so he can see you swallowed it. winwin also can't help but drag you back onto the couch, fisting your hair and telling you “can you take me all?”. you look up at him with glossy eyes and he bites his lip. he flips you over and starts ramming into you. talkin bout “fuck- taking me so good baby” and “you like when i stuff you? when all you feel is my cock in you, making you feel so good?” he mocks at you. he knows you can't even speak right now because all you're doing is moaning into the pillow. he even laughs a little, seeing you take him down your best, just for him.

JUNGWOO is your sugar daddy. his life goal is to spoil and please you in a way nobody can ever do. he is currently in a meeting, but one of the black cards he gave you isn't working and he isn't answering your messages.. you start getting whiney and stomp to the meeting room not caring about all the other people in there. you slam the card in front of him “it's not working daddy!” you puff, he smirks and pulls you on top of his lap and continues the meeting. occasionally he kisses your neck. you whine and sigh moving around his lap trying to escape. “"hmm? what's the problem, kitten?" jungwoo replies as he continues to kiss your neck while talking to the people in the meeting, acting like nothings wrong. you sigh, getting more impatient, continuing to escape. as you continue to move you feel something hard under you.. you know exactly what it is. you look up at him with your glossy eyes and he looks at you smirking. you continue to move to try and tease him. you feel his chest rise up and down, soon enough you feel your mini skirt get pushed up under the table, his fingers moving your panties. you bite your lip as your wet pussy drips onto the floor on his shiny black shoes. you feel his middle finger pump into your sweet hole. you moan loudly causing everybody in the room to look at you, jungwoo looks down at you smirking “what's wrong kitten? everything good?” he teases “y-yes sorry daddy…” you mumble and moan softly. you whine quietly as he pulls his finger away waiting for the meeting to end. “shh my precious baby. we’ll continue this when we get home, be a good girl for daddy and let him finish this meeting and I'll make you squirt, kay~?”.

MARK comes back from practice hot and tired, and he can't help but think of laying down with you, pleasuring you. you'll be in your room, or the living room when he comes and lays next to you, desperately separating your legs. “baby, please” is all he says before you agree to him. he dives right in, lapping at your wet cunt, sucking a little when he feels your hands in his arm. “mmm” he groans into you, sending shivers through your body. he praises you as it makes him feel better, knowing he's making you feel so good. “such a pretty cunt, just for me” “gosh princess, you're soaking..” “taste so sweet…could be here all night long” is what he says to you. he loves looking into your eyes and seeing how your eyelids flutter with his every movement. when you cum, he offers for you to cum on his face (so he could take a picture and save it for himself). he dips his finger into it and tastes it, giving you puppy eyes as he thanks you. mark also gets riled up when he takes you out to go shopping, visiting cute shops. of course you insist on taking him with you to the fitting rooms, where you dress up in cute short skirts and ask what he thinks about them. “damn babe- he says as he cocks his head and stares at you up and down, rethinking if he should've let you wear that in front of him in the first place. you notice his hard cock as he hides it with his hands. “babe- I think we should..” he says before you change back and purchase the skirt. you guys are back home when mark immediately goes to the couch with his hands on the back of the couch behind him. you follow him there before undressing for him. “is this what you want?...” you tease him as you widen his legs apart, standing between them. he basically drools at the sight in front of him. “... you want me with nothing on? is that it?” you say. he feels like he's in a dream. you plop down on the floor, taking his hard cock in your mouth, licking it lightly just to tease him. “augh!!” he whines “please baby, suck it please. i need you so bad…” he's looking at you with those eyes as you give into his requests, sitting on his lap, and taking him all in.

XIAOJUN is near the end of his shower when your in your short pajama shorts and tank top lying on the bed. the aroma of gentle citrus fills the air as he meets you at the end of the bed, gazing at you as he’s in nothing but his briefs on. as he climbs on top of you, he’s whispering to you how much he wants you, no, how badly he needs you. he says he’s had a rough day and that u can help him. so you do. you lay on your back as he caressed your face before kissing your cheek sayin “thank u.” and that’s when he sticks his dick in your mouth. fucking your sweet mouth as he can’t help but moan out how good it feels. “oh my god… so so good my sweet girl. thank u, thank u”. hearing this you can’t help but start to touch yourself, how could you not. you close your eyes and just let the sweet sounds coming out his mouth fill ur ears, it so addicting, the way he can’t just shut up. and here you are, subtly crying and whimpering as he fucks into your mouth faster and faster, deeper and deeper. you think it can’t get better but it does. “let me do it for u my sweet princess…” is what he says before stuffing his fingers into your cunt, fingers slipping with ease as you and him come closer to your high. “let it out baby…” he says as you cum and he quickly takes his dick out your mouth and paints his cum on your pretty tits. “thank u, felt so good baby thank u”.

HENDERY loves imagining what he’ll do to you throughout the day then see you back at home looking all pretty for him. he’ll text you while he’s out about some shit like “make no plans tonight!” or “can we stay in tonight?” just so he can have the excuse to fuck you til you feel like you can’t walk. and on the days where he doesn’t come up with an excuse, he’s usually really flirty throughout the day, telling you how beautiful you are, how your outfit is cute…how you’re making him feel so stiff. you take him to the nearest empty room wherever you guys are. he immediately kisses you heatedly, pulling down his pants, cock so hard cause he knows you want him too. as you touch his cock, his tip aches, dripping precum and you’re barely doing anything yet. he’s groaning loudly like he wants to be caught, so you give him a slap and it tunes him down, but his cock just gets harder. by the time you guys are done, his mess is basically everywhere. all over you, the floor, himself.

RENJUN cant take it anymore when he sees you in the kitchen after dinner time, in those short shorts and your loose off the shoulder tee. you're bending down when he inhales sharply before getting up from the sofa and grabbing your hips. “yes renjun?” you say confused. “c'mere” he sighs, pinning you against the counter. you already know where this is going, but you want to make him beg for it. he touches your waist, looking you in the eyes, “touch me please…it hurts…”. before you can say anything he whines, hugging your waist as closely as he can to you. you reach around him, tugging at his hair. “mmmh..” he moans lightly. “please…” he says again. he drops down to his knees, pulling at your shorts, kissing your thighs as you feel the hotness of his breath, lips, and everything on you. you tug your panties down and he immediately dives into you, sucking on your wetness as he can't stop moaning from it. and you can feel him pathetically humping at your leg, going faster the more he sucks. you yank his head back away as his lips and chin are all wet, drool spilling from his mouth as he breathes hard. “want mommy to help?” you say as he instantly nods his head getting up to stand. at once you pull down his shorts and boxers, slipping his dick in between your thighs. he bucks his hips back and forth fucking your thighs. he cums all over your legs, giving you something to clean up. renjun also gets horny when he's laying in your lap while watching tv, and his view is well, your boobs and cant help but touch them over your shirt, signaling you to take it off. you do as he pleases because you love when he gets like this. he licks and sucks on your boobs as the pleasure hits you, making him love the way you grab onto him. onto his hair, arms, face, everything you can get your hands on. just know if you ever make him feel good, he’ll always return the favor.

JENO wakes up hungry. his dick hard from the recent dream he had about you. he shakes you to tell you, but you're asleep. he feels bad to fuck you when you are sleeping and dreaming so peacefully. he can't bring himself to do it, so he goes into the bathroom and pumps himself. but, he’s imagining it's you, which makes him moan your name softly. you're half asleep when you hear him calling your name. “f-f-fuck…y/n…” he would whine out. “jeno?” you answered him, you hear noises but not your name again. you get up and when you push the bathroom door open, boy is it a sight to see. he's holding his pajama shirt between his teeth, his abs fully exposed, body glistening a little from his sweat. his head is thrown back as one hand grips the counter, and the other holds his cock, tip red and leaking his pearly cum. he's so hard that he had to jack himself off again. and the way he has his glasses on makes you bite your lip as you sneakily walk in while his eyes are closed. you drop down, taking his tip in your mouth. he moans loudly now, knowing he's not gonna wake you up this time. you let go of his hips, giving him the signal to fuck your mouth, so he does, hands gripping your hair as he lets out few groans, breath heavy and panting as he cums in your mouth. jeno also loves getting right behind you while you're washing the dishes or doing something around the house. he loves grabbing your ass and massaging it while he kisses your neck from behind. you drop whatever you're doing because you know how good he makes you feel when he's sucking your wet cunt. lapping at it until you're overstimulated because he just can't get enough. and he forgets about how you must feel because he’s pretty much addicted to your pussy, eating away as his hand plays with your clit. at this point you feel like you can’t even stand anymore, whining at him “please- can't…” but he wants to see you undo just one more time.

HAECHAN is a bratty disobedient sub who LOVES to be punished. whatever rules you have for him, he breaks them and watches with a sly grin as you get annoyed because he knows he's in for a punishment that night. he wants you to absolutely break him and make him cry. dumb him down until he can't think or speak properly anymore, only choked out pleas and moans coming from him. he loves it when you spank him. have him count the spanks and of course he would purposefully mess up right at the end to rile you up so that he could start all over again. he could easily get hard from a couple spanks to his ass and he'll shamelessly cum all over your legs and his chest with a mewl. oh and he loves edging! edge him over and over again till he cries and begs you to stop and let him cum but don't since you know he's faking it. keep edging him until you finally let him cum but don't stop there! keep making him cum till he's overstimulated and his mind has turned to mush. “y-y/n! aah~!! im sorry m-“ before he could finish he slurred sentence you pulled his hair back making him face you. you spit in his mouth and make him swallow it. you could tell he was all fucked out as his eyes were fluttering and all he could do was moan your name. He knew he fucked up. he knew you weren’t even CLOSE to being done punishing him. but did he regret it?

nope~

JAEMIN loves treating you like the princess you are, he’ll do whatever you want him to do whenever. you’ll be out at dinner with friends when you grip his thigh to let him know you want him to fuck the shut out of you. and that’s when you end up in a nearby hotel, fucking in the bed, the shower, even the balcony. he pounds you so good, slapping your ass to take his big cock that you so badly wanted. “such a good girl, taking my cock like a pretty princess” he says while you’re a moaning mess. he would take a pic when you guys are finished, showing your leaking cum and his red tip in the frame (prob gonna jack off to it another time). and boy does he get jealous easily. when you guys are at parties and he sees you taking to another guy he’ll text you shit like, “does he fuck u good?” or “keep talking to him and i’ll fuck u extra hard tonight” and that’s exactly what he does. “jae-“ is all you can get out of you while your body is getting overstimulated by him. “you asked for it, so take it like the slut you are” he says while pounding his cock into you, pressing your body harder into the mattress, reaching your g spot over and over again. and when he cums, he paints your face, tits, ass with it and makes you lick it off his dick because you're his, but that just riles him up for another round. each time he gets rougher and harder, but when it’s over he spoils you like a mf. “do you need anything my love?”, “i’m sorry princess,” he says while kissing you everywhere, “you just feel so good cant help it”. the remainder of the night he’s massaging, kissing your body, and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

YANGYANG and you are hanging out one day playing video games at his place when you guys both decide you're heading to bed. as he’s changing in his room, you walk in unknowingly, seeing him shirtless with his pajama pants. “oh I'm sorry!” you say expecting him to put a shirt on. when you turn back around he’s still shirtless…and staring at you. “yangyang…” you say and you stare at his bare torso, looking at the way his v-line is going so, so, low. you then realize that he’s pulling his pants down. “will you help me sweetheart?” he asks as his thick cock is now in your sight. he tilts his head to the side as you step closer, you bite your lip as you look at his hard, then at him. “go on, suck.” he orders. there’s no way you can’t listen to him right now. the way that he’s smiling and biting his lip, and how he’s combing your hair back already, and how he’s moaning as you take him into your mouth. “f-fuck baby!!” he gasps, not expecting you to take him all down like that. he also likes waking you up, getting in between your legs while you slowly wake up to him eating you out. “yangyang!” you moan as he pushes two fingers into you. “gonna take my fingers then my cock right princess?” he says. you nod your head, pulling at his hair as he pushes three fingers in now. your moans spill out as you cum onto his fingers. “good job sweetheart...” he praises you. “can you take my cock now?” he asks as he taps it on your stomach, biting his lip before asking, “you think it’ll fit?” your face gets hot at this. you look down to see how big he really is. “yes, please fuck me…” you beg. and so he does, ramming into your tight cunt, holding down your wrists beside you to stop you from moving so much. you feel the way he’s twitching in you and he sees the way your back is arching. “cum my sweetheart, let me fill you up.” he says as he lets out a final long moan, each other's cum spilling out of you.

CHENLE is always desperate as ever to please you…and to see how easily he can fall into your touch. always saying pathetic words to you like “please…want u to touch me”, and he says it so softly, stroking your fingers. you nod your head as he smoothly lifts his shirt up, revealing his bare chest to you. he loves being like this, under your touch knowing you like seeing him all helpless and soft. you kiss him teasingly, biting his bottom lip a bit, fingers trailing from his upper torso to his hardened cock. “mm~ want you to play with me so bad…” is all he says before you slide down his pants, fisting his cock, putting the tip in your mouth. he doesn’t last long until he cums on your lips, bringing you back onto his, tasting his own cum. chenle also gets riled up at night. he's trying to go to sleep, but he keeps inching closer to your body. he rubs his hard dick against you, head snuggled in the blanket a bit almost embarrassed. in response you turn over, seeing his face. so beautiful and all tense. eyes shut as his mouth hangs a little open, breathing harder than normally, even hearing little whines. “what do you need my lele?” you ask him. He doesn’t say anything, just brings your hips onto his lap, moving you so you're grinding against his cock. he moans loudly. you pull down his pajama pants and pull your panties to the side, sinking on his cock slowly. you fuck your self onto him, giving it to him good since he’s been good all day. and at this point he’s moaning so much. “such a good boy right my lele?” “doing so good for me hm? gonna fuck you again and again since you want it so bad” is what you say to him as he loudly whines, even tears run down his pretty little face, preparing himself for that overstimulation he’ll feel all night long.

JISUNG is content however you would like to have sex. you want it kinky? he’ll do whatever you ask for. you just want it vanilla? fine with him :)! however you want it he’s fine with it! you guys were currently making out on the couch when you felt his hand squeeze your neck slightly, giving you a signal he needs you. a minute later you're on all fours. lapping at his dick, tracing his veins, kissing the tip, literally anything to make him feel good. “fuck this.” he says as he turns your body around to pound into you. “fuck jisung!!” you let out. “m sorry…” he says as he slowly pumps into you, almost to tease you. “…i can't help it when your so tight for me, just for me.” then he’s really pounding into you. roughly like he’ll never get the chance to fuck you stupid like this again. hes fucking into your cunt faster and faster, he slaps your ass as he throws his head back, letting out a long groan. “all mine.” he says as he lifts your upper body so it’s against his chest. he holds you by your throat as he fucks into you deeper. as one hand is around your throat, the others flicking at your clit, rubbing it quickly. as your body becomes more tired and fucked out, your eyes begin closing, tears rolling down your cheeks as he lets you down, slapping your ass again before giving one last deep pound into you. “m gonna cum, okay?” he doesn’t even bother to wait for a response. he cums into you before watching as both your cum drips down your folds. “mine”.

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