#wayv angst

[writemekpop]

Get Lucky | Qian Kun

Summary: When things start to get sexy with your new date Kun, he gets scared.

Genre: Drunk!Kun, fluff

Word Count: 0.6k

“You know… I’m a teeny-weeny bit DRUNK,” Kun whispered, pressing his palms to his cheeks.

You looked at Kun’s glazed-over hazel eyes, his cheeky grin, the way his normally perfect hair was in disarray.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you said, laughing.

Kun leant down and captured his pink curly straw between his lips. He sucked long and slow on his pina colada, his eyes never leaving yours.

The way he looked at you made your entire spine tingle.

You fanned yourself. “Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here? What do you say we take this somewhere else… like my place?”

Kun stared deep into your eyes. He reached his hand forwards, and tentatively, touched your thigh.

You could have moaned in pleasure. This was your third date, and you’d only pecked him on the lips once. You were dying for more.

He smiled bashfully. “I have to admit, the thoughts I am having right now are not very... gentlemanly.”

You leaned towards him, smirking. “Good thing I don’t want a gentleman.”

Kun touched the hem of your skirt. He couldn’t meet your eyes.

“What do you say we…” he mumbled. But then a Rihanna song started playing, and the other people in the bar cheered so loud it drowned his voice out.

“What did you say?” You shouted over the thumping bass. “I can’t hear you!”

Kun looked around, as if contemplating whether to repeat himself. Then, he shook his head and stood up.

He pulled on his jacket. “I just remembered… I’ve got a very important meeting in the morning. I’ve got to go!” 

You frowned. “But tomorrow’s Sunday! Wait!”

But it was too late, because Kun had disappeared.

--

You stumbled into your apartment, alone, and even more drunk.

Your kitten, Baghira, mewled.

You knelt down and stroked her black fur.

“It’s just like my mum,” You sniffed. “Why does everybody leave me?”

Just then, you heard a knock on your door.

You pulled the door open and saw Kun. He looked handsome, with his deep dimples and plump lips. His face was tinged a deep red.

“Kun? What are you doing here?” Your heart started to pound.

Kun straightened himself up, brushing the dust from his jacket.

“Y/n, I’m sorry for running away like that. It was rude. I do want to be with you, it’s just… it’s just.” He sighed.  

Kun pulled his hand out from behind his back and gave you a bar of Twix. You looked at him quizzically.

He pouted. “I wanted to get you flowers, but the only thing open this late was the vending machine.”

You giggled, swooning internally. Then you remembered how he’d ditched you, and the feeling vanished.

“I really am sorry,” Kun said, tugging a hand through his deep black hair. “I left because… everything was happening so fast. I want us to be more than some random hook-up.” He met your eyes. “When I make love to you, I want to do it right. I want it to mean something.”

You nodded. “If we’re gonna sleep together, let’s do it properly. Girlfriend and boyfriend.”

Kun grinned. “So… can I come in?”

“I’ll give you one last chance – but only coz you’re hot,” you said, shaking your head. You stepped to the side to allow him in.

Kun walked in and pulled you towards him. He kissed your lips softly. “I promise you won’t regret this,” he whispered.

Your heart thumped. “I know I won’t.”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

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

#kun #qian kun #wayv #kun fluff #kun smut #kun angst #wayv smut #wayv fluff #wayv angst #wayv scenarios #nct smut #nct fluff #nct angst #nct scenarios #nct fanfiction #wayv drabbles #nct drabbles #nct fanfic

[morningsunandnightsky]

Lie with you | Ten Lee

Pairing: ten x reader

Warnings: death, grieving, unprotected sex (wear protection pls), fingering, usage of petnames, skinny-dipping, illegal graffiti (not advised). Let me know if i forgot anything.

Word count: 4k

Genre: angst, smut, bit of fluff

18 +, minors dni

Sypnopsis: It’s been some time now since the love of his life left this world. But Ten still can’t get over you and he probably never will. He wants to see you again, hold you in his arms and show you how much he loves you. One day when he visits your grave, the chance of spending one more night with you might not be so impossible after all.

Note: chrysanthemums symbolize death and mourning.

An: if you read my work, you know that smut really isn’t something I do. So I was not expecting this story to take such a turn but it did because a friend of mine found out I write and well...long story short this is the result. It’s the very first time I’ve ever even attempted to write smut, so please bear with me. Feedback is greatly appreciated! I advise you not to read this if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable.

Ten's delicate fingers travel over the smooth stone, following the curves of the carvings that bear your name. He looks at you with tears in his eyes, as he does every time. In an attempt to remove the dust from the letters, he briskly wipes his hands across the surface. “I’m sorry, I haven’t visited in a while, my little star,” he whispers.

He lies on the ground next to the headstone, wiping his hands on his jeans. And a chill run down his spine from the coolness of the ground.

He notices the dazzling stars as he looks up at the pitch-black sky. The few clouds in the sky begin to break almost as if on cue, and then there you are, shining the brightest of all, his little star, softly dazzling upon him.

The cool night breeze brushes over his skin as he shuts his eyes and tilts his face up to the sky. His heart aches, and tears are starting to run down his cheeks.

-

He suddenly feels something along his skin, just like if someone was tickling him. His eyes flutter open, revealing…you. with a single white chrysanthemum in your hand and a gentle smile on your face. rubbing it lightly across his cheek. Ten eyes widen as he sees you and for a brief moment his breath catches in his throat.

"Y-Y/N." He mutters in shock.

You carefully wipe his tears away as you keep looking into his eyes with a gentle smile. “Don’t cry…we’ll be alright” you tell him.

He holds your hand tightly; his hand feeling warm against your own. Then he pulls you closer and wraps his arms around your body. Still not believing you’re in front of him,

“you’re really here," he breathes out with a trembling voice. You can hear his heartbeat so loudly and clearly, as if his heart only just started beating because of you.

You run your fingers through his dark locks. It felt the same as always, and yet it felt so different to all the other times you’ve done it before. You can hear him sighing against you, clearly enjoying your touch. You both stay like this for a while. You don’t even know how much time goes by, nor do you care. However, everything feels familiar and peaceful, just like you've returned home.

You look up at Ten and see him looking back at you already. His gaze holds so much love for you but also immense pain. So much so, that you can feel your own heart crumbling down by look in his stunning eyes. His whole face had changed since the last time you saw him. The suffering had left its marks, taking away the glow that was once present. And you knew it was because of you.

Cupping his face in your hands, you give him a soft kiss. So gently, as if he’d break if you were any harsher. Ten closes his eyes and kisses back. It only lasts for a few seconds, but it was enough to hold the cracks of your souls together for now.

“Shall we head out of here?” you ask him as you climb to your feet and pull him along. He's still holding your hand, fingers entwined, his thumb softly stroking your skin, and he gives you a nod.

With a mischievous grin on your lips, you sprint back to your car together. You both know exactly what the other is thinking about since you’ve done it countless of times before. A curt nod followed by the engine starting, and you're driving down the highway before you even know it.

With your windows down and the music blasting through the speakers. Both of your voices are overtaking the song as you scream at the top of your lungs. You can tell the few cars that are passing by are giving you looks but you couldn’t care less.

“Do you have the goods with you?” Ten asks even though he already knows your answer. “Would I ever not have the goods?”, you answer and hear him chuckle beside you.

Not too much later, you reach your destination, hop out the window, and open the trunk. Your usual assortment of spray bottles is all spread out, and you shoot Ten a playful look that asks him why he’d ever doubt you. You both take the bottles with you and step into the abandoned factory at the edge of town. Climbing up the ladder and entering the building through a broken window. Graffiti covered the walls, shattered glass was strewn all over the place, and dust was floating around the space like snow in a snow globe. It was perfect. Since it was your little secret spot.

A wave of nostalgia hits the both of you as you walk past all of the murals you have compiled throughout the years. On the enormous wall were the love doves that represented the beginning of your relationship that you’d painted on your first date. And as you went deeper into the building, all of your memories seemed to be displayed like you’re walking through a museum about your own love story. The old place appeared more alive thanks to the vibrant walls than when the space was still in use.

Entering the final, hardly standing room on the rooftop, you lay out your stuff and start your final piece. The location was illuminated by the distant town lights and the flashes from your phones. You both work quickly yet carefully. The air feels thick with paint fumes and perhaps something else too.

You both decide to inscribe your initials within a heart-shaped graffiti piece tonight. It was simple, especially compared to your usual extravagant work the two of you'd do. Yet the simplicity also held a lot of meaning, as it marked the very end of your journey. It seemed as though you were bidding your work of art adieu and saying, "Let's meet again sometime."

Ten keeps stealing glances at you whilst you work, and he swears that every time he looks at you, the butterflies explode more than the last time. You looked as gorgeous as ever, as if no time had passed since you last saw each other. He lets his eyes follow your movements, as he can’t take his eyes off of you. He stands behind you when you are completing the last details of your joint project. And his body feels hot against your own, you can feel his lips brush your neck as he whispers in your ear, “So beautiful…”, causing you to shudder.

"Ten…" you exhale, as his hands begin to explore more of your body and his lips start kissing your skin. However, he stops when he hears sirens in the distance. He dashes to peer out of the opening that served as a window.

"Shit, they're heading this way," he lets you know as he rushes back to get you and escapes. You both notice the red and blue lights getting closer as you sprint back to the car. "Give me the keys, I know a spot," he says but before you can do that the police catch up quicker than you both expect, so you duck behind some bushes and pray that they haven't noticed you yet. And just as if your prayer is answered, they drive past you.

“Come on” Ten says, and you both run away, not even bothering to take the car now. You turn around slightly and look up at the building to take a last glance at the ‘TEN + Y/N’ mural you left behind. Was it a bit childish? Yes. Did you care? Absolutely not. Because it was your final recollection of each other.

After walking for a few blocks, you burst out laughing. "It's unbelievable that we were able to escape with this." "I was so sure they had us this time," you scream as the thrill of adrenaline shoots through you. Ten laughs along with you, “I know right? If they came even a second earlier, we’d be done for.”

The walk is filled with more laughter and a whole lot of reminiscing about the past. And although you two are beaming, each step you take still feels heavier than the last, you both feel it but none of you brings it up, not wanting to add to each other’s pain.

The air feels chilly as you make your way down to the secluded lake, Ten had taken you to. It was surrounded by trees, and it looked like it was taken straight out of a fairy tale. You look around mesmerized, “What is this place? It’s amazing,” you exclaim.“I’ve been wanting to take you here for a while now. I discovered it when I was driving around one time, and I’ve been coming back ever since. It should be all ours for tonight because nobody else is ever here at this hour either.”

He takes your hand, brings you up a little cliff, and asks you to close your eyes. You take a hesitant step forward, and he has his hands over your eyes. He tells you that you can look when you arrive at the edge, "Okay, we're here," and removes his hands to show you. You see the moonlight reflecting in the water as the lake flows by. The trees' leaves are softly rustling in the mild breeze, creating a soothing sound. You were in complete awe of the sight, which was only enhanced by the lights surrounding the area. “Oh my god…this is absolutely stunning…” you say still not over the view.

Ten chuckles besides you and you feel his arms sneak around your waist again. He looks at you instead of the scenery, “yeah…it’s absolutely stunning…” his eyes flicker to your lips and he leans in to kiss you. It’s filled with all of his love for you, and you can feel every emotion seep through. You both kiss for a few minutes until he pulls back.

“Now…are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asks with a sly grin on his face. You look from him down to the water. “You’re kidding, right?” you say feeling nervous as you can tell exactly what he is thinking. The grin on Ten’s face only grows as he starts shaking his head. “ofcourse, I’m not kidding. Why? Are you scared?” he asks teasingly. You huff and cross your arms, pretending to be confident as you answer, "Not at all," but you can't help but swallow anxiously as you glance down at the water.

Ten gives you a comforting kiss on the head and giggles as he hugs you from behind. "If you really don't want it then we don't have to do it but I think you do want it," he states. "It's not like I don't want to…it's just so high up and- and what if there is something in the water?" You nervously ask. "Well, we won't know unless we give it a shot, won't we? And we’ll do it together like we always do, it will be ok.”

you nod slowly as you consider it. "Are we completely undressing?" you ask. Ten gives you a nod. "You are aware of the expression 'go big or go home', right? So, let's go big because we aren't going home." Despite laughing at what he said, you still agree.

You both quickly stripped off your clothes. And the thrill of seeing each other naked still made your hearts race even after being together for so long.

Ten's eyes follow every movement you make. You looked amazing to him; every inch of your skin was flawless. You feel your body heat up as he admired you and you can't help but glance at him too. His toned body and tattooed skin made your knees weak. You turn back to the water, trying to hide how flustered he makes you.

Grabbing his hand, you quickly run hand in hand towards the edge of the lake and dive in. The cool water envelopes your bodies immediately. And you swim around, splashing each other and laughing the whole time.

As you float on your backs, the silence of the night crept up on you pleasantly. Feeling completely content with each other's company, that’s filled with lingering gazes and rapidly beating hearts.

However, as you continued to swim, your innocent amusement soon evolved into something more passionate.

You swim closer and closer together, your bodies becoming entangled. The beautiful swaying of the water only fuelling your desire for one another.

Your kisses are deep and strong, and your hands freely move across each other's bodies. You had never felt so alive, so engulfed by one another.

His hands rest on your waist, and he moves closer to you, until you feel his chest press against yours. You felt yourself heating up, and the cold water appeared to affect you a lot less. Placing your arms around his neck and you close the distance until you are just inches away from each other. He notices how you’re biting down your lip and it only turns him on more.

"Let me do that for you," he says against your lips before kissing you deeply. It was more passionate than any other kiss, and you could feel your entire body tingle. His skin melted into yours, and your lips fit together flawlessly as if you were only made for each other. The kiss became more intense as you felt his tongue glide into your mouth and start moving against yours. His hands went down to your hips, and you let out a gasp as you felt him squeeze your butt.

Ten begins kissing down your neck and sucking on your skin, leaving a trail of red marks. Your breath becomes heavier the lower he goes. His wet tongue glides against your collarbones, making you shiver. His mouth travels down to your boobs, and you can feel his lips wrap around one of your nipples. You can't help but moan at the feeling as you grab onto his hair. Ten takes his time with your hard nipple, circling his tongue around and sucking hard, leaving you gasping for air.

"Does that feel good, baby?" he asks as he begins rolling your other nipple between his fingers. The way your back arches and the moan that escapes your mouth tells him enough. He switches hands and lets the other travel down your body, touching all the right places until he reaches your core. As he lets his fingers glide against you teasingly.

"Ten…please…" You beg for more of his touch. "Please, what?" he asks with a seductive smile, pressing his thumb on your clit.

"Please touch me," you pleaded. His smile widens, and he begins playing with your folds. His fingers are getting coated with your juices as he gently starts rubbing your clit. You let out a loud gasp and grab his shoulders whilst grinding against his hand. Wanting to feel more.

“I don’t think it’s the water that got you this wet,” he says with a smirk, clearly amused by how wet you already are when he has barely touched you.

You let out a small whimper as you try to press yourself more onto his fingers, knowing he is still teasing you by not giving in completely. "Do you want more?" he whispers to you. You nod at him, but he only chuckles, "You have to use your words, darling. Tell me what you want, and I will give it all to you.

"I need your fingers inside of me," you breathe out. His eyes darken and he kisses you again, pushing a finger deep inside. The way you moan into the kiss tells him you didn't expect him to give in so quickly, which only makes him smirk more.

Ten raises your thigh and wraps your leg around his waist with one hand, as he starts to slowly push his finger in and out of your pussy. “You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart,” he tells you, picking up the pace. The feeling of his cold metal rings against your core, only adds to your pleasure.

"Fu-uck," you whimper as he circles your clit with his thumb. You're dripping down his hand, and you can feel your walls tighten around his digits. "Hmm, so wet for me," he hums, adding another finger and curling it deep into you. Hitting your sweet spot so well. Turning you into a moaning mess.

Ten groans against your neck as he feels you clench around his fingers, and he takes it as a sign to fuck you faster. You can feel the knot forming in your stomach but not wanting to come yet you hold his hand still. When you do this, his brows knit together as he glances at your face. "I want to come with you inside of me," you mutter, gazing at him with glazed eyes and and heavy breathing.

He lifts your body and carries you out of the water while you hold onto him. As you emerge from the water, your bodies glistening in the moonlight, there was a rawness and vulnerability between you that you had never felt before. It was as if the night had taken away all of your inhibitions, leaving only your love for each other.

He lays you down on the soft grass and caresses your cheek, locking his gaze with yours. "Are you sure about this?" he says, carefully examining your face for any symptoms of discomfort before he does anything.

You smile at him and pull him towards you, “I want you so badly. Please…I need you to fuck me” you say. When you tell him this, he wastes no time as his lips find their way back to yours, kissing you deeply. He settles between your legs, pushing them open. A string of curses escapes his breath as he sees your cunt completely soaked.

He strokes his cock a few times and spreads around the precum leaking from his tip before gliding it along your slit. His smirk returns to his handsome face as he watches how your face contorts in pleasure when he rubs his cock against your clit. Your breath catches in your throat, and you buckle up your hips, wanting to feel him inside of you.

He aligns himself with you and slowly pushes in. "Ten…f-fuck," you moan as he fills you completely. He kisses your skin and holds still for a few moments, allowing your walls to stretch around his length.

"You okay, my love?" he asks, stroking your hair. You nod and tell him he can now move. His hips start to roll against yours. You can feel him sliding in and out of you, pushing deeper each time. You were a dripping mess, with your juices covering every inch of his cock.

"You feel so good…taking me so well," he murmurs as his movements quicken and the lewd sounds of skin on skin become louder.

Your bodies now completely connected in every way possible, as you make love underneath the stars. You moved in perfect harmony, the gentle lapping of the water providing a rhythmic backdrop to this moment.

As you pull him closer to you, the deep feeling in your stomach appears for a second time tonight. "I'm going…fu-uck Ten, I'm-" You can't even finish your sentence as your orgasm overtakes you completely, making you come so hard. The feeling of your walls clenching around him sends him over the edge too. And you feel his cum shoot up your core, filling you up as a raspy deep moan escapes his lips.

He slowly pulls out and lies beside you, trying to catch his breath. He draws you into his arms, “you did so well for me. That was amazing,” he states, still breathing heavily. Smiling at him, you let him know you enjoyed it as much as he did.

He wraps you in his jacket and brings your head to his chest. You snuggle up to him, and you both stay silent for a while. The coolness of the water is now a distant memory as you enjoy the warmth of each other's embrace. "You do realise we're going to catch a cold, right?" you ask after some time. Ten chuckles, "Yeah, probably, but it's well worth it. Everything with you is worth it." You scrunch up your nose at his remark, which only makes him laugh loudly.

"We'll have another excuse to cuddle up," he adds. You listen with a drowsy grin on your face. As time passes while you lie in each other's arms, a sense of melancholy fills the air. You can both sense it deep within your hearts. "I wish we could have more time together," you mutter quietly, eyes glistening with tears. "If only we had more time, maybe things would have been different."

Ten shakes his head slowly, refusing to accept the truth of your words. "I know, darling," he says with a sigh. "I wish it too." You take his hand and squeeze it tightly, hoping to savour every second you have left together.

He can feel your warmth pouring through his fingers as he holds your hand. "I don't want to let go," he whispers, his voice breaking.

Your eyes meet, and a wave of sadness washes over both of you. You both know that you were about to part ways forever. Leaning closer, you kiss his cheek wanting to mend his broken heart even if it’s just a little bit. It's quiet between you again, and the air still holds your breath. Your chests rise and fall together, sharing the same heartbeat. The moonlight beams on your faces, casting an ethereal glow on the grass where you lie. It felt as if time had stopped just for you two.

Slowly, you open your eyes and glance at him again. For a split second your memories travel back to the first time you met him. It was years ago, when you met him unexpectedly at a time you thought you’d never find someone like him. You never believed in 'love at first sight,' but looking back, you realise your heart has loved Ten since the very beginning.

He never strays his eyes away from yours because he knows this is it, but he's not ready to let go. Running his fingers through your hair he can feel your breath on his lips. He has so much to say, yet the words never seem to come out properly. So he stays silent, wanting to remember this moment forever and seal it in his heart.

Each beat of your heart's echoes in the other’s chest when you wrap your arms around him, wanting to feel his body against your own one more time.

Your eyes fill with pain, knowing that you will have to let go of each other and return back over to your respective worlds. You exchange one more kiss as the clouds cover the sky, bringing an end to your brief yet beautiful rendezvous.

Looking into his eyes for the last time, you can feel the emotions well up inside of you as you see him cry. You want to tell him how you feel, how you've always felt, and how you'll always feel for him, even if you're apart. Because there is no one else you'd rather be with than him.

“I may leave you behind in this world, but I’ll never leave your heart. My love for you will never change. Even if my body is taken from you, my soul will always be with you.”

You tried to smile as you tell him, but the tears streaming down your cheeks make it hard. You couldn’t bear to see him cry and you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind either. But the darkness creeps in even if you don’t want it to, and your voice wavers as you can’t keep your eyes open anymore.

“I love you, with every beat of my fading heart.”

-

Ten opens his eyes, and his tears keep rolling down his face as he searches for you in the night sky. A broken smile spreads across his face as his eyes find you again, shining so brightly. He holds up the single white chrysanthemum and whispers,

“I love you too, my little star”

#nct #wayv #nct ten #nct smut #nct angst #nct scenarios #nct fluff #ten #nct imagines #ten smut #ten angst #ten fluff #ten scenarios #ten imagines #wayv smut #wayv angst #wayv fluff #nct x reader #nct x you #ten x reader #ten x you #ten lee

[lelengerine]

presenting ✎ in a season's moment

►pairings | nct's 00 line x reader

► contents + warnings | to be released once the fics are published separately!

► notes | and its finally out!! we’ve been working in this for quite some time (as we’re all new to this sort of thing), yet we put our hearts into each of the works planned for this collab 🩷 the fics can all be read as stand alones and are in entirely different universes, but we hope you all enjoy what we have in store :> do note each of fics are not final and may be edited!

note: this has been discontinued

► they say the seasons resemble different types of relationships — from ones that make your heart pitter patter faster than light, to those that are filled with solemn grief clouding your chest. each one may prove to be different from the other, yet are all bound to be experienced in a lifetime. these are stories over the course of the seasons, transient moments that remain as core memories forever.

where flowers bloom | @winwonies

pairing | jaemin x reader

synopsis | people say winter is the best time of the year because of christmas. but you’d say otherwise when a season like spring exists. all the flowers that bloom around with the breeze of cold air and warmth of the sun shining above their petals is what perfect scenery sounds like. it only makes sense why spring is the season you met your first love. a love that sprouted at the end of winter and continued to bloom beyond the months of spring. a first love that is also your last. or is it?

season passed

fleeting from the sun | @lelengerine

pairing | haechan x reader

synopsis | you and haechan never sit well together, like oil and water, mostly because you’d both rather be up each other’s throats – and not in the romantic sense. summer break is the only time you’re actually freed from his presence, a time for you to sit in the cozy confines of your home, and it’s finally within your grasp as the school year just ended. you were finally settling into your self-made plans for the break, until your best friend dragged you to join the road trip he and a couple of your other friends had planned together. being a good friend meant accepting their offers despite having your own plans already, right? oh, but they didn’t tell you the person you wanted to get rid of was sitting in for the ride too.

season passed

whispering raindrops | @tade-imagines

pairing | jeno x reader

synopsis | rainy season reminded y/n of so many things. in fact, their love story with their fiancé, jeno, was founded on days where water poured from the sky. when they come home one day, tired from work, the pounding rain on their windows couldn’t help but make them reminisce about the times that solidified their and jeno’s relationship. how can someone miss the past so much?

season passed

autumn leaves | @teddyjun

pairing | renjun x reader

synopsis | as autumn approaches, you and renjun can't help but be reminded of your time spent together. when different colored leaves start to fall, it was almost always during this season where the most precious events between you two happen. with a new memory every year, feelings started to grow — but you both thought that risking your 24-year friendship was not an option. as your 25th 'friendversary' approaches, you and renjun think: is it finally time for you to confess, or him to make the first move?

season passed

white memories | @teddyjun

pairing | yangyang x reader

synopsis | yangyang dislikes the winter season, yet he can't seem to pinpoint why. after an unfortunate accident, he was left with only a fragment of his memories — so when you were by his bedside the moment he woke up, he was confused when you told him you were his girlfriend. having no recollection whatsoever, he is then determined to remember your history with each other, yet for some reason, you didn’t want him to.

season passed

#nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #wayv fluff #wayv angst #nct fanfic #nct imagines #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #haechan fluff #haechan angst #jeno fluff #jeno angst #renjun fluff #renjun angst #yangyang fluff #yangyang angst

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[6:16 pm]

(cw: toxic yang, asshole yang, angst)

“So what? I don’t feel the same way and you just cut me off?” Yangyang yelled.

You rolled your eyes and continued through the apartment. You were here on a mission, you were at Yangyang’s apartment to pick up your things and get out. Nothing else.

It hurt you to be here, to be in his presence. The pain of losing your best friend was fresh, but this was good for you. A clean break, you deserved more than this. You kept your head up and continued on silently.

“You can’t ignore me! We’ve been friends for over a decade! Just because I don’t feel the same way you’re going to cut me out of your life, that’s not fair,” Yangyang followed behind you down the hall to the room that was considered yours, not anymore.

You pulled your clothes off the hangers in the closet, checked the drawers for T-shirts and pajamas, anything that was yours you packed away into the box your brought with you so would never have to come back to this place or face Yangyang ever again.

“God you’re being crazy right now, you understand people don’t have to reciprocate your feelings right?” Yangyang asked.

You stopped on your way to the front door and turned to face Yangyang. You had no more tears left to cry over him all that was left was your anger and annoyance. So exhausted after years of letting him walk all over you and do as he pleased, while you just took it.

“Do you understand how much you fucked with me? Let’s just ignore for a second that I told you I was in love with you, asked you for space when you said you didn’t feel the same, and that very same night you went out to a club and took someone home. No, I’m talking about you leading me on now and how you were a shitty best friend. You always had your hands on me, in my hair, on my thigh, on my back. Every time I talked to someone else you’d get jealous and wrap your arms around me like we were together. You slept in my bed, you asked me to stay every other night, how am I being blamed for you leading me on? How is it my fault that my so called best friend acted like more and I read those very obvious signals as something else? You made those moves, I never once acted in the same way you did even though I so badly wanted to.

I was at every show, I put aside my goals to be there for you. I missed so many family events and opportunities to be there because you wanted me to be there. But you never once made an effort for me. You missed birthdays, you missed my graduation, and I can’t even remember a single time you answered one of my calls when I was stressed or needed help like I’d do for you. So no, I’m not ending this decade long friendship because you don’t feel the same way, I’m ending it because I’ve realized how one sided it is. I’m not going to follow you around like a lost puppy and be at your beck and call when you have never and will never do the same for me. You didn't make loving you easy, but I still somehow managed. I deserve more from a friend and someone who deserves my love.” You ranted, it felt so good to get it off your chest.

“That’s not true,” Yangyang shook his head.

“I wouldn’t make something like this up, but lucky for you, you’ll be getting space to process this unlike the nonexistent space I had. I asked for space, some time to process my hurt and embarrassment from confessing my love and I didn’t even get that for a day. You called me that night drunk and bragged about the person you were bringing home, you called me like nothing had happened every night for 2 weeks. You once again disregarded my feelings in favor of your own, somehow the pain I was feeling, the pain I showed you didn't matter as much as you telling me about your latest conquest or that you wanted me to get a pizza and drop it off at your house. That’s not fair,” you added, your voice breaking. You weren’t going to cry over this, you were done shedding tears over Yangyang.

“So we’re done, you’re leaving me?”

“This isn’t about you! For the first time in a long time I’m putting my feelings before your own. I just don’t care anymore. Feel what you need to feel, fuck whoever you want, do whatever you want and leave me out of it. I don’t want to be a part of it.” You ended, turning away from Yangyang and rushing to the door to get away from him.

You shut the door behind you, a small sliver of hope that Yangyang would follow after you and make an honest effort to repair your friendship. But you knew better. He let you leave his house sobbing after bearing your soul to him and let you walk home alone. He hadn’t changed in the time you spent away from each other and you don’t want to find the time to wonder when or even if he would change.

You were practically floating on your way back home, you got so much weight off your chest, feelings that made you angry and anxious- negative emotions you didn’t want to feel. Years of repressed emotions finally leaving your head. You felt good, happy that everything was going to be just fine.

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct angst #wayv #wayv imagines #wayv blurbs #wayv fluff #wayv timestamps #wayv x reader #wayv angst #yangyang x reader #yangyang scenarios #yangyang imagines #yangyang blurbs #yangyang timestamps #yangyang angst

[babbymochiiii]

ON MY YOUTH: TEN LEE

↪︎pairing: idol! ten x ngs! reader ft. xiaojun

↪︎genre: angst

↪︎warnings: crying, conflicted feelings, minor yelling, confronting on ten's bs, break up, more crying, just angst after more angst

↪︎synopsis: you’ve noticed ten has been weird ever since his recent comeback, and with one text message it confirmed everything. But you weren’t going to let him do that to you through the phone so you confront him in person.

↪︎word count: 1.9k words

link to part 2 🧡

✨note: this fic is very much inspired by On My Youth by WayV…this song put me through all sorts of stages when I heard the English ver. 😭 idk about y’all but I felt like I was going through some sort of emotional breakdown 💀 but it inspire this fic so we gucci :P anyways, enjoy! 🧡

divider credit @plutism 🖤

We should stop seeing each other.  

It was already a shitty day as it was due to work going south with the boss yelling at everyone, including you, and it was pouring rain as you walked home as you forgot completely about the umbrella waiting at the front door.  

But this...this takes everything by the win.  

You of course felt pure rage at the fact this was the way he decided to end things with you, coping the fuck out, but you weren’t about to be disrespected like this especially when you knew that this was going to happen. Ever since he left to do some small concerts and with his most recent comeback, he’s been distant and acting like you didn’t exist at all. You had your suspicions and mentally prepared yourself for the day but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt you still.  

You looked at the time on your phone and knew that you would find him in the practice room here and his members had reserved at this time. So, that’s where you find your feet taking you.  

Once you reached the floor where you knew the majority of the big practice rooms were at, you walked down the hall straining your ears as much as you could so you could hear WayV’s music against the other SM artists. As you walked a little further down, you could hear WayV’s newest song blasting through the speakers. You picked up your pace slightly until you were at front of the practice room door. As you were in front of the door, you tried to control the heavy breathing as you took hold of the door handle. With one last breath, you opened the door. 

Inside, you met with the members of WayV and staff members recording one of their dance practice videos.  Through the reflection of the mirror, you could see Ten in the middle of the formation dancing passionately as he always has. You feel mesmerized by the way he dances so fluidly and with such precision. It was one of many things you fell in love with Ten.  

Ten caught your gaze in the mirror which causes him to stumble in one of the moves and for Xiaojun to bump into him.  

“Ten? You okay?” Xiaojun asked as he looked towards Ten, who looked like he’s seen a ghost. Xiaojun followed his gaze and saw your trembling form standing by the doorway. “Oh.” He said softly.  

At this moment, all the staff members and WayV looked between you and Ten. The couple of staff members that had the cameras rolling stopped recording and lowered the camera.  

“Can we talk?” You shakingly asked while maintaining eye contact with Ten through the mirror. Cursing to yourself internally for not holding onto whatever confidence you had left.  

“I guess.” Ten said lowly with a shrug.  

“Why don’t we all take a break and give them space?” WayV’s manager said with a gently clap of his hands as he gave everyone a straight smile. He eyed the two of you as everyone else walked out of the room before he followed them, closing the door behind them. 

“What are you doing here?” Ten asks with a sigh as he looks anywhere else but directly towards you.  

“Don’t act like you don’t know.” You almost practically whine as you started to feel all the emotions you were suppressing rise up to the surface, considering you never knew how to hide how you felt from Ten.  

“Look, I don’t have the time to be playing your guessing game here.” Ten said with an eye roll as he finally looked towards you.  

You bit down on your bottom lip to the point where you almost drew blood. You dug into your bag for your phone and pulled up the text message he sent you a couple of hours ago, that you only saw on the way out from work.  

“Oh, that.” Ten said with a flat tone.  

A scoff leaves your lips as you brought your hand down and tightly gripped at your phone. “Yes that." you mimicked as you tried to control your breathing.  

“So, what about it then?”  

You stared at Ten and really tried to understand what was happening here. How can he be acting like this? After everything… “‘What about it then?’ Ten are you that fucking dense?” You asked as you looked at him with a frown on your face.  

“I said what I said okay.” Ten says as he turns around and grabs his water bottle from the floor.  

“Ten, really? Like are you really going to be like this?” You questioned as you felt your eyebrows crease close together.  

“I honestly have no clue what you’re talking about.” he said with a careless shrug as he took a swing of his water bottle.  

“For God’s sake Ten! Talk to me!” You raised your voice as you started to walk on a thin line of patience with him.  

With a roll of his eyes, Ten looked at you with an eyebrow raised as he waited for you to speak.  

You stared at him with watery eyes as you felt all the bewilderment fall on top of your shoulders. You couldn’t understand why this has to happen now, not after everything you’ve been through with him. The more you look at Ten the more you get truly lost at who this person is in front of you.  

“Why?”  

Ten stared at you for another beat before he looked down at his feet with a sigh.  “Because it’s not fair.” He said as he continued to stare at his feet like it's the most interesting thing in the world.  

“Not fair?” you questioned back to him as you started to feel something within you turn in anger. As if you needed something more to add to the already fire induced anger inside of you. ��

“I just don’t find it fair that I basically get to live a life while you stay home and wait for me.” Ten said without missing a beat and looked at you with a straight face.  

It was quite a blow... you admit, you weren’t expecting that to be his answer, but the pure anger and stressed feelings consumed your whole body, leaving you to feel overall exhausted at this point.  

“Ten—” you sighed out as you closed your eyes tightly trying to understand everything that’s happening right now. “— you know very well that I was content like that. I was happy to wait for you to come home and spend time with you...why are you making this an issue now?”   

“It just hurts my pride.” He says with a shrug. 

“Your pride? Ten please, that’s such a fucking cop out.” You told you as you truly started to feel the weight of everything fall on your shoulder as you knew that this was it...truly the end of it all.  

Silence wrapped around the two of you in the most gut-wrenching tension as you both just looked at one another. Each waiting to see what the other will say.  

With a defeated sigh, you looked down at your feet with your eyes closed trying your hardest to not let the threatening tears escape. You weren’t going to let him do this to you.  

“Two years...” You told him softly as you looked up and looked at him with a small smile and with tears pooling in your eyes. “Two years I have been so happy with you. We were happy. I love you so much that right now I wish I didn’t because it hurts Ten. It hurts too much.” you said with a dry chuckle as you started to feel your throat tightening and forming a lump in your throat as you started to feel everything wanting to discompose from within you.  

“I gave you so much Ten. So much. But you used me — used me till the last drop. I’m burnt out at this point.” you said as one tear fell out of your eye and created a wet trail down your cheek.  

Ten stared at you with slightly wide eyes, not truly believing that this is happening right now. Yes, he wanted to end things...but he didn’t know you’ve been feeling like this. Genuinely, he thought it would be how it has been lately. He would do something that would upset you, and you forgive him but that isn’t happening this time around. Ten felt himself start to panic internally as he looked at you slowly lose your composure in front of him.  

“No amount of sorrys is going to fix what you just broke Ten. None of your lies are going to sugar coat this and make me “forget” everything you have done to me for the past months Ten...none of it. You fed me so much bullshit lately and you completely lost me.” you said with a sad laugh. “Knowing you, you’re probably gonna say something along the line that we’re too young and that you want to focus on your career.” you said as you watched Ten’s reaction.  

You saw the way Ten sucked in a breath and how his cheeks turned a light pink as he continued to look at you with wide eyes.  

“I knew it. So much bullshit Ten.” you said as you felt more tears falling down your face. “This is where we officially end things, yeah.” you softly said as you tried to hold in the rest of the tears as you turned around, starting to make your way to the dance practice room.  

“Wait—” 

“No Ten. This is what you wanted, right? I’m just making this easier for you, so you don’t have to keep lying to me.” you said with one last glance towards Ten’s figure. You swear you can see a tear fall down his face but you turned your face away quickly so you wouldn’t lose what’s left of your composure.  

“Goodbye Ten.” you gave your final goodbye to Ten before you turned the doorknob and walked out of the room with tiny pieces of what used to be your heart inside of your chest.  

Months have passed since that day you confronted and ended things with Ten.  

You kept some small tabs on him here and there whenever fans would post about WAYV and their group or solo activities. This time though, you’ve noticed that they have come out with a new English version of one of their songs in their latest album.  

Curious, you clicked the link that took you to YouTube, and started to play out the video for the song. Hearing the song for the first time and listening to the lyrics brought back those painful memories as you could hear the hurt in Ten’s voice as he sang his parts.  

You looked at the song title as tears landed on your phone screen. 

On My Youth... 

A sad, watery smile formed on your face as you continued to listen to the song, and you couldn’t help but feel the need to miss him. You know you shouldn’t, but it was a two-year relationship that Ten decided to throw out with one stupid text.  

As the song came to an end, you felt your chest rake with heavy breathing as you continued to quietly sob into your hands. While you used the sleeves of your sweater to clean the tears off of your face, there was a knock at the door.  

Slowly getting up, you made your way to the door.  

You stood at the other end of the door still with your chest rising and falling rapidly. Just as you reached for the doorknob, Ten’s voice was heard on the other side.  

“Can we talk?”

Thank you for reading!!! 🖤 hopefully you guys enjoyed this story! I haven’t written angst in a good while and it took me awhile to get a crack in this story ✋🏼💀

Should I make a part 2? 🧐 lemme know in the comments/in my ask what you think! Should we see y/n and ten talk to one another or just leave it as is?? I’m genuinely curious to see what you guys think! 🖤✨

With much much love from me to you, mochi 🕷️

#nct #nct ten #ten lee #wayv #wayv ten #ten x reader #nct angst #wayv angst #nct x reader #kpop imagines #kpop #kpopidol #kpop angst #angst with a sad ending #breakup #crying #confrontation

[moonlezn]

nightwalker

𝕺 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖔 intro mermaid!reader x monster!ten wc 775 mlist

n/a: demorou, mas saiu. não é feliz. é bem experimental. tem tempo que não escrevo. não foi revisado. espero que gostem!

Era uma vez um rei, chefe do reino mais poderoso do mar, soberano incontestável. Para seu desgosto profundo, sua única filha, herdeira do trono, não poderia ser mais rebelde. Completamente diferente do pai, a sereia mais encantadora dos sete oceanos é perdidamente apaixonada pela vida fora da infinidade das águas.

A noite se aproxima, você sente na pele. A temperatura cai aos poucos, e a correnteza torna o nado mais desagradável. Ok, esta é uma implicância sua. Já havia nadado incontáveis quilômetros sem cansar-se, procurando algum lugar para arriscar-se sobre terra. 

Seu pai a mataria se soubesse. 

Ele sabe. 

E que bom, tomara que a deserde logo. 

Pensamentos como estes a fazem sorrir. Apenas a possibilidade de se ver livre do trono aquece a pedra que é o seu coração.

Sem perceber, havia parado na escuridão da profundidade e, ao cair em si, resolve que é hora de alcançar a superfície, finalmente. 

O que encontraria desta vez? Uma nova ilha? Um novo povoado? Uma cidade chata? Os humanos são muito simples, porém fascinantes. Há alguns mil anos atrás, eles não sabiam nada, era desprezível. Ao longo do tempo, criaram coisas e tornaram-se instigantes para você. 

É sempre doloroso respirar, nem um milhão de anos a permitiram se acostumar com a sensação terrível do oxigênio rasgando seus pulmões pouco desenvolvidos. 

Ainda controlando o fluxo de ar, usa os cotovelos para arrastar-se mais adiante na areia, levaria um tempo até que a calda secasse um pouco e desse lugar aos pés — um privilégio de ter sangue real. Seu pai não aproveita a condição, logicamente. 

— Chega de pensar no papai. — expira afobada ao testar a própria voz após a queimação no esôfago. 

Você soa engraçada, o som sai esquisito, então se permite rir no meio da terra desconhecida. Começa a inspecionar o ambiente, vendo árvores gigantes com folhas douradas primeiro. O luar não lhe ajuda, então aperta os olhos para distinguir os contornos distantes, sem sucesso. Parece apenas uma ilha.

A dormência familiar na parte inferior de seu corpo chega ao fim, então você se levanta, alongando os músculos das pernas. Precisam ser mais usados, coitados. Já faz dias desde sua última visita a este mundo, obviamente não é bom deixá-las descansar por tanto tempo. 

Arrisca caminhar por entre a floresta estranha, tudo é muito dourado e branco, parece tirado de um conto infantil — os humanos têm imaginação fértil. Porém, se algo de algum desses livros fosse real, seria como este lugar. 

O cheiro é doce, os frutos que encontra são deliciosos, os caminhos terrosos são encantadores. É enorme, talvez demorasse semanas para conhecer cada canto, o que lhe é muito agradável. 

Ao caminhar por um campo aberto, você nota que dali em diante, por muitos quilômetros, os tons de ouro se tornam mais sombrios. Atravessando para o outro lado, encontra arbustos enormes, espinhosos, que formam um arco apertado sobre sua cabeça. 

As panturrilhas ardem pela atividade exagerada madrugada afora, no entanto, o contorno de um castelo aparece na sua linha de visão. Definitivamente não poderia parar agora. Continua em direção à construção belíssima, apesar de reparar que a passagem se torna mais e mais estreita. 

Após alguns dos espinhos maiores lhe roubarem algumas gotas de sangue, você consegue chegar à entrada do castelo. Está completamente desprotegido, os grandes portões estão abertos, apenas uma ponte de madeira a separa de conhecer o que há ali dentro. O rio que atravessa embaixo é mais cintilante que as estrelas, não ousa aproximar-se do líquido, receosa com o que poderia causar. 

Estupefata. 

Uma criatura de beleza indescritível se materializou diante de seus olhos após seu primeiro passo. Assim como os arbustos, ele tinha espinhos. Em sua pele, porém, eles pareciam lindos. Os desenhos permanentes nos braços definidos não se pareciam com nada que você já havia visto. 

Os olhos cor de céu diurno quase não se viam por trás dos fios negros e pesados, mas te encaravam com firmeza. Não pareciam curiosos. 

— Quem é você? 

Apesar do exterior estranho, a voz que adentrou seus ouvidos é tão doce quanto as frutas que comera. 

A pergunta é retórica, ele sabia muito bem quem era a princesa prestes a invadir seu forte. Ela não precisava, entretanto, saber que sua identidade nunca havia sido um mistério.

— Uma sereia. — consegue encontrar sua voz novamente e, sem pestanejar, revela a verdade. — Você tem belas terras. — preenche o silêncio que segue, antes de tomar coragem de devolver o questionamento. — E você, é…? 

A criatura parece se divertir com sua inocência, é assustador e encantador ao mesmo tempo. Em todos os anos de terra nunca havia imaginado encontrar algo assim, achava que monstros não existiam. 

— O seu salvador.

#ten scenarios #ten imagines #ten fanfics #ten fics #ten timestamps #ten angst #ten x reader #ten chittaphon #nct fic #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct angst #ten smut #wayv smut #nct smut #wayv angst #wayv x reader #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv fluff #wayv fanfic #wayv fics

[k-rising]

Xiaojun as boyfriend

Romantic aspects

let's start by saying that this man is such a boyfriend material

xiaojun will confess to you once he's sure that you feel the same way as him. cause, let's be honest here... once you first met, he'll probably become so shy around you

I also think that he will leave clues about how he feels than saying it to you directly

but once you are in a relationship with him, you'll have so much fun with this dude

I'm picturing him dedicating you songs

making a playlist with songs that reminds him of you

and, of course, he will tease the hell out of you <3

xiaojun is a gentleman and will be a very attentive boyfriend who will treat you like a princess/prince

you'll be his number one priority

he'll be so generous and funny with you

this dude doesn't mind doing ridiculous things, if he's able to make you smile then he'll be satisfied of his work

I'm visualizing him bringing you breakfast to bed

touching your hair until you fall asleep in his lap or in his chest

he'll probably make a song about you and how much he loves you :')

xiaojun's love language are acts of service, words of affirmation and physical touch

let me tell you... this man's clingy af

he also loves cuddling you !!!

although xiaojun likes when a relationship is reciprocate, he tends to give more than what he receives

I get the feeling that he can get jealous, but tries to hide it so that you don't tease him about it

When he gets angry

xiaojun doesn't get easily angry, specially with you... but if you do make him really mad, good luck with that, cause he can get pretty scary

specially if you hurt his pride in some way

sometimes he can get quite immature if you don't do certain things for him

he can also be quite unpredictable when he's mad. one day he doesn't talk to you at all, the next day he'll make a drama and other day he'll act like nothing has happened :)

but one thing is for sure, this man is loyal af and he expects you to be loyal as well. if you ever betray him, he'll never forgive you

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔! 　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

#xiaojun #xiao dejun #wayv #nct #xiaojun astrology #xiaojun imagines #xiaojun angst #wayv angst #wayv imagines #wayv astrology #nct astrology #nct angst #nct imagines

[dr-qian]

backburner // q.k

kun x reader

"hey, i want that"

i told him while pointing at the lonely chips bag lying flat in the shelf on front of me.

it seems like people did not bother to buy it today, i don't know if it's because they don't like the flavor or it's just gonna expire soon.

either way, i'll take it home 'cause I pity it. like how i should be for myself.

"take it if you want it, i'll pay for it anyway" he mumbled the last part, and I chuckled.

and then suddenly i jumped on his back and wrapped my arms around his neck.

"you serious?" i asked as I squished my cheek onto his.

"get off me" he said while quietly laughing, pushing me off his back, conscious that the few customers there could see us like that.

so I granted his wish and hopped down. i'm still smiling.

"yeah, i'm serious, just take what you want..." he said while continuing to roam around the aisles.

and so i got what i want...

"how about you? are you going to get something?"

"i'm good with this" he lifted the coca-cola can in his right hand.

We walked towards the sleepy cashier near the exit, suddenly jolting up when he heard the sound of the can landing on the marbled counter.

then i started staring at his face while he fishes for his brown wallet in his jeans' pocket.

and i stared.

and i stared.

and i stared.

"hey, let's leave now" kun snapped his fingers on front me, stopping me from staring at him too much.

he's used to it. i'm used to it. so it doesn't really matter i guess...

he was about to lead me out of the store, carrying the paper bag, when suddenly raindrops started pouring.

"shit, let's just stay here for a while..." he told me, pushing me gently back inside the store.

i said nothing as I went back to looking at his face.

"you know, your staring won't change anything between us..." he finally looked at me, then looked out the glass window walls to see if the rain finally stops.

"i'm sorry i can't help it, it just gets worse everytime i'm with you..." i mumbled the last part.

suddenly, the floor is so pretty to look at.

i felt that he looked at me again, taking a long pause before saying the next brutal words for me.

"you know i'll never be in love with you, right?"

shit. uhh, that hurts. like really fucking hurts.

i nodded in agreement.

"i hate that you keep torturing yourself for this..." he said to me. pitying me for what i am to him

"no, don't be...I...I'm just hoping that we w-would continue being friends like, this..I" a tear accidentally came out of my eye as I tried to explain it to him.

he stood there in silence.

"I just still want to be someone you can lean on to, even if you don't really like me back or anything, no, I...just want to be your friend..."

now i can't stop my tears from coming out. i'm glad that the cashier finally gave in and slept so he wouldn't hear me sobbing at the corner because of the man right beside me.

i can't really look at him straight in the eyes because he's going to hurt me more, so my eyes just wandered everywhere around the store, avoiding his..face.

i know that kun doesn't really know how to react to this, to me.

so he just pulled me by the hand to keep me close to him, my left cheek on his chest as he rubbed up and down my back to calm me down from crying.

my hands gave in to him, and weakly held onto the hem of his shirt to keep him close to me even more.

and it helped me calm down, but the pain of it was still lingering inside me...

and i'm already okay with that.

now playing: backburner by niki

#wayv au #wayv kun #qian kun #qian kun imagines #qian kun scenarios #qian kun smut #nct smut #qian kun angst #wayv #nct kun #nct #nct angst #wayv imagines #wayv angst #wayv fluff #nct imagines #nct fluff #kun smut #kun angst #kun imagines #kun fluff #kun scenarios #Spotify

[kwanisms]

please note that I am no longer actively writing for nct or any of their sub units and that by putting this groups in the 'archive' does not necessarily mean I will stop writing for them entirely. Any series originally planned for any members in the archive have either been put in the vault or recasted.

many of these works contain sexual content (18+ mdni) 🔞

♤ - angst | ♡ - fluff | ♧ - smut

◎ you called? ♧ s.johnny

╰┈➤ oneshot; 6.2k; after her neighbor summons a demon who mistakenly ends up in your apartment, he decides to make a deal with y/n instead.

◎ changes ♤ l.taeyong

╰┈➤ oneshot; 3.5k; upon discovering she's pregnant after hooking up with her friend Taeyong the night before he leaves for a world tour, y/n decides to take care of everything herself. A year later, when the tour ends and Taeyong comes back, things threaten to change forever.

◎ no longer ♤ j.jaehyun

╰┈➤ oneshot; 1.7k; Jaehyun relives the past two years leading up to where he is now.

◎ it should have been me ♤ d.sicheng

╰┈➤ oneshot; 4.8k; when y/n's survivor group gets overwhelmed by a horde, things take a nasty turn, resulting in a tragic outcome.

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fanfiction #nct fanfic #nct angst #nct fluff #nct smut #nct x reader #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv fanfiction #wayv fanfic #wayv angst #wayv x reader #nct masterlist #wayv masterlist

[noramoons]

renounced | x.dj

summary: your life as the eldest child in the royal family is simple: follow everything you’ve been told, without complaint. the game is easy—until you meet xiao dejun, who shows you that you may not have to play their game at all.

pairing: prince!xiaojun x gender neutral!royal reader

genre: angst with a happy ending (?)

wc: 4k

rating: T/15+

warnings: unspecified time period, historical inaccuracies, brief mention of religious analogies, implied suggestive content, language, not proofread (😧)

a/n: happy xiaojun day! :D (me, finishing a fic on time?? 🤯🤯) hope u enjoy this little one-shot. i’m sure there are MAJOR historical inaccuracies for the politics depictions in this - feel free to leave any feedback or concrit you might have!

This is the last time.

It's like a mantra. You repeat it to yourself, over and over, starting the sentence over with every other stairstep you reach.

This is the last time. It has to be.

Of course, you said that the last time, too.

Prince Dejun has been a fixture in your life for nearly as long as you can remember. And for a long time—you hated remembering.

His family's kingdom had brought yours to the brink of annihilation in war—a long, terrible, stupid war that your nation had been comically unprepared for. The Xiao family had industrialized their military years before your father's generals even began to think about the idea, studying and honing in their technological advances to the point that when they finally brought their army to your doorstep, your father had no choice but to kneel. Can it really be called war if the other side never even stands a chance?

You had hated Xiao Dejun, then. Hated the very idea of him and his entire family. Hated that they had been so generous as to allow your family to stay in their palace for a month while yours was being rebuilt, him and his brothers running through the halls with gleeful abandon while you and your younger siblings had to restrain yourselves at all times. You always had to be poised and patient, silent unless spoken to—the perfect guests for who you saw as little more than your captors.

It was several years later before your father's advisors began whispering again, hushed murmurs that gradually tumbled their way down to your eavesdropping ears—not of war this time, but of the future. Of building future alliances with the very nation that had nearly decimated your home.

And you, as the eldest child, were the perfect sacrificial lamb.

You had felt just as much, too, the night of your first outing with the prince. You would be supervised, of course, but you still found yourself unable to shake the feeling as the servants dressed you quietly, whispering to each other when they thought you couldn't hear. Like they were preparing a stuffed pig for a feast.

You'd dreaded every step down the main stairwell of your newly rebuilt home, clinging to the marble railing that you were sure was just as cold and unforgiving as the prince waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs (Completely unlike the way you are currently racing up a flight of stairs, heart growing lighter with each step).

You had been surprised, then, when Dejun had taken your gloved hand in his—it turned out he was warm flesh and blood, after all.

He'd engaged in perfectly polite, yet expected small talk all throughout the main entryway and into the gate outside. It wasn't until you reached that first step outside, the furthest you'd been away from home in months, that he had squeezed your hand and dropped his voice into an octave that sounded much more familiar to the Dejun you had seen briefly in his home.

"Do you trust me?"

You were taken aback by the question—but you certainly weren't a liar. "No."

He'd laughed at that—a light, airy sound escaping past his lips that you thought had no right to come from a devil. "I thought as much. I would've been surprised if you'd said so." Something glinted in his eyes. "Can you give me a chance to change your mind?"

What on Earth was he talking about? The two of you were only supposed to wander the gardens until dusk—that was what your governess had said. "Why would I do that?"

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth—you thought, for an absentminded moment, how seemingly perfect his teeth were. What a strange thing to notice. "Because it'll get us away from the eyes of your governess." 

Your own eyes widened. "What are you talking about? I—" I hadn't even noticed she was out here, you'd wanted to say. You had spun around, looking intently for somewhere she must have been hiding—she couldn't have been that inconspicuous if Dejun had noticed her already.

He'd squeezed your hand again, warm fingers still intertwined with yours. "I spoke with the stablehand before coming to call on you. He said he would leave a horse tied just outside the gates." He paused. "It's up to you, of course. Your Highness." He dropped your hand only to cross it across his chest in a mock serene bow, and you had bit onto your own tongue, hard, to keep a laugh from escaping you at the sight.

You had tried to weigh the consequences in your mind, but the thought of freedom was just as alluring as it always had been under the watchful eye of seemingly everyone else in the palace you'd grown up with. Even if it came with a price of momentary companionship with Xiao Dejun.

"We..." you had started. "We have to be back by sunset. No later."

He had grinned and taken your hand, running with you close behind, helping you mount the horse when you did, in fact, find one tied just outside the palace gates—and giving you the first taste, if only for an hour, of what real freedom might feel like.

You were chased down by your governess and a slightly bruised stablehand before the sun had even begun to set, but you and Dejun had talked, lying on your backs in an empty field miles away from the palace, for what felt like hours. It was then that you learned he cared practically nothing for politics, that he had no plans to be king the way his father had ruled. You discovered, through a series of conversations, that he wanted so much more for his life—to not be tied to something he hadn't chosen for himself. You'd never forget for the rest of your life how his eyes shone that evening, how they sparkled as he listened to you, and how he talked about the life he wanted with such excitement. He wanted to learn how to walk across a trapeze, or become a traveling musician, to sail across the world with a band of pirates—he wanted to at least have options. To be able to choose something for himself, something that was only his.

That glass facade you had built in your head of him shattered. He was so, so much like you, in every way you had never imagined.

Your governess gave you an earful when you were dragged back to the palace that night, but you could barely find it in yourself to care. Dejun had planted a dangerous seed in your brain—the idea of getting to choose.

While your father wasn't entirely pleased with the events of your first outing with Prince Dejun, his advisors still believed it would be a beneficial match for the future of the kingdom—so you were allowed to continue your courtship with the prince.

With every meeting, you found your affection for the worldview he had given you growing. You were allowed to let yourself want for the first time. You wanted the ability to choose what you did with your life. You wanted to see what the rest of the world looked like outside of your room in the palace.

You wanted Dejun. And he wanted you, too.

But perhaps that grasp of freedom was something you didn't deserve. After all—at the end of the day, there wasn't truly any aspect of your life's path that you chose yourself. Even the idea of freedom was ludicrous. Everything was preordained for your life by the same gods (who you had been told since birth) that had put your father on the throne—to say or do otherwise was simply unthinkable. Heresy. A refusal of everything you had been put on this planet to do.

It had clearly been too long since you had any reminders of that fact—and so your father's advisors, moods changing like the tides of the ocean, provided you with one.

Your kingdom and the Xiaos found themselves in a trade standoff—the Xiao kingdom had the grain your kingdom so desperately needed after his soldiers had burned your farmlands down to the soil, but your father's advisors refused to pay what the Xiaos were demanding. They could get grain and cattle at a much lower price from the Qian kingdom to the south—not nearly as militarily advanced as the Xiaos, but a longtime ally of your father's, and a royal family with a son your age.

One too many insults were exchanged between families over tense negotiations—and so your courtship with Dejun was called off. Replaced with a hurried engagement to the prince of the Qian family, a man you'd never met.

And yet—you couldn't burn the roots of what Dejun had planted in you. Now more than ever, you wanted that freedom Dejun had promised you. You wanted the ability to lash out about this choice made for you, to scream at your uncaring father who only saw you as a political pawn to be used for the betterment of the nation.

But what could you do? You had been raised in a calculating way—everything you did was politics. Every choice you made was a stepping stone for your future—and not just yours. The future of your family, your lineage, your nation rested on your shoulders as the next in line for the throne. Who were you to just cast that aside? Run away with nothing but the hope Dejun would follow you? Would he follow you?

There was still a positive outcome, albeit a small one—you learned that while your relationship with Dejun had been broken for you, your kingdom's alliance with the Xiao family was not entirely lost. It was damaged enough to not want your families permanently intertwined, but not enough to go to war again—or more importantly to your circumstance, not damaged enough that their invitations to your family's yearly galas with the surrounding kingdoms had been rescinded.

A full year passed by the time your family hosted another gala, and it took all the self restraint you had mustered within you to not rush across the ballroom and hold him impossibly close to you when you finally, finally locked your gaze onto Dejun again for the first time in a year. You saw the way his eyes lit up when he saw you from the top of the staircase—the same way you had seen them shine all those years ago, when he had first introduced that damned idea of freedom into your stupidly impressionable mind. You wondered if anyone else in the ballroom could hear how loud your heart was pounding.

It took almost the entire evening, dancing with several other princes and high-ranking officials (the ones your advisors had informed you to charm for potential future alliances) before you were finally able to drag Dejun out of the ballroom, unnoticed, and into a nearby corridor.

You stared at each other for a moment. Then two.

Dejun whispered your name, as if saying it too loud would shatter the moment you've given him.

"I've missed you," you said. Ever the careful, political one—you'd ached with how much your mind and soul had missed Dejun, but you couldn't tell him that. What if he didn't feel the same? What if he didn't want to be seen with you, now that you were engaged to someone else? What if—

He leaned across, cupping your cheek in one hand and pressing his lips to yours in one singular, fluid motion.

Once again—Dejun had presented you with an opportunity you hadn't even thought of yourself. You had seen a door at the end of a hallway and thought it to be the only exit—and Dejun had shown you how to escape through a window.

The next two years of galas were the same—on one night a year, you'd entertain guests for hours, dancing until your feet were sore and mind swirling as you tried to remember everyone's name and affiliation and rank. None of it mattered once everyone retired to their guest suites, preparing for a long day of travel tomorrow, and you were free to slip away and spend the long hours of the night, unnoticed, with Dejun.

Each time, you heard a rock at your window as you were preparing for bed, and each time, you knew what it meant. You'd look outside to see a shining pair of eyes in the darkness, holding a single candle and beckoning you to follow. You'd end the evening as far away from the palace as you could get, tangled in Dejun's limbs underneath the moonlight, the two of you only pulling your cloaks back on and hurrying back in giggles when the first rays of morning sunlight were beginning to rise.

It's what you're doing now—heart racing as you ascend the final stair and make your way to the balcony before you. But this time will be different, you know. It has to be.

You're getting married next month to Prince Kun. You should have cut this tryst off before it even began—you know it will only continue to cause you and Dejun both heartache and suffering. And from what you hear, his own father's advisors have been hard at work finding an engagement for Dejun. It won't be long before you're both encumbered with marital duties.

All of this is at the tip of your tongue to tell him—and then he turns around from the balcony railing.

The moon frames his dark hair like a halo, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he sees you walking towards him—and oh, gods, how could you ever tell him anything of the sort? When he's running a soft hand through your hair and he's pulling your lips to his, when you're closing your eyes against him and letting him glide a hand down to the small of your back and press his chest to yours—when you're tasting freedom on his lips, how could you ever take that away? 

But the thought still haunts you when you're lying on your back beside him, miles away from the palace and watching the stars glitter in the sky above you. You know why neither of you have discussed the fact that you're engaged to Kun, that you'll be living in a palace in an entirely different kingdom after next month. Admitting that you need to have a discussion, after all, feels like admitting that this has to end.

Dejun stirs beside you—you had thought he was asleep. You turn on your side to look at him.

He smiles when he sees your face, and you can't fight a smile from tugging at your own lips. How can you give this up? "This is it," he says, suddenly, and you feel your stomach lurch—of course he'd be the one to acknowledge this. "Isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" you say, quietly—but the quiver in your voice betrays that you know his meaning all too well.

Dejun reaches across and intertwines his fingers with yours, bringing your connected hands up to his lips as he kisses each fingertip. "Did you want to never discuss it? To lie with me here, and then never see me again?"

You frown. "Of course not. But I don't exactly know how—"

"Run away with me," he says suddenly. "They'll never find us. We can go to the ends of the earth."

You laugh at how abrupt he is. "They'd find us, Dejun. Your father owns the greatest military in the world, and my father has spies on every inch of this continent. We'd never make it across either border."

He's insistent. "We have to try. I told you, all those years ago, that I want to be able to choose something for my life, something that's only mine. It's you, Y/N. I don't care where we are or what we're doing—I can't stand to be apart from you anymore."

His words strike your heart like daggers, but you still shake your head slowly—grabbing the hilt and driving the daggers in further yourself. "It's too late. Don't you see? It's not just my family that's depending on my choices now—the Qians are too. I can't turn my back on this anymore by just running away."

"And who decides that?" He shoots back. "None of this has been up to you. Don't you think you deserve a chance to choose a life for yourself?"

You don't know why it's never occurred to you before. It's a fantasy—all of this. Ever since the moment your courtship with Dejun was called off years ago, you've been in a child's delusion. The real world calls now, with all of its accompanying rules and responsibilities—you have no place allowing yourself to stay in this illusion anymore. There has to be another universe, a different life where the two of you were smart enough to never do anything this stupid, but it isn't this one. There's no substance to you and Dejun. "And in that life, I would do what? Continue to be a once-a-year tryst to you? Do you..." You take a sharp breath. "Do you love me, Dejun?"

He looks like you've stung him with your words—maybe you have. "You know how I feel about you, Y/N, I—"

"Can you say it?" Part of you is screaming internally for giving him an ultimatum like this, for probably ripping away the only respite you've ever had from your life in a cage—but you know that if you don't do it, it'll be done for you. Just like everything else.

"I..." he trails off, and you find yourself utterly afraid for what he might have said—because it might have convinced you.

And then he inhales again. Clenches his jaw. "Goodnight, Y/N."

Your heart sinks, but you swallow down the self-induced disappointment. "Goodnight, Dejun."

You don't think either of you sleep much that night. You watch the sun rise on the horizon hours later—beautiful, cheerful shades of pinks and oranges that are a perfect contrast to the knots of worry you can feel brewing in your stomach.

As you and Dejun hurry back (in silence) to the south side of the palace, you begin to slow at the gate behind the gardens. In the past, you've always stopped here to say your goodbyes before heading back into the palace on your own separate ways, as to not arouse suspicion.

Dejun never stops. He never even begins to slow down his walking pace. Instead, you watch him walk past you, through the gardens and into the side door into the scullery—and now you really can't shake this feeling that you've made a massive, unchangeable mistake.

You remember how much you once hated him—how to even hear the name Xiao Dejun made your stomach twist. Now, you think, you'd give anything to hear his name announced in the same room as you. And it may never happen again.

The month that follows your engagement with Qian Kun goes by in a blur. The wedding preparations, the attire, the food for the guests—it's all chosen for you, anyway, so why should you care? You silently mourn the loss of all things good and routine in your life that you'd come to cherish before—including Dejun.

The wedding itself is a different experience—mostly because you don't feel like you're even really there. Everything is just as you had rehearsed the day before; your father walks you down the aisle in full royal regalia. You stand beside Kun and recite your perfectly memorized vows. You touch your lips to his.

It’s a game, all of it—and you’ve been told every move to play.

You don't eat much at the reception, and your new husband seems to notice. He asks if you're not feeling well, if you need to leave early—and as much as you know you need to stay to keep up appearances, to maintain the alliances your father's advisors have so carefully crafted for you with this marriage—you can't help but nod yes.

Kun is too kind for his own good, you think. He briefly shows you around the royal wing of your new home, where you'll presumably be staying for the rest of your life, before opening the door to the bedroom at the end of the corridor. You expect him to follow you inside, so you're surprised when he moves to open the door again to leave.

He turns around, a small smile of understanding on his mouth. "I'll see you in the morning, Your Highness. When you're feeling better." He hesitates for only a brief moment before adding, "You don't have to keep up appearances around me. I hope you know that."

You don't know that, in all honesty—but you smile and nod gratefully anyway.

You let yourself sit in the silence of your room for a long while, comfortable with it in contrast to the loud reception you can still hear ongoing downstairs. You think about calling for help on undressing out of your royal wedding attire, but the thought of being alone is still far more appealing, even if it takes you an hour to get out of all these layers.

You've only undone two buttons when you hear a thump on the floor, right below the open window. It's a rock, you realize in disbelief as you bend down to take a closer look. You hold it under the candlelight, and you finally recognize the familiar scrawled ink across the surface.

I love you.

You lean over the window, heart pounding so loud you can hear it rushing in your ears—and you see him. He hasn't even dismounted from the horse he must have ridden to the castle on, one hand still clutching the reins, other hand waving in the air to catch your attention.

Dejun's face lights up when he sees you, and you suddenly feel that same lightness in your chest the instant you see it. Like you'd never even left his side.

You grab the candle on your nightstand and bring it by the window to see him better, and it's then that you begin to hear what he's been saying—not yelling, thankfully, to ensure any wedding goers won't hear. But you don't even think you'd mind now, as you lean further out of the window and finally hear it from his own lips.

I love you.

You think about what he said only a month ago, an echo of the things he'd said to you when you were younger. That you deserve to choose.

You think that while there is a lifetime where you were smart enough to never do anything this stupid, there must also be another where you are brave enough to run away—to be in love, to choose with your own mind to leave behind everything you've known for each other. For something that you both know would last.

Maybe there's a part of you that thinks that lifetime can be this one—that they're one and the same. That some part of you still longs to be that foolish, and that brave.

You cup your hands around your mouth and call down to him—your answer to tonight's unspoken question.

I love you too.

a/n: feedback is always welcome through reblogs, comments, and messages 💛 thank you sm for reading!

taglist: @petrichor-han @kangroo-chan @ot7lonelylover @lilacdreams-00 @mainexiii @awkwardnesshabitat @lotus-dly @elizabeth11moreno @nerdysl-t @seung-scrittore

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[ronjunnie]

HENDERY FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

SERIES

ONESHOTS

mine for the summer (26.7k)

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TIMESTAMPS

#nct #wayv #nct hendery #wayv hendery #hendery #wong kunhang #hendery x reader #hendery wayv #nct kunhang #hendery imagines #hendery scenarios #hendery timestamps #hendery fluff #hendery smut #hendery angst #nct magines #nct scenarios #nct timestamps #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv timestamps #nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #wayv fluff #wayv angst #wayv smut

[yangsrose]

a fool in love

pairing: non idol!hendery x reader

word count: 298 words

warnings: none

authors notes: this was kind of random and honestly i switched it between three different members and four different ideas but i hope it came out well!!

Hendery hated cliches. He hated the over generalised assumptions that people had of certain topics, especially relationships. He hated when people said that their heart stopped whenever they saw their significant other, mainly because he never seemed to understand how people would go about their day after one of their main ways of surviving stopped after seeing a person.

That thought process changed however, shortly after he met you. Hendery never understood how the mere presence of someone was enough to floor him, but after meeting you, he finally seemed to understand the breathless feeling that others claimed to be be a victim of. He remembers the way that he was shaking profusely during your first date, feeling as if his heart would stop at every moment of eye contact that the two of you made with each other.

He remembers the way that he used to hate the lovesick sigh and stare off into space that people did, but after meeting you, he finally understood how the mention of your name would be enough to make him turn slightly red and smile widely, despite everything that he said he would never do when he got into a relationship.

Hendery knew that he was being highly hypocritical of his past self, and knew that if he was to come from the past, he would have definitely done anything in his ability to stop you two from meeting. But now, even though he was trailing behind you like a lovesick puppy, he couldn't remember anytime where he had felt happier than how he felt in the moment. Because with you, he was fine being called a lovesick fool and embarrassing himself in front of his friends, as long as it meant that he got to spend it with you.

#kflixnet #kvanity #nct reactions #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct fluff #nct angst #nct imagines #wayv reactions #wayv scenarios #wayv drabbles #wayv angst #wayv fluff #wayv imagines #hendery reactions #hendery imagines #hendery scenarios #hendery drabbles #hendery fluff #hendery angst #nct #wayv #nct u #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #kpop drabbles #kpop fluff #kpop angst #kpop imagines #kpop

[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

[layuhsblog]

winwin x reader angst? :3

Hii thankyou for requesting, i hope you like it! Lemme know if you want a part 2.

The Surprise- Winwin X Reader

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions fire, no animal was hurt, a cat named Panko, reader is clumsy, winwin being a meanie.

also please dispose broken glass in a safe box or anything so that incase wild animals search through it they dont get hurt

You were in the kitchen, making Sicheng's favourite food for dinner, humming to yourself. You were in a great mood today considering how it was Sicheng and your 1 year anniversary. He was coming over in an hour.

You hadn't wished him yet, hoping to surprise him.

Sicheng always took care of you well and the past year had been the best year of your life. You wanted to return the favour and make today special for him. Stirring the pot, you took some broth in a small spoon and blew on it to taste it. Everything had to be perfect today.

Half an hour later you were done preparing for dinner, you set the table. Lit up the scented candles you bought together and went to take a bath.

Just before you could take your robe off and step into the bath you heard a crash sound and you immediately ran towards it.

Your cat, Panko had knocked over the candle; setting fire to the tablecloth. The cutlery you put down were all on the floor, plates shattered everywhere.

You ran towards your cat, picking her up in your arms, first checking if she was hurt anywhere. The fire alarm was now beeping rapidly. Panicked you ran outside your apartment and took the emergency extinguisher to put the fire out.

Thankfully both your cat and your apartment was alright. You reacted quickly and put her inside your room and closed the door so she doesnt get hurt 'cus of the broken plates.

When you sat on the floor to pick up the big pieces of glass into an empty cardboard box and you finally broke down. The adrenaline rush subsiding. You didn't even realise your hand got a little burn in the whole process. You quickly calmed yourself down and reassured yourself that you were quick enough that nothing went wrong.

Just then Winwin came home tired from practice. He was in a fowl mood as he got scolded by Kun for being distracted while practicing. He was also upset because you did not remember your anniversary.

When you texted him to come home early, he had hopes. Maybe you'll surprise him or something. Even if you forgot he was expecting to atleast have a nice dinner with you and go to sleep but this was far from what expected.

The house smelt like smoke, broken plates on the floor, you kneeling beside it, eyes swollen like you had been crying

"Babe, w-what happened, why does the house smell like smoke?!" he ran towards you

"I went to take a bath and Panko knocked over the candle that was on the table. I should've been more careful. she's not h-"

Sicheng couldn't help it, in his poor defence he was tired. Before he could think about what he wanted to say, before he could check up on you or Panko, his mouth moved faster than he could help it,

"What the fuck is wrong with you?! How can you be so fucking irresponsible? You can't even remember our anniversary or take care of a fucking cat. What if she got hurt? Would you come crying to me for that too? I'm tired of cleaning up your messes ___. Can you even handle a relationship? You can't even look after yourself."

You couldn't believe the words coming out of him right now.

You stood up in anger,

"I didn't know you felt that way Sicheng. I'm sorry you've had to parent me this whole time. I'll set you free if its really that big of a problem. Happy fucking anniversary. I'll get Panko and the rest of my stuff in the morning, yknow considering how if I take her right now I "might end up not taking care of her properly." By the way, we're okay. Thanks for asking." You spat out. Taking your car keys and without sparing him a second glance, you left. You cannot let anyone disrespect you this way.

He heard the door shut behind him. It finally dawned upon him what he had done. Too ashamed to follow after you, he started cleaning up the room. When he went to the kitchen he saw the pot that had his favourite dish and a bunch of side dishes on the counter. There was a half written letter by the side in broken Chinese characters;

'I will always love you Sicheng, thankyou for everything you do for me. I wanted to pay you back with a surprise. I'm taking Mandarin and Wenzhounese lessons so you can speak comfortably with me. Happy anniver-'

He took a sharp breath after reading that letter as he realised how badly he messed up.

#nct dream fluff #nct dream #nct fluff #nct 127 #writers on tumblr #anime #nct wayv #wayv #wayv imagines #wayv angst #wayv fluff #winwin wayv #dong sicheng #sicheng wayv

[babbymochiiii]

Would love a part 2 for ten's on my youth😭

ON MY YOUTH: TEN LEE pt. 2

↪︎pairing: idol! Ten x ngs! reader

↪︎genre: angst

↪︎warnings: crying, missing one another, more crying, confrontation, minor yelling, even more crying...it's a lot of painful memories for these two folks, some sort of a hopeful outcome for the two..?

↪︎requested: YES [✔️] NO [ ]

↪︎ word count: 1.7k words

↪︎synopsis: ten goes to your apartment to speak to you in person about everything that is going on between the two of you...will things clear up between you both?

link to part 1 🤎

note ⭐️: hello to my first anon! 🥰 here’s part 2 for you babes MWAH 😚🖤

requests/ask open! ✨

divider credit @iluvrei 🖤

“Can we talk?” 

You felt your entire body freeze at the sound of his voice being muffled by the door that stands between the two of you.  

A sigh is heard from him along with something else that you couldn’t quite catch. “Listen...I know you're on the other side of the door, and honestly, I don’t blame you for not wanting to open the door.” He gently speaks out.  

“I really need to talk to you. I get you don’t want to talk to me after what I did, I could’ve texted you, but I want to do this in person…please.” His voice cracked at the end causing your hammering heart to break a little to see how affected he is by this as you are.  

Contemplating between if you should answer the door or not, your body had a different reaction than what you planned. You subconsciously opened the door to find yourself facing Ten with tears pooling in your eyes.  

A sudden wetness falls onto your face as you look upon the light tinge of red around Ten’s eyes and just the way he looked so tired.  

“y/n…” Ten spoke softly as he looked at you. Truly looking at you and seeing how you mirror his own expression as well. Tired and completely broken.  

Before you could respond, you felt arms crushing you against their owner’s chest as they pulled you into a comforting hug that missed so much. Feeling Ten’s arms around you, his scent, just everything about him makes you completely break down once again.  

Stuttered shushing sounds come from Ten as he holds you close to him. Cradling your head as he places soft kisses on the top of your head as be too cried softly with you.  

You pulled away from Ten, everything being too much for your heart as he held you so close.  

“Why — why do you want to talk now?” You questioned him as you tried to calm down and wipe at the tears still falling down your eyes.  

“I want to make things right.” Ten said as he gulps down the painful lump in his throat that he knew was from trying to hold back as many tears as he could.  

You looked at ten for a few seconds before softly nodding your head and letting him inside of your apartment.  

Ten slowly made his way to the couch. His eyes scanned the area as nostalgic memories ran through his mind causing a small smile to play on his lips.  

A soft familiar murmur of a sound catches his attention to where he looks down to see your phone still on and playing his group’s recent album. What struck him is that it was playing “On My Youth”. He felt his face heat up at the thought of you listening to the song.  

Ten felt himself suck in a breath as he looked towards you where you looked at him with a thin smile as you too waited for his reaction.  

“Y-you listened to the song?” Ten asks slowly as he brought his attention back to the phone and then slowly looked back at you.  

“Yeah…” you trailed off softly as you walked over and gently took hold of your phone and pausing the song.  

Silence wrapped around the two of you as it did in the practice room where you both last saw one another.  

You both spoke up at the same time to say something, but closed your mouths as you didn’t want to interrupt one another.  

You felt your face flush in embarrassment as you looked down to your feet before you looked up at Ten again, and saw that he too felt embarrassed at the way the tip of his ears flushed an alarming red.  

Silence once again surrounds the two of you, both not knowing what to say or how to approach the situation.  

“Ten— “  

“I regret what I did to you…” Ten blurts out, interrupting your sentence.  

You felt your eyebrows crease together, creating small folds between one another as you wait for what else ten has to say.  

A small sigh escapes from Ten as he takes hold of the border of his shirt and starts to fold it around his fingers, a nervous habit that he tends to have. “I…regret everything I have wronged you for. You are worth so much more than for how I’ve treated you since I’ve came back from the tour. I know that I have no excuses, therefore I’m not really sure how to tell you this without making you double guess our whole relationship. But what I did, I honestly thought was for the best— “  

“Ten…” you sighed out as you felt the hot tears stinging your eyes.  

“Please, hear me out…” ten said as he too started to feel his tears sting fiercely at his eyes. “I thought it was for the best because I wasn’t always with you. And yes, you waited for me like the absolute fucking wonderful woman you are. I felt like I was weighing you down from the things you could be doing with your friends and how you can meet new people.” Ten choked at the end causing him to look down at the floor trying not to let you see him cry.  

“I thought what I was doing was selfless. That I was doing the absolute best for you and what was in your best interest.”  

“You won’t know what it’s my best interest if you don’t ask me!” You cried out as you pointed towards yourself, feeling all the emotions from that die rise up within you again but all you could truly feel was sadness. Just general sadness due to the situation. “How could you say you’re being selfless when it’s the most selfish thing you’ve done in our relationship?” You questioned as you stepped closer to him and pointed an accusing finger his way.  

“Selfish?” Ten gasped as he looks at you a confused-frowned look on his face. “How is that being selfish!?” Ten countered as he looked at you with genuine confusion.  

You felt your blood boil at the fact that he couldn’t see from where you were coming from. “You made that decision! Not me, you! You decided what was best for me without talking to me!” You said as you started to lightly jab your finger into his shoulder to drive your point further.  

“You ignored me!”  

“Because you ignored me! How was I supposed to know that you wanted to talk to me when all you did was give me the coldest fucking shoulder ever!” You shouted as you started to feel somewhat dizzy because of the whole ordeal as new emotions began to surround the two of you.  

“Y/n please— “  

“No, you listen to me now!” You cried as you pushed at his shoulders with the palm of your hand. “You broke me into tiny fucking pieces for those long months and not once did you even bat an eye when I needed you most!”  

“I was distancing myself!” Ten defended.  

“Distancing yourself!? Why? Because you were being “selfless”?” You air quoted towards him, continuing to let the anger inside of you take control of the situation.  

“Baby please— “  

“Don’t baby me! I’m not your baby anymore!” You cried as you felt the anger turn into tears the more you kept fighting him. “I’m not your partner anymore! You have no right— “you sobbed as you fisted Ten’s shirt into the palm of your hands as the emotional pain was too much to bear. “—you have no right to call me that name or any pet and at that point.”  

“I want you back.” Ten softly spoke out above the sounds of your sobs.  

This causes you to quiet down significantly enough that it causes you to look up in confusion. “You what?” You said as you continued to cry but tried to calm down as you tried to listen to what he had to say.  

“I want you back, y/n. I was being selfish yes…I was distancing myself but all it did was making me want you more than ever before. I love you. I can’t stop thinking about you and the way you are just so perfect…I’ve been in such deep regret it’s not fair.” Ten cries as he takes hold of your face in between his hands just admiring your facial features as if it was his first time.  

 “It’s not fair, that I can’t have you the way I used to. Call you whenever. Text you and send you the most random things I can find.” A small laugh escapes his mouth as more tears fall down his eyes. “You are my world, and I broke you into tiny pieces that not even myself can pick it up because of how much damage I’ve done you.”  

“I’m so sorry y/n. Please, you don’t have to accept it. I just want you to know that everything I’ve done to you since then has been nothing, but excuses and I want to make up for it to you baby.” Ten said as he rubbed away the tears that have silently fallen from your eyes.  

“How do you expect me to trust you again?” You cried harder as you felt your heart tug at his words, but you felt so conflicted knowing you wanted to be with him but the fact you couldn’t find a way to trust him just yet.  

“We can work on it. I-I— “ten stuttered as he felt his heart break at the utter sadness and broken expression on your face. “—I’ll work on myself." he whispered.  

Ten closed his eyes and placed his forehead against yours gently. “I’ll work on myself, then I’ll come back and gain your trust. I want you to fully trust me and know that I love you. I can’t stand knowing that it won’t be the same as before, but it happens. Everything and everyone change but I can’t have you hating me.” He gently whispered.  

“Please wait for me.” Ten cried as he placed a tender kiss on your forehead.  

“I’ll wait for you.”  

ahhhh what for you guys think??? writing this honestly hurt my soul ✋🏼😩

should there be a part 3 or just leave it as is? 🤔 genuinely curious to see what y’all think…

as you know requests/asks is open! don’t be shy and lemme know what y’all think or want done 😚🖤

With so much love from me to you MWAH MWAH 🖤

#( on my youth ten lee ) #nct #nct ten #wayv ten #ten chittaphon #wayv angst #nct angst #angst with a hopeful ending #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop idol #on my youth #crying

[moonlezn]

nightwalker o conto

𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔 𝖜𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖜 𝖑𝖎𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖞𝖔𝖚

este não é um conto feliz.

monster!ten x mermaid!reader

#nct pt br #nct br au #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct fluff #wayv scenarios #ten scenarios #nct angst #wayv angst #ten angst #ten x reader #wayv x reader #nct imagines #nct fanfics #nct fics #wayv imagines #wayv fanfics #ten imagines #ten fanfics