#liu yangyang fluff

[000ceanus]

That Pretty Smile of His

Pairing: Liu Yangyang x socially anxious!gn!reader

Genre/s: Fluff

TW: alcohol (if there is more, please let me know.)

Masterlist

✧༝┉˚❋ ❋˚┉༝✧

You step inside the party, drinks flowing, lights strobing, and people dancing around. There is a lot of people, which is anxiety inducing. However, you promised him you would be here. So you sucked it up and trudged onwards.

After a few steps in, you see Yangyang, staring at you with his mouth agape. You see him mouth a few words to the people he’s with—which you then realize are his roommates—and slowly stalk towards you, never breaking eye contact.

“You look pretty,” he says, in a quiet tone you almost didn’t hear, were it not for his soft, pretty lips mouthing them. Then, a bit louder, “You know, I didn’t think you would come when I invited you.”

“Is that a bad thing?” You ask meekly.

“No, not at all. I hoped you would come,” he says, “Do you want a drink?”

You nod.

“The kitchen is this way,” he gestures towards a doorway, “Unless you want to go around and say hi? I can bring your drink to you.”

You quickly shake your head. “No, I want to stay with you.”

He then flashes that pretty smile of his.

“If that’s okay,” you say.

“It’s alright; I got you.” His grin was not going away one bit. He turns towards where he gestured earlier and places his hand on your back. “This way,” he says, and he leads you towards the kitchen.

(If you just strain your ear a little more, over the noise, you would be able to hear whoops from where Yangyang came and, “Our baobei is making moves on his crush!”)

“What drink do you want?” He asks.

“Do you have (alcoholic drink of choice)?”

“Woooow, you know exactly what you want, huh? I thought you didn’t drink?” He teases you, opening the fridge.

“That’s only what you assumed.” Then, “I drink with my family, It’s my first time drinking in a party—or being in a party like this.”

“I hope I’m being a good host, then?” He opens for you your drink, hands it to you, then pours his own drink.

“The best,” you tell him.

He smiles at that. “What do you want to do, or where do you want to go?”

You pause for a while. Noticing your anxiousness about the party, he says, “Do you want to go to the balcony?”

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding and say, “Sure.”

Once more, he places his hand on your back and leads you to a glass door.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” he says, once he opens the door.

“Even though I’m taking you away from your party? You can go back there, if you want.”

“It’s okay, I don’t even like parties anyways.”

“Liar.”

He laughs and takes a swig of his drink while leaning on the railing. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he says.

“Don’t you want to go with your friends?” You’re trying to give him a way out again.

“But you are my friend.”

After that, you spend the time away in a comfortable mix of silence and conversation.

“…Do you know, we went to Jeju on a vacation? But it was so cold and cloudy during those days, we couldn’t enjoy it that much.”

“Poor Renjun,” you say.

“Hey, and what about me?”

Mustering up your liquid courage, you lean closer, comb your free hand through his hair, and say, “Poor Yangyang,” with a smile.

He looks at you for a while and swallows, his eyes flickering their gaze from your eyes and your lips.

He raises your chin with his fingers and asks, quietly, shakily, “Can I kiss you?”

This is one of the few times you feel brave. You lean in, and the kiss feels electrifying. It feels as if fireworks are going off all around you, celebrating your long-awaited kiss.

Once you both lean away, he flashes that pretty smile of his at you. You can’t help but smile back at him.

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[rainbowhao]

spilled secrets ♡ yangyang

genre: fluff ⭒ word count: 0.5k

[ “are you serious?” he asks a moment later, taking another hesitant sip of his drink—for all yangyang knows, you’ll be telling him xiaojun’s in love with him next; that’ll really make him snort it out his nose. ]

                           ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“how come you’re always hugging him?” 

yangyang’s comment takes you by surprise. he raises his eyebrows in question, pink lips pursed as he sips his milk tea. you glance toward the entrance of the cafe; you can see ten’s retreating figure through the window, heading back to practice after a quick lunch.

“are you jealous?” you joke.

he responds all too casually, “yeah.”

your eyes widen. “you like ten?”

yangyang chokes, boba nearly getting stuck in his throat at your ridiculous words. he lets out several loud coughs, cheeks turning red before eventually catching his breath. his hand slams down on the small table while looking up at you, eyes nearly covered by his overgrown bangs.

“what did you just say?” he says incredulously. you’re getting ready to repeat yourself when he bursts into laughter, mouth widening to reveal the gummy smile you adore. “are you serious?” he asks a moment later, taking another hesitant sip of his drink—for all yangyang knows, you’ll be telling him xiaojun’s in love with him next; that’ll really make him snort it out his nose.

you lean back in your seat, head tilting. “i’m confused. didn’t you say you’re jealous? wait—were you just being sarcastic?” you mentally face-palm. you should have figured he was messing around. for all the years you’d known each other, the word sincerity had never been in your best friend’s vocabulary.

this only has yangyang giggling harder. “you’re really dumb, huh?” his tone is gentler than you expect. now he’s insulting you? in a cute way? what the hell were you missing?

the next several minutes are spent in deep contemplation while the two of you finish your drinks. he leads you out the building with his arm wrapped around your shoulder, muttering about you owing him compensation for nearly choking to death.

“don’t talk like that around ten.” he brings a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. “he’ll lose his shit.” he’s grown out his hair at your request, blonde strands matching the pastel shirt he wears today. you reach into your jean pocket, pulling out your sunglasses before offering them to him with a smile.

“weren’t you the one who insinuated it?”

“nope.” he shakes his head. “i’m jealous of you, babe. get it now?” he bites his lip, glancing at you nervously. his arm still hangs on your shoulder, fingers brushing your skin as you walk. your glasses now rest on the tip of his nose. subtlety doesn’t work on you—that much is clear—so screw it. he was tired of dancing around the fact he likes you anyway.

“you’re kind of hugging me right now though, aren’t you?”

he hums, lips tugging in amusement. “i want more than this, though.”

“like what?” your gently push your elbow into his side, directing him further to the side when you hear a car approaching from behind. 

“how about we go on a date?” any cheekiness is gone now. his fingertips graze your collarbone. he continues when you don’t immediately respond. “i’m being serious. let me take you out.” 

this is a plot twist you're not expecting; somehow the idea of yangyang liking his group mate was more believable than him secretly crushing on you. the unexpected revelation of his true feelings has your heart racing, but even so, you still can't help but ask, “are you paying?”

#yangyang #wayv #nct #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct drabbles #nct fanfic #yangyang imagines #yangyang scenarios #yangyang fluff #liu yangyang #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv fluff #nct fic

[00127am]

@ barkingatthemoon best friend! liu yangyang x gn! reader, about sickeningly sweet love confessions, friends to lovers, kissing, lower-case intended word count 2k

💿 now playing ... harvey by hers

"wanna date?"

it's a question poised in the lull of your favorite song, asked within half of a beat before it's drowned out by the rhythmic thrum of the lyrics and consumed by the canary-esque tone of the vocalist. a tone which has nothing on you, voice sweet and even, every word framed with the melodic waver in your pitch. and when you propose this question, head dangling off the edge of your mattress, that ever-so-pretty voice of yours is nothing but nonchalant. as if you had just asked the time.

from your upside down world, there's a tingling feeling which races from the stretch of your abdomen to your nostrils, forcing you to blink fast and swallow hard. your nose twitches, scrunching and relaxing in a poor attempt to relieve itself of the buzzing sensation. but it doesn't seem to make any semblance of a difference. instead, it begins to throb in the top of your temple, pressing down against the walls of your cranium as if they might very well break down. you're not quite sure if it's the silence from your best friend or your position that's making it hard to swallow, but you don't think that the cause exactly matters at the end all be all.

you watch him with doe eyes, lashes fluttering against your cheeks only to be stuck in the arch of your brows as you blink back at him. you can feel your face getting hot, a blush burning at your cheeks and searing the tips of your ears. this reaction, without a doubt, is from him. not being upside down. not the silence. just yangyang, puffy lips parted and eyes wide.

he blinks obliviously at you, tongue hesitating at the back of his teeth, and you begin to wonder if he had ever heard you in the first place. so you open your mouth to say it again, lips just barely pursed in into the beginnings of a consonant before he's waving you off. "i heard you the first time,"

unlike the songbird singer of your favorite song and unlike you, yangyang's voice is caught in between something strained (tone low and rough as if it has been dragged upon gravel) and hesitant (yet you're not quite sure if you could describe it as that, not with the way that each ending syllable seemed to rush after one another). in all iterations of his voice, this is one that you like least of all. it tells of an oncoming rejection, the thought process of finding just the right words to let you down.

"ah," you're less casual this time, words stuck in the back of your throat, "is that a no?"

"what?"

"i'm asking if you're rejecting me," you clarify, finally unable to take the rush to your head as you sit upright, "my confession,"

he leans forward and if you weren't so preoccupied with picking yourself up, perhaps you would have been flustered by the lack of distance (though you guess that personal space has never been a forte of yangyangs). he raises a finger in the air, gesturing in circles as if to rewind to your previous words. "that was a confession?"

"what else would it be?" the sudden surge of movement forces you to clench your eyes shut, pressure mounting up behind them as if it might spill out with tears. it takes a couple moments of blinking before your vision returns to normal, accompanied by a faint ringing in your ears. "anyway, i thought you knew,"

yangyang sputters for words, blonde hair falling onto his face in a manner that really doesn't help you keep your composure. he shoots you an incredulous look, eyebrows arched and jaw nearly touching the floor. he brings a hand to his chest, tapping as he speaks, as if he couldn't believe that he's the crush in mention. "knew that you're into me?"

"yes," your tone is bordering the line between a twinge of embarrassment and the foundation of irritation that's bubbling at the back of your throat, "i've been making it pretty obvious,"

"not obvious enough," he grumbles, spoken under his breath as he brings a hand to scratch at the bridge of his nose--looking everywhere but your eyes, narrowed in on him with something more akin to a glare than a glance.

you huff, rolling your eyes as you lean onto your arms, flicking him on the forehead with a force much to harsh to be anything lesser than aggravation. "next time i'll make sure to get on one knee to propose so it's obvious enough for you,"

he swats your hand away, pouting as he nurses his forehead. his discomfort evokes a laugh on your part, lips twitching upwards from their previous position held in the beginnings of a sneer. you can never stay annoyed at him, not when he looks like that. an expression that screams pathetic in every way but overt words as he looks up at you. his bottom lip is caught in his teeth and his next words are spoken within a silver of a breathe--desperate and urgent.

"yes, i do. so, so badly"

it's a statement spoken in the middle of one of your songs, tone so gentle that it was almost drowned out by the steady beat of the instrumental. so quiet, that you're tempted to ask him to repeat it--partially to make sure that you really did hear him correctly but mostly because you just want to hear him say it one more time. there's no question about what he's responding too, voice completely consumed by a honey, lovesick lilt. one that you find far superior to any intonation used by your songbird singer or any emphasis that falls from your own throat. an inflection that you will revisit, over and over and over again until any and all accuracy of the memory is lost.

"ok,"

"ok?"

"ok," you repeat, lips quirking into a teasing smile (one he knows all too well, one that sticks to his skin and haunts him with every waking moment--god, he can't get you out of his mind), "what? you disappointed or something?"

he's quick to clarify, rebutting with a dirty look, "no. i just...i don't know. not very romantic was it?"

"ouch," you wince back in faux pain, holding a hand to your heart with a dramatic drawl, "should i have bought flowers?"

"yes, sure, whatever," he acknowledges your quip only to ignore it, spitting out an agreement as quick as he can in order to get to his next phrase. so rushed that you're fifty percent positive that he didn't even hear what you said, "can i kiss you?"

his question makes you reel, feeling dizzy as the words are punctuated with a look from him that's a hair away from begging. and oh god, you feel like you're going to faint. maybe you're still feeling the aftereffects of your head rush. one look at him says otherwise.

"do you even have to ask?" your lips curve into a smile as you answer. a smile that makes his hands curl into tight fists, knuckles burning a bleach white. he's one hundred percent sure that if he doesn't kiss you right now, then he'll explode. though, it doesn't exactly matter in the grand scheme of things as he thinks that he'll reach the same end when he actually does.

and that's certainly what it feels like as yangyang leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. one that he ends only to begin another, more assured and slightly less gentle, less featherlight. he sighs when he kisses you, as if he's been holding back that same sigh since he met you. one only to be relieved by a kiss he has always so desperately craved. he kisses you urgently, like he's making up for lost time. a pacing and utter adoration that makes your head spin, butterflies fluttering in your stomach only to emerge from your throat in the form of a quiet whine. a noise that has yangyang practically lunging on top of you, hands coming up to hold your face. slender fingers sliding up your cheekbones and resting before your ears, fingernails knotted in the edges of your hair. and then he's pulling away, smushing messy, lingering kisses all over your face.

his lips are everywhere, on the full of your cheeks and the space beneath the arch of your brow. the corner of your mouth and your chin, your forehead and eyelid. chest against chest, his heartbeat hammering so loudly that you wouldn't be surprised if it leapt straight out.

"maybe we should have skipped the confession part and went straight to this," your words are hummed against his face, eyes fluttering somewhere between open and shut as he lines kisses down the angle of your jaw. your arms coming to hang around his shoulders, "might have saved you from my unromantic confession,"

you can feel him grin against you and you know a teasing comment isn't too far behind. "i wish we did. that was the worst confession i've ever received,"

he makes his way back to your lips, pressing soft kisses to the corners before capturing your lips once more. this time, you lead, pulling him ever-so-slightly closer as you take his bottom lip in between your teeth. you nip playfully, soothing over your bite with a passive, lazy drag of your tongue. a feeling that evokes a groan from your counterpart, fingertips digging into the flesh of your face.

"should i take it back then?" it's muttered against his lips, each word spoken between kisses that have his knees buckling, "the worst confession you've ever received, that is,"

yangyang scoffs, words slurred and spoken in the middle of a kiss. "you can't take it back,"

you laugh, a pretty sound that has his ears ringing. one that starts in the back of your throat and ends up bubbling in his, before it's interrupted with a whiny whimper as you pull away. a reaction that nearly has all the blood in your body rushing to your head. you're not sure that sitting up could fix the sensations this time.

instead, you bring a finger to trace along the expanse of his neck. fingernail grazing against his adams apple (which bobs when he swallows, hard, at the feeling of your touch--an action accompanied a slight shiver and unsteady inhale). you continue your journey upwards until you're skimming the curve where his throat meets his chin. and there you hesitate, before flicking your finger harshly upwards. "can't i?"

despite the way in which his face is forced upwards by the motion of your hand, yangyang's eyes never leave yours. they're half-lidded, eyelids drooping down like he's drunk. lips are a vermillion red, puffy and swollen. a small line of spit stuck between the top and bottom and you can't be sure whether that's his or yours. all you do know is that if he keeps looking at you like that, you might just drop dead. they say looks can kill, after all.

"no," he replies, voice hoarse and eyes drawn in soft crescents "it's too late. we're dating, aren't we? you said ok,"

you huff out a whisper of a laugh, expression darting into a grin that you just can't hold back. one that practically threatens to split your face in two as you undertake a teasing lilt. "only because you looked so pathetic when you agreed,"

he wrinkles his nose at your words, toying with a lopsided smile that makes your heart flip. "if that's what it takes for you to date me then i'll look pathetic all you want,"

"i don't think you'll have to try any harder than usual in that endeavor," you remark, shutting your eyes as you lean back onto your palms, "in fact, i'd say that--"

but you're cut off with a kiss, then another, and another, and another. until you've all but forgotten about rescinding your confession, or what you were going to say about him. and the only thing you can think about is him. not that that is anything out of the norm.

taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @222brainrot @yangasm thank you for all your support and love! <3

🗯️ i love yangyang so much guys TᴖT i don't even think this is written well because i wrote it so rushed, all in one sitting, because i just needed to get this out of my system. there's something so lovely to me about mundane, realistic confessions and banter that i can't help but think about them all the time. writing this made me all fuzzy and i hope it does the same for you all! ♡

#⏱ wake up! it's 00127AM! #liu yangyang #yangyang #liu yangyang x reader #yangyang x reader #wayv x reader #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #nct wayv #nct fluff #wayv fanfic #wayv fluff #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #best friends to lovers #yangyang fluff #yangyang fic #love confessions #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n

[sadnightforus]

coworker and enemy!yangyang who has been a pain in your ass ever since you joined the company in late September. He was your supervisor and he was helpful and nice before you got switched to be under Kun's wing. ever since that incident, he starts messing with you and your mind. 

coworker and enemy!yangyang who looks for an opportunity to jap and even throw a smart remark at you whenever you both are together. You’ve grown so used to his behavior overtime that you aren’t fazed by what he was doing anymore. You began to throw remarks at him too and humiliate him at times for him to have a taste of his own medicine. 

coworker and enemy!yangyang who purposely messes up your work items and hide your lunches so he’ll have a reason to say ‘haha loser you look like you’re about to die’ and you’ll be forced to sit through an empty stomach, insanely worn out from both work and his antics.

coworker and enemy!yangyang who always bickers in your social media posts even though you both don’t follow each other. You reciprocate the same energy and oftentimes, even go as far to mess with other people who attempted to flirt in his comment to show him that he will never win this silly little game easily. 

coworker and enemy!yangyang who becomes much more meaner when you started getting closer to Sicheng, who is a new member of the team from the other department, and he seems to notice and like you too. He would go as far to say you’re unattractive and not compatible with Sicheng, which you both know is a total lie, but for some reason, you got affected by what he said. 

coworker and enemy!yangyang who became worried as you began to be so much more quieter, distant and you stopped responding to his antics as your attention is solely directed on your works. He instantly feels like shit and even filled with rage when he notices that you have become much more affectionate with Sicheng too. 

coworker and enemy!yangyang who often punches the pillows and gets drunk, murmuring about how he hates that you’re so distant and looks at Sicheng like he’s your world while Yangyang himself probably amounts to nothing in your eyes and he wishes that you’d reciprocated his love too. 

coworker and enemy!yangyang who gets drunk and complains to his friends about how you have heart eyes for another ‘scumbag’ in his company, slurring all of his drunken thoughts about how he has been in love with you for so long and he just doesn’t know how to express all of those thoughts properly so he resorted to picking on you instead. He was mad that instead of you noticing him, you gave attention to another worthless guy who doesn’t deserve a dime of your time. 

coworker and enemy!yangyang who one day works late overtime and gets out, thinking no one would be in the building. Surprisingly, he spots you, who seems to be equally as beaten down by the work as him. He walks to you, doesn’t have the heart to tease as it has been so long and you’re startled by how quiet he has become right at this moment. 

coworker and enemy!yangyang who strangely enjoys the comfortable silence, without bickering just once as you both are taking a long walk, exiting the company’s ground. He was doing good until you hit him with the question ‘So.. a little birdie that you like me. Is that correct?’ in the most teasing voice ever and he swears he wants to die. 

coworker and enemy!yangyang who begins to panic, while wondering who could be the snitch on him as his mouth quickly responds ‘No I don’t, you’re just egoistical.’ to which you respond with ‘Oh yeah? Then why have you been raving about how pretty I am to your friends and how you hate Sicheng so much?’ 

coworker and enemy!yangyang who becomes silent as he knows you have defeated him in this, then you laugh, the loudest and most genuine laugh he had ever heard since he knew you. ‘That’s my cousin, you’re so dumb.’ Then you laugh even harder, as you continue speaking ‘If you pay attention, you’d notice that I use Sicheng to get back at you for being emotionally constipated and bullying your crush as your love language.’ 

coworker and enemy!yangyang who becomes red in the face as he gets exposed as he tries to speak ‘Wait! I can explain-‘ and he just ends up stuttering half way when he does. You find it adorable how he has a new different side to him. 

coworker and enemy!yangyang who becomes ecstatic once he heard the ‘You know, I think you’re so dumb that you never really noticed I like you either the way I harassed at least half of the girls who follows you on Instagram’ and he doesn’t care for anything else as he leans in to kiss your cheeks. 

coworker and enemy!yangyang who ends up working his courage to ask you out on a date and finally working out on getting his enemy as his baby. 

COPYRIGHTED BY SADNIGHTFORUS, 2024

A/N: it's probably better if i write an au but I can't handle it so enjoy.

reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated!

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[papergirllife]

Liu Yang Yang

Yandere! Fanboy Yang Yang x Idol! Reader

‘He was the fanboy at the front of the show, but he’s not satisfied’

warnings: stalking, threats towards someone (not mc), unprotected sex, knife play, cream pie, yandere obsessive behaviour, morally grey characters, etc.

DON’T LIKE, DON’T READ, HATE MESSAGES WOULD BE DELETED, THANK YOU.

word count: 11k

Your tired eyes were still fighting the sleepiness behind your lids as you read the comments on the side of the screen, your fans using this opportunity to appreciate your face up close, no make up on and only a single study lamp on, but still your complexion was almost flawless, well, to Yang Yang and some of the fellow fans that love you just as much anyways.

“Thank you everyone who spent their precious time with me, it’s been a hectic time lately, and I think you guys have some really accurate speculations behind the reason why,” you said with a cute wink to the camera of your new desktop, the same one Yang Yang gifted you, “and lastly, I’d like to thank MienYang, my fansite for gifting me this new monitor, you really didn’t have to, my old one only had slight glitches,” you said, to which Yang Yang remembers, flashing back to the last live you did with your old monitor, the camera quality was shit, “and I hope the rest of you have a good night’s rest, fighting for tomorrow! Bye!” you said, ending your live.

Yang Yang sits back in his leather chair, releasing a content sigh, he always feels all his stress of the day seep out of his body whenever he’s watched your lives, it was even better than therapy, not that he’ll ever tell his therapist this.

Yang Yang likes to call himself your biggest fan, although he’s new considered the fact that your group isn’t, he likes to think that he found you at the perfect time when he needed you.

Yang Yang is the head of his father’s electronics company here in Seoul, his company produces chips and motherboards for big brands that are much too lazy to make and manage their own factories anymore, which would explain the expansion to here in South Korea after sealing a deal with the biggest mobile brand here, it was a tough time for him, adjusting to a new environment with only the basics of the foreign language he had crammed into his head as per his father’s orders.

He was so stressed about the business that one day he randomly passed by this stadium with resellers outside selling tickets for more than two times the price, he couldn’t give a flying fuck at first, but when he heard the last minute rehearsal going on from behind the walls, he impulsively bought a ticket, his excuse being that he heard a voice that sounded like an angel, and so he bought the front row seats to the concert, Yang Yang only knows of the older groups from his teenage years, so he thought of this as an impulsive purchase and nothing more to destress, but when he laid eyes on the face of the owner, he knew he was in for another fan experience he had went through for exo.

You were angelic in the opening song, an upbeat cheerful song performed by your group to hype up the atmosphere, but a few songs later, the concept started to change, to a mysterious and somewhat sexy one, he didn’t know your group was so versatile, and needless to say, you shined the most, with your hooded eyes and occasional lip bites accompanied by the teasing rolls of your hips to the choreography, Yang Yang knew he had to have you no matter the price.

And so he let himself fall into the rabbit hole of you, researching about your entire background, where you’re from, your hobbies, your favourite food, your favourite colour, name it, he knows, even your weight and blood type.

None of his employees or his father’s lackies know about this obsession of his, of course, god forbid his father knowing, he’d be shipped back to Germany piece by piece.

Yang Yang, to mask his identity, adorns in all black attire whenever he follows you to your schedules in his identity of your new fansite, he never stalked you, Yang Yang has a company to manage, he only follows you to official schedules, like music shows and sometimes award shows, he has to keep up with the image of a fansite, just to send you gifts, yes he’s sent you tons of gifts, from the latest Prada bag you have, down to the mouse on your desk he just saw, all under the name of MienYang, which is a ring to the animal you resemble, a sheep, which came about after you had gone viral for wearing an oversized white knitted sweater, and Mien is noodles in his native language, for your love for ramyeon, see? He knows every single meticulous detail.

Yang Yang was content with being a silent fan at first, thinking maybe he was a bit too obsessive in the midst of his whirlwind parasocial romance, but he brushes the thought aside, no one can treat you the way you truly deserve, and definitely not the shitty company you’re signed under.

At first it was just the innocent act, or not so innocent, of being roped into a sasaeng group chat that trades info about your group’s schedule like his peers did with bitcoins and nfts, Yang Yang didn’t want anything to do with it at first, but when he saw these sasaengs having ‘dirt’ on some of your members for dating, he had to ask, just a harmless question of whether you were secretly seeing anyone. Yang Yang was bracing for the worst if he was honest, but to his surprise, the group chat blew up with a slew of messages about your love life, or lack there of.

‘She’s a hermit, the only thing she does is sneak out for late night convenience store runs near her dorm.’

‘I used to follow her when she was my bias, but she was so boring that she doesn’t even leave her dorms unless it’s for shopping.’

‘I don’t think she’s ever stepped foot in a club, not even a pub....’

Now this was interesting, the user who had commented on how you went out for convenience stores late at night had messaged him privately, saying that he could sell him more info if he wants, but with a price, and did Yang Yang say yes? You bet his ass he did.

He had met up with the guy at a cafe at a less busy hour to ‘discuss’.

“As we had agreed upon, 100k won per question,” the guy said, his appearance was a mess, he probably followed you last night too, to get more out of this, he did this for a living, he has to go all out.

“First question, is it true that she’s single and holes up in her dorm all the time?” Yang Yang asked.

“That’s two questions, yes, and as a bonus, she’s only had a brief 3 months relationship before moving to Korea, but I think most fans know this by now, and to answer your second question, yes that’s true, she’s very much a hermit, goes to work and then comes home straight, that’s 200k pretty boy, anymore questions?” the guy says before taking a sip of his iced americano, paid for by Yang Yang of course, and before Yang Yang could do some logical thinking, he blurted out the question that has been relaying in his mind over and over again.

“I want her address, you have it don’t you?” Yang Yang asked, he swore this would be the last thing he asks for today, he doesn’t want to invade too much of your privacy, just enough to satisfy his thirst for you.

“Now that’s another price,” the man leaned back with a smug smile on his ugly face.

Yang Yang hasn’t ever spent one million won purely on information, not even in the industry he’s in.

Yang Yang finds himself in your dorm’s neighbourhood, but there’s three convenience stores in the area, he wonders if you prefer cu or emart, he’s currently in cu, it’s less flashy and smaller in size, if he was an idol, he’d definitely pick this one.

He’s not in the store yet, waiting in the car, with his phone to zoom in whenever he sees a female figure coming through his vicinity, but none of them were you, all of them had their hoods down, so they’re definitely not you, Yang Yang would recognise your face even if he lost all memory of who he was himself.

It was until when he saw a familiar phone case in a hooded figure’s delicate hands, then he knew, he recognises your new case, the one with fake gummy bears at the back.

Yang Yang immediately springs out of his car, slamming the door shut before quickly jogging inside the convenience store, his body slacks in comfort of the heating but his focus heightens, trying to see where you were.

That’s when he sees you, crouched in the corner, a hand on your knee, contemplating which ramyeon to get, Yang Yang has to stop himself from cooing at the cute sight. Yang Yang makes himself look busy by picking through what ramyeon he wants, as an excuse to execute the plan he’s formulated for almost a week.

When you stood up to pay, he quickly grabs the one he had decided on since he had laid eyes on the selections, he was just waiting for you, he went up to pay first when he sees you making a beeline for the cashier.

He ‘tries’ to pay with his kaokaopay, the keyword ‘tries’ because he knows there’s no credit in that e wallet anymore, and did he purposely forget his wallet? Of course he did.

“Damn it, I forgot to top up and my wallet’s left at home,” Yang Yang curses to himself, but loud enough to let you pick it up.

“No worries, I’ll pay,” you say, thrusting your phone to the scanner, flashing him a kind smile that shows on your eyes, your beautiful lips hidden by the mask you had adorned to conceal your identity.

“Thank you so much,” Yang Yang says with a polite bow, “Is there a way I could pay you back?” Yang Yang asks, taking your items to the instant ramyeon station, opening your packet and his to fill up the plastic bowls with hot water.

“Maybe you could pay for my noodles the next time we see each other here,” you suggested, taking your bowl of ramyeon, walking to an empty table, away from the windows.

“Deal,” Yang Yang agreed, taking a seat across you, “I’m new to this country, so I don’t know many people, it’d be nice to have a face to be familiarise with, are you a foreigner too?” Yang Yang pried, as if he didn’t know the answers to those basic questions.

“Yup! But I’ve been here for a few years now, it’s really hard at first, the difference of culture and language really sets us foreigners aside, doesn’t it?” you ask, of course, you might be wrong, some people adapt really well to the local culture, Seoul is easier than other smaller cities according to your seniors.

“Yeah, I’m here cuz my company transferred me here, it was really a bummer at first, what about you? Career reasons too, I guess?” Yang Yang easily strikes up a conversation, he’s very much an introvert, but around the people he clicks with? It’s like a breeze for him, and to him, you and him are two missing puzzle pieces waiting to be pieced together.

“Yeah, do I look too old to be a college student?” you asked jokingly, this is a nice change, the feeling of being a stranger to someone again, maybe meeting, wait, you haven’t caught his name.

“No, but you don’t have a bag with you to study, and most college kids will bring their food back home to eat while studying, you seem to have more time on your hands than a college kid, so I just assumed, unless you are?”

“Nope,” you said, finishing your noodles, you peered over to his, almost empty too, “but you look a bit young to be transferred over so quickly,” you commented.

“Yeah, it’s my uncle’s business, and he wanted some help, I didn’t have any plans after graduation, so I had to take up the offer, or my dad would have my head,” another lie, but this is how he has to do if he wants to be your friend, and to his greediness, something more even.

“Wow, your family must have really high hopes for you,” you complimented, picking up after yourselves, you’re going to leave soon, you still have afternoon practice tomorrow, and you don’t want to go into the company looking like a zombie.

“I guess, I’ll see you soon...

You give him your name while he holds the door open for you, he seems to be such a gentleman, a rare sight these days.

“Yang Yang, it’s a pleasure meeting you, get home soon, even from a newbie, I could tell Seoul isn’t the safest,” he said, looking back at you to see that you covered your head with your hoodie and your face with a mask once again.

“You too, till we meet again, Yang Yang,” you said, walking to the direction of your dorms.

Yang Yang watches you from afar before deciding to follow you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he found out you were attacked, and so he keeps a distance with your figure, up until you stepped into your dorm’s compounds, and now he can go back home for a peaceful sleep, knowing that you’re safe.

Yang Yang had made the effort, given if his schedule and job allowed, to go to that same convenience store every night, and 50% of the time, he’d bump into you, he’d brush it off as a coincidence, citing that he lives very nearby, and of course you never doubted him, it was an almost 100% housing area anyways, and you did meet him in this very same convenience store many nights ago, and so the two of you became friends.

You never really talked about your life, you had lied that you were just a girl fresh out of college being pushed into the corporate world like a fish into a tank of sharks, which wasn’t all that false, instead of saying your managers and staff were rude to you, you’d change it to your seniors at your office, just a small white lie.

Yang Yang wasn’t mad in the slightest of course, if you had revealed your identity to him, you probably wouldn’t have made friends with him or even talk to him if he had made himself known to have recognised you that very first night.

Yang Yang had spun a web of lies upon lies just to make you happy, not like you didn’t contribute into any of the web making, but Yang Yang really tries to make himself as honest as he could be, like how he had recently moved out of his penthouse in Gangnam to live in this very neighbourhood he had claimed he had lived in since day 1, he doesn’t like lying to you, but if lying is what’s keeping you here beside him, he’d take it.

“Hey, why don’t we exchange numbers? Then we don’t need to limit our conversations in this convenience store, and we can even text each other to see if we’re coming here,” you suggested, handing over your unlocked phone for him to key in his number, an unlocked phone, an idol’s greatest fear, but here you were, entrusting your whole career in his hands.

“Sure.”

The early signs of autumn crept up to you in the form of a chilly breeze tonight after having yet another late night convenience store run with Yang Yang, you were walking a little bit further behind to avoid the chances of someone recognising you in your neighbourhood and exposing Yang Yang’s identity, which is why you heard the telltale signs of shuffling of footsteps.

You quickly looked back to see who it was, and the sight nearly made you shit your pants, it was a tall burly man who was wearing a cap even though it’s completely dark out, you’ve been told that sasaengs are often identified through this sort of attire during this timing because rarely anyone wears a cap at night in Seoul unless they’re fellow celebrities, and the keychain of your group’s logo hanging by the side of his fanny pack tells you otherwise.

You quickly dragged Yang Yang into an alley when the two of you rounded a familiar cornering.

“There’s someone following me, we need to run and hide,” you said to a very confused looking Yang Yang, obvious distress in the tone of your voice.

Yang Yang heeds to your warning immediately, pulling you to hide behind a row of large recycling bins, hands holding onto yours when he sees how panic stricken you looked.

After a few minutes, Yang Yang gets up to check if the coast was clear, telling you to stand up when he confirmed no one was following you anymore.

“Why was that guy following you? Do you owe loan sharks money or something?” Yang Yang asked, acting oblivious.

“No...Yang, there’s something I need to tell you, about my identity, please don’t be mad that I’ve been lying to you, I just thought it’d be easier that way, I never thought something like this would happen. The man who was following us is probably one of my fans, and he was probably dangerous because he didn’t carry any camera or had his phone out, those are the obvious signs of a crazy sasaeng, what I’m trying to say is that....I’m an idol of a quite famous group in kpop, I’m sorry I lied about my job, I just wanted a genuine friend who won’t care how famous I am, I just didn’t expect I’d put you into this sort of danger without your permission, and I understand if you don’t want to be my friend anymore, I know there’s risks to being an idol’s-

“Don’t, I’m glad to be your friend, so don’t ever say that, and imagine if I wasn’t here tonight, he might’ve gotten to you and god knows what he’ll do to you, so don’t apologise, I’m happy to be by your side,” Yang Yang said after he had pulled you in for a hug, his presence and touch comforting you and your running mind, “how about I walk you home instead of saying goodbye at the intersection?” Yang Yang asked, to which you nodded enthusiastically, grateful to have met someone as caring and as accepting as Yang Yang.

As time has passed, that night’s events never left your mind, both in a bad light and a good one because that act of Yang Yang ushering you to safety had etched in your mind permanently, the scene unfolding itself whenever you zone out because to you, that was your very own kdrama moment, Yang Yang being your knight in shining armour and you being the damsel in distress.

Though it might be a hard pill to swallow in everyone else’s eyes that it was all an act, one that Yang Yang had planned it meticulously with a hefty sum of money, hiring the actor who played your ‘stalker’, and on top of that, paying for his non-disclosure agreement. Yang Yang needed you to fall for him, and through your old interviews of the dramas you were watching, he had grown to know what man you would fall for, and most of those dramas had a scene of the female lead being saved, most of the time you’d watch thriller dramas, which would explain why.

Yang Yang knows what he did was wrong, that he had scared you that night, but to him, this was some sort of warning, to let you know that even if it wasn’t him, there’s a huge possibility of you encountering crazy fans like this, he wants you to depend on him for safety, just the two of you now, having one of your convenience store runs again, but instead of just some random meet up, now he can call these dates, the two of you now have your impromptu suppers at another convenience store, you feared that the crazy fan would come back to get you after an unsuccessful attempt that night, Yang Yang even suggested to drive out to the next neighbourhood, which you’re very much grateful for.

Dating Yang Yang was a skeptical decision on your end, having to dodge your members as well as your managers was hard, you had trained your face not to smile as well as switching apps at 0.1 seconds whenever someone tries looking over your shoulder to see who you were texting, but Yang Yang makes you immensely happy in this lonely career of yours.

Speaking of which, you had asked Yang Yang out for ramyeon after you saw a notice of one of your most loyal fansites, MienYang, closing down.

“Why did they close it, babe? I thought you said they were relatively new to your fandom,” Yang Yang asks, as if he doesn’t know.

“I checked their twitter, apparently they’re leaving overseas for university, so they can’t go to my official schedules and stuff anymore,” you say, a pout unknowingly making its way on your lips, “they’re one of the non-sasaeng fansites, it’s sad to see someone who respects me as a person and as an idol go, you know?” you said, thinking aloud mostly, of course you love all the other non-sasaeng fansites, but MienYang has always gifted you sentimental gifts, like food trucks of your favourite snacks whenever there’s some sort of filming or official schedule, even flowers of your favourite kind, and not to mention your entire monitor set up in your dorm only after one mindless complaint you made about the processor that one time on live.

“Hey, don’t be too upset about it, I’m sure they’re still supporting you by other means wherever they are on the globe, think of it on a brighter side, they got in the university they wanted, isn’t that something worth being happy for? Your dearest fan having an education for themselves?” Yang Yang comforts you, reaching a hand over to grasp yours, smiling at you across the table, his eyes pleading for you to cheer up, he never likes seeing you upset.

“Yeah, of course I am, I think I just have attachment issues when it comes to my fans, especially if I knew they were dedicating their free time and even their wealth at a time like this, I’m grateful for all of them, no matter how much money they’d spent, but to know that this fansite spent their hard earned money on me was just... I’m just really grateful, you know? It’s not about the money, but the hard work behind every one of their gifts and events, sorry, I’m rambling and I sound a bit too deserving at the moment, but I just wish I could do more for them, to repay what they had gifted me over the course of this period,” you said, eyes staring mindlessly at the cup of banana milk in front of you, “It’s a crazy thought but I sometimes wish I could clone more of me so every single fan out there would have a chance to meet me, sometimes I see posts of fans span across the globe saying they were dying to meet me, their yearning breaks my heart, I just want to bring joy to their life.”

“So that’s why you do lives so often,” Yang Yang notes, you truly are an angel, you didn’t need to put up the act of a kind hearted idol in front of him, you know he as a boyfriend, would never judge you for purely treating this idol thing as a career, but you’re not like that, you really have a golden heart.

“Yeah, sometimes I’m scared I annoy them, I turn on lives when I’m eating alone, during practice breaks, when I’m bored at night, I wonder if they think I do it too often,” you said with a chuckle, recounting the many times where your fans had suggested you to just open a mukbang channel.

“Nah, it’s cute to see you eat, sometimes I tune in if I was having lunch alone in the office too,” Yang Yang said with a tilt of his head, eyes darting to the ice cream fridge, a bit shy about confessing that this.

“You do??? Oh god, I look cringe, don’t I?” you said before breaking out a nervous laugh, not finding it weird that your boyfriend would just randomly drop in on your lives.

“Nah, you’re definitely mukbang material, I feel full even by just watching you eat, that’s a charm not many have, most idols just try to act overly cute when they eat, now that’s cringe,” Yang Yang said, reassuring you, it was the truth though, “it is in fact a joy to see you eat, and I bet your other fans agree too,” if the amount of times you trended on twitter for eating wasn’t enough of an evidence.

“You’re just saying that cuz you’re my boyfriend, Yang,” you said before finishing up your banana milk, starting to clean up the trash of containers and plastic utensil wrappers, you were always the responsible one, whenever your group mates leave a group live or some recorded programme to do something else, you’d always stay back to help the staff clean up, just like how you are now, and so Yang Yang stops you, taking the remaining trash from your hands and cleans the rest of it, not much of it left of course, you’re always a quick one.

“Yup, I’m your boyfriend, so would you please stop picking up after ourselves? Let me do it, you had a long day,” Yang Yang chides before retreating to the dustbin, carefully sorting whatever that could be recycled into their respective bins, he doesn’t want to get an earful from you.

“Thank you,” you said, meeting him at the door that he was holding open for you, “you always treat me like a princess,” you said, cheeks heating up at the realisation.

“Because you are my princess, now let’s fetch you back to your dorms before my car turns into a pumpkin Cinderella,” Yang Yang jokes, opening the passenger door for you.

“It’s already 1 a.m., Yang!”

The man hits the wall beside the big household rubbish bin with a loud thud, the sound of the back of skull coming into the brick isn’t pretty one, but it’s a beautiful melody in Yang Yang’s ears, a menacing smile appears under the thick layer of his medical mask, to conceal his identity of course.

“Are you crazy, you bastard?!” that shitbag of stalker of yours spits out, a hand holding the back of head, his facial features constricting in pain, “like you’re not a sasaeng too! You fucking hypocrite!”

Yang Yang pulls out a switch blade from the back of his pocket, releasing the sharp end, he chokes the man to keep him vulnerable under his control, knife coming dangerously close to the spot where he punched the man, he wonders how it’d look to cut open a swollen bruise.

“I’m protecting her from fuckers like you! Do you see me carrying a huge ass camera, walking around broadcasting her whole life on the internet?!” Yang Yang retorts, his fingers closing dangerously around his jugular, “if I see you again, you won’t be leaving without a scratch, you hear me?” Yang Yang warns, the knife he holds coming close to the eye of the scumbag, he’ll take his eye out as a third warning if he catches him lurking around again.

“Yes, I hear you! I’m sorry, just please let me go! I swear I’ll never stalk her ever again!” the man tried his best to look apologetic and bow his head down as far as the hand constricting allows him.

Yang Yang frees him from his grip, eyes watching him scram, tail tucked between his two legs, Yang Yang breathes a sigh of relief, this is probably the last of them, he’s still in the group chat and he knows what they say about him, the crazy sasaeng, the group chats he’s in has warn the members of your sasaengs about him, dubbed as the craziest fan you’ve ever had to date, and Yang Yang is more than proud to have this title.

He folds back the knife into the safety of his jacket and pulls out his phone, pressing onto your contact that’s on his speed dial.

“Hey babe, I’m done with work and I’m in your area, are you still in the convenience store? How about you sleep over my place? I haven’t spent much time with you these days,” Yang Yang says with a borderline aegyo voice that he knows gets you to budge every single time.

“Okay, okay, do you want me to get you anything though? They still have chicken katsu today, let me ask if it’s from tonight or this afternoon,” you mumbled to yourself.

“Thank you, baby, take your time, I’ll be waiting in my car outside the store,” Yang Yang said before hanging up, he can’t wait to see you.

“The worker didn’t lie right? It looks fresh,” you commented as you watch Yang Yang eat in earnest, he always acts like that when he eats, and the idiot always says it’s only because of you, and that even a walnut would feel like a full meal if he’s eating it in your presence.

“Yeah, it’s fresh, you want a bite?” Yang Yang asks, offering you his chicken.

“No, I had chicken in the company today, I would’ve cooked you noodles if the chicken turned out to be from the afternoon, you’ve been working late so often these days,” you said while brushing his bangs out of his eyes to get a better look at the eyebags under his pretty doe eyes.

“It’s okay, just training some new people up, then I’ll have more time for you in the future, and it’s better to plan ahead, I want to have a secure future for you, you can have fun performing without financial worries when you become more of a senior, do what you want to do, what you don’t get enough time to do now, what you didn’t get to experience as a trainee, that’s my end goal,” Yang Yang said, his heart jumping in jitters, this isn’t the first time the two of you have expressed the desire to be together forever, the first time this topic came up, you were talking about how Yang Yang’s room might not have enough closet space for your coats in the future.

“Yang, I never dated you with the expectation of you providing for me, not that I’m against it, but I know you have wishes too-

“I had a really fulfilling childhood, trust me, and I’m having lots of fun in my 20s now, but you’re always working so hard, and I know you enjoy most of it, but there’s so much you haven’t done, and this is my wish too, to make you the happiest person in my life,” Yang Yang said in all sincerity, the silly and carefree Yang Yang you’ve grown to know has disappeared now, leaving him vulnerable, baring his soul in front of you.

“Thank you, Yang Yang, I love you,” you said, tackling to the corner of the couch, he almost lost his grip on his chicken, but he’d sacrifice chicken katsu for your hugs any day.

“I love you too, you sappy idiot, you go wash up first, I’ll join you after you leave me in peace to finish my food,” Yang Yang says before he takes a huge bite of said chicken, a hand nudging you softly to the direction of his bedroom.

“Okay, be quick though,” you said, leaving for his room, and Yang Yang to his own train of thoughts.

When Yang Yang first dived into being your fan, he noticed how you’d always tuck yourself in the corner, not very interactive in group contents, especially in your rookie days, but slowly, you settled into the idea of being a public figure, you realised your shy personality had garnered a decent amount of fans that, ‘idol standards wise’, you needed to start engaging with your fans in a solo manner to actually build up your career, at first you were a bit closed off, and not really knowing what to talk to the fans about, but slowly, you started opening up about yourself, and now being in a relationship with Yang Yang, a comfortable validation of your personality now exists in your mind, and needless to say, whatever reason it maybe, your fans are happy that you’re flourishing and now your fan base is growing at a fast pace, Yang Yang is happy for you, even if he needs to tell people to scram every other night, but it’s slowly trickling down to one every few weeks, only a dumbass once in a blue moon dares to challenge him nowadays.

Yang Yang sighs to himself, a mix of emotions, relief, love, and maybe a hint of pride, and comfort knowing that on screen you and off screen you aren’t all that different, you’re only extroverted around him and your members, sometimes he worries that you don’t have enough friends, but Yang Yang isn’t all that much better, only a handful of close friends back in his student days in Germany, maybe he should visit them soon, but he worries for your safety if he’s gone.

“Hey, you done, babe?” you ask, walking out, spotting the oily paper bag discarded on the coffee table.

“Yup, go wait for me on the bed, rest your legs, you must’ve had a long day of practice,” Yang Yang chides, heading into the ensuite bathroom to wash up.

“Nah, it was mostly vocals today, and don’t worry, I drank honey, just as you told me,” you added when you saw Yang Yang looking at you expectantly, satisfaction blooming in your chest when you see Yang Yang nodding proudly, tooth paste foam and the brush sticking out of his mouth comically, you could wake up and go to bed with this sight.

When Yang Yang finally joins you, you wrap your limbs around his lean body, sighing in comfort at the warmth his body provides, he’s always felt like a walking human heater to you.

“What’s with the sudden burst of affection?” Yang Yang teases.

“Nothing, just missed you,” you mumbled into his chest, inhaling the comforting scent of his laundry detergent, “I’ll wait for you in bed,” you mumbled before walking away.

Yang Yang’s shoulders sag in relief, the thought of cuddling you to bed immediately relieving him of the stress he had felt from the whole day.

Yang Yang lets himself under the blanket, greeted by your arms around him,  you had always loved spooning him, out of habit from all the big plushie you had always cuddled to sleep, you can’t go to bed without hugging something, Yang Yang lacks the softness you’re used to, but the warmth he provides is just as comforting.

Although the thought of falling asleep right now is more than tempting, you think it’s time to take the next step in your relationship, and as an adult as a whole.

“Hey Yang, do you ever think about like taking our relationship to the next stage?” you ask mindlessly, you might not get anything out of this, it’s been a long day for your hardworking boyfriend, and you understand, there are somedays where you don’t wanna do anything after work either.

“What do you mean? Like marriage? If so then no take backs cuz I’m in this shit for life, babe,” Yang Yang jokes, tickling at your sides, his touches with you are always innocent, there’s no need to rush, especially after hearing what you just said.

“No, Yang, I meant like, you know, physical affection?” you say as your eyes dart away from his searching ones, ever the observing boyfriend, he always wants to read your emotions through the windows of your soul, something he picked up from his mom growing up when he throws tantrums and she wants to understand his frustration.

“You want more kisses?” Yang Yang asks, apology on the tip of his tongue, he must’ve been so busy these few weeks that you feel neglected.

“No, no, like,” you’re running out of words and you’d bite your own tongue before saying the word sex in front of your boyfriend who’s had a few girlfriends, but you’re desperate to see what he feels about this, so you take his wrist into your hands, placing his palm on your breast.

It was merely flesh biology wise, and that’s how Yang Yang felt about it with his exes, he’s always been much more of an ass guy, but this slight touch, he felt electric shocks going up his back before he came to his senses and pulled his hand away, as if he was burnt by your touch.

“Baby...” Yang Yang trails off, his sentences not forming, he swears that one touch permanently fried parts of his brain, but you take his hesitance as rejection, which sends Yang Yang into a worried frenzy, that’s definitely not what he meant.

“No, baby, I’m not opposed to what you’re proposing, but are you sure you’re ready? This is a huge step for you, isn’t it? I want you to think this through and not have any regrets,” Yang Yang explains, his tone so reassuring, apologetic even.

“I’m sure, Yang, we’ve been together for almost a year, and you’ve always been the best to me, taking care of me, making sure I have my meals, putting up with my hectic schedule without any complaints, then I realised, I really want to feel your love in a physical form, humans are curious creatures, I want all of you, to bask in your love,” you said with so much sincerity it might make Yang Yang cry if you don’t stop with your beautiful words, which is so ironic because most of the times he’s pictured engaging in sex with you, most times the scenarios in his head are so fucking filthy, and here you are, proposing to make love, and suddenly all those desires disappear from his forefront, if making love is what you want, then what’s he’ll give you.

Yang Yang cages you between his body and his bed, a smile that holds several emotions casting through his pupils, lust, mischief, love, adoration, he’s definitely going haywire with these strong emotions.

Yang Yang grows hard in his jeans when he felt your eager hands explore his body, until your knuckles knock against something hard in his jacket’s pocket, Yang Yang freezes up, brain going on overdrive to find every possible excuse and decipher which is the best to use.

“Yang, why do you have-

Your agile fingers press the button, the swish of a knife molding a new type of tension between the two of you.

“Babe, be careful with that,” Yang Yang chides, slowly prying the knife out of your hands to put it at the farthest corner of his nightstand, “I started carrying a switch blade after that time when we bumped into your sasaeng, just in case I need to protect you,” Yang Yang said, another white lie, it wasn’t a complete lie, this thing is used to ward off your sasaengs, just in a more proactive manner, and morally grey of course.

“Yangie..” you cooed, “that’s so sweet, thank you for trying to protect me, but most of my sasaeng fans have stopped pursuing me,” you said, not one hint of disgust on your face, maybe you just think he’s using it as a prop to ward off fans that get aggressive physically.

“Of course, got to be the best boyfriend amongst all your peers, you know, got to make my girl, proud,” Yang Yang trails on, his worry quickly dissipating from his mind.

“I’m sure everyone would be jealous of me for having a boyfriend like you, Yang,” you said before kissing him, your hands continuing their journey, you’re getting a bit rushed, stripping Yang Yang of his jacket and trailing your hands up his toned stomach, your eyes glazed when you realised Yang Yang is hiding a set off abs underneath his baggy sweaters.

“Wow, wait, hold on a sec, baby, you’re going so fast,” Yang Yang said, exasperated at the pace you’re setting, swiftly pulling your hands down from his shirt.

“I thought you wanted to make love, baby, making love is slow-

“I don’t think I want that anymore, Yang, I’ve been waiting for this for too long, aren’t you impatient to touch me too?” you asked with those puppy eyes of yours, and who is Yang Yang to deny you, he’s a man after all.

Yang Yang quickly strips off his shirt to let you know that he is impatient for your touch, he’s waited since the day he saw your concert, he’s been waiting for so long, training his endurance towards your little touches, but your one look is pushing him past his limits, your bedroom eyes are Yang Yang’s weakness, the first time he’s seen them when you were performing had him hooked, he knew you weren’t innocent, but he hadn’t known you were a virgin, that’s just even sexier of you, to value yourself so highly, yet so shy at times, this is what he calls duality.

Yang Yang throws his shirt off to somewhere, eager to please you, but a certain metallic sound caught his attention, his eyes spy that the switch blade wasn’t that far away anymore, must be the drag of his shirt, so he moves away to retrieve it, opening the drawer, planning to just chuck the thing in, it’s better to be safe than sorry, but before he could let go of the blade, your delicate fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Yang, could we try something with the knife? I read something in one of my romance books once and I always wanted to recreate it with you,” you said timidly, but eyes full of lust, and Yang Yang swears his dick just twitched hearing you say those words.

“You know, babe, usually people bring up knife kink after their first time, hell, not even a second time,” Yang Yang says before chuckling to himself, he never thought tonight would turn out this way.

“Well, I don’t want my first time to be boring like other people, I want it to be like that mafia love story I just finished, come on, it’ll be fun, I mean it looked fun....in my head,” you were trailing off, bashful, is how you would describe this moment’s feelings.

“Okay, okay, no more laughing and joking then, let me get my head in the game, I need to exceed your expectations,” Yang Yang said with one last cheeky smile on his face before turning serious, “so I need you to stop laughing and feeling embarrassed too, okay? And let me know if you want to stop, since you read so much, I’m sure you know of the traffic light system.”

You nod your head, immediately feeling submissive under Yang Yang’s dominant gaze and switch of a tone.

Yang Yang unsheathes the blade by pressing onto the button, the shiny knife once again captures your attention, you could feel your panties sticking to your core.

“I need you to hold still, baby, can I ruin your clothes?” Yang Yang asks, he doesn’t want to trigger any sort of bad reaction from you.

“Yeah, go ahead, as long as you don’t miss them,” you reminded him, it’s his shirt after all.

Yang Yang nods in understanding, eyes hyperfocused on the blade, he traces the curve of your bottom lip with it, careful to not apply too much pressure, he’d never let you bleed, Yang Yang would never hurt what he most cherishes, so he tests the blade on your lips first, knowing that it hurts a lot less to have an accidental cut there than on actual skin, he’d know from all those years of shaving in a rush before classes, once he gets a hold of how much pressure to use, he moves on, trailing the blade down your jaw, to the juncture of your neck, the expanse of untainted skin tempting him to mark you up, but he knows he can’t, he wouldn’t put your job on the line, and so he lingers a bit longer on your neck, tracing a Y on your neck to make up for the fact that he can’t actually mark it.

When you felt the tracing of his initials, you feel a shudder run down your spine, you have always been attracted to Yang Yang’s subtle possessiveness, and the fact that he’s also like this in bed is such a turn on to you, you swear your panties are far beyond ruined at this point, which makes you wonder if he’s going to cut those too.

Your trail of thought was cut short when Yang Yang suddenly speeds up the process, bunching your shirt up, he cuts through the fabric with the blade, the the sound of shearing cotton amplifying the tingles in your core, an unconscious moan of his name leaves your lips, drawing Yang Yang’s attention away from your bosoms to your face, he wonders if you’d fall into subspace, he’s not against it, but it’s best that you don’t, this is your first time after all, so he sets the blade aside at a far corner of his nightstand once more, he’d get back to that once he anchors you back to him.

"Are you still with me, baby? Can I have a colour?" Yang Yang asks, his hands grasping your face gently, doe eyes staring into yours, trying to decipher which state of mind you're in.

"Green, I'm okay, don't worry," you say after a bit, slightly dazed by the display of carnal lust from your lover.

"Can I continue, baby?" He just needs to hear your consent, even though it's quite obvious that the gleam in your eyes are of yearning.

"Yes."

Yang Yang takes your consent as green light to show your breasts the attention they deserve, showering them in kisses before venturing into playful licks of your nipple while his other hand tries its best to mimic his mouth's ministrations, sending pleasurable shocks southwards, you would've been worried about ruining his sheets if Yang Yang wasn't such a distraction.

Just as you grew used to the feeling of his kitten licks, Yang Yang switches up the tempo, he now moves to your other breast, but instead of the gentle kisses, you are welcomed by light painless nicks, you whimper at the contact of his teeth, you divert your eyes to your lover, when Yang Yang sees your eyes on him, he proceeds to bite onto your nipple, pulling at it slightly before letting go.

"Fuck," you muttered, eyes shutting at the thrilling feeling of having your nipples played this way, you've never predicted Yang Yang to be like this in bed, and needless to say, you love this surprising side of him.

"Naughty girl, didn't think you'd enjoy that this much," Yang Yang said with a light spank to your inner thigh, making your legs jolt up at the sensitivity, god this man is going to drive you mad if he doesn't hurry up and fuck you.

"Please Yang, I need you to do more, I need you inside me," you begged, your pride's left your body completely.

"Since you begged so nicely, baby," Yang Yang said with a hum, contemplating of what to do next.

When Yang Yang pulls away, you whine at the loss of his warmth and familiar weight of his torso on your body.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'll never leave you hanging, baby," Yang Yang said before returning to your side with the blade, "but there's something in my way from your sweet pussy, baby," Yang Yang said with a mischievous smile before you hear the sound of shredding fabric once more, a gust of wind immediately hits your drenched core, you swear you feel goosebumps arise, "there, all better," Yang Yang says before diving in like a starved man, his fingers spreading your folds apart to show your clit the same amount of attention and care he gave to your breasts.

Your back arches at the onward assault on your most sensitive bundle of nerves, Yang Yang really knows how to use his mouth, which makes you wonder how long he's wanted to do this.

When he's deemed you more than wet, he dips a finger into your core, slowly moving it around, trying to grasp your reactions, at a particular angle, you gasp at the particularly sensitive spot.

Bingo.

Yang Yang lets you adjust to the feeling of having one finger before he slips in another, giddily watching the way you swallow up his fingers almost effortlessly, a boost to his ego, but of course, your safety and pleasure comes first.

But soon, you're getting impatient, you nudge Yang Yang with a knee when he was too distracted by the meal in front of him, you don't blame him for not hearing you when he has his mouth and fingers busy, you think he even added a third, but that doesn't matter to you, because you really need him to hurry up before you go insane.

"Yang Yang, please, I need you to be inside me, you prepped me for so long, it should be your turn now, let me feel all of you, please...

Something in Yang Yang snaps when he hears the desperation in your words, a realisation at the fact that you really need him, now.

"I'm sorry baby, just wanted to make sure you're ready for me," Yang Yang says as he strips down to nothing, baring his beautiful body to you, your eyes immediately drop to the part between his legs, of course he's well endowed, Yang Yang is perfect in your eyes.

"My eyes are up here, baby," Yang Yang says with a playful chuckle before kissing your temple.

"Sorry, it's just that, my boyfriend's really sexy, you know," you say, joining his playful banter.

"Glad that you think so, my sexy girlfriend," Yang Yang says before he takes your hand into his, linking your fingers together.

"Are you really ready, baby? It's never too late to back out," Yang Yang reminds you.

"Nope, not backing out," you reassured him.

"Okay... Then as a reminder, I'm going to repeat this once more, if any point, and I mean any point, that you do not wish to continue, just say red, and I'll immediately stop and pull out, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed, your chest filled with an immense amount of love and pride over the man you call your lover, being ever the gentlemen towards you.

"I love you," you said, because it just felt right.

"I love you too, but no more confessions or I'm going to feel too sappy to do this, baby," Yang Yang says before putting a serious face back on, he needs to focus on making you feel good tonight.

"You're adapting far quicker than I thought you would," Yang Yang says with a playful snicker. "Stop teasing and just keep going, Yang," you say, your hands covering your face, you could feel the blood rush into your cheeks, just like the arousal between your legs. "You're so fucking cute," Yang Yang muses, "but I want to hear a please, be my good girl for me," Yang Yang wanting to coaxe out of you. "Please." That one word has Yang Yang reaching for the knife again, his eyes locking into your drenched panties, bunching up the material, he cuts the knife through it, the flimsy material ripped to shreds. "Yang!" you scold, but it came out as more a moan, you can't help it, you're so turned on by the sight of Yang Yang holding a knife in this manner, a sight that you thought you'd only see in your wildest dreams. "Don't worry, baby, I'll buy you new ones, as many as you want," Yang Yang promises, sealing the promise with a kiss to the hood of your core, making your legs shiver.  

You arch your hips into his touch, urging him to put his mouth on your core, Yang Yang obliges, enveloping your lower lips with his. The feeling of his tongue slowly sliding its way into you was a feeling you've never expected, it wasn't anything that your small toy collection was ever able to mimic, the way the rough surface of his tongue touches your sensitive walls would've made your legs shut if it wasn't for Yang Yang holding them open, his thumb mindlessly rubbing circles around your inner thigh, igniting all your senses, especially when you close your eyes when you near your release, your body convulses in pleasure, a mantra of please's and his name falling out of your lips in a hushed tone, slowly breaking out of your shy exterior, bit by bit, your voice grows louder, until the dams broke, a loud cry resonating through the bedroom.  

Meanwhile, Yang Yang eagerly slurps up all your sweet nectar, you pry your eyes open to not miss the scene, catching the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing, his eyes shut, concentrating on your taste on his tongue. When he's had his fill, he looks up from his spot from between your legs, a dazed smile on his face. "Hi," he says, so casual as if he just didn't give you a mind blowing orgasm with just his tongue and his fingers, "you still wanna continue? we can stop if you want-

But you break him off when you get up from your spot and kiss his lips, the taste of him on you was weird, but so fucking good. "Go ahead, Yang, please," you beg, remembering his words.  

"Okay, but you remember right? Anything you don't like, say red," Yang Yang's never been long winded, but with you? He'd go to all lengths. You nod, eyes locked onto his, you see the lust swimming in those orbs, but also weariness, you feel a sense of security settling in when you see how careful Yang Yang is. Yang Yang brushes your cheek with a thumb before he takes a hand to grasp himself, your eyes train to Yang Yang's hips, swallowing a lump down your throat when you see how big he is, not very long, but thicker than what you had imagined, Yang Yang positions his cock at your core, he slowly slides in, inch by inch, scanning your face for any sort of discomfort, there's bound to be some, as he sees your face all scrunched up, but he won't stop unless you said so, he doesn't want to spoil the mood, and chooses to trust your judgement. When he finally fills you to the brim, you let out a gasp when you feel the slight prickle of hair.  

You feel Yang Yang’s hands caressing your face, the other is situated at your clit, hoping that the constant stream of pleasure would be able to relieve the ache and slight burn between your legs, you knew it was inevitable, to not feel any pain at all would be unrealistic, and you appreciate Yang Yang for being patient and going beyond that to help ease the ache.

Once the slight sting fades away, you feel your walls starting to get wetter from the switch of stimulation from pain to pleasure.

“You can move now, Yang, it doesn’t hurt anymore,” you tell him, nearly not recognising your own voice as it’s dripped in eagerness for more.

“Okay, I’ll go slow, tell me when you want me to pick up the pace,” Yang Yang says before slipping part of his cock out to thrust back in, immediately you clench around him, the feeling so foreign, but most ideal, the way you felt every inch of him, you can only describe it as euphoric.

Yang Yang struggles not to cum, the way you clench around him feels so good, but he won’t be able to last long if you keep this up.

“I need you to unclench, baby, or II won’t be able to perform at my best for you, and relax, sex shouldn’t be rushed and have you on your nerves, it should be relaxing, let me show you, take care of you,” Yang Yang says before furrowing his eyebrows to continue moving his hips, angling his cock at the angle of your sensitive spot, and instantly, he feels your nails digging into his arm, a shriek of his name tumbling from your lips, the action catching his attention, the sight of your swollen lips enticing him, so he swallows up your moans as he quickens the pace, a hand slithering down slyly to your bundle of nerves, once again aiming for an onslaught attack of sweet pleasure that has you arching your back into Yang Yang’s hold succumbing you into a pleasure-filled mess, incoherent blabbers and moans filling his mind, Yang Yang catches a few words, big, deep, so good, and all of them do nothing but encourage him to bring you to the edge faster, snapping his hips onto yours, his thrusts beginning to deepen and slow down slightly, he’s only human after all, but he gives your clit a few light pinches in retaliation, a whimper sounds from you beneath him before he feels you falling apart around him.

You struggle to keep your eyes open as you were pushed over the edge, but you reminded yourself that you need to see Yang Yang falling apart for you, and so you beg, “want you to cum too, Yang, please,” you plead between whines and moans as he rides out your high for you, that sweet sweet voice of yours is what makes Yang Yang crumble, masking a moan by biting down on his lips, he lets go, filling up your core with his seed, not pulling out until he finishes, the tension leaving his body.

Yang Yang looked so beautiful when he reached his peak, you’ve always thought his Adam’s apple was sexy, but when he threw his head back and breathed heavily, the sight of it bobbing was such a turn on, distracted by the memory looping in your head, you were pulled out of your daze when Yang Yang gently manoeuvred himself out of your walls, watching him watch the way his cum drips onto your thighs, not knowing he was caught staring until he looks up to see you watching him with your head cocked to the side.

“That was sexy, don’t blame me, I’m just a dude with fantasies,” Yang Yang jokes while pulling out a few tissues from the box, cleaning you up.

“I don’t mind, I think it’s sexy that you’re into it, but as sexy as it is, please carry me to the tub, I don’t think I’d be able to move around for a few hours,” you said, arms already spread, awaiting your princess treatment from your ever doting boyfriend.

“I’ll set up the tub and I’ll come get you, take a nap if you want,” Yang Yang says, rounding the corner of his bed to come give you a peck before taking his leave, the sight of his small but bubbly butt making you giggle.

Keeping things under warps isn't easy when you're an idol, which is no surprise when your manager caught you going into Yang Yang's car one night outside your dorm when you planned to sleepover. You had to come clean about your relationship to your label and they weren't too happy about it, but in their words, a better case than the rest of your label mates, since the fans and tabloids haven't caught wind and the fact that Yang Yang is a businessman, yes he told you that it wasn’t his uncle’s company, but his! You made Yang Yang promise that he can’t keep anymore secrets from you, but coming back to your company, maybe they think this sort of relationship levels up your status as well as the label's, is your good guess. Other than that, your career has been advancing smoothly, you toured a few cities, Yang Yang had insisted on tagging along to Osaka and the states, for the food, he says, but you'd know better than to doubt his support for you, Yang Yang is the best boyfriend you could ever ask, most idols' relationships don't work out with people outside of the industry due to the busy schedules of their partner, but you believe that the love you share with him would prevail over any sort of obstacle life throws at you.    

The rest of your American tour ended and you can't wait to see the love of your life, having flown home earlier than the rest of your members who had wanted to stay a few days longer to rest and travel. You didn't tell Yang Yang, hoping to give him a surprise, these days he's been busy at work, so the two of you haven't video called for a bit. When you open the door to his unit, you're greeted by an empty home, you let out a disappointed sigh, but it was expected, it means business is doing well, that means his father won't give him too much pressure, you hate seeing Yang Yang stressing about not exceeding their expectations, he's always too harsh on himself.  

You quickly put away your things, only the necessities, you'll unpack your clothes and the many souvenirs you bought in the next few days. You took a quick nap on his bed, planning to sleep away the jetlag. When you woke up, it was 5, and boy were you hungry, you checked the fridge for food, but of course Yang Yang hadn't bothered to stock up or cook knowing you won't be around, so you close the fridge door and tried your luck with one of the cabinets, relief flooding your mind when you see the copious amount of snacks Yang Yang had, grabbing a bag of chips, you opened it and popped one into your mouth, you were going to eat them on the sofa, but something caught your eye, Yang Yang had put up a new portrait of the two of you on his wall outside his office, it was a photo of the two of you under the beautiful sakura tree, you smile at his sweet gesture, distracted by the photo, you accidentally tipped the bag of chips and dropped a few.  

Cursing to yourself, you quickly pick up the pieces, chucking them in the trash before wetting a paper towel to pick up the crumbs, you open Yang Yang's office door to check if any got in there, but once you were in, you were distracted by the sight of his office, you've never been in here before, knowing that Yang Yang doesn't like mixing work and private affairs, he rarely ever talks about work with you unless you ask, which wasn't weird considering he doesn't really enjoy it that much, but what you didn't expect was a comfy looking leather chair at the end of his table, you're sure you've seen this chair in one of those fancy interior design magazines in the salon, taking a seat, you realised that Yang Yang had left a drawer open, you were going to close it for him, but something caught your eye, it was one of your banners, one that you remember was made by a specific fan site, you pulled it out, reading the fan site name under the words of encouragement, MienYang, why does Yang Yang have this banner? You don't remember the admin of MienYang putting this banner up for reprinting on their twitter, unless...Yang Yang is MienYang? That can't be right? You observed the other things in the drawer, careful to not mess up the arrangements, you see thumb drives and sd cards labelled with dates and things like inkigayo, kbs music bank, are these photos of you? Before you could contemplate on whether to take a look into the sd cards, you hear footsteps near the front door, you quickly put his things back in their order before closing the drawer. When Yang Yang stepped into his living room, he sees you cleaning the floor before standing up to open the door of his office to do the same, worry filling his mind, but that anxiety dissipated when you close the door immediately after cleaning. "Sorry, I dropped chips and wanted to make sure the floor of your office doesn't have any crumbs, would be a nightmare to find ants chewing on whatever documents you have in there," you joked before waking to him, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend. "Thanks, babe, but why are you back early? I thought your flight was in a few days?" Yang Yang asked, pulling away slightly to look at your pretty face he missed so much. "Yeah, but I decided that I wanted to see you more than the liberty statue so..." you trail off, the two of you breaking into a laugh. "You're back early though, I thought you said month end means more workload,” you asked, pulling him to take a seat with you on his expensive couch. "Yeah, about that, I was going to come home and then leave in an hour for an appointment with an interior designer, I was going to tell you this during Christmas, but I might as well get the cat out of the bag now, I was thinking we should move in, and I thought my place could use a bit refurbishing to fit your things into cabinets and some closet alterations would be good since you have so many clothes, so let's do it together, you know?  I'll feel less pressured to guess what's your taste in wood or whatever, that is if you want to move in with me, no pressure of course, I'll be happy to wait if you need more time- "Yang, babe, I'll be happy to move in with you," you agree, cutting him off of his panicked rant slash confession. "Really? You're sure?" Yang Yang couldn't believe it would be this easy to convince you to move in with him. "Of course, we love each other, and by living together means we would have more time to love one another," you reassured him, "now go take your shower, I can't wait to look at the designs," you said before your ever dutiful boyfriend pecks your lips and rushes into your bedroom.  

You push what you saw in his office out of your mind, it didn't really matter, whether Yang Yang is MienYang or not, Yang Yang is providing a comfortable and secure future for you, and you genuinely love each other, who he was in the past, doesn't matter to you.

#nct smut #nct fluff #wayv smut #yangyang smut #yangyang fluff #yangyang #wayv yangyang #wayv fluff #wayv scenarios #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct #liu yangyang #yangyang scenarios #nct 00 line smut

[kiestrokes]

Free for all for Vampire!Sunghoon ☕️ gimme whatever is on your mind

Your Partner Won't Let You Sleep | NSFW + SFW

Idol Casting: Park Sunghoon of ENHYPEN. Kim Seungmin of SKZ. Liu Yangyang of NCT. Lee Taemin of SHINee. Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI. + SFW. Genre: soft hours, hard hours, headcanon, imagine, fluff, crack, smut. Warnings: some super fluff, lovers spat, vampire, dhampir, cursing per usual.

Sexually Explicit Content: cuddling, kisses, hand holding, semi-non-explicit intercourse, biting, sleepy (consensual) sex, reproductive body parts aren't mentioned so this can be viewed as gender neutral.

🗝️ Note: Did a split of two NSFW and two SFW, because my vampire!Sunghoon fic isn't going to contain explicit smut. SFW is above the cut. Let me know if I missed anything in the warnings, hasn't been betaed. Your vamp ice prince @minttangerines

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

Park Sunghoon (from a new titled vampire wip: Apricity) "Just stay up with me, I hardly ever have the opportunity to see a sunrise." Sunghoon sighs, gripping your wrist to keep you planted on the window seat next to him. You roll your eyes, enough of a response on its own before tacking on a snarky remark. "Because you're a vampire Sunghoon…in case you've forgotten." His eyes scale up to yours, solemn under his bold brows and you immediately shift your gaze out the window. Sunghoon's fingers release your wrist, but they take their time removing themselves entirely from your body. Drifting over your knuckles, pressing the tips of your fingers into the cold velvet of the cushion. You feel his gaze leave your face the same time his touch does, and the two of you sit in a thick silence watching the winter sky turn from a dusty indigo, drifting into a heather, smoky magenta, and finally a hazy tangerine.

Kim Seungmin Seungmin doesn't even allow you to enter the bedroom, so your storm off to the linen closet to retrieve the pillows and blankets reserved for guests. "You can't sleep on the couch!" You glower a him as you ceremoniously spread the blanket over the couch, "well someone won't let me in our room." You waste no time cocooning yourself in the blankets, ignoring when the cushions dip behind your knees. "I just don't want us to go to bed mad, jagi." You don't acknowledge him because you know those puppy eyes, he has going on will be your undoing. You wake up a couple of hours later crammed between the back of the couch and something solid pressing into your spine. You already know what, or better yet who it is, and you try to squirm away, but the long arm tucked around your waist squeezes you into the alcove of Seungmin's hips. "Don't leave me jagi, 'm sorry." His sleep damp lips pucker against the back of your neck. You sigh, your anger from earlier gone and roll over to pull your snoozing, black lab of a boyfriend against your chest. "If you're so sorry then you will do all of the chores tomorrow, even mine since I did yours today." Seungmin smiles in his sleep burrowing into your chest, "mmmkay."

Liu Yangyang Ooof. Ok, let’s fucking do this. “Baobei, please let’s go to sleep already.” You whined as Yangyang shouted into the mic if his headset. "Just let me finish this round," he calls over his shoulder, not even sparing a glance in your direction. Frustrated, you take matters into your own hands. Tossing off the throw blanket, you abandon your nest on the sofa and prowl over to your boyfriend's gaming chair. Where you slip pointedly into his lap, facing him. "Baobe-" Yangyang starts but you don't give him the opportunity to finish, pushing the headset off and mashing your lips to his. You hear the controller tumble to the floor as his hands find your waist. "I want to go to bed." You punctuate each word with a kiss, making your point that you want him to also accompany you to bed. Yangyang's hands glide up your back, pressing you against him as he stands, walking you back towards the bedroom. Kisses and hands everywhere as the two of you shed your clothing. Falling into bed facing each other, slowly coming back together for a softer, drawn-out fuck. One that leaves you both shaking, limbs gelatinous, eyelids heavy as the two of you drift off to sleep entangled.

Lee Taemin TWO Taemin requests, RIP me. "Don't fall asleep before I get there." Taemin pleaded across the phone. "I won't, I won't." You assured him, wrinkling your nose in an effort to keep a yawn at bay. "I'll see you in thirty minutes, adorable." You of course fell asleep, Taemin decides to wake you up his way. Kissing every inch of exposed skin, biting over clothed parts to stir you. Once you're awake you're stripping him, and he is stripping you. The two of you can't get naked fast enough, and you can't get Taemin between your legs quick enough. Your mind only wants one thing, that's his talented hips thrusting into you and bringing you to orgasm. Taemin is happy to oblige, still riding the adrenaline high of his performance he brings you to climax a couple of times before giving into his own. Bowing over your body, damp forehead pressed against your clavicle, praising you and your body as his spills into you.

© COPYRIGHT 2023 by kiestrokes All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.

#hard hours #soft hours #park sunghoon #enhypen #kim seungmin #skz #stray kids #liu yangyang #nct #wayv #nct u #lee taemin #shinee #superm #taemin smut #yangyang smut #sunghoon fluff #seungmin fluff #puppymin #sunghoon fanfic #seungmin fanfic #yangyang fanfic #taemin fanfic

[galacticseonghwa]

Nothing Matters in Paris - Liu Yang Yang (profiles)

INCLUDES: fem!reader x "teacher"!yang yang, swearing, age gap, yang yang is like 10 years older than he actually is, fluff, smut, angst(?), somnophilia, fingering, katoptronophilia, degrading, name-calling, cockwarming, idk if i got everything so just lmk what i've forgotten

wc: n/a

a/n: please DNI if you're not comfortable with the "teacher" x student dynamic, however the dynamic WILL be explained better throughout the profiles, this post will let you in on the characters and how they got to where they are in their relationships.

IMPORTANT NOTICE: this story will NOT have a schedule and will be posted whenever i have the free time to, which at the moment is only mondays and sundays. thank you for understanding and being patient🫶🏼 if you happen to not like the fact that i won’t be able to post consistently please leave either this series or my blog quietly🫶🏼

LIU YANG YANG thirtyfour, teacher's 'help', tsundere personality, falls first.

Y/N Y/LN twentytwo, student, sunshine personality, falls harder for yang yang.

QIAN KUN thirtyeight, yang yang's best friend, calm personality, questioning y/n's motives.

SHOTARO OSAKI twentythree, y/n's best friend, shy personality, very protective over y/n.

yang yang isn't a "proper" teacher for a lack of better words, he's just a temporary sub who doesn't work for the school itself but rather the education system. so in theory, he's not a teacher but rather a "teacher's help" and as you have read in the character profiles ALL of them ARE of age in other words yang yang isn't breaking any laws in any sense but a few people still frown upon the relationship.

#galacticseonghwa #wayv #nct #yang yang #liu yangyang #nct yangyang #nctzen #yangyang fic #yang yang smut #yangyang fluff #liu yangyang smut

[winwintea]

Blame it on my Disney Wish (Prologue)

PAIRING ▸ wayv x fem!reader 

GENRES ▸ romance, fluff, crack, angst, acquaintances to lovers, disney park au, college au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sexual jokes, alcohol consumption, chenle gets bullied a lot, kun also gets bullied a lot, everyone gets bullied a lot, 

SUMMARY ▸ kun takes the boys to disney world, funded by his sugar daddy chenle. however none of them were prepared for you to tag along, more or less even be affected by that cliche disney magic. but hey, maybe dreams really do come true? 

TAG LIST ▸ (send me an ask here if you’d like to be added! + those tagged will be in the tag list of all chapters of this series!)

RELEASE DATE ▸ no schedule haha... i work at my own pace guys!

WORD COUNT ▸ 1.1k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ welcome to my first ever fic? this is a “choose your own route” kind of series, so no need to read in order! i’ll be updating one chapter at a time, finishing off all chapter 1’s before i move onto the chapter 2’s. this originally started off as a crack fic idea that turned into a romance. thank u for taking the time to indulge in my silly fic. i’m very into disney parks so this was very fun to write. PLEASE ALSO READ THE PROLOGUE BEFORE READING THE CHAPTERS!

“Could we maybe go to Disney?”

Little did Qian Kun know, was that this innocent question would be the reason why Kun, and 6 other idiots were now at Walt Disney World with you.

That day, Dong Si Cheng, Kun’s roommate, asked a simple question. That had a simple answer: No. But what happened instead, wasn’t as simple. If it were any other one of his idiotic friends he would’ve turned them down straight away, but the request had to come from the mouth of Dong Si Cheng instead. There was no way Kun could resist the temptation of seeing those eyes look dejected after he rejected that wish of Si Cheng’s. 

“Sure, I’ll see what I can do.” Was what HE SHOULD NOT HAVE SAID. but he did.

As soon as Kun walked out of Si Cheng’s room, his smile quickly turned into a frown. How the hell was he going to accomplish this? They were pretty much broke college students, no freetime, and no clout. Actually the last part was a lie. They were pretty popular amongst most of the students of their school. Mingled with most people, went to parties, drank a lot, you get the gist. Yet, that wasn’t enough clout to magically grant them a Disney trip. That shit only happened in movies. Disney movies. 

“Couldn’t help but overhear that sad conversation.” Kun turned his head to see a familiar face, one that happened to belong to his ‘bestie’ Ten. He was using the term ‘bestie’ lightly. They’d known each other for years, but still bickered and teased each other over everything. Ten’s real name was ‘Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul’, but of course no one could pronounce that so everyone just called him Ten instead. It made life simpler. 

“Oh yeah? Like you could do anything better.” 

Ten cocked his head to the side, “What? Can’t stop being a people pleaser for once and reject someone for a change?” “I’d love to see you try. Why don’t you go tell him ‘no’ instead, so we don’t have to shovel out our own money to pay for this damn trip?” Kun knew Ten loved a good challenge, and that Ten was as equally broke as he was, so maybe he could convince Ten to persuade Si Cheng.

Ten looked at him for a few seconds, rolled his eyes, and walked right into Si Cheng’s room. Kun glanced at his watch, wanting to see how long it would take. 

“You don’t need to tell me Ten. I heard everything outside, I… understand.” Kun could hear Si Cheng’s faint voice from the door, and his heart ached a little. The sadness in his tone was very obvious. “I was being selfish… I’m sorry.” 

“N-Nononoofcoursenot!” Ten blabbered out. Suddenly Ten opened the door again, spotted Kun and pulled Kun back into the room with him. “Tell him Kun! We were just planning the dates right, weren’t we Kun?” 

Fuck this bastard. Kun could imagine it in his head. Right here, right now. His hands wrapped tightly around Ten’s neck. And when he was done, he would know exactly where to put the bo- Err… Just kidding. There would be a witness anyways. A witness that was currently giving him a puzzled look. 

“Uhm… yeah yeah… yeah right we were just booking flights that’s all. And if it… sounded like we weren’t gonna go uh… we were just… joking, right?” Kun looked at Ten for support. If Ten was gonna throw Kun under the bus then he needed all the help he could get.

“Yeah yeah. We’ll go to your favorite park!” Ten winked at Si Cheng, still nervously looking at Kun. “I like all of them though…” 

That’s it. Kun grabbed on Ten’s arm, as equally hard as Ten had done to him earlier, dragging him out of Si Cheng’s room once again. This time, Kun and Ten positioned themselves strategically in the kitchen where Kun’s beloved roommate wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation. However as they made their way into the kitchen to see a shorter boy standing at the sink peeling an orange. “Chenle, how the fuck do you keep getting into our dorm room?” Kun stared at Chenle as he was nonchalantly peeling his orange. 

The younger boy grinned at the two. “Si Cheng gave me his spare key. He wanted to learn how to play basketball, so I’ve been teaching him.”

Chenle was a basketball prodigy and had gotten into their school on a scholarship because of it. He was only 2 grades below Kun, but somehow they shared most of their classes with each other. Chenle would always pester Kun whenever he could and did anything he could to make his life miserable. “Okay, so why are you here now? Si Cheng did not look like he was about to play basketball at all.” Chenle popped an orange slice in his mouth. “Silly! I’m here for you! Well, see I originally was going to bother you like I normally do, y’know” He ignored Kun’s glare and continued on, “But then… I was hungry so I got a snack.” He motioned to the orange in his hands and ate another slice, “Also whoever made that Pumpkin Pie, that was absolutely fire.” 

“Fuck you that was my last slice” Ten crossed his arms, and joined Kun in scowling at the younger boy.

“Yeah well. Sorry. I guess. Not really. I would do it again in a heartbeat. Regardless, while eating the pie I witnessed your little disney dilemma and I have a proposal to make.” Kun eyed Chenle suspiciously as he continued on, “I’ll pay for your little trip. Flights, Tickets, Fastpasses, Food, everything!” 

Kun completely forgot that Chenle’s family was loaded. He glanced at Ten then back at Chenle. “And what do you want in return? Is there a catch?”

Chenle looked at them with a more mischievous grin in comparison to the ones he had been giving them before. “No catch! You just have to take me and my best friend, y/n with you.”

MASTERLIST

#nct scenarios #wayv scnarios #nct fluff #nct crack #wayv fluff #wayv crack #qian kun #kun #zhong chenle #chenle #nct dream #ten lee #wayv ten #nct blurbs #nct oneshot #nct oneshots #nct fanfic #nct imagines #liu yangyang #xiaojun #hendery #yangyang #xiao dejun #winwin #dong sicheng #wayv fanfic #wayv series #winwintea #nct series #this is lowkey so ass

[000ceanus]

Texts with Boyfriend!Yangyang

Pairing: Liu Yangyang x gn!reader

Genre/s: Fluff, suggestive

TW: none c: (if there is, please let me know.)

A/N: This is purely self-indulgent ^-^

Masterlist

#liu yangyang x reader #nct wayv #nct x reader #wayv x reader #wayv yangyang #liu yangyang fluff #nct fluff #wayv fluff #wayv yangyang fluff #yangyang fluff #nct smau #wayv smau #yangyang smau #nct fic #nct imagines #nct #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #wayv #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv fanfic #liu yangyang fic #liu yangyang #nct suggestive #wayv suggestive #yangyang fic #yangyang #yangyang scenarios #yangyang imagines

[lucuslavigne]

┄꯭ׄ┄꯭┄꯭ׄ┄┄꯭ׄ┄꯭──︦͟─┄┄꯭ׄ┄꯭┄꯭ׄ┄꯭ׄ┄꯭┄꯭ׄ┄꯭┄꯭ׄ┄┄꯭ׄ┄꯭──︦͟─┄

Pra Ver Se Cola

Yangyang × Leitora.

🤍: um neo + uma música br (a música de inspiração está no final do texto), fluffy, um yangie muito mas muito boiolinha por você!

Obrigada @ncdreaming por me deixar surtar com vc 😓 amei conversar contigo <3

Espero que gostem!

┄꯭ׄ┄꯭┄꯭ׄ┄┄꯭ׄ┄꯭──︦͟─┄┄꯭ׄ┄꯭┄꯭ׄ┄꯭ׄ┄꯭┄꯭ׄ┄꯭┄꯭ׄ┄┄꯭ׄ┄꯭──︦͟─┄

Esperava Yangyang do lado de fora da universidade, mas estranhava a demora do mesmo.

— E aí minha querida. — Hendery apoiou em seu ombro.

— Oi Hendery. — sorriu para o outro amigo.

— O Yangyang me mandou te entregar isso. — te deu um pedaço de papel que você julgou ser uma carta.

— Ah, obrigada. — guardou a carta em seu bolso. — Vou ler com calma quando chegar em casa.

— Ele tá vindo aí. — riu.

— Que demora viu! — falou para o Liu.

— Foi mal. — riu. — A professora de educação física queria conversar comigo.

— Vamo' então? — perguntou aos dois.

— Na verdade eu vou acompanhar o Xiaojun hoje. — respondeu. — Voltem com cuidado! — e saiu correndo.

— O Dery tá' estranho. — falou desconfiada.

— Tá' mesmo. — notou as bochechas vermelhas de Yangyang, mas preferiu não falar nada.

— Vai querer ir em casa hoje? — começou a andar.

— Pode ser. — sorriu. — Mas, não vai te atrapalhar?

— Claro que não seu bobo. — respondeu.

O caminho foi divertido, ria das piadas sem graça do Liu, faziam gracinhas na rua, até mesmo brincaram com um gatinho de rua.

Sentia que Yangyang estava estranho, mas ignorou o sentimento por que ele agia como sempre: brincalhão, as vezes meloso e bastante comunicativo.

— Chegamos. — abriu a porta dando espaço para o taiwanês passar.

— O Jace ficou com sua mãe? — perguntou do seu cachorro.

— Deixei ele um tempo com ela por que precisava terminar os trabalhos, mas amanhã eu já busco ele. — respondeu enquanto pegava o livro que o mesmo havia a devolvido.

— Se eu fosse você, eu não abriria esse livro. — disse nervoso.

— E posso saber o motivo pra' isso?

— Eu meio que colei o seu nome com aquelas minhas coisas que uso pra' desenhar sabe? — escondeu o rosto.

— Não tem vergonha de fazer essas coisas? — brincou.

— Eu tinha que chamar sua atenção de algum jeito né? Já que você não vê que eu faço tudo na faculdade pra' ver se você gosta de mim. — respondeu.

Ok. Você estava chocada. Então era esse o motivo de Hendery não ter acompanhado vocês, era o motivo pelo qual sentia que Yangyang estava estranho.

— Você sabe que eu sou meio lerda Yangyang. — dessa vez, você quem riu nervosa.

— Percebi. — riu. — Eu quem te mandei aquela carta com flores e chocolate para você no dia dos namorados, eu quem sempre faço as decorações no caderno combinando com o seu. — abaixou o olhar. — Até os professores perceberam.

Estava tão feliz! Saber que até então seu melhor amigo tinha feito as coisas que se tornaram as mais memoráveis para si é uma notícia incrível.

— Por que não me contou antes? — o questionou.

— Por que eu sei que o não, eu já tenho. — deu risada.

— Quem disse? — arqueou uma sobrancelha.

— Como é?! — perguntou chocado.

— Eu nunca iria te dizer não Yangyang! — falou. — Até porque era isso que eu tava' conversando com o Chenle a uns dias atrás. — bateu de leve no rapaz.

— Então quer dizer que eu não fui idiota? — sorriu.

— Não, você não foi idiota. — sorriu de volta.

— Eu tô' muito feliz! — te abraçou.

— Eu só vou ficar mais feliz que você, se você aceitar namorar comigo. — o disse.

— Você tá' mesmo me pedindo em namoro? — viu o sorriso do taiwanês aumentar.

— Tô' sim. — o abraçou.

— É claro que eu aceito. — escondeu o rosto em seu pescoço. — Deixa só eu ir ali na calçada rapidinho?

— A vontade. — riu.

— Eu sou o cara mais feliz do mundo! — gritou enquanto corrida pela calçada.

— Aí meu Deus. — caiu na gargalhada.

Sentia seu coração tão tranquilo, tão em paz. Estar com Yangyang te trazia sorrisos, risadas, brincadeiras... Você havia sido feita para estar ao lado do Liu.

Yangyang não se sentia diferente, saber que a paixão secreta dele agora, estava junto com ele era uma maravilha. O rapaz mal podia conter a felicidade.

— Eu te amo muito! — te deu um selinho.

— Também amo você Yangie. — respondeu.

— No fim, você nem precisou ler minha carta. — deu risada.

— Ah é né? — se juntou aos risos.

É. As vezes almas gêmeas podem ser mais que amigos ou casais, podem ser espíritos destinados a ficarem juntos.

#┈─ nene's mind ✶ #nene e seus surtos #um neo + uma música br #liu yangyang #yangyang #wayv yangyang #yangyang x reader #yangyang fluff #wayv #wayv x reader #Spotify

[rrxnjun]

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.

#nct #wayv #yangyang #liu yangyang #nct x reader #wayv x reader #yangyang x reader #nct fluff #wayv fluff #yangyang fluff #nct angst #wayv angst #yangyang angst #nct fic #wayv fic #yangyang fic #nct imagine #yangyang imagine #wayv imagine #nct scenario #wayv scenario #yangyang scenario

[markiemelon]

no warnings ☁︎ bf!yangyang x gn!reader ☁︎ yangx2 drabble

─ ༊*·˚ ✧˳ {12:47am}

you were at your boyfriend!yangyang’s apartment and it was getting late. you were planning on heading home soon, until it started pouring rain outside. you couldn’t walk to the bus stop at this rate, it’s not like you brought an umbrella, and yangyang didn’t even own one. so yangyang awkwardly offered that you spend the night at his place.

you were hesitant to take the offer, as the two of you just recently started dating, also considering the fact that yangyang had also just moved into this apartment and all he had to fill the space was a tv placed on the floor, a coffee table, and a couch that folded out into a bed.

“dont worry, ill sleep on the floor of course!” he exclaimed, flustered. “i suppose that could work..” you said shyly, focusing on the way you were rubbing your thumbnail with your index finger. yangyang set up the bed for you and gave you a pair of his basketball shorts and a t shirt. you changed into the loose fitting clothes. standing behind yangyang, you tapped his shoulder as he was putting something in the cupboard. “how do i look?” you giggled as he turned around to face you. “like me. so, cute.” you slapped yangyang’s arm playfully.

it was a little later and you were already lying down on the bed. “goodnight y/n” yangyang said while fluffing his pillow on the ground. “goodnight yangyang.” you say back. the lights were off, but the room was lit enough to see, as the moon and the city lights beamed through the curtain-less windows. you could see yangyang lying on the floor, continuously readjusting his uncomfortable position. you felt bad for him.

“uh yangyang..” “yeah?” yangyang perked his head up to look over to you, he looked like a puppy. you patted the empty space to the right of you, signaling him to come sleep there instead. yangyang nodded and didn’t hesitate to come to you.

you scooted over to make more space for him. neither of you said anything as he lied down, settling next to you, proceeding to take out his phone. you watched from the other side of the bed as he scrolled through his phone, resting it on his chest, holding it in place with the arm of the opposite side of where you laid. the light revealed his face in the dim room. he had such a pretty side profile.

eventually, after not being able to resist, you built up the courage to move closer to him, laying your head on his shoulder, pressing into the crook of his neck, finding a place for your hand in the space there was between his head and where he held his phone. yangyang turned his phone off, the glow leaving his skin. you were so comfortable, drifting off to sleep.

his arm wrapped around your back, keeping you leaned against his chest, using his other hand to trace the uneven line on your head where your hair parted down the middle for the most part. “im so glad i don’t own an umbrella”

thx for reading !

-🍉

#nct soft hours #yangyang #liu yangyang #yangyang fluff #yangyang drabbles #yangyang imagines #yangyang scenarios #wayv soft hours #wayv drabbles #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv blurbs #wayv fluff #nct wayv #wayv timestamps #nct timestamps #nct fluff #nct x gender neutral reader #wayv x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct blurbs #nct drabbles #nct cute #nct soft blurbs #kpop timestamps #kpop drabbles #kpop scenarios #kpop blurbs #markiemelon

[writemekpop]

Let Your Hair Down | Liu Yangyang

5K Follower Series Ep. 18

Summary: You’re not just Yangyang’s stylist… you’re his secret girlfriend. That secret is getting harder and harder to keep…  

Genre: Secret relationship AU, suggestive

Word Count: 0.8k

Prompt: “My lip gloss is all over your lips”

Gif: @hyucks

“Just one more kiss, baby, I’m beggin’ ya.” Your boyfriend Yangyang pouted his pink lips at you. He was sitting in the salon chair, refusing to behave.  

Your cheeks darkened. “Yangyang, we can’t! What if someone catches us?” 

You started working as an SM hair stylist six months ago. You were instantly attracted to him – and then an elevator breakdown left you stuck for six hours alone together, with nothing to do but each other. You’d been secretly dating ever since. 

You swivelled Yangyang’s chair so that he was facing the mirror, and stood behind him. You pulled out your combs, trying your best to get into work mode. 

You caught Yangyang’s naughty grin in the mirror. Your heart did a flip. 

You combed your fingers through his soft hair. Yangyang’s eyes slipped shut at your touch, and he relaxed back into the chair. He looked so handsome like that, when he wasn’t trying. 

Your gaze fell onto the tiny mole at the base of his neck, the one that made him purr when you kissed it – and the moment suddenly felt intimate.

As you massaged the gel in, you dared to drag your nails lightly across his scalp, and Yangyang let out a low moan of satisfaction. 

You froze at his sudden outburst. You were acutely aware of the curious stares from other staff members across the room, so you nudged Yangyang’s chair with your foot, silently urging him to play it cool. 

“Noona, can I ask for something?” Yangyang asked. His face was the picture of innocence, but you knew that tone in his voice. It meant trouble.  

“What is it?” 

“Can you style the front of my hair… like you did in the music video?”

Your whole body tensed. You knew exactly why Yangyang requested that style - because in order to complete the look, you had to stand in front of Yangyang and bend over him.  

Yangyang parted his knees, giving you space to stand. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to smack that devilish smirk off his face or kiss it off. 

You sucked in a breath and leant forwards over Yangyang to reach the front of his hair. This position meant that Yangyang’s face was just inches from your chest. 

He was so close that your necklace was dangling in front of his eyes, but you knew he was just staring down your top. 

He twisted your locket between his fingers, humming appreciatively. 

“This is pretty,” he whispered. 

You ignored the sparks of excitement beginning in your core and continued to style the front of his hair. 

Yangyang cleared his throat. “I think you’ve… g-got something on your top.” 

You frowned. “Oh really?”

“Don’t worry, I got it!” He hurriedly said. Then Yangyang brushed a miniscule speck of fluff from your blouse, directly over your right breast.  

“I just wanna make sure it’s all gone,” he said, grinning from ear to ear as he patted your shirt many more times, to the point where he was basically fondling your breast. 

“You’re such an idiot,” you muttered. 

You quickly scanned the room – everyone had gone.  

You suddenly grabbed his face between your hands and pushed your mouth onto his. You kissed him madly, deeply, tongue melting against his. 

Yangyang’s eyes shot open in shock, but soon he was kissing you back just as passionately. His hand caressed your waist and then slid lower to squeeze your ass. 

Eventually, you willed yourself to stop. Yangyang’s eyes were hooded and his cheeks were flushed dark red – but the funniest thing was the pink glittery gloss smeared over his lips and chin. 

“My lipgloss is all over your lips!” 

Yangyang smiled a slow, lazy smile. He brought his fingers to his lips, wiped off the gloss and popped two fingers into his mouth. His warm brown eyes never left yours.

The gentle flames raged into a mighty fire inside you.

You grabbed Yangyang’s hand and yanked him out of the chair. 

“Where are we going?” Yangyang said. 

“No time to talk.” You pulled him into the nearby broom closet and clicked the lock shut.  

“We’ve only got thirty minutes before the shoot,” you said, frantically unbuttoning his shirt. “You liked it when I did your hair, right?” 

He nodded, already panting. 

You leaned into his neck, speaking in a whisper. “Well, I’m about to mess it up so bad I have to do it all over again.” 

Yangyang smirked. “Baby, you just read my mind.”

​—

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Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

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#yangyang #nct #wayv #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct suggestive #yangyang smut #yangyang fluff #nct soft hours #nct reactions #nct drabbles #nct fanfiction #nct x reader #wayv smut #wayv scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop smut #kpop fluff #liu yangyang

[lattaeyongs]

[4:18 PM] When he sees you after a long day of practice, Yangyang scoops you off the floor into a warm hug. He also takes this as a chance to playfully stick his deceptively cold hands in your shirt. You squeal at the cold sensation against your skin. "That's what you get for making me fall so hopelessly for you." 

#happy halloween 🍊 although this is not halloween related #im just soft lmao #nct #yangyang #liu yangyang #nct fluff #nct scenarios #yangyang fluff #yangyang scenarios #yangyang imagines #nct imagines #nct blurbs #nct reactions #wayv #wayv fluff #wayv scenarios #yangyang smut

[minjunz]

just for you my friend <3 @yutassugarhoe i cannot write for shotaro for the life of me but i tried my best

yangyang and shotaro as boyfriends! [gn reader]

your boyfriend not each others

YANGYANG 🧋

makes so many dirty jokes you feel like you have to wash his mouth out with soap daily

protects you from the rest of wayv as a literal human shield

louis and leon are now legally your sons because of him

unironically calls you babe

he likes to give you massages if you’re stressed out but he’s not very good at it so it just ends up hurting

he gets embarrassed about his plushie collection because he wants to look cool in front of you

he gets kun to cook for him then brings it to you and pretends he made it

you cannot take a selfie without him he always has to be there somewhere

also bites you to get your attention

every morning he wakes up and either tells you or frantically texts you about the dream he just had. he has the weirdest dreams known to man

he’ll fall asleep in the foetal position next to you like a cat

has a weird thing for your eyebrows? he likes covering them with his fingers and pretending you don’t have any because it makes him laugh

he’ll eat whatever you make him even if it’s inedible

you can only smell it when you get real close but he always smells like baby powder

i feel like his kisses are kinda clumsy and he always smiles so it’s very? toothy?

his lockscreen is a childhood photo of you falling over and he puts his phone face down so you can’t see it

likes when you sit on his lap while he’s gaming

SHOTARO 🍡

he’s so cute and lovely when you’re in front of other people

i feel like he lets loose and is chaos incarnate when you’re alone though

i’ve seen that little otter stick his fingers in peoples pockets. he definitely does it to you as well

tries to teach you to dance but you end up just giggling and falling together

he smiles 24/7 when he’s with you

also has very smiley kisses but they’re not as awkward as yangyang. very soft

he likes crouching with you and pulling your hoods together so nobody can see your faces

always happy to be involved with whatever you’re doing even if it’s the most boring thing ever

cheers you on no matter what

never gets mad at you. a little upset maybe but it’s quickly resolved with a kiss

“I would die for you, Taro.”

“No please don’t I love you”

gets excited whenever you get excited even if he has no idea why

puts you inside his coat if you’re cold

he loves wearing matching couple outfits with you

blows raspberries on your stomach or neck to wake you up

please he’s so supportive all the time sweet little guy

if you say something he finds cute he’ll repeat it really quietly to himself

hugs you every time you meet up just because

SORRY THIS IS GOD AWFUL IM ONLY USED TO WRITING FOR NCT DREAM 😭😭

#nct #wayv #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #nct fluff #wayv fluff #yangyang #liu yangyang #yangyang fluff #yangyang scenarios #nct headcanons #wayv headcanons #shotaro #osaki shotaro #shotaro fluff #shotaro scenarios #shotaro headcanons #yangyang headcanons