#ft. yves

[hvndredbattles]

Content warning: The following includes canon-typical violence for the CoD franchise, including non-graphic treatment of an injury, and descriptions of CPR

I wrote this for @brvo6 on my other blog, and am shuffling it and the two companion pieces over, with some updates! <3

Reflexes alone save him from the shrapnel that had been the table across the room and everything that had been on it. Duke hits the deck with fractions of a second to spare, arms coming up to shield his head. He feels rather than hears dust and chunks of wall raining down around him.

His ears ring in the aftermath of the explosion. The earpiece for his radio crackles to life with voices, but they're muddled, difficult to make out over the high whine.

His left arm hisses a quiet protest (graze, keep moving) as he pushes himself back to his feet.

Still blinking dust out of his eyes, Duke pulls his rifle up, swinging the barrel toward the door. The assault he expects to follow the blast isn't forthcoming. No grenades. No hostiles. Nothing but-

but a hole in the wall that hadn't been there before. Nothing but a hole in the wall leading into the room Price had gone into.

"Captain!"

(It had been clear. The room had been fucking clear-)

"Price!"

"-ta Zero-Four, Bravo Zero-Six, how copy?" It doesn't sound like the first time Ghost has tried for them on the radio.

"Delta-Four, copy," Duke grunts into his radio. "Hold for Bravo-Six."

He steps over the remains of a chair and through the hole into the next room. Or, rather, what's left of it.

"Fucking hell."

Whatever had gone off, Duke has little doubt as to where the origin point had been. Twisted, torn metal is half-fused to the floor, where it hasn't been blasted apart and away entirely. It might have been some kind of storage receptacle, before it had become debris. "Price!"

There's no blood. It would be comforting, if the room weren't also full of half the goddamn ceiling.

He flicks his radio to keep his comms line open so he can dig and report at the same time, "Partial ceiling collapse. They knew we were coming. Keep it tight, prepare for retaliation. Someone had to have heard that." He grunts as he rolls a slab of concrete toward him and off the pile.

"The captain?"

"Still lookin', Soap."

Every small shift of the rubble has Duke freezing, waiting in horrible moments of stillness to see if he's made a wrong move and brought the whole pile in on itself.

From out of the silence, Gaz reports, "Think I've got something."

Oh, good. Because if they'd had anything here before, they sure as fuck don't now. "We take everything. Elis can make sense of it all back at the FOB," is Duke's clipped response. He's the only person with proper medical specialization on this fucking op. Dread tastes bitter in his mouth.

"Incoming tangos, northern ridge. Wrap it up, sergeants."

Fuck.

"Delta-Four to Watcher-One, how copy?"

Price has to be at the bottom of this goddamn rubble. Duke wants to throttle someone.

"Solid copy, Delta-Four, send traffic."

"Still no eyes on Bravo-Six. Anticipating need for medevac. Requesting permission to escalate to weapons free status."

He has no room to feel any particular way about Laswell's beat of silence on the other end of the line. They're moments away from hostile engagement, they have no clue if they've actually managed any actionable intelligence gathering from this, and he's still-

Shoulder.

"Confirmed, weapons free. Good hunting, boys."

"Price-" He still has to be fucking careful, slow in the removal of concrete and whatever-the-fuck else. Shoulder and chest and blood. And Price is too still.

Laswell prompts, "Lieutenant? What's his status?" when Duke fails to elaborate.

The velcro of Price's tac vest clings stubbornly to itself. He struggles to get a proper grip with the way it grabs at his gloves.

Price's chest isn't moving.

Colorful swears and teeth-in-glove-fingers later, Duke's bare hands rip the straps open. The velcro can protest all it goddamn wants.

"Lieutenant."

(Duke doesn't even think to bristle at Ghost acting like he had rank to stand on, to call for him like that.)

"Need that medevac. Urgent." Fucking- decomp needle- That hiss of air is going to fucking haunt him, despite it technically being an improvement on the situation.

Price's chest doesn't expand again.

"Gaz, Yves, southeast stairwell, third floor, second door on the right." He interlaces the fingers of his left hand over those of his right. Small rocks (fucking debris) dig into his knees as he shifts into position. "Beginning compressions."

"Compressions?"

"Little busy, Gaz." Yes, compressions. "Watcher-"

"I'm here."

"Medevac's gonna need to come to us." A rib cracks under his weight. Richie doesn't dare stop. "Ghost, coordinate?"

"Rog."

He lets it all fade to background noise, aware only vaguely of adjusted positions, and Ghost and Laswell's voices as they plot the team's exfil. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

"Come on, you stubborn motherfucker," he mutters.

Price tastes of smoke and blood.

There's a horribly rumpled index card (rescued from the recycling bin for their little back-and-forth) carefully tucked into his gear, Price's neat print outlining a plan for a night out when they get back.

"Don't you fucking dare." Don't you fucking dare die on me now. You owe me a drink. He owes him more than that.

(Repeat.)

(Repeat.)

Gaz drops into his line of sight, knelt on Price's opposite side to take stock. He doesn't look up to check, but Duke has faith that Yves is posted up at the door, covering them.

"I'm headin' down the hill. We'll hold your position until evac. Gaz, need you to cover me."

"On it."

Thirty.

One.

Two.

(Repeat.)

The sergeants chatter calls around him. Solid pops of Gaz's gun punctuate his shots as he dutifully covers Ghost's descent from his position as Overwatch.

All at once, this quiet snatch-and-grab is an all-out firefight.

Thirty.

One.

Two.

Ghost's familiar skull mask dips into view. "It's gonna be tight."

"They're too close now-" He isn't fucking leaving-

"I know."

(By all rights, by training, they're meant to. Leave Price, that is. He's non-responsive, and with Richie administering aid, they're down two guns, they have no idea if they have what they came for-)

Richie catches sight of the downward twist to Ghost's mouth out of the corner of his eye before the dark shape that is the other lieutenant looms closer.

"Swap."

"Ghost-"

"It's been minutes, you need to rest. Go again in a few."

Duke sits back on his heels only when skeleton-glove-clad hands are already laced together, Ghost ready to take the next compression.

Fuck.

His knees protest as he pushes himself to his feet.

If this room had been rigged to kill, maybe there's something still in it worth taking.

This trip will be fucking worth it, even if he has to rip the value from the foundations.

"Exfil is three minutes out."

"Copy."

[odilestpierre]

Odile: I think it alternates, Yves. Odile: [ VARDEN IS REMOVED FROM THE CHAT ] Odile: Yes, by £1. Odile: I'm trying to decide whether you're worth the extra...big decisions, Jean, very, very big.

Yves: [ VARDEN IS ADDED TO THE CHAT ] Yves: Wait, which one of you in supposed to be the high class call girl? I'm finding it hard to tell.

[jaes1lvr]

♡ i think we could do it if we tried

if only to say youre mine @dovedi ♡

[loonavrsl]

240531 Music Bank Interview with ARTMS

[rhyves]

FLASHBACK ( 3/3 ) *

la pregunta lo lleva a alzar las cejas, una expresión de duda gestándose en su semblante. frunciendo los labios, intenta darle una respuesta sincera. ' bueno... ¿una... casa con un gran jardín? que tenga un árbol para colgar un columpio ' señala, enumerando las ideas. ' con vista al mar, quizás... mmh, desde que estoy en la isla, me he dado cuenta de que el aire se siente más limpio cuando vives cerca de la costa' ahí sonríe, comenzando a entusiasmarse. ' que tenga un estudio donde poder dibujar y pintar, y donde siempre se escuche mucha, mucha música. en la noche, me subiría al techo y miraría las estrellas~ y me inventaría alguna cosa con ellas, porque parece que en la isla siempre cambian de lugar. ¿te has dado cuenta?' le pregunta, ese brillo peculiar que aparece cuando habla de cosas que le emocionan apareciendo en sus ojos oscuros. una risita escapa al oírle, y con cariño, presiona las manos en la mejillas opuestas, buscando sosegar sus inquietudes. ' a mí también me cuesta entenderlo~' le dice, y no miente. ' en realidad, dejé de complicarme intentando encontrarle un sentido a todo. pienso que lo que yo vea e interprete es igual de valioso' afirma, asintiendo. ' así que no te preocupes demasiado por eso. mientras lo que veas y sientas funcione para ti, entonces nunca será incorrecto' y acompaña su afirmación con un asentimiento, apuntando a una obra. ' por ejemplo, a todos les encanta esa obra de ese tipo de ahí. que los colores, que esto y eso. a mí me parece que solo es un viejo borracho y barbón que no destaca mucho' luego se echa reír, antes de acabar rodeando sus hombros con sus brazos. ' mh... es que... a veces me aburren las pinturas de los museos. y hay muchos artistas geniales que nunca se hicieron famosos. ¿no es una pena que hayan cosas que nunca veremos por solo ir a los sitios que todo el mundo conoce?' afirma, con toda la confianza del mundo. de cierto modo, le causa regocijo que stevie pueda entender ese hecho, que le guste eso de sí.

caricias en el cuello opuesto se mantienen y sus dedos recorren en ascenso hasta que encuentra los cabellos de su nuca, en donde se hunde como si fuese un paraje que ya conoce, enredándose entre las oscuras hebras. un suspiro suave huye de sus labios y pronuncia el nombre opuesto en un susurro cuando los labios que presionan contra su boca viajan para dejar su rastro sobre distintos puntos de su rostro, un cosquilleo gestándose en cada una de las zonas que el mayor besa con tanto cuidado, un cuidado tan cálido como la caricia de una brisa en verano. un cuidado que nunca antes había experimentado —o más bien, que nunca permitió que le diesen, o que no se permitió recibir, quizás porque nunca pensó que merecía ser tocado de esa forma. ' mh...' es lo único que dice en respuesta a todas las cosas que el contrario susurra, cada pequeña afirmación que en ese momento está impaciente por hacer cierta, como si olvidase por completo el lugar en donde se encuentra ahora mismo. cada sentencia otorgada con tanta veneración y afecto consigue despertar un hormigueo anhelante en su sistema, fluyendo y encendiendo la piel de su rostro. ' a mí también... me gustaría mucho eso ' le dice entonces en un tono bajito, y sus manos aprietan y arrugan la camisa que el otro lleva puesta, sintiéndola casi como un estorbo. también quiere sentirle y tocarlo; abrazarse hasta que no exista ninguna distancia posible, fundirse en la calidez que le proporciona el mayor, memorizar el perfume que utiliza y que justo ahora puede percibir de forma tan sencilla hasta que quede impregnado en la punta de su nariz. es más fácil ahora, cuando el mayor se esconde en su cuello y yves puede enterrar parte de su propio rostro en la frondosidad de su cabello. todo esto que está experimentando lo sobrepasa, va mucho más allá de cualquier plan o expectativa que hubiese tenido antes. ¿y acaso no era perfecto? ser tocado así, abrazado así, besado así, amado así. sentir que podía confiar en alguien con tanta facilidad que incluso podría derrumbarse en sus brazos sin sentir miedo alguno. tampoco dice nada cuando han conseguido esconderse bajo la conveniente protección de aquella escalera, que oculta a la perfección sus figuras tan unidas como dos sombras que se funden como una sola. su boca presiona con la opuesta y busca contacto y profundidad, tira del labio ajeno y se humedece sin que le de importancia, su propia lengua yendo en búsqueda de la opuesta, una invitación a que le recorra tanto como él lo hace. la respiración queda en segundo plano cuando solo piensa en besar y besar, cuando sus pies se estiran y las puntas apenas pueden sostenerlo en el suelo mientras su único respaldo es el cuerpo del mayor y la pared detrás de sí, donde esta cómodamente atrapado. tiene que separarse solo unos segundo para respirar, y sus brazos nunca dejan de rodear los hombros opuestos, nunca dejan de atraerle mientras parece rogar en silencio que no le suelte, tirando de su labio inferior y dejando una mordidita pequeña y traviesa.

hay tanta necesidad, anhelo, deseo, y más... emociones allí que se aglomeran y forman una espiral de sensaciones que su pulso se desemboca, tan acelerado que parece la anticipación perfecta de como está por perder el rumbo de su corazón. a lo mejor ya lo hizo (y no le importa). parpadeando, apenas puede abrir los ojos cuando el mayor se separa. carmines permanecen entreabiertos mientras se esfuerza por recuperar el aire perdido, la separación provocando que su boca húmeda se perciba fría, extrañando la calidez que había dejado la opuesta sobre ella. la declaración impropia lo entumece, hace que los latidos solo se incrementen y siente que el pecho le pesa; duele y se suaviza al mismo tiempo. es como una contradicción de sentimientos y no sabe como gestionarlos, mucho menos ordenarlos o entenderlos. hay mucho allí que todavía tiene que dilucidar y mucho que ya identifica perfectamente y aguarda por el momento en que lo verbalice, consciente de que hay una sola cosa que lo detiene. una risita baja escapa y su frente se presiona con la opuesta, pensándose un tonto por la forma en que el contrario consigue tan fácilmente hacer que se sienta tímido y vulnerable. es como si no fuese él mismo, o quizás sí lo es, y es la parte de sí que no había querido ver. ' entonces no tiene sentido seguir recorriendo ' dice en un susurro, porque fácilmente podría quedarse allí en su compañía, conforme con solo abrazarse y besar de una forma que se siente casi natural. ' tú también me gustas mucho' le dice, y sus manos se elevan para acariciarle el cabello, sus dedos trazando formas con los mismos en un trato gentil, su nariz dejando una caricia sobre la opuesta. volviendo a unir sus labios, su pecho todavía agitado por todo el encuentro previo, mientras una sola cosa da vueltas en su cabeza. un miedo que ha mantenido escondido, la realización de algo en lo que no quiere pensar pero no puede seguir postergando por demasiado tiempo. no cuando todo lo que está pasando con el mayor se está volviendo más y más concreto, incluso si todavía no han tenido la intención (o quizás la oportunidad) de nombrarlo. ' stevie—' le llama justo contra su boca, provocando que el aliento se entremezcle. separándose un poquito del beso mientras sus brazos siguen rodeando sus hombros, la parte trasera de su cabeza presiona con la pared y observa al contrario desde la escasa distancia, sus narices unidas como si la promesa de otro encuentro entre sus bocas estuviese tentando el espacio. pero ahí, entremedio de todas esas emociones, el recuerdo de lo que tiene qué hacer, por qué está aquí, y por qué ha venido a la clave lo persigue, y le hace sentir pánico. y quiere decir la verdad, quiere decir qué es lo que sucederá cuando los juegos de la clave terminen y él tenga que cumplir con lo pactado, como tendrá que desaparecer sin dejar rastro. como comienza a aterrarle esa realidad ahora que lo conoce y han compartido todo este tiempo juntos. pero no puede hacerlo. las palabras dan vueltas, pero al final, hay otra cosa diferente que escapa de sus labios. la misma sale sincera, suave, tan dolorosamente real que se sobrepone a todo lo que iba antes. se apresura y se vuelve palabras porque quizás podría hacerle renunciar a todo eso, incluso si sabe que no es tan sencillo, que sus posibilidades son escasas. pero es la verdad, tan simple y tan cierta como la mirada llena de afecto que le dedica. ' te quiero.' / @stevvvies

' espero que estas personas hayan encontrado su razón para quedarse. ' quita por unos segundos su vista de la pintura para mirar a quien tiene a su lado, la más sincera de sus sonrisas apareciendo en su rostro. tantas veces han hablado sobre escapar a una isla y siempre piensa lo mismo: yves sería su razón para quedarse. ' ¿cómo sería tu sitio ideal? siempre hablamos del mío. ' con gatos y música, combinados en una cafetería que él atiende pero donde solo los clientes más especiales pueden escuchar sus bromas. en ningún momento le preguntó como sería su isla y le da un poco de culpa. ' me marea un poco que hayan tantas interpretaciones de una sola cosa. creo que nunca voy a entender realmente todo esto. ' le duele un poco tener que admitirlo cuando sabe que es algo importante para él. siente, también, que tiene una visión más pesimista y no podría apreciar realmente la belleza y los mensajes escondidos en cada lienzo. se quedaría siempre con lo malo, como la decepción de llegar a un lugar tan esperado y que no cumpla con tus expectativas. ' no eres entonces de esos pretenciosos que solo disfrutan de lo que ven en museos. ' no conoce muchos así, por suerte, pero toda una vida creciendo entre los pasillos de los hoteles de su familia permitió que se cruce con un par. ' me gusta que siempre encuentres algo que destacar en los lugares más inesperados. '

ser tuyo, dice yves, y sus piernas tiemblan, porque es la primera vez que siente que alguien realmente quiere estar con él. y es mutuo el sentimiento, a él también le gusta ser del otro corvus y si bien pensar en qué podría llegar a pasar entre ellos dos le da un poco ( bastante ) de nervios, está emocionado por todo lo que tienen por delante. ' me parece un excelente plan. ' le encantan, le fascinan las caricias en su cuello. el contacto físico nunca fue lo suyo y siempre pensó que él era el problema, ahora entiende que nunca se sintió lo suficientemente cómodo con otra persona como para permitirlo. le encanta como yves siempre encuentra lugar entre sus brazos y le encanta como se siente la piel del menor bajo sus dedos. su respuesta nunca sale, se pierde entre los labios contrarios, sus manos dejando de lado la mariposa de su espalda para bajar hasta su cintura, manteniéndolo en su lugar. cuando sus bocas se separan, se toma la libertad de buscar otro espacio para besar, primero su mejilla, después su mentón, para terminar en su cuello. ' quiero ver ese tatuaje que tanto me gusta y todos los demás. ' comienza a decir en voz bajita, su rostro escondido en la piel contraria. ' quiero admirarte y apreciarte como a la pintura de recién, quiero tenerte entre mis brazos toda la noche. ' y es que al final es su compañía y su cercanía lo que más disfruta. lo extraña incluso cuando no comparten algo tan simple como un chat, no quiere pensar en qué significa eso. ' qué suerte la mía. debo ser la envidia de muchos. ' no merece realmente tan buen trato y ser quien ocupe su tiempo, en este lugar y en otros. yves es como el rayo de sol más cálido del día y no quiere compartirlo con nadie más. deja que lo guíe y lleve donde quiera, total lo seguiría a cualquier parte de este museo y del mundo. podría ahora mismo pedirle ir a citera y lo acompañaría sin problema. no se fija mucho de en donde están, lo único que puede ver es al menor y está seguro de que hay corazones y estrellas en sus ojos ahora mismo. ' me parece perfecto. ' no dice mucho más, no quiere perder el tiempo hablando. una vez más lo toma por su cintura y despacito lo empuja contra la pared más cercana, con cuidado de no golpear su cabeza. sus bocas nunca se separan, es más, la suya se abre y le da permiso de que la recorra como quiera. quiere más y más, no le importa que puedan ser vistos por otro. ' yves. ' susurra cuando intenta recuperar un poco su respiración, su pecho agitado. ' me gustas demasiado, ¿qué voy a hacer? no me importa que me muestres hoy, tú eres mi obra favorita. '

[wreckonism]

for : @nyytro / lucia !

      " you're too pretty to be hangin' out with that crew. " yves wasn't the most in-tune with the politics of all. it was work, and the prowlers were her most loyal clients. but, it couldn't hurt to prod, to see what happens if they hit that special sore spot. " those are your boys with their weak game over there ? couldn't tell if it was them or if we got crashed by a group of kids. if the way they spit indicates how well they drive, then, well ... "

[ctrlerrcr]

@ track-one \ 4 yves ( @wreckonism )

there was something oddly comforting about watching people that weren't apart of either of the crews race. calliope would find herself at track-one more than she'd like to admit, the atmosphere almost bringing her back to when she'd go to nascar races with her parents when she was just a kid. her eyes tracked the cars, watching as they made laps and seemingly mechanically-analyzing the things that were also going wrong with the cars. watching these races ( you know, the sanctioned ones ) also made calliope a better mechanic, at least that's what she told herself. " that cars breaks are going out, " the comment is said outloud as she starts to chew on her bottom lip. " he's not slowing down enough on the curves, at least, i think he's not ... maybe i'm going crazy though ! " she looks over, curious about whose ear she had been talking off. " my names calliope, by the way ! i think we've met though ? you seem familliar ... "

[sndersun]

"i never wondered what this could be , i just fuck you and leave , you never wanted nothing from me ."

[rhyves]

' ¿sí?' la mirada va hasta el vape, los ojos medio pesados por los efectos de lo que sea que ande dando vueltas en sistema. no ve los colores por alguna razón, o diría que ve muchos y ningunos al mismo tiempo. ¿le dio sinestesia? ' ¿y qué pasa si no quiero? ¿qué harás? ' responde de pronto, desafiante. le mira allí, frunciendo los labios, una pierna sobre la otra que se balancea en el aire y dedicándole una mirada burlona. cuando el otro se acerca, sus dedos siguen revoloteando con el objeto, jugando a darlo vueltas entre ellos a medida que analiza sus movimientos (aunque decir que los analiza es darle demasiado crédito a ese estado eufórico en el que se encuentra). ' bueeeno~' sus palabras salen como una canción sin nombre, y su mano se eleva... mientras el índice deja un toque en la nariz opuesta, antes de apartar. con picardía, se echa más para atrás cuando el otro se aproxima, hasta que su espalda colisionando con la pared le anuncia que ya no hay más hacia donde correr. entonces, se deja el vape en los labios. el mismo se balancea entre ellos. ' quítamelo' le reta, obsidianas mucho más oscurecidas.

' porque lo reconozco, tiene colores particulares ' es obvio que no es el único con un vape en la isla, además que esa marca es de las más populares de esos implementos, pero está seguro que es suyo. el reto lo hace soltar una risita entre dientes, mientras menea la cabeza. ' sería más sencillo si solo me lo das, yves ' dice con calma, pero avanzando un paso. el cuartucho es demasiado pequeño y no es que el más bajo tiene escapatoria, pero si quiere jugar pueden hacerlo. quizás es alcohol en su sistema que lo hace actuar así, con el corazón acelerado y un cosquilleo recorriendo su sistema. ' ¿entonces? ¿vas a dármelo por las buenas? ' pregunta en un susurro que no tiene intención de ser amenazante y es por eso que sonríe, mientras continúa acercándose.

[hvndredbattles]

“Would you consider yourself to be generally bloodthirsty? Or maybe more like... particularly? . . . Or even just situationally?” ;djg;lkdjfg you could roulette this as well but I also think. some kind of early interaction with Richie maybe? ((sry again, richie))

They're sitting on the X, waiting for extraction, or else Duke would leave her with little more than a scoff, or maybe a small eye-roll, on the matter. They haven't interacted much, him and this new asset. She tends to be with Yves—shared skillsets, divided work, and all that—and his sergeant has no problem filling the silence and otherwise inadvertently drawing enough attention that there's no expectation for Duke to make conversation.

Yves, in fact, has opened his mouth, but doesn't get past his initial, "Aw, the LT's not so bad," because at the same time, Richie's commenting, "You seem to already have an underlying answer in mind." That he's bloodthirsty at all.

He blinks slowly, head turning to fix his gaze on her. The upward lift of one blond eyebrow is all the invitation she'll get to keep going.

[jaeyunluvbot]

PAIRING ౨ৎ soccer player!jake sim x fem!reader (ft. gowon + yves from loona, txt, enhypen, aespa, jin from bts)

GENRES ౨ৎ social media au (smau), fluff, angst, drama, college au, explicit(?)

WARNINGS ౨ৎ profanity, alcohol/drug consumption, possibly sensitive topics/content

SUMMARY ౨ৎ jake sim has always been intense. in his soccer career, in his academics, in his love life. what happens when he suddenly aims that intensity at you? i.e. jake sim thinks the barista his friends work with is pretty and y/n thinks her coworker’s teammate is cute.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ౨ৎ my first smau so i hope it's good! no specific posting schedule but i'll try to be consistent. pls ignore the time stamps on the tweets i write these chapters at like 4 am.

PLAYLIST ౨ৎ here

TAG LIST ౨ৎ at the bottom (send me an ask or request here if you’d like to be added! + those tagged will be in the tag list of all chapters of this series!)

STARTED ౨ৎ 06/16/2024

CHAPTERS !

profiles ౨ৎ meowies + knowledge perk | hybe u soccer

one. hop off

two. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

three. i love soccer!

four. premium seats

five. oh!

six. kbbq

seven. is this rizz?

eight. coffee

nine. champagne coast

ten. vanilla latte

elven. clock watching

twelve. dinner date

thirteen. karaoke

fourteen. layla's mom

fifteen. yikes

sixteen. be ok

seventeen. party pt. 1

eighteen. party pt. 2

BONUS !

[wreckonism]

for : @vroomzz / marcus !

      " you look like you're having fun. " the flat, bone-dryness of their tone hinted at sarcasm as yves scanned the stranger's face. it was neutral, no indication of discomfort, but they liked to prod - throwing around comments until they land on something correct. it was an assumption, considering the other's placement on the outskirts of things, instead of the conglomeration that stayed put in the center. they would've been, too, if not for their smart choice of donning quad skates for the festivities, allowing them an easy escape and even more, an excuse to not talk and just cruise. " burritos bigger than your head and frozen margs don't appeal to you, eh ? "

[jongwooi]

" no realmente. ¿tú sí? " conocía como funcionaba, es curioso y le gusta aprender sobre cosas variadas, y ha visto varios juicios enteros en videos. " no creo que esto sea como un juicio real de todas formas, ¿de qué van a acusarnos? " no estaba tan preocupado como debería estar, tal vez era la hierba que se fumo y las pastillas de la ansiedad que se tomó antes de salir de su dormitorio.

' ´¿alguna vez estuviste en un juicio?' le pregunta con desinterés a quién esta a su lado, dándole una calada a su cigarrillo. la pierna se cruza sobre la otra, mientras aguarda con evidentemente aburrimiento. entonces, sonríe y expulsa el humo, apoyando la mejilla en su mano. ' lo más cerca que estuve fue la oficina del director en la secundaria~ '

[ctrlerrcr]

updated tags : 04/04/24

˗ˏˋ 𓂃  greyson rivera  ⦂  tag.

. ˚ ◞ ♡  calliope mitchell ／ tag

[nnight-dances]

EVERYTHING

PAIRING: yoon jeonghan x f!reader (ft. wonbin)

GENRE: angst, fluff toward the end

TROPES: established relationship, model!jeonghan, singer-songwriter!reader, jealousy, paparazzi interference and rumors, and so on.

NOTE: this was hard to write so bear with me and let me know if there's anything that absolutely sucks about this lol... i love jeonghan but he's so hard to write (maybe it's because i'm the most not normal about him)... anyway this plot is kinda inspired by a real life fight i had with a friend who i have ambiguous feelings so do with that what u will :) enjoy!!!!

"thanks, love," jeonghan mumbles into your cheek when you hand him the wallet he'd forgotten at home this morning. even in the dim moody lighting of the room, you can see he's genuinely happy to see you when he pecks your cheek. you smile and press your hand into his, "how bad was today?" 

he hums, "not too bad if i don't think about it too hard."

it's not out of the ordinary for a successful model like jeonghan to have the mind-numbing schedule he has but you can't help hurting for him anyway. "i'm sorry, babe," you squeeze his fingers and he nods in acknowledgement. he's too tired to say much most days so you've gotten accustomed to interpreting his silences. 

you were part of a band known for its jazzy music and you were its lead singer and song-writer, which meant it couldn't be helped that you had written more than a few love songs dedicated to yoon jeonghan, your lover of over two years now. in that time, you'd found a good beat with jeonghan, spending a good four months with both your heads' deep in work and only the nighttime spent in each other's arms. sometimes, jeonghan's international presence meant a few weeks of not even that. and as your band got bigger, you took on tours that only took you further from jeonghan. but after a rocky summer, came the breeze of fall. 

fall meant downtime for both your jobs, a time you could easily retreat and while the rest of the world turned vacation mode off, you would travel with jeonghan, whether it be across the world or just along his skin on a rainy weekend. it was easy with him, even when it wasn't. 

but recently, you'd found yourself wondering if it really was that easy still. tonight you're performing at this club, a local presence known for its hosting of musical influences, and jeonghan managed to escape his impossible day to watch you. you should feel loved, grateful for him, but when it's your turn to perform, you feel yourself drift away from him.

onstage, even as you introduce yourself and your band members, your eyes are on him. but he seems so far away. he watches you, not a smile on his face, just familiarity. as if he'd memorized all that you had to say, as if this was another box to tick on his long day. you clear your throat to steady your mind and open the first song, "this one's called heavy." it was an old song, perhaps one you'd only performed before you met jeonghan. which would explain how hopeless the melody was, how uncertain your voice got throughout, and scarily enough, how much you found yourself relating to it now, so many years later. 

after the song's over, you glance at jeonghan and he seems as stoic as ever, clapping in encouragement but without any mirth. you sigh, "woah, sorry to bring the mood down like that," you chuckle a little when the crowd laughs, "um, anyway, this next one's much happier, i promise. it's called loverboy… after my one and only, well, boy." you laugh again and spot jeonghan smile, too, all the way at the bar and your heart thaws a little, allowing you to get through the song without thinking again about how cold it felt in the room. 

you get through the next two songs without a hitch, perhaps because you let yourself go on autopilot mode and restrict yourself from even looking at jeonghan for your own sake, and come down with a heavy sigh. your bandmate, yves, touches you on the shoulder with a frown, "you good, y/n?" you nod, "yeah… i'm just tired. or something." she pats you on the head, "don't think too hard about things, dove. just let go. or something." you laugh at her witty piece of advice and thank her as you head for jeonghan, naturally. 

he wraps you in his arms when you find him, plenty kisses on your neck, "my girl did so well." 

you let out an uneasy groan, "i don't know, han, i feel like i was lame."

jeonghan pulls away with a frown, "no, you weren't. you were amazing. although that first song caught me off guard. it's been a while since you performed it."

"yeah… it was my decision but it felt right," you shrug. jeonghan's eyes take on a gravity you don't like when you say that so you avert your gaze, "but more importantly, when can we go home so i can get out of this dress and sleep?"

a year ago, jeonghan would've gone, "i'll help you take it off right now, love," but now he agrees solemnly, "i think we go as soon as everyone's focused on the next set." 

–

you know it's stupid, you do, to dwell over the details of your relationship this obsessively. but honestly, once you start there's just so much to pick at. to start, you felt more distant from jeonghan than ever, as if there was something unsaid in your way just keeping you from getting back close to him. and you hate it when things go unsaid. but you also knew jeonghan didn't care for spelling every little thing out, he could settle for a little discomfort till ignoring it was enough to make it go away. 

but that was just it, you couldn't take it anymore. you'd had a few fights with jeonghan in the past and they'd all come down to the fundamental differences in your natures. you liked for everything to be said and thought out, especially if either of you felt hurt or unheard. jeonghan liked silence, just simple gestures speaking a million words and routines in place to reaffirm your love. you knew it was better his way, simpler and easier, but you'd lived his way and now, you find yourself suffocating in the same bed as him. 

you stir away from him, rolling off the bed and onto your feet, and make your way to your makeshift studio, closing the door off incase jeonghan gets curious. you can just say you were working on a new song. once in, you throw yourself against a bean bag, head heavy in hands. 

"god, this is stupid," you mumble as the tears roll out. you spiral almost immediately, thinking back to everything that went wrong in the past few months. for one, jeonghan was away for your 25th birthday, for the whole week, and though you'd spent it surrounded by your friends and his apologetic gifts, you couldn't talk the bitterness away. then, he'd been mad at you when you told him your tour started during the week he had off, calling you a "workaholic" because you'd rather work than go with him on the beach trip he'd planned. it was unfair, he'd admitted later, but not after you'd spent the whole week of your tour crying yourself to sleep. 

to add to it all, were the recent rumors in the news about jeonghan's brand new 'mistress', a japanese model called nana. even before the first article came out, he'd called you outright, telling you his agency had caught a reporter in japan pestering nana if she was anything to jeonghan. that had only dullled the pain you felt when you read it, pictures of jeonghan and nana posing for a cover shoot. and it wasn't the first time jeonghan had looked absolutely stunning beside another person, far better than you'd looked with him in all the paparazzi snaps that circulated the net when questioning if you were still in the running for the attractive model. 

it wasn't the first time and yet, thanks to your already strained relationship, you felt more hurt than usual. this was also the longest scandal yet, ongoing past four weeks, perhaps because of jeonghan's frequent visits to japan. it really got you thinking how there were so many reasons for the two of them to be in the same room. 

– 

jeonghan, alone in your shared bed, inevitably wakes up, confused when he doesn't feel you. "y/n?" he calls out, hoping you might just be using the washroom, but the lights are off and there's no sound in the bedroom. "my love?" he calls out louder, propping himself up on his elbows. when he hears no response, he falls onto his back with a weary sigh.

there was something up with you. you'd been acting… distant since the past two weeks. you'd pull away from his kisses a few beats too soon and wake up long before you had to. he wondered if he should ask you because he knows that's what you'd want but whenever he got to sit down next to in full seriousness, he'd go weak, missing your presence when he was away. 

he pulls out his phone, skimming throught the texts that had accumulated over the few hours he was asleep. there's a few from nana, the model he was rumored to be having an affair with. 

nana: another stupid article :( 

jeonghan sighs at the link she'd forwarded him. in full honesty, he'd all but developed a good friendship with nana while in japan, where he'd been previously lost without a good guide telling him where to go. given all his staff was korean, they could only be as useful as a google search. nana, however, had taken up to herself to show him the local spots, the shopping district where he'd been able to secure gifts for you, anticipating your needs before you'd known them.

you know all this, of course. jeonghan had offered to break all ties with nana if it bothered you but you'd been insistent that he keep his relationship with her, especially when it kept him sane abroad. 

you'd said you were fine, so how come you weren't next to him, mumbling sweet nothings into his chest like you always loved to? when you couldn't sleep, you would wake him up with your persistent kisses, apologizing when he did finally come to, but then talking about everything in the world from your outfit tomorrow to your plans in the next five years. 

"are we…" you'd started one night but then stopped, going hot and hiding your face into the pillow.

"are we what, love?" jeonghan pried you off the pillow and onto his arm, pushing his face close to yours so you couldn't run. 

"are we serious, han?" you finally asked, quietly. "you know, like, long-term serious?"

"hmm, let me think… i don't know we've only been dating for 20 months so i wouldn't get your hopes–"

you hit his chest with a muffled giggle, "you know what i meant!"

"i don't, really?"

you avert your gaze, "are we ever gonna, you know, be married? have kids? that kind of thing…"

jeonghan's heartbeat had sped up despite all his nonchalant facades and his face disclosed his flustered state causing you to go redder. "it's- forget about it if it's not something you've thought about–"

"of course i've thought about marrying you, doll," jeonghan asserts, arm around your waist to stop you from flailing around, his fingers draw circles on your exposed stomach. "of course i want to be committed to you for life, y/n. and don't even get me started on kids. i know it doesn't seem like it because i'm such a cool guy but i'm crazy for kids–"

"no, it's pretty obvious, you basically lose your head everytime we see a couple with a newborn baby–"

"okay, well, there you have it. i want kids with you, y/n."

you mull over his words in silence for a moment and then, "not now though, right?" you say, "we're both too succesful in our careers to… start a home."

jeonghan palms your cheek lovingly, "i think what we have right now is already home. but you're right, i think we ought to wait some more time. till it feels right."

till it feels right, he'd told you and now he kind of regrets it. he should've asked you to marry you right there so you'd never have a reason to doubt your relationship ever again. but again, that too was just a dream. 

– 

jeonghan was off to japan for a week. yet again, you think, holding your tears back on a sunday afternoon when you wake up to a resounding silence in your home. you need to find a way to make things right, you know. you need to talk to jeonghan but honestly, your head hurts so much you'd rather just forget all about him.

that's why you find yourself crashing at yves' place for the next few days, her house known to be a hub for lost souls and good music. you spend your afternoons working on new music, inspired by your new surroundings, writing about everything but jeonghan and as soon as it hit seven, you'd be helping yourself to martinis, thanks to yves' well-equipped bar. 

you were amid making yourself a drink while yves went over some notes and recordings you'd made this afternoon when she sat up with a weird look in her eyes. "y/n?"

"what is it? is it horrible?"

"no, it's not that. it's just… this feels like a different person," she comments, finger scrolling through your lyrics. "like a younger version of you? it has the same lonely vibe to it. i'm a fan of it to be honest, but i'm just wondering… is everything good?"

you chuckle, "yves, you ought to have known that if i'm here for an extended period of time, nothing is good… but i appreciatey you asking. i'll be fine, eventually." 

your friend is lost in thought for a while and you sip your drink when her phone pings with a message. she reads it and turns to you with a glint in her eye. 

"so… does that mean you'll go clubbing with me tonight?" 

– 

if you were gonna embrace a younger self, you might as well do it all, you thought, putting on a dress you'd loaned from yves. it was shorter than anything you'd worn recently and a light pink you never naturally gravitated towards. but you had to admit, it did look quite good on your figure when you looked in the mirror. you embellished your eyes with glitter, lining your eyes with mascara and a thin wing at the ends. 

the club itself is nicer than you'd expected and you're glad you'd dressed up as much as you did, pursing your lips to make sure the lip gloss you'd applied was still intact. yves pulls you to a table with her friends, some of them mutual to you, others complete strangers to you. either way, they're all fun, welcoming you without a question. 

one of the familiar faces is wonbin from a contemporary band known for its unique take on house music. he immediately materializes by your side when you've downed your first shot of the night, large grin overtaking his face. "you're here?" 

you tilt your head at his question, "i am! it's weird, isn't it?"

"a little," he shrugs, "you stopped coming out with us after you got swept up with that pretty model boy of yours."

you grow a little uneasy at the mention of jeonghan's name, "yeah, well, i thought it would be good for my music if i reconnected to my past a little. let myself live a little."

wonbin smiles, "that's nice, i love that. and to that," he brings out two more shots, handing you one, "cheers!" you hesitate for a moment but then catch yves looking at you encouragingly, and clink glasses with him, downing the drink in a go. 

that's all it really takes for you to let go. your body finds the music's rhythm faster than anyone else in the group so you take to the dance floor, and wonbin follows you, telling yves he'd look out for you. not that you need it. 

it's been a few songs that you've been dancing around, with wonbin's body getting closer to you with each time. you blink when his hand is at your waist, and you clear your throat, "i'm gonna go get some water!" wonbin grabs a hold of your wrist, "i'll come with!" 

it's a little uncomfortable, the way he's following you around, but you reassure yourself it was only for good intentions. a few more songs you keep yourself close to yves and her friends, feeling wonbin's presence heavily on your shoulder, but then you're a few more shots in and it doesn't really matter. 

it's only when you return from the bathroom when things go awry. it starts with your phone blowing up with texts and a call from jeonghan. in the loud music of the club, you can barely think, let alone talk to your boyfriend who you'd been ignoring for a week so you decline. when you make back to your table, your phone goes off again. jeonghan again. 

before you can register how odd it is of him to double-call you without good reason, wonbin's pulling you over next to him. you sit with a groan, "wonbin, i need to take this call–"

"y/n, you need to look at this. it's about jeonghan and that japanese model–"

yves cuts wonbin, "wonbin, get the fuck off her!" she tries to pry his arm off you but you find yourself unmoving when you catch jeonghan's figure on screen. he's laughing next to someone, a girl– oh, it's nana. she leans in close, a little too close, and you're not sure if it's your spinning head, but she keeps on getting closer, close until her lips are on jeonghan's and–

"i feel sick," you exclaim suddenly, clutching your stomach. wonbin's strong arms are around you in a moment and yves can't fight him off when he leads you through to crowd, weaving through the impossibly long line to the bathrooms. despite everything, you're thankful for him when he holds your hair up when you throw your guts up, tears mixing with the alcohol in your system. 

when you're done, you ask yves if she can take you home and she's already ready with your bag over her shoulder. 

"y/n, wait!" wonbin stops you, hand on your elbow, "can i talk to you for a sec–"

"wonbin, please, you've done enough, she needs to go home–"

"go home to what exactly?" he questions and you have to physically restrain yourself from falling to your knees with the sobs that wreck your body, "i'm here for you, y/n, if you ever need–"

down in your bones you know jeonghan better than anyone, know he would never be the kind to cheat on you, to ever leave you for the wolves like this. but honestly, the news ring out louder than anything in your head. "yoon jeonghan with ito nana, confirmed? was his little singer-songwriter girlfriend just a joke?" 

that's how you feel right now. little. and like a joke. you simply nod at wonbin and turn around to leave the club before the music can suffocate you any more. 

"i'm sorry, y/n, i didn't think he'd act up like that–"

"it's okay, yves, you didn't do anything," you tell her and look down at your phone at the photo of jeonghan that shows up every time he calls you. it was one you'd taken on your very first dates, of him sitting prettily across the table with a chopstick in each hand. 

"you should talk to him, y/n," yves pats your back, "you don't have to go back to him but you have to hear him out, right?"

you sigh, "you're right." 

you accept the call as yves leads you to a silent corner and gives you some space as she goes off for a smoke. you hold your breath when you hear jeonghan's voice. he sounds distraught.

"y/n? love?" 

all you can do is sigh to delay your tears. "hey," you say coarsely and jeonghan's losing his mind. 

"baby, can you stay where you are? i'm on my way, okay? i… i don't know what you've seen but you know it's not the truth. okay? just," you hear him run into someone and apologize. was he running to you? that would be crazy. "just let me talk to you."

you take a deep breath, "i'm waiting here." 

you don't question how he found you, it's likely your location on life360, a feature you'd added a year into your relationship just to know where the other was. just in case. 

you hadn't opened the app in a while, there hadn't been a reason. even if you knew where he was, he'd be far enough that it didn't mean enough. 

it takes a few more minutes before you hear jeonghan's voice on the sidewalk outside the club. he's in a white shirt that's been untucked from his pants. he's disheveled, and you can only wonder why. 

"y/n," he says, out of breath, sweat beading his forehead. 

"did you run here?"

"the car was stuck in the traffic so i told my driver to catch up," he inhales deeply, "i had to see you." 

"and why is that exactly?"

jeonghan sighs, "love, i think we both know why. that clip of nana kissing me probably found you by now?"

you look at your feet, "i saw it. i thought you guys were just friends?" you pause and before jeonghan can speak, you continue, "or was that just a lie silly little me believed?" 

jeonghan's hands find your shoulders, "there is absolutely nothing between me and her. i thought my platonic feelings were reciprocated because we'd been normal for so long. but then today, she… she kissed me and i realized that was me being stupid." 

"of course she was into you," you mumble. 

"i'm sorry, i really am. not just for this but for the past few weeks. or more than at. i don't know how long it's been but i feel like i haven't been putting you first."

"jeonghan, you have to know that it just sounds like you're overcompensating so i forget about the nana stuff."

"there is no nana stuff," he tells you, "and if you must know, i was always planning to come home a few days earlier. you've been so cold lately and i thought i could surprise you. but then you stopped responding to my texts and i found out through your bandmates you hadn't been home in a week. i got worried and in my head."

"i admit, i let nana distract me, but as nothing more than a friend. because when you're gone, i also lose my closest friend. i have no one but you to talk to you, love, i can't trust anyone, not after today. and i'm so sorry that i don't talk to you more, that i don't address problems as they come up."

you feel weaker than ever, head still down as tears roll down. "y/n? are you crying? baby, look at me, please."

"han, i really don't know what to do anymore," you finally break out, letting him take you into his arms, "i've been so miserable without you. i… i can't do it anymore." you take a deep breath to gather your thoughts. 

"you're so good at accepting changes and moving on from little fights. but i'm crazy. i get stuck in a spiral for days over the little things and after your scandal started, i… i can't help but think they're right." 

you pull away to look jeonghan in the eyes, "maybe i'm not the right one–"

"no," jeonghan cuts you off with a hiss that surprises both of you, "i will not have you think the stupid crap they're writing in the news, okay? you're my love, y/n, you're my everything. seriously, did you not hear me? i don't care about anyone else like i care about you. god, i'm stupid for not having married you when i had the chance."

"han, i don't know, i'm so tired," you rest your head against his. "can we go home for now?" 

later that night, you sit side by side with jeonghan on your side of the bed. you've taken your shoes off but not your dress. "is that a new dress?" he asks lowly. 

"i borrowed it from yves," you reply, adjusting the straps to sit right, "does it look fine?"

you feel like you're in a liminal space with jeonghan right now. you haven't broken up but you're not sure if everything's back to normal just yet. funnily, it feels like the first few months of getting to know him. he has the same boyish nervousness about him as his hand reaches out to brush your hair out of your face. 

"you look so good i'm mad i didn't buy you this dress," he says, "or that i didn't get to dance with you in it." 

you sniff, "i wish you'd been there tonight." and after a moment, "i wish we weren't so different."

and then again, "i wish we were the same person so i could know your thoughts inside and out without having to bother you." 

"it's not a bother, i'm just bad at it," jeonghan says, "and i don't wish we were the same person. because i love how different we are. i have so much fun with you, learning your ways and fighting with you."

"fighting is fun?" you ridicule him.

"only in retrospect, of course. i never want to see you look as hurt as you did tonight." 

he reaches out for your hand and you let him, intertwining your fingers. he places your joined hands against his lips and then back into his lap. "i love you, y/n. i love you more than everything."

"i thought i was everything?" you ask through a half-concealed giggle.

"don't tease me when i'm being vulnerable, love," he whines, "i'm serious. i'm sorry for making you feel so ignored all this while. it was never my intention. everything i did, i did because i'm stupid and still learning. but i always want to be with you. i want to spend everyday with you." 

"i love you too, han," you kiss his shoulder, "i'm sorry, too, for being so closed off. you don't have to feel so bad, it was partially my fault too."

jeonghan stands up, pulling you up after him. before you can ask him what's wrong, he hugs you tight, breath soft on your exposed back. your arms find his waist, rubbing his back in a reminder of how much you love him. slowly, you're not sure who starts it, you both start swaying to no song in particular, just to the rhythm of your heartbeats. he twirls you around with a smile and kisses your forehead. 

"on that note, my love," jeonghan stills you, tiptoeing across the room to his bag, ruffling through before finding what he was looking for. it's only when he gets on a knee that you comprehend what's happening, "i know i haven't been the most promising husband material but i promise, it will only get better from here. i've made the mistake of not doing this earlier and i can't wait to make you mine forever. so, y/n, will you marry me?"

with that, he opens the black box in his hands, revealing the precious diamond ring inside.

you've never fallen to your knees faster, taking his hands in yours, "yes, of course, i'll marry you, han! i–" you fall short of words when you look at the ring in his hands, "i had no idea you were planning on– god, i'm– i love you, han."

"part of the reason i wanted to come back faster was to do this," he tells you softly, slipping the ring onto your finger, "to finally propose to you." 

"finally?" you question, sensing some hidden meaning behind his words. 

"well, i have had this ring for a year now. i considered getting a newer model but this one was just too gorgeous." he takes your left hand in his, "and it looks prettier on you than i could have ever imagined."

"a year?" you ask in disbelief, "han! you– why didn't you tell me?" you feel stupid really, knowing how long he'd planned on marrying you for real. his love for you looms over you and you can't help but feel lightheaded. 

"because i didn't think it was the right time yet. i was wrong about that, of course. any time is right with you. i just needed to make you mine." 

you throw your arms around him, tearing up again, "yoon jeonghan, god, you make me crazy."

"so is that a good crazy, as in you'll write happy love songs about me again or… as in i make you want to scream and shout?"

"honestly, a bit of both," you laugh against his shoulder, "and about the happy love songs… i think you should know but i wrote some really depressing songs while you were away. yves loves them so they'll end up on the next album but i know you don't necessarily like them so–"

"what are you talking about? i love all of your songs."

"han," you kiss his cheek with a smile, "you don't have to lie. i know you feel weird about them. and that's okay. but i hope you know, i'm in a different space when i write those, and i will continue to write those. but they don't reflect the truth in any way, okay?"

he narrows his eyes, his lips pouty, "you mean to say i'm not good enough for you to make you happy for the rest of you life?"

"that is not what i said, babe, and you know it," you laugh again, letting him pull you onto his lap. he kisses you once and then twice. "if you say so, love." 

you spend your first night engaged to jeonghan the best way possible: talking to him. you lay down next to him, in your pyjamas, feeling fuller than ever. he tells you everything he'd thought or done in the past few months, scrolling through his camera roll for reference and kissing you whenever you'd have a giggling reaction. when it was your turn, you pulled up your notes app with lyrics from the past few months and read some select ones out for him.

"oh, oh, and the way i was gonna introduce this one was like this," you clear your throat as if taking on your stage persona, "this one's called no one's prettier because no one's prettier than my boy." 

you fall into a laughing fit with jeonghan, a slight blush on his cheeks when he pulls you close, "someone's down bad for me, huh?"

"yes, sir, i am," you say back, smugly, "i love my boy, sorry, my fiancé so much and i just can't shut the fuck about him."

"god, say that again."

"what? that i can't shut the fuck up about my pretty fiancé? my adorable loverboy? my honest and reliable husband?" the last word feels so right on your tongue when uttered for jeonghan, even though you'd never said it before.

"you're my everything, love," mumbles jeonghan with a big smile, kissing you sqaure on the mouth. 

–

"...so the past few months have been a rough trek for the band," you speak into the microphone, looking onto the solemn crowd with a soft smile, "and when i say the band, i really just mean me. i think i aged by like ten years." the crowd laughs. 

"but i came out stronger, and more engaged than ever," you wiggle your left hand at the crowd, throwing a smile at jeonghan at the front, watching with a smitten grin. "so here's a new song i wrote. it's called everything because my love is everything to me." 

when your set ends, you rush to jeonghan's arms and before you can ask him he'd liked the new song, he kisses your hands. "that was perfect, love. i've never felt more seen by a song." 

you let him shower you with kisses as you walk him through the lyrics a little. you're in the middle of explaining the bridge when you're interrupted by a call of your name. 

"y/n?"

you turn around to find wonbin standing before with a rose in his hand. "oh, hi, wonbin!" 

jeonghan doesn't do anything to hide the dislike on his face for the man. after all, you'd told him about everything that happened that night at the club and had barely managed to calm him down after. "hey," he nods at jeonghan who simply raises his brows at him.

wonbin glances at jeonghan's arm around your waist and sighs. "congratulations on your engagement, y/n," he holds out the rose, "and i'm sorry about everything that happened with us. i hope you know it's only because i have nothing but admiration for you. and maybe one day–" 

"thank you for your kind words, wonbin," jeonghan cuts him off, taking the rose and handing it to you with a small smile. "but we need to be going somewhere. sorry. see you around. maybe at the wedding?" 

as you walk away from wonbin, you chuckle at jeonghan, "didn't know you were still worked up about that guy?"

"of course i am! he tried to take advantage of you in a hard time! i'm just too pretty to get into a fight or i would've thrown hands long ago."

you laugh as you kiss him on the cheek, "right, of course. my baby, let's go home." 

[paixpermil]

YVES · LOOP (ft. lil cherry) · 240530 M COUNTDOWN