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sluttyten · 8 months ago

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miracle | guilty pleasure pt. 3

YangYang Masterlist || All Member Masterlist

Part 1: guilty pleasure || Part 2: love on the low low

summary: you’ve kept your relationship with yangyang a secret from everyone, but keeping a secret is hard, especially when you’re falling so fast in love.

length: 13,788 words

tags: secret relationship, semi-public sex, panty kink, oral sex, riding, possessive sex

YangYang’s smile is utterly distracting.

The sound of his laughter fills your ears, and you try to refocus, to not let yourself get swept up in his proximity. You remind yourself that you’re in this small dressing room surrounded by the other WayV members, other stylists, managers, the whole team.

It’s been difficult to keep your relationship with YangYang so secret as time goes on.

The fact that you currently are inches away from his face doesn’t help matters.

“Are you two gonna kiss?” Xiaojun teases from a few feet away.

YangYang laughs again.

“Like, God, at least take him out to dinner first.” Ten jokes from the seat beside YangYang.

Usually their teasing wouldn’t bother you.

But your fingers are currently in YangYang’s mouth.

Kun clucks at his members. “Leave them alone. Ten, c’mere, I need your help with the choreo.”

You’re forever grateful for Kun. You always have been, but especially so since he’s the only one outside of you and YangYang to know about your relationship. He’s been a huge help with distracting the others and helping to cover up for the pair of you when you slip up in public, kind of like right now.

Not that this is a slip up.

You being inches away from YangYang’s face with your fingers in his mouth has nothing to do with your relationship; it has everything to do with styling him for this music video shoot.

Your boyfriend’s lips are glossy pink, shimmering and coated in lip gloss. And you’re currently attempting to fit silver teeth decorations on his canines. They resemble vampire teeth but in a silver style that you convinced YangYang to try by describing it as similar to æspa’s Savage logo.

You pray that no one is still looking as you complete fitting the small decorations onto YangYang’s teeth. As you nod with satisfaction, YangYang briefly closes his lips around your fingers, tongue lapping against your fingertips.

You jerk your hand back, leaning away from him.

“Sorry, noona,” YangYang apologizes in a completely unapologetic way.

“Mm.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m sure you’re sorry.”

He smiles, teeth glimmering, lips shimmering. God, you want to kiss him.

The feeling doesn’t wane even as you move on to finishing styling Hendery next (without sticking your fingers in his mouth, which Ten manages to sneak in a comment about). You can’t shake your need for YangYang even as you sit by and watch the music video filming, as the long hours pass by, as you restyle him for a different part of the music video.

By the time you finally get your hands on him in the semi-privacy of you dragging him into the creepy looking bathroom down a back hallway of this filming site, you feel like you’re going to combust.

YangYang laughs quietly against your lips as you tug him against you. The grimy bathroom sink presses against your hips. The lights flicker a hideous shade of green-yellow fluorescence like you’re in a bad horror flick.

His lips taste sweet.

“Strawberry lip gloss?” You ask as you pull back, rolling your lips together to feel the tacky transfer of his lipgloss onto yours.

He nods. “Noona told me it’s her favorite.”

You wrinkle your nose. Obviously, you understand him calling one of the other stylists noona, but part of you dislikes it. That’s what he calls you, and the sound of him calling you that always sets you on fire.

YangYang backs you up against the sink even more, his hands on your hips as he lifts you just enough for your ass to sit on the edge of the sink. “I know it’s going to be late when filming ends, but I can come over, right?” He tips his forehead against yours. “I want to sleep beside you.”

A warm bloom opens in your chest.

He’s been so busy lately that he hasn’t been able to sleep over at your place in a while.

You’ve missed sleeping beside him.

“If you think you can get away.” You press a short kiss to his lips. “We don’t want the guys getting too suspicious of where you are.”

You press lightly against his chest, and YangYang takes a step back, giving you enough room to slip from the bathroom sink. He looks down at you as you straighten your clothes, as you wipe at your lips in an attempt to get rid of the shimmering remnants of his lipgloss on your mouth.

“Noona,” he says, and your heart leaps. “Noona, how long are we going to keep this a secret from everyone?” YangYang reaches for your hand. “I want to show you off. I want to be able to talk about you. I know that we can’t tell the world, but can’t we at least tell my friends? I’m tired of hiding us.”

Voices echo in the hallway outside the bathroom.

You drag your hand from YangYang’s, your brain whirring as you attempt to think of a valid excuse for why the pair of you might be alone together in this bathroom.

Just before the bathroom door opens, you shove YangYang back against the wall behind the door, and you whirl around to face the sink.

The door flies open, and reflected in the mirror above the sink, you see two of the stylists standing framed in the doorway.

“There you are!” One of them calls from the door. “We were looking for you. I think we’re all going out for drinks after filming. Did you want to come?”

The other woman starts to walk inside, and you know that if she does, she will inevitably spot YangYang in the hiding spot behind the door.

“Wait! You don’t want to use these toilets. The one is clogged up with toilet paper, and the other one just looks filthy, so unless you’re desperate…” You fib.

“Ugh,” both other women groan in unison. One says, “No, there’s one back by the dressing room. We’ll just head back over there.”

They wait for you at the door, so you pretend to dry your hands off with a paper towel, then exit the bathroom with them, hoping YangYang isn’t pissed at you for leaving him behind in the bathroom.

It’s about two hours later that filming concludes.

It’s about two hours and fifteen minutes later when you realize the other stylists didn’t mean it was only your team going out for after-work drinks. The members were coming too, as well as a couple of the background dancers, and two of the managers. There’s definitely no backing out of the hasty agreement you’d made in the bathroom, much to your disappointment.

Not that you don’t want to hang out with your coworkers for drinks. You do want that.

But it impacts the plan YangYang presented you with in that bathroom first. The idea of heading home as soon as filming wrapped for the night, bringing YangYang to bed with you. Taking some time with each other in the safe privacy of your apartment. Getting to fall asleep beside him and wake up with him in the morning, neither of which you get to do very often.

Instead of heading home, you find yourself squeezed into a seat between a manager and one of your stylist friends at a table in a restaurant not too far from the filming site. YangYang sits across from you, and you try not to notice the way he’s completely avoiding eye contact and hasn’t spoken to you since you ditched him in the bathroom.

Drinks flow heavily at that table, and mixed together with the sleepiness you feel due to it being after midnight, it doesn’t take long before you’re feeling the buzz. You’re smiling, laughing loudly along with everyone else, chatting and joking around. You don’t notice YangYang get up and leave the room, not until he’s returning, slipping into the seat beside you that was previously occupied by the other stylist.

“I think you’ve had enough,” YangYang says, appearing basically from nowhere. He touches your wrist, easing your hand back down to the table. He loosens your fingers from the glass brimming with soju. “Or at least slow down, noona.”

Across the table, you think you hear one of his group members teasing you both, but you’re deaf to everything but the sound of YangYang’s voice, blind to everything but his still shimmery lips, numb to everything but his warm fingers still lingering against yours.

He snaps his fingers in front of your eyes. “See, you’re out of it, noona. Looking at me like that. Everyone’s going to think that maybe I’m not the only one with a crush.”

You open your mouth to argue that, to assure him that you’ve definitely got more than a crush on him, but then he pinches your thigh, and the sharp pain at your thigh ties a knot in your tongue. You frown, snapping your mouth shut.

“That’s better,” YangYang says softly, a faint smile curving his lips. “That’s how you usually look at me at work, noona. Like I’m the greatest source of your frustration.”

Part of you wants to throw those words at him, tell him that he certainly is a source of your frustration, but another part of you has sobered up slightly from that hard pinch from YangYang, and you don’t want to say anything else to him right now when you’re not fully in control of what might slip through your brain-to-mouth filter.

YangYang turns away from you, picking up conversation with the manager on his other side. You kinda slip into a daze, zoning out a bit as you snack on whatever sits in front of you until you feel YangYang’s hand brush against yours beneath the table.

You jerk your head upright, blinking against the way the movement blurred the room around you a bit. “Hmm?”

“Noraebang?” Kun is watching you from across the table. “We’re thinking of going to a nearby noraebang, but maybe you’ve had enough? You look pretty sleepy. Maybe someone should help you home.” His gaze darts briefly to YangYang.

You shake your head no. “I’m good. I’m fine. Let’s noraebang!” You shove back from the table and stand up too quickly, the world spins and wobbles, and seconds later you realize you’ve just dumped yourself across YangYang’s lap.

He grins at you in that flirty way he’s always had. “Hi, noona.”

“See, you’re definitely drunk if you’re falling into YangYang’s lap,” Kun announces.

YangYang carefully helps move you back over to your abandoned seat. “Noona, maybe you should just go home. Hyejin noona?” He turns to one of the other stylists. “Can you help her make sure she gets home safely?”

You feel the sting of rejection at the loss of contact with YangYang, but a less-drunk and more rational little voice in your head tells you that he’s doing this for you. You’re drunk, and he’s trying to get you home without making it obvious to everyone at the table that he wants to be the one to take you home. And he’s trying to make sure that he doesn’t — in the eyes of his members and management team and stylist crew — look like a creep trying to take advantage of you being intoxicated when they all know that he’s got a crush on you.

But still, you pout as Hyejin helps you to your feet.

There are scattered goodbyes and goodnights from around the table as Hyejin leads you away.

You’ve made it outside, stumbling over your own feet every few steps — maybe you have had a little too much to drink — and possibly a quarter of the way down the block, when you hear a shout behind you.

Hyejin turns to look. You twist your head around but all you can see is a dark figure moving towards you quickly.

Your heart thuds and begins racing.

Hyejin starts fumbling for her bag even while still trying to drag you along towards the nearby bus stop. You reach for your bag too, thinking that if this is someone coming after what they probably think is two drunk girls, you’ve got pepper spray in your bag.

But you don’t have your bag.

You must have left it tucked beneath the table at the restaurant.

Shit.

You can hear the footsteps pounding the pavement behind you as your pursuer draws closer, still shouting out for you and Hyejin to stop.

And then, “Noona, stop! You forgot this!” The pursuer calls.

You jerk to a halt, spinning around right as YangYang finally catches up. He’s breathing hard, cheeks pink, hair a little messy, and your purse swings from his hand.

Hyejin whimpers a little and collapses back against the wall of the building you’re next to. “Damn, YangYang, you scared us.”

You stare at him for a moment, and he stares right back at you.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “for scaring you. I noticed noona’s bag, and I didn’t think you’d probably be able to get home without your apartment keys and stuff.”

Hyejin mumbles something.

You take your bag from YangYang. “Thank you. But running up behind us in the dark wasn’t a good idea.”

“I get that now. I didn’t even think.” YangYang takes a step closer to you, glancing behind you at Hyejin for a split second before his eyes are back on yours. “I can help you get home, noona. When I suggested Hyejin noona take you home, I didn’t even think of how two women alone who’d been drinking might look like a target for bad guys. I can go with you, protect you.”

Yangyang puffs out his chest a little.

You and Hyejin both laugh at that. He grins, only letting his smile grow brighter when you lift a hand and push lightly at his chest.

“You were taking the bus, right?” YangYang asks. “I’ll ride with you, make sure you both reach your stops.”

Hyejin eagerly agrees.

You nod, feeling that warm blossom blooming in your chest again. You like when YangYang takes care of you, when he’s protective and concerned for you.

The bus is perfectly on time, showing up about ten minutes later. The doors squeal as they open. Only a few people occupy the seats, but YangYang still squeezes Hyejin, you, and then himself into one row. You’re nearly sitting in his lap, which you don’t really mind, but Hyejin keeps giving him weird looks. Especially after the bus driver hits a big bump in the road; you rise up and come down hard on YangYang’s thigh, inciting a groan from both of you. YangYang’s hands fall to your hips, resituating you in his lap into a more comfortable position.

Hyejin snorts.

“What?” You ask.

She shakes her head. “This kid and his crush on you, and right now you’re giving him everything he wants.” She glances pointedly at his hands resting on your hips.

You look down, and you swat his hands away.

YangYang sighs. “I’m not trying anything, Hyejin noona. I swear. I’m not interested in forcing myself on anyone, and she’s had too much to drink right now, which means that she’s not in the right state of mind to make decisions.” He nudges you. “She can sit in your lap, if that makes you feel better about all this.”

You start to move like you’re about to shift over into Hyejin’s lap.

She shakes her head quickly. “No, that’s okay. My stop is before yours, unnie. With YangYang here, vowing not to take advantage of you, I’ll just get off at my stop instead of taking you home first then backtracking to my stop. If that’s okay?”

“That’s fine.” You feel YangYang’s hand settle on your hip again. “I trust him.”

“And, by the way,” YangYang addresses Hyejin, “my obvious crush on her means that I want her fully in her right state of mind with me. If anything happens, I want to know it’s her decision, not something I forced on her. Reciprocated feelings are the best feeling in the world. Maybe someday I’ll get that from her.”

There’s a little too much honestly in his voice for that last sentence, and your heart sinks in your chest. Does YangYang think that you don’t feel the same? Is it because of your insistence in hiding this relationship? That’s for protection! For protecting both of you!

Silence falls between the three of you as the bus trundles through the streets.

Finally you reach Hyejin’s stop.

She lives in a popular area. There are still a decent amount of people out on the street here. Bars and restaurants and clubs are still lit up even though it’s nearly two in the morning.

“Do you want me to walk you to your apartment?” YangYang asks Hyejin as she rises to squeeze past you. “To make sure you get there safely?”

“But what about…?” She inclines her head towards you.

“I’ll come too. I’m fine now, I think. Starting to sober up a little more, so I can walk with you and YangYang just fine.” To prove your point you stand up and walk down the bus aisle towards the doors. You only veer into one of the seats just once. When you reach the doors you turn back to look at Hyejin and YangYang. “See?”

YangYang rolls his eyes with a little smile, but they both quickly catch up with you as you step off the bus.

Hyejin’s apartment is just a short walk from the bus stop, and it’s along a well-lit populated street, so in all likelihood she would have made it safely home. But as you walk along between her and YangYang, with your shoulder bumping into him and your hand brushing against his, you can’t help that feeling in your chest again.

There’s something about him genuinely caring about your friend’s safety that endears him even more to you. He keeps chattering with her as you walk, filling the silence until your trio reaches her door.

“Thank you, YangYang.” She reaches into her bag for her keys, and she’s not looking at him as she says, “You’re a good kid, you know?”

He makes a small sound. You lean against the wall beside her door, and she glances at you with a secret, small smile.

She pushes her door open.

“Goodnight, Hyejin,” you say.

“Goodnight to both of you. And remember, YangYang, no funny business.” She steps inside and twists around to look at him.

“Nothing funny about my business,” is his quick reply. “When it comes to her, it’s all very serious business.”

Hyejin looks between YangYang and you as you fold your arms and shake your head in disbelief. Her gaze narrows slightly, and she makes a soft “Hmm,” which can’t possibly be a good sign.

“Goodnight, Hyejin,” you repeat, and then you grab YangYang’s arm. “Let’s go. I’m tired, and you know, I’m really feeling better. Maybe I can go the rest of the way home alone, YangYang.”

No sooner have the words left your mouth than your feet twist beneath you and you crash into YangYang’s side. He and Hyejin both laugh.

“Not a chance, noona.” He waves back at Hyejin.

A moment later you hear her door shut.

“Come on, noona. Let’s get you home.” YangYang casually drapes his arm over your shoulders, and he starts walking.

Outside Hyejin’s building, the night doesn’t seem to be slowing down. Mixed crowds of people mill around, passing from bar to bar even though the establishments should probably be closing soon.

“Y’know, I really wanted to go to the noraebang with everyone.” You tilt your head up to look at YangYang. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to one, and I’m sure you guys always make it fun.”

YangYang smiles. “We do. I’m sure we’ll go out again, all of us, sometime around the end of promotions. We usually do.”

And then you see a neon sign a short distance ahead of you. You clutch YangYang’s arm with one hand and you point with your other. “We could go right now! Just you and me?”

The neon sign blinks blue and pink. Noraebang. A little image of a microphone glows white surrounded by music notes that blink in yellow.

“Please?” You press yourself against YangYang’s side. “Pretty please?”

He sighs in a way you’ve grown familiar with since this relationship started; it means he’s going to tell you yes, but he’s going to pretend to argue about it first.

“Noona, do you remember earlier when I told you I wanted to come home with you tonight and sleep with you?” He asks. You nod. “I’m beginning to wonder if you even want that.”

“Liu YangYang.” You straighten up to your full height. You take his cheeks between your hands and drag his face around so he’s looking right at you. “Baby, I swear, I want nothing more than to fall asleep beside you and wake up with you tomorrow. I want that so much I can’t even describe it. But right now I also want to go have fun singing along to popular songs at the top of our lungs in that building right there. And I want to do it with you, so please, pretty, pretty please can we go? And then we’ll go home, take a shower, maybe we’ll even have sex, and then we’ll fall asleep together just like we both want?”

YangYang grits his teeth, and you begin to wonder if you’d completely gotten this wrong.

But then he groans and pulls his head out from between your hands. He grabs one of your hands tightly in his and starts walking, dragging you along. Towards the noraebang.

“You don’t know how much I want to kiss you right now,” he growls under his breath. “But I can’t because we’re in public.”

But within minutes you and YangYang are in a private room. The TV screen shows a selection of songs. The booth at the back of the room has crackly vinyl seats curved around a round table where the staff has already delivered the soju and snacks you’d hastily ordered. The lights are dim, filling the room with a blue glow. Somewhere in the distance, muffled by the soundproofing, you swear you hear someone scream-singing along to what you’re pretty sure is a BTS song.

“We’re alone now,” you tell YangYang as you drop down onto the seats in the back of the room.

“And?” He’s got the remote in hand, and he’s scrolling through the songs to choose one for you.

“And you said you desperately wanted to kiss me, but we were in public. We’re alone now.” You lean back.

YangYang turns to you. “I thought you wanted to sing?”

“I do. But don’t you want to kiss me first?”

YangYang walks back towards you. “Noona, if I kiss you, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop.”

You laugh. “You want me that much, baby?”

“Always.” He nods. “There’s never a time that I don’t want you desperately, entirely, madly. I’ve told you before, noona, I only have feelings for you. You are the only one I think of, and I literally haven’t fantasized about anyone but you in a lot longer than I care to admit. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to be with you? Have I ever told you that?”

You shake your head no.

“I’ve wanted you since the day we met. I walked into the dressing room, unsure of how my day was going to go, and there you were. You were so pretty even though it was too early in the morning and everyone was half-asleep. And you were beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off you even then, and right away the guys started teasing me. But it only grew from there, you know? Because then I actually started getting to know you, talking with you, spending time with you. I, still to this day, haven’t found anything about you that I didn’t like. I… I like everything about you, noona. I want every single part of you.”

He kneels on the seat with you. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but you swear YangYang’s hands tremble slightly as he reaches for you.

You rise up, grabbing the front of his shirt, and you drag his mouth down against yours.

YangYang flattens himself against you, pressing you down until you’re lying flat on the cushioned bench seat. He bites at your bottom lip, his tongue quickly swiping over the sharp sting.

You knot your fingers in his hair, kissing him back hungrily, wanting more, needing more.

He opens himself up, his tongue meeting yours. He shifts on top of you, fitting himself between your legs.

Suddenly, loud upbeat music starts blaring, lights set into the wall beside the TV screen spin beams of light through the room.

Yangyang almost falls to the floor in his hurry to pull away from you, his hands searching the seat, the floor, the table for the remote he dropped and must’ve accidentally selected a song.

You laugh, which leads to him laughing. You grab one of the microphones, deciding that maybe you should actually do what you came in here to do instead of just make out with your boyfriend on this old vinyl seating.

He eventually locates the remote, but you’re already singing along to After Like by IVE.

Next is YangYang’s turn, and you choose Up & Down by EXID just because you want to see him do the choreography that you know he’s learned at some point. You sit back in the seat, sipping at a beer while you playfully toss pieces of popcorn at him while YangYang performs for you.

You each take a shot of soju, and then it’s your turn.

You continue on like that for a while. Your turn, then YangYang’s. Occasionally one of you finds a song to duet. There are shots in between performances, snacks and beers during. And although you’d started sobering up during the trip from the restaurant to Hyejin’s apartment, your buzz has quickly built back up again.

Your singing is definitely growing more and more off-key with each passing round. And you and YangYang are growing handsier.

After you finish a spectacular rendition of Eyes, Nose, Lips by Taeyang you’d serenaded YangYang with, you collapse into the seat beside him.

“Have we had enough?” He asks, and his face is glowing and hazy, his cheeks rosy, eyes glazed. “Noona? Or do you want to keep singing?”

“Maybe a few more?” You suggest as you check the time. It’s after three in the morning, not quite four yet. You booked the room for two hours.

YangYang nods and reaches for the remote to select the next song. He finds a selection that’s a playlist basically, so it will just play several songs back to back without the need for you to select them.

The first song is a One Direction song, and YangYang stays seated beside you as he sings, bubbling through his performance. He’s finished off two beers and half the bottle of soju, so he keeps squinting at the screen as if he can’t see the lyrics very well.

“You’re cute,” you tell him, sitting up on your knees so you can look at him better. “Very cute, YangYang. Cute, my baby.”

YangYang looks over at you. “I’m not a baby, noona.”

“No?” You tease. “You’re my baby, though. You let me take care of you and I make you feel good.” You lift a hand and comb your fingers through his hair, making his eyes flutter shut. “You’re a good boy for noona.”

YangYang groans, peeking one eye open. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one taking care of you tonight. Doesn’t that make you my baby? Huh?” He lifts his hand to mirror yours in his hair. “Can you be a good girl for Oppa?”

“Oppa?” You laugh, batting his hand away. “Is that what you want me to call you, YangYangie? I won’t.” You shake your head. “My baby, YangYang. Jagiya. Yeobo. Bǎo bèi.” His head tilts at the Chinese endearment from your lips, and then he bursts into a smile when you utter an English one next, “My love.”

“Is that what I am?” He asks. “Am I your love? Your one and only love?”

You don’t know how you let that word slip out. You haven’t used it with each other yet. Yes, you know you have deep feelings for each other, but you’ve not admitted to being in love with him yet.

You lift up on your knees and lean over to the table, and with hands that you pray aren’t shaking, you pour two shots of soju. When you turn around, you offer one to YangYang, but he doesn’t move, he just gazes up at you as you kneel there. For once you’ve got the height advantage.

He doesn’t move to take the shot from you, just waiting for your answer. You throw back your shot, swallowing down the burn.

“Yes,” you admit after a moment. “I love you, YangYang. I’m in love with you.”

His teasing mirth fades, and he gazes at you with a dazed look of awe.

“Earlier you said that you hope someday I’ll reciprocate your feelings,” you say, “So I hope you’re in love with me too, or else I’m the one that’s waiting for you to catch up now. Are you?”

YangYang’s mouth falls open, but no sound comes out.

“Do you love me, YangYang? Or is this just an intense crush?” You ask again. Still, he can’t seem to utter any words. “Do you need the courage to tell me?”

You lift the shot you poured for him a minute ago.

“Noona, I…” is all he manages before he falls silent again.

“Here,” you say, dropping your free hand beneath his chin to tilt his head up. YangYang’s gaze rises and hooks on yours. You lift the soju glass. YangYang’s mouth falls obediently open, and he doesn’t look away from your eyes as you tip the glass and pour the soju down YangYang’s throat.

He coughs a little as it goes down, and you draw the empty glass back.

“Good boy,” you compliment him, running your thumb along his bottom lip to catch a stray drop. “Are you feeling more brave now to tell noona how you feel?”

The music is still playing in the background, a song that you can’t identify. You’re not going to look away from YangYang long enough to figure it out either.

He opens his mouth, his tongue darts out to flick against the tip of your thumb. “Do you really need to ask? Is the way I feel not obvious?”

When you feel YangYang’s hands wander to your thighs, drifting higher to your hips, you feel heat kick up in your belly. And then he nudges you to shift your weight, to kneel over his lap instead of just kneeling beside him.

You settle over YangYang’s lap, still looking down at him, one of your hands rests beneath his chin.

“Noona, I…”

You wish he would cease cutting himself off. You want to hear him say it. You need to hear his confession to you.

“YangYang, please.” You stroke your thumb along his bottom lip again, feel the heated exhale of his breath.

He utters your given name, barely above a whisper. He doesn’t follow it with noona, just leaves it at that. Your name. His lips. His eyes never leave yours even while you seat yourself entirely in his lap.

“I love you,” YangYang confesses breathlessly. His hands skim higher than just your hips, dipping beneath your shirt so he can feel the bare skin of your sides against his fingertips. “I am hopelessly, depthlessly in love with you. Drowning in it. Each day I sink deeper in love with you, which is saying something since I was in so far over my head even before the first night you kissed me.

“But then you gave me a chance. You gave me that one night where you gave in and used me as your guilty pleasure. I knew you wanted only that, but as I said, I was already in love with you. I knew that was it for you, but I couldn’t help wanting more. More of your touch, your kiss, the heat of you wrapped around me. I needed you. I dreamt of having you like that again, but there was more than that. I dreamt of you, constantly. Of your smile, of holding your hand and walking down the street together. Taking you on dates. Random dreams that you starred in purely because you’re where my mind always turns to. I’m in love with you, noona. And I’m so tired of hiding it.”

“Then let’s not hide it anymore.” You curl your hands around his neck, and you drag YangYang’s mouth to yours.

He tastes like soju and salty chips, and he moans when you immediately sneak your hand to the front of his pants. YangYang is already delightfully half hard, his hips jerking up to push his semi-hard erection against your palm.

Your tongue tangles with YangYang’s, and each of you tastes the moans of the other as YangYang’s hands on your body mirror the position of yours on him. He slides one of his hands inside your pants, inside your panties, finding your pussy damp and your clit already throbbing with the need to be touched.

You grind against his fingers, suck on his tongue, and without even looking, you unfasten his pants and pull his cock out so you can properly touch him.

“Noona,” he gasps, dragging his mouth away from yours. “Here?”

A surprised snicker escapes you. “You once begged me to touch you in a dressing room with all of the members and most of the staff about five feet away, but you’re nervous about doing this here? We’re alone.”

“I just… didn’t think this was really something you were into. Doing this in semi-public spaces.” YangYang licks his lips. “Like, touching each other beneath the clothes and making out, I can see how you’d be fine with that, but do you really want to strip down and have sex in here?”

Honestly, your main thought was that you were going to give him a blowjob that would have him crying out and moaning for you loud enough to test out just how soundproof this room really is, but now that he’s mentioned more….

“Absolutely.” You lean in, giving his lips a quick peck. “As long as you’re fine with that?”

YangYang nods. “Yes, noona. I’m so good with this.”

The song that comes on the machine in the background switches, miraculously becoming a sultry, sexy song right as you lift yourself from YangYang’s lap to stand in front of him instead.

He sits there watching, face flushed and lips glossy from your kiss. His cock stands tall, rising from the opening of his pants, and he wraps his hand around himself as he looks at you.

You drag your shirt over your head, letting it fall onto the table behind you. Next, you shimmy your pants down to pool around your ankles.

YangYang’s hand works over his length, thumbing at the tip. He leans his head back, bites his lip, and watches you with his eyes half-veiled. “Oh fuck, noona. I— I can’t even tell you what I’m thinking right now.” His gaze roves hungrily over your bare legs, your barely-there thong, your bra that hugs your chest so well.

You lift your hands to your tits, making a show of unfastening your bra, letting it slide down from your shoulders before you drop it onto the table behind you.

YangYang swallows, his throat bobbing around another soft moan. His eyes are glazed over with pleasure; his hand moves in slow, smooth strokes over his cock.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” you request. “YangYangie, tell me.”

You sink to your knees despite the limited space, and YangYang’s eyes follow you all the way down.

You try your best to ignore that the floor is sticky beneath your knees. Instead, you focus on tucking your hair back behind your ears before you lean in to lick up the pearly drop of precum beading at your boyfriend’s tip.

“Fuck me,” he moans. He presses his thumb against his cock, applying just enough pressure to push the head between your lips. “Noona, I can’t tell you.” He shakes his head even as you’re sinking your lips around his cock. “You wouldn’t look at me the same if I told you what I’m thinking.”

There’s a thin string of saliva stretching between your bottom lip and his tip when you pull back. “Try me, baby. It must be really dirty if you’re worried.” You brush his hand away from his cock, letting your fingers take their place.

He shakes his head again, whining as you only offer him teasing kitten-licks to his cock, avoiding the tip. “Noona, please!”

“Please what, baby? You haven’t told me what you want yet.” You trace your tongue along the length of him, and YangYang’s hands flex at his thighs, but he doesn’t move them from there. “What do you want?”

YangYang really sounds like he’s struggling with himself, whining and whimpering as you tease him with nothing more than light touches. It’s only when you spit on his cock and use just your fingertip to spread it around that he finally breaks.

“Promise you won’t make fun of me, noona?” YangYang whines.

God, what’s he going to say that he’s so worried you’ll take the wrong way?

“Hnng, please!” YangYang bucks his hips off the seat, trying to achieve more contact with you. “I feel gross, like a pervert saying this out loud. But you look so sexy right now, and I just really, really want to sniff your panties.”

Oh.

YangYang goes still, waiting for your reaction.

It’s gross, sure, but it’s definitely not anywhere near the worst thing that could have come out of his mouth. If that’s what he wants….

“You want to sniff my panties, YangYang? Is that what you’re asking for?” You circle your thumb just beneath the head of his cock, making him squirm. “You want noona to make you feel good while you sniff my panties like a little pervert?”

YangYang nods, hips rocking against your touch again. “Please.”

“Okay, YangYang.” You stand up. “But we’re going to play by my rules, alright? We’ve only got so long before our time’s up in the room. So I’m gonna try to make this fast.”

You stand, and YangYang squirms in his seat as he watches you drop your panties, as you pinch the fabric between your fingers and you drop it right over his cock.

YangYang snatches the thong up, brings the material to his nose. His fingers are clenched tight around the lace as he buries his nose in it, his eyes close, and his cock twitches.

You must admit, the sight is a bit arousing.

He moans, and his eyes flash open to look at you. You nod, encouraging him to keep doing what he wanted so badly.

You straddle him, a knee on either side of his thighs, settling over YangYang’s lap.

“Honestly, YangYang,” you tell him as you slide closer to him, spreading your legs a little more to shrink space between your body and his. “If I didn’t so badly want to test the limits of the soundproofing on this room, if the thought of hearing you moan for me didn’t get me so wet, I would stuff these panties in your mouth as a gag and let you soak in the taste of me.”

You swear his eyes roll back in his head. His cock twitches between your legs. And with a satisfied grin, you reach one hand down to guide YangYang’s cock to your entrance. Your pussy truly is so wet right now while you watch YangYang enjoying holding your scent right up against his nose.

You drop your hips, sinking your pussy down around YangYang until there’s nothing left to take.

“Mm, noona, you always feel so nice.” YangYang brings his hands to your hips, one of them still clasping your panties. “And you smell so fucking tasty.”

You drop your head forward to rest your cheek atop his head. YangYang wraps his arms around your waist, brushing his hands down to grasp at your ass again a moment later when you start moving on him.

YangYang is immediately vocalizing — moaning loud enough to make it clear he’s feeling good, talking about the way you feel around him, rambling to you about how badly he’s wanted to ask to sniff your panties before.

“And your tits, too,” he says, looking up at you with glistening eyes. “Fuck, noona, they’re just so pretty. I have to try so hard to not stare at them all day, to not let my thoughts hyperfixate on how much I wanted to suck on your pretty nipples all day. I just—“

YangYang’s face is at the perfect height right now as you’re perched atop his lap riding his cock. Your chest is right in his face.

He leans in, and for a split second you feel the heat of his breath and then your mind clears out at the hot swell of his lips and tongue against one nipple, and his fingers are on the other, pinching and rolling, flicking the pad of his thumb over the hardened nub.

With his face buried against your chest, his cock swelling inside you, and the all-encompassing heat of being with YangYang, you can quickly feel your orgasm rising. You knot your fingers in his hair, and you drag his mouth away from your tit.

He looks fucked — eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed, lips glossy and parted with awe as he looks at you. A depraved moan spills through his pretty lips, and you can’t take it anymore.

You kiss him.

It’s a kiss of desperation, of overwhelming love and need and desire. You just need to be as close to him as possible in that exact moment.

Your tongue dances with his while you hold his precious face in your hands. YangYang moans into the kiss something that could be your name, could be a swear, could be a plea for more or harder, or could be a warning that he’s about to cum.

YangYang’s fingertips dig into your ass, palms bruising against your hips. He’s got you moving faster on him, and his hips are rocking up off the vinyl seat to drive himself to his orgasm.

“Come on, noona.” YangYang murmurs against your chin when you momentarily break away from the kiss. “Cum with me, noona. God I need it. I need you.” His mouth slides back to yours, silencing whatever else he might say.

He drags a hand from the curve of your ass, slipping it between your moving bodies. His fingers draw tight circles against your clit. His hand still on your ass pulls you down as he thrusts up, and all of it combines to have your orgasm sweeping pure bliss through your veins — your vision blinks out for a moment, toes curl, your nails bite into whatever part of YangYang you’re touching, your pussy pulses around YangYang, drawing him right into climax with you.

Both of you are moaning into each other's mouth, clinging to each other, soaking in the sweet wonder that is a love confession followed by hot semi-public sex.

YangYang laughs after a moment, and he tucks his cheek against your warm shoulder. “I think our time’s up tonight. But if we go back to your place, we can continue this.”

You don’t want to move, but you know that your time in this room is up. And the last thing you want is for an employee to have to come kick you out and find you both like this.

You quickly gather your clothes and come to the unfair realization that YangYang actually remained fully dressed.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, just smirking while he watches you shimmy back into your pants. “And I’ll be keeping these, if that’s alright?”

He’s already tucking your panties into his pocket, not even waiting for your response. For the record, you would’ve said yes; you would give him anything he asked for.

One of your favorite perks to this job is the opportunity to travel overseas when the group has schedules to attend. A stylist is always necessary, and even if it’s a limited team, you’re always one selected for a trip.

This time, only Ten and YangYang are going to LA. It’s a brief trip, just two nights. You’re flying in at midday on the first day, then one more full day, and leaving early the following morning.

It’s been only a few short days since the noraebang. You’re still buzzing off the love confessions shared between you and YangYang. He’s been spending every moment he’s not at work with you, sleeping over at your place, still there when you wake up. These two nights you’re in LA have the potential to be rough; sleeping without him may be difficult now that you’ve grown accustomed to it these past few nights.

“We’ll be okay.” YangYang brushes his knuckles against yours as you wait beside him to go through the security line. Under his breath, he says, “If anything, you can sneak over to my room.”

You have a feeling that you’ll probably take him up on that offer.

Although you’d come to the decision together to no longer hide your relationship, you’re also not flaunting it or announcing it. You’re just being a bit more open, slowly wading out into these uncertain waters. You’ve told your families, but other than them, it’s still only Kun that knows with any certainty.

Right now, that small brush of your hands together and an exchange of soft smiles is enough. Before, you’d have probably pulled away and made excuses to the nearest staff member about the minor moment of intimacy.

While you wait to board the flight, you sit beside YangYang. Both of you are a bit sleep-deprived in an attempt to reset your sleep schedule to fit the needs of this LA trip, so you’re just sitting there quietly on your phones, occasionally joining in conversation with the two other stylists, two managers, and Ten.

You’re separated for the flight. You have a seat back with the other staff members, and YangYang has a fancy first class seat.

The hours of the flight drag by, stretching on forever, even when you sleep through a couple hours in the middle of the flight.

Finally, your reunion with YangYang comes when you’re finally through customs.

He and Ten stand within a cluster of security along with one of the two managers, waiting for you and the other two stylists to catch up. YangYang looks tired, eyes dim and shoulders slumped. He’s wearing a beanie pulled low over his recently bleached white hair, big headphones on to tune out the noise, and a mask hides most of his face. But he looks up as you approach, and his tired eyes brighten, he straightens up a little.

“Hey, noona, how was your flight?” He asks, stepping towards the wall of security around him. They shift around, creating an opening that you easily slip through.

Ten glances over at you, an appraising look followed by a small smirk as he glances between you and YangYang.

“Too long. I’m ready to relax at the hotel for the rest of the day.” You run your fingers through your hair, and YangYang sighs softly. His eyes are on you, on your hair. “I’m thinking since there’s no schedule for you guys until tonight, it might be a pool day.”

YangYang nods.

“Alright, everyone here?” The manager asks, doing a very quick headcount. “Let’s go.”

The other manager went ahead of everyone already. He took YangYang and Ten’s luggage, and he went to fetch the rental van, which he’s apparently got ready and waiting.

As soon as your group steps out into the open, you’re bombarded by screams, camera flashes, people crying out Ten and YangYang’s names.

“Fuck,” Ten mutters just ahead of you.

You’ve traveled with them before, but you’ve never seen a crowd gathered this big. You’re also usually not directly clumped with them as they travel through the airport, but considering how small of a traveling party they’ve got this time, it would be silly for you and the other two stylists to navigate the airport separately.

So when the security barriers break and fans come flooding towards their idols, that’s an all new experience for you.

For one moment, you’re all safe surrounded by the wall of security guards, and in the next you’re a simple island in a wild sea, bombarded on every side by endless waves of pushing and shoving and screaming fans. Phones and photos and cards and gifts are being shoved into your face. Hands reach through the gaping security to grab at Ten and YangYang, grabbing you and the other stylists too in the confusion. People are touching and poking, pushing, pulling.

And then someone falls. A fan outside the circle of security.

One of the guards pushes a fan away.

And then there’s a break in security just wide enough for a girl to slip through. She bulldozes into the circle, aiming for either Ten or YangYang, but she crashes into you, sending you straight to the floor. Several more fans close in, and in the rush, in the confusion, security breaks apart, allowing even more fans to flood in, separating you from them as security pushes Ten and YangYang away from the fans.

Lost in all the noise and movement, you lie there dazed for a moment, curled in on yourself to keep from getting trampled. A spark of panic lights up inside you as you realize that you’ve been separated from the others.

“Stop!” Someone calls out.

You draw in, knees towards your chest, trying to cover your head as more of the fans step around you and over you.

“Get back!” Another shout above you.

You open your eyes when you feel a hand on your arm.

YangYang.

His face fills your vision, and his arms come around you. “Everyone, back off!”

YangYang hauls you to your feet, tucking you protectively into his side as the security closes in tightly once more. You’re herded through the obnoxious crowd, and out through the airport’s doors.

YangYang doesn’t loosen his hold on you. His fingers dig into your upper arm; your shoulder is shoved into his side. Somehow you’ve still got a good grip on your suitcase, although you’re just dragging it along behind you rather than rolling it.

You reach the car. Security forms an arc around the open door of the van. Ten throws himself inside, the other stylists follow, and then YangYang makes sure you’re inside before he shoves your suitcase in after you, and then he follows, slamming the van door shut.

Immediately, the manager driving pulls away from the curb.

You haven’t even had time to buckle your seatbelt, nor has YangYang, but as you’re struggling with buckling it into place, YangYang is still distracted with you, his hands running over your arms, checking your hands, lifting to your face and feeling around your head.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Fuck, I swear, if I find even a bruise on you… God, I’m going to be posting furiously on Bubble. Are they crazy? Do they not care about our safety or those of the people with us?” YangYang is frantic, too busy worrying over you to even concern himself with his seatbelt, so you reach over to do it for him. “You could’ve been seriously hurt, noona. And no one was even stopping to help you. They could have stepped on you.”

“I’m fine, YangYang.” You brush his hand away from your cheek. “I just got knocked down. I’m fine.”

His hand returns to your cheek as you click his seatbelt into place. “Noona.”

With an exasperated sigh, you look up at him. “Yang—“

He cuts you off with his lips against yours.

Everyone in the car gasps. The car swerves as the manager driving twists his head to see what’s happening in the backseat.

Your mind whirs, a whirlwind, a mess of wanting to pull yourself closer to YangYang while also wanting to push him away because Ten and the other stylists and the managers are right there.

YangYang jerks back from you, and you blink away your dazed, warm feeling.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Ten has a grip on the back of YangYang’s shirt, holding him back from you. “You can’t just do that!”

“Unnie!” One of the other stylists cries, and her arm is thrust between you and YangYang, trying to create space between you. Her face twists as she looks at YangYang, “Yah, bastard, you can’t just force yourself on a woman like that! Everyone knows you have a crush on her, but that doesn’t excuse—“

“We’re dating!” The force of your exclamation shocks everyone into silence. Even YangYang’s mouth pops open in surprise. “We’ve kept it a secret because, well, the unprofessional nature of it. But it’s happening, and we’re happy, and he’s actually definitely allowed to kiss me and act protective over me.” You reach for his hand.

YangYang, beaming like he just won at life, quickly laces his fingers through yours.

Ten swears and throws himself back into his seat, folding his arms across his chest. “Well, this is great. Just great.” His tone indicates quite the opposite.

“Ten?” YangYang cocks his head slightly, addressing the older man.

Ten rolls his eyes. “I guess I just lost a bet, that’s all.”

You shake your head in disbelief. YangYang scoffs, and asks, “Do we even want to know?”

“Everyone was taking bets about the two of you. There was a secret group chat with everyone but you, YangYang.” Ten digs his phone out of his pocket, ignoring YangYang’s sharp sound of indignation. “Some of us bet that she was going to file a harassment claim, some thought that you would just lose interest in your crush, some of us thought you would end up together even if just for a hook up. Fucking….. Kun, though, he was the only one to bet that you were secretly together. He had evidence, but we all thought he was reading into it too much just because he’s a romantic.”

Goddammit, Kun.

He could’ve easily revealed this relationship before you or YangYang were ready.

“And which was your bet?” You ask.

Ten frowns slightly. “My bet was that you would just play along with his crush until it faded. I could tell you were more comfortable with him over the last several months, like you would go along with it when he flirted with you.” Ten looks genuinely a bit annoyed, when he says, “As much as I hate to admit this, I didn’t really think you were together; clearly I missed all the signs that Kun picked up on.”

YangYang laughs. “Yeah, well, it helps that Kun was one of the only people that knew about us.”

“What?” Ten exclaims. “Oh, I’m telling the group chat that Kun’s disqualified.”

You open your mouth to stop him, to keep him from exposing your secret to all of the members of NCT. But then you stop, you close your mouth, and you look at YangYang. He’s already looking at you, ignoring Ten’s grumbling in the backseat.

You don’t stop Ten from messaging the others.

Let him tell them.

This relationship isn’t going to be a secret any longer.

No one says anything to you or YangYang about your relationship for the brief duration of the trip.

You rein in his wild frustration and anger at the mob of fans at the airport, convincing him not to go on an angry messaging spree on Bubble. It’s easy enough to dissuade him when you’re sharing his nice, spacious, private room.

The issue comes once you return to Seoul.

Almost as soon as you’ve touched down, you get the message requesting your presence for a meeting with YangYang’s company. Oh shit.

Obviously, you already know what this is going to be about. Your face has been plastered all over the place by YangYang’s fans blasting you online. You’ve tried staying off of social media these last couple days, but any time you have opened anything there it is: clips from every angle of you falling in the airport, of YangYang yelling at the fans, photos of YangYang’s arm around you, and so many posts of people analyzing the moment, and so many people just hating on you.

And they don’t even really know about your relationship with YangYang. They’re only speculating.

But as you take a seat in an intimidatingly large meeting room, you know that speculation on the status of your relationship with YangYang is more than enough to get you both in trouble.

YangYang sits beside you, neither of you touching the other despite how much you want to hold his hand. He’s nervous. You’re nervous.

It goes about as well as you could have hoped for.

Important people file into the room, question you and YangYang about your relationship, the severity of the relationship, how long it’s been going on, all of the questions that seem to be leading to their decision regarding something.

YangYang is reprimanded for how he’d reacted at the airport — yelling at the mob of fans, apparently pushing a couple of them out of the way to get to you, and there’s at least one girl alleging that YangYang grabbed her to yank her out of the way. They hand YangYang an official apology to post on his social medias for the incident.

And then they turn their attention to you.

Finally, YangYang clasps your hand in his beneath the table.

“We just don’t think, given your romantic relationship, that continuing a professional relationship would be proper,” one of the officials says to you. “And we have already reached out to your boss to proceed with termination.”

“You can’t do that!” YangYang angrily jolts to his feet, still holding your hand. “There’s no valid reason to fire her. Us dating hasn’t affected my work or hers this whole time!”

“I’ve made sure from the very start to not let it affect us at work,” you say calmly from your seat. You tug on YangYang’s hand, and he sinks back down beside you. “I didn’t go easily into this relationship with YangYang because I knew from the start, back when he just had a crush on me, that I couldn’t let anything happen because of exactly this issue. The lack of professionalism. I never meant for this to happen, but it did. I didn’t go seeking him out, and although YangYang had a very obvious crush on me for most of the time that we’ve known each other, he didn’t pursue me. It just happened. Feelings grew, our attraction became undeniable, we acted on our feelings. We tried to leave it at that, but…” You look over at YangYang now, needing him to steady you as your voice has begun to shake. “If you’re worried about how it might go if we break up, well, we can draw up a contract or something that if that ever happens, no one will claim that it was harassment or anything like that. We can make a contract that says I’ll quit if we end things, or you can move me to styling a different group or something. Just, please, don’t fire me.”

“We could demand you end this now,” a cold-faced man says. He leans back in his seat and folds his arms across his chest. “Just be done with this altogether.”

YangYang scoffs.

“I’m going to be perfectly honest,” you tell all of them gathered around the table. “If you force us to break-up, it won’t last and we’ll just get back together secretly.”

YangYang laughs. “Exactly. I love her, I’m not ending things with her any time soon. No matter what.”

Somehow, the two of you resisting them seems to confuse the officials around the table. Did they really think this could all be resolved so simply?

“I’ll post the apology,” YangYang promises, “But I’m not letting go of her. No matter what happens.” The last part he addresses to you, fully turning in his seat to face you.

“No matter what happens,” you promise him, too.

The seats of power converge at the far end of the table from where you and YangYang sit, and they whisper amongst themselves for several minutes while you sit there in anxious silence.

When they finally separate and return to their individual seats, staring at you and YangYang with their hands folded before them on the table, you want to bite your nails or scream or get up and just leave the room. You feel like a criminal sitting before the judge and jury, awaiting the verdict.

If they choose that your boss should move forward with terminating you, then that’s it. Your career is over. You’ll be blacklisted, and you’ll have to start over as something new.

The woman seated at the opposite end of the table seems to be the one in charge, and she makes the announcement.

She clears her throat, and shifts slightly in her seat.

“We have decided that, given your decision and openness in admitting that splitting the two of you up is pointless, that we’ll not interfere with your relationship, but,” and here your heart skips, ceasing its beating almost entirely until her next words, “I believe our best course of action would be to move you to a different styling team. You can take over styling aespa or NCT Wish, perhaps. We’ll have to have someone find an appropriate team for you, shift some things around.”

“Oh, fuck,” you sigh with relief, leaning over and dropping your face against YangYang’s shoulder. He clings to your hand, squeezing comfortingly.

“We want you, YangYang, to post that apology there.” The woman continues, “And you’ll be on probation for the next few months. Any further issues such as fighting with the fans, inappropriate conduct in general, and you’ll be placed on a temporary hiatus which we’ll excuse as health issues. Understood?”

Certainly.

And you find yourself grateful as you and YangYang voice your thanks to the powerful people, as you leave the room together, as you walk down the hallway to the elevator.

As soon as the elevator doors close behind you, you turn to YangYang, throw your arms around his shoulders, and drag him into a tight hug. You rest your head against his shoulder, breathing in deeply.

His arms surround you as well, his lips press against the crown of your head. “We’re alright now. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He laughs softly, but you can’t bring yourself to laugh about it just yet. “Now all of my coworkers and bosses know about us, what’s there to be so scared of? We’ve still got each other, still got our jobs.”

You draw back so you can look up into his eyes.

YangYang smiles. His hand comes up to cup your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You lean in and kiss him, your lips meeting just as the elevator doors slide open against behind you.

“Oh, God,” comes the exclamation from outside the elevator. “Is this what it’s going to be like now?”

Xiaojun comes inside, Kun and Renjun accompanying him. Xiaojun turns his back to the pair of you. Kun just laughs as he presses the button to close the doors. Renjun looks at the pair of you while he shakes his head in disbelief.

“I almost didn’t believe Ten hyung’s text about this.” Renjun gestures at you both. “And I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, bro. I’d have been so happy for you.”

YangYang’s smiling again, his hand on your hip pulls you a little closer. “If it makes you feel better, we didn’t tell anyone. Kun just figured it out.”

“Because you two weren’t doing a very good job of keeping it hidden.” Kun glances over. “I don’t even want to tell you guys what I had to witness. Dressing room shenanigans.”

Xiaojun’s mouth drops open and he looks at you. “Noona?!”

Your face feels warm, and you hide away in YangYang’s chest again.

“Regardless of shenanigans and secrets,” Renjun says, “I’m happy for you both.”

That’s the same sentiment you get from all of the NCT members in the following days. They’re happy for you and YangYang. Most of the other stylists act surprised, only Hyejin seems totally unsurprised, and she even confesses to you that she suspected as much during that trip home with YangYang. The other members of your styling team, those that worked directly with you for WayV as well as others who you’d only worked with on occasion, all express surprise and even some mild jealousy as well as a lot of wanting to gossip with you. You keep your lips sealed about your private details though since the last thing you want is to have your secrets leaked to any tabloids or sasaengs.

You’re shifted over from WayV to work on styling NCT Dream since your style of styling fits better with them than NCT Wish.

Your relationship with YangYang is not as easy as it was before when your schedules always lined up perfectly, but you keep making it work, making time for each other even if it means fifteen minutes together at your apartment, two minutes in a stairwell at the company, phone calls and video calls while you’re commuting.

The greatest blessing is when Dream and WayV’s schedules overlap or when the company decides to throw all of the NCT units together for a project or anything when one of the Dream members (usually Renjun) participates in something with YangYang.

“Remember you’re here for me and Chenle,” Renjun reminds you when the company remembers that NCT Life is something they can do. The cast for this season is composed of the Chinese members — Kun, WinWin, Xiaojun, Hendery, Renjun, YangYang, and Chenle.

“Of course.” You agree, but also they’re going for a very natural look during this filming, so it’s not like they really required a stylist to come along. Hair and makeup, yes, that makes sense. But your focus has always been on the clothing and accessories. You’re hardly necessary.

Not that you’re complaining.

The first night, after the dinner is done, after they’ve played games, after they’ve gone to bed for the cameras, the cameras get turned off and everyone comes back out to share some drinks before bed. The filming crew and staff members like yourself pack up and trek over to the house where you’re all meant to be staying. A couple managers and the director remain in the house with the members.

And you kind of just hang out until the last minute, until one of the managers sends you a sideways look as YangYang takes you by the hand.

“Can’t even go one night without each other?” Hendery teases as YangYang leads you down the hallway to the tiny single room that he won in their games earlier. “You should let noona go sleep in a real bed, YangYang!”

You both ignore him.

The room he won in the games was easily the worst of the lot. It’s hardly more than a storage closet with only a pallet of blankets and a single pillow on the floor. There’s a single camera mounted in the hallway outside the door because the room isn't big enough to hold the camera and a sleeping pallet at the same time.

“Sorry, noona,” YangYang apologizes as he closes the door behind you both. “If you want to go sleep at the staff house, I understand.”

“Absolutely not. I want you.” You make sure he’s got the door shut, one last glance around the room to double-check there aren’t any cameras in here, and you reach for the plaid button-down shirt he’s wearing.

YangYang grins when you all but rip the shirt open. At least one button does pop off, but you don’t care because his bare chest is revealed.

“I want you,” you repeat to him, and you step closer as you push his shirt down off his arms. You curl a hand around the back of his neck, and YangYang can’t stop smiling as you drag his mouth to yours.

His fingers work your shirt out from where it’s tucked into the waistband of the skirt you’re wearing, lifting your top up by the hem as he bites your bottom lip.

You moan. “Are you gonna be a bad boy, YangYang? Aren’t you still on probation? Do you think fucking me in here when there’s a camera for your reality show right outside the door is appropriate?”

“Didn’t you start this?” YangYang asks, tugging your shirt over your head, and his gaze drops straight to your tits. “Stripping me as soon as the door is shut?”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m innocent.” You put on an expression of pure innocence even as you’re reaching back for the clasp of your bra. The fabric drops away.

YangYang’s eyes don’t waver from your chest. He swallows, and then, to your delight, he reaches for you. YangYang lifts you, his arms beneath your ass while you twist your legs around his waist. He backs you against the wall, and his head lowers to your chest.

The first hot swipe of his tongue over your nipple draws a heated gasp from your lips. Your hands fly to his hair.

“YangYang,” you sigh his name, which dissolves into a moan when his lips close around your nipple.

He brings a hand up to your other tit, thumb circling the sensitive nipple, flicking over it, toying with you until you’re squirming between him and the wall, arching your chest into the heat of YangYang’s mouth, breathing heavily for him.

“Noona,” he breathes against your chest. “Don’t hold back for me tonight, okay? Be noisy with me.”

You twist your fingers in his hair enough to elicit a hiss from YangYang. “You’re pushing your limits, you know that? Are you trying to annoy everyone? Or are you just excited to show off how good you make noona feel?”

In reply, YangYang lowers his head again to mouth at your breasts, his hands pressing both of your tits together so he can draw his tongue along the dip between them. His hips roll forward, and you’re pinned entirely between him and the wall. You swear you can hear voices on the other side, just behind you through a few inches of wall.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You ask. “YangYang, you want the others to hear how good you’re fucking me? How I’m only yours? Are you jealous, or something? Who’s in there that you want to show off for?”

He captures your previously neglected nipple lightly between his teeth. He follows that with the soothing heat of his tongue, your nipple sucked into his mouth.

“WinWin ge,” he whispers a moment later when he’s paid enough attention to your nipples to have you feeling quite wet. “WinWin ge was talking about you earlier. He’s been feeling testy lately, and I think I irritated him when we were sent on the grocery trip, so he decided to get back at me by talking about you. Questioning certain parts of our relationship.”

You pull him in for a kiss. “You never need to doubt any part of our relationship, YangYang. I love you, and you have left me sufficiently satisfied every time we’ve been together.”

He snorts. “Even the first time?” He looks doubtful, amused too with the memory of him cumming so quickly the first time you were together.

You nod. YangYang’s lips part as if to voice his doubt of that, but you lift your hand, fingertips tracing his lips as you reassure him, “Yes, you came a little too quickly for my liking that night, but you made up for it. With your lips, your tongue. Even though I tried to change things between us after that night, I hope you know I couldn’t stop thinking of how amazing your mouth felt on me, your tongue inside me.”

This draws his familiar smile into being. “Really? You’ve never told me this.”

You draw your pointer finger over the bow of his upper lip. “I must admit I touched myself a fair few times between that first night and the second, thinking about your head between my thighs, the sweet sounds you made as you got lost in tasting my pussy.”

YangYang’s lips close around the tip of your pointer finger, his teeth just barely grazing your skin.

“I think you’ve got a little bit of an oral fixation, but that’s alright,” you tell him, “because since that first night I’ve honestly been pretty obsessed with your oral skills too.”

“Should I show them to you now again, noona?” YangYang brings his hands back to your thighs, and he steps back from the wall, his hands helping to ease your legs down. Your feet hit the floor. YangYang’s hands rise as the rest of him sinks down to his knees. He bunches your skirt up towards your hips, and you gaze down at him.

You drop a hand to the front hem of your skirt, pinching it between your fingers and drawing it up so you have a clear view as YangYang situates himself comfortably between your thighs. You can feel his breath on the skin of your upper thighs, his hands are warm on your legs, and then one of his hands meets the fabric of your panties.

His fingers are light, gliding along your slit through the material.

“You’re soaking through, noona.” YangYang circles his fingers against the material where it's the wettest. “Do you want me so much? I want to hear you say it.”

“YangYang,” you moan his name. “God, please, I need you.”

There’s his smile again, so pleased to hear that you need him. He leans in, and with your panties still in place, YangYang flicks his tongue over your clit for a second before he really gets to work.

He drags your right thigh up over his shoulder, opening you up a bit more for him, and he sinks closer. Still working over your panties, YangYang does his best to simulate eating you out, his tongue flat against your clit while you whine and roll your hips.

“More,” you hiss. “More, YangYang! I need your tongue.”

He shifts back only long enough to drag your panties down your legs. You hear the elastic snap, a bit of the fabric rips, but then your panties are on the floor behind him, and YangYang’s diving back in, bringing your leg back up to his shoulder.

You tip back until your shoulders hit the wall with a thud matched by the moan you let out as YangYang’s mouth finally comes in actual contact with your pussy.

YangYang devours you, his tongue is magic, spiraling you quickly towards climax.

His arms are there to keep you aloft when your orgasm weakens your knees and your one leg you’ve got to stand on (since the other is draped over YangYang’s shoulder nearly collapses. He keeps eating you out while you cum around his tongue, soaking his chin and lips.

You don’t know or care how much noise you’re making. You’re sure if any of them really care about how loud you’re being, they’ll have no problem coming to the door to voice a noise complaint.

When you can’t take anymore, you have to push YangYang away by the forehead. He gazes up at you with his pupils blown wide like he’s high on the taste of you. His lips and chin glisten in the light. “Noona, you’re my favorite.”

“Favorite what?” You gasp, still catching your breath from the last tremors of this most recent climax.

“Favorite everything.” YangYang’s hands climb up your thighs, and you don’t have the energy to swat away his hand when his fingers find the heat between your legs. Instead, your knees just give out, and you sink down to straddle YangYang’s lap.

Hands on his cheeks, you pull him in. You taste yourself on his lips and chin and tongue. Rivulets of your wetness have trailed over his cheeks, and he moans in soft delight when you trace those faint trails with your tongue.

He’s so hard beneath you, a solid shape in his shorts that you rub against while his fingers press inside your pussy from behind.

YangYang falls backwards, his shoulders hit the floor, and you hold yourself above him, hands planted beside his head. You don’t stop kissing him, unable to get enough of your taste blending with his.

“Fuck me, YangYang,” you murmur. “I want to feel you inside me. I need your cock, fill me up like only you can.”

His fingers leave you empty, but you can feel him fumbling with the basketball shorts he’s wearing. You feel him pushing them down to his knees, feel his hands moving, and then at last you feel the head of his cock against your entrance.

You break the kiss so you can sit up straight, and you sink down on YangYang’s cock.

Your skirt pools around your hips and thighs, shielding from view the place where your bodies join. YangYang, clearly not a fan of not getting to see that, grabs your skirt and pushes it up.

You fumble for the zipper at the side of your skirt, and you unzip it enough that you can drag it up over your head, leaving you entirely naked while you ride your boyfriend.

YangYang and you move in tandem. He lifts his hips to drive into you while you grind down on him. YangYang’s hands rest on your hips and thighs, and you cover his hands with your own, lacing your fingers through his.

“Fuck, noona,” he moans, rocking his hips off the floor, his fingers digging into your thighs.

You lean over his chest, sliding one of your hands along his torso until your fingers are brushing his collarbone. “YangYang, c’mere.”

He jolts up, his mouth on yours again, his tongue sliding against yours messily. You press your chest against his, and you take a seat on his cock, just clutching at YangYang while he holds you and kisses you, neither of you making a move for a moment, just feeling the throb of his cock inside you and the pulsing of your walls around him.

“Love you,” you confess against his lips. “I love you. I love you.”

YangYang, again, smiles. “I love to hear you say that. Especially like this.” He kisses you again, and then suddenly he’s got you beneath him, your back on the floor and YangYang’s hands press against your inner thighs to open you up as they fall to the side.

You rake your fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck, over his shoulders and down his chest. YangYang shivers, rolling his hips forward.

“Baby,” you tease, “Cum for me. Show me just how much you love me. Cum deep inside me. Claim me as yours.”

“Am I yours?” He asks, the words breathed over your lips.

“Always.” You lift your head to kiss him.

YangYang covers you with his body, kissing you deeply as he starts moving.

You both take each other apart slowly now, letting the swell of emotions take over as you touch and kiss and just simply enjoy being so close and intimate with each other.

You know you’re not restraining your noises at all. If YangYang does something that feels particularly good, you moan loudly, you gasp, you call his name. He does the same.

And the volume only increases as you grow closer to orgasm.

A thump on the wall.

“Shut the hell up!” WinWin’s muffled voice comes through the wall.

You laugh, and YangYang does too, which does something strange and pleasant to your body to have you both joined together and laughing.

It takes some readjustment before you continue.

YangYang sits up again, and you fix yourself in his lap, facing him with your ankles crossed at his tailbone. You kiss him again, each of you smiling and laughing into each other’s mouths, and you move together. YangYang slips a hand down between your bodies to touch your clit, stimulating the bundle of nerves with tight circles of his fingers.

Your orgasm comes hard and fast, stealing your breath away, and hitting you with all the force of a lightning strike. YangYang spills into you immediately after, his climax racing through him.

You cling to each other, just holding each other while you breathe and come down together. Your hearts pound in tandem, chests rising and falling in time with the other.

“That felt so fucking good.” You hug him tightly, resting your cheek on YangYang’s shoulder. “I love you.”

He kisses the crown of your head. “I love you, too. And I don’t want to move, but should we go clean up?”

You sneak to the bathroom down the hallway, and you both shower off quickly, then head back to his tiny closet bedroom. It’s not the most comfortable spot to sleep, but it’s so much more comfortable than the twin bed or air mattress you would’ve had in the staff house because here you’re able to sleep beside YangYang.

You get comfortable, snuggling up to YangYang with one of your legs draped over his and your head pillowed on his arm. You’re happy and sleepy and satisfied.

And you know in the morning the cameras are probably going to catch you sneaking out of YangYang’s room, but anyone who witnesses that or sees it on the raw unedited footage isn’t going to be surprised.

It has always been a well-known fact among the group and the staff members that Liu YangYang has a ridiculously large crush on you. And now, you sleep with a smile on your face knowing that it’s also become common knowledge among them that that crush has become this love.

a/n: it's been a long, long time since I posted parts 1 & 2 of this one, but this part 3 finale has been on my to-do list for a long time. I'm hoping that this is only the first of the ideas that I'll be crossing off my list before the year's over, and I'm hoping that you'll all be here to enjoy them!

If you've read this far, then thank you so much! Likes, reblogs, comments, and messages are forever and always appreciated! They're what keeps me writing and posting on here!

#yangyang #wayv #wayv smut #nct smut #yangyang smut #wayv fic #nct fics #yangyang fanfic

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meiideryz · 11 months ago

Text

sounds of strings.

pairing: liu yangyang x reader

length: 2.68k

synopsis: yangyang is a man who would completely back off from people his friends like, but not this one.

tags: alternative universe, rock band au, wayv ensemble, unrequited love, rockstar!yangyang ft. hendery, one-sided attraction, implied pining, house partying, yangyang is head over heels for you consented, drunk kissing, slight heavy make-out session, alcohol consumption, mentions of vulgar/foul words.

note: the plot idea came from my sibling who intended to make this as a xhy social media au to be posted on another platform (if you are interested in reading it, please anticipate later on in twitter!), so i was granted permission to write their favorite part of the plot to see how it would turn out, and here it is!

yangyang couldn't understand why every person he knows is so drawn to him but not you.

he was that rockstar who played his maroon matted electric guitar in big bars to perform on stage. he was that rockstar that everyone would talk about in broad daylight. he loved the way people would get excited seeing him at his gigs and get asked to take pictures with him.

but the fact that out of all people, you don't show interest in him in the slightest bit upsets him.

one of his friends was hosting a party later tonight, and he was asked to perform at their place. yangyang made sure to dress nicely in case you were coming to see him perform.

when he and his band arrived, you were already there chilling in the backyard; drinking, talking, having fun with your friends. wanting to approach you, he took a step forward with a gentle smile on his face that was completely wiped off as soon as his other band member snaked his arm around your waist. the man holding you closer to an intimate position which led you to place your palms on his chest.

“hey, beautiful.”

right, he exactly understood why you never had interest in him.

he had no choice but to watch hendery spew out sweet words to you. he stared at your reddened cheeks, letting out a nervous breathy laugh while the man before you held you still with a hand on your hip.

“we’re about to perform, cheer for me?” the way hendery held eye contact with you was long and arousing. yangyang couldn’t handle watching anymore, tearing his eyes away from the scene, leaving the band member alone.

as he walked towards the set where they were gonna perform, the sound of short breaths coming from his back until a hand grabbed on his shoulders to stop him.

“why'd you leave me there?” hendery asked, there was laughter in his tone, which made yangyang roll his eyes. he took the maroon electric guitar in his grasp before turning on the amplifier beside him to adjust the sounds.

“jealous, perhaps?” a question that kept him still in his spot.

yangyang knew he was trying to insinuate things, but he also knew that he wasn't wrong for that. although his friend had his eyes for you, yangyang wanted you, too- despite how impossible it was considering the fact that you were at the brink of being wrapped around hendery’s finger.

“i don't have time for that,” prompted him, his tone sounded harsh and rude, but the latter never questioned. “you know, what i want you to do right now is to get the others. we'll be performing in 10 minutes.” completely deviating from the topic, a sigh left the latter's lips before leaving the guitarist alone in the area to set up the instruments.

when yangyang performed on stage, he scanned the crowd in search of you because seeing you always left him in excitement, thrill, and motivation. he wanted to impress you so much that during their performance, he turned the volume knob up to blast the sounds of his electric guitar, purposely overpowering the other instruments being showcased by his band mates. they would give him stares, but he didn’t care.

what matters to yangyang is that everyone would get on their feet and jump to the beat, and there he could see you, just watching the band perform.

his heart raced, finally getting your attention as you stared at him. it saddened him by how impassive you were, and to fix that, he flashed you a smile before going back to strum his fingers on the strings of the instrument. his charismatic image sparked the performance, causing the people to remarkably cheer for the band that gave him a content look on his face. yangyang grinned when you looked away, as he wondered if your cheeks heated up under the flashing color fairy lights shining and blinking above.

by the time they were finished, the band got off stage to have their time to rest too. hendery left to get the drinks, ten followed to get the food, and kun thanked the host for letting them perform at their house party.

the rockstar sat in one of the tables in the corner while the next performing band played a soothing jazz genre in the background. a helmet resting beside his clothed thigh while he thumbed over the motor gloves he was wearing in his hands. he inspected the area, finally looking in your direction at the other side of the yard as he watched you talking to your friends. he was so fixated on you, and wondered why you didn't feel the same.

moments passed after casually having a conversation with kun, his eyes found their way back to the direction where you previously were, only to find no one.

he looked back at the latter, “hey uhm, i'm going back inside, really need to use the restroom right now.”

getting the chance to excuse himself, he headed inside the house through the crowd. the pulsating of his heart throbbed from the loud beats coming from the speaker that is somewhere around the room that didn't matter to him.

walking through the crowds was such a hassle to get to the other room, his voice low and soft as he gently pushed through people. it took him a while to do so, the room was illuminated by led lights so it was hard for him to find the exit area to the next room with such minimal source of light.

once he arrived at the corridor, the roaring sounds of screaming filled the room next to him. of course, hendery's voice can't go unnoticed. yangyang exhaled, walking past the door, not feeling the need to come inside and deal with the latter's drunken state. he then continued to find where the restroom is. it could possibly be upstairs, but he might end up witnessing something that he shouldn't need or might regret seeing.

avoiding the 2nd floor, he continued searching for an available restroom. when he finally found one, he wasted no second getting inside, instantly reminding himself that he got here with a motorbike, and he couldn't risk getting into an accident from drinking too much. yangyang faced the dirty mirror that was filled with smudges of fingerprints and lipsticks. not that he minded it, it was a party after all, he expected these to happen in a house party.

opening the faucet, he removed the leather gloves from each hand, placing it aside before gathering a normal amount of water in his palms, splashing it to his face to try and sober himself up. he repeated the procedure several more times before wiping his face with a clean towel he found in the drawers.

as he was about to turn off the faucet, the door beside him swung open. startling the rockstar, he reacted quickly, backing away from the door with a wide-eyed expression. then the look on his face softened, finding you holding onto the doorknob.

he watched as your legs couldn't hold you up anymore, with one step your body launching forward to the ground. “fuck!” yangyang instinctively held his arms out to catch you, preventing you from falling on the floor.

“i got you, i got you.” he repeated, assuring you in an embrace where you nuzzled yourself in his chest, letting out a laugh as your hands were placed around his shoulders. he heard you slur, telling him how good he was at playing the guitar, following with how good he was with his fingers. yangyang felt like his mind was going blank, hearing some very vulgar words you were whispering to him that he wouldn't even dare to think about.

you really were that drunk.

yangyang's cheeks heated up, shifting in his position to hold you properly in his arms. “god, what have you been drinking this whole time?”

“red juice,” you beamed in between hiccups and sniffles. because of the proximity, yangyang couldn't help but feel his heart race at how close you were to him. you were really pretty up close and he wished he could just stare at you for how long he wanted— but you needed help right now and gaping at you wasn’t the best option in this situation.

“hey, let’s get you sober up, okay?” his arms moved down to your thighs, holding it firmly before lifting you up to place you on the restroom counter. your hands never parted away from his neck, instead, you interlock your hands together as you keep clinging onto him, making it harder for yangyang to actually help you.

“look, i’m trying to help you here,” he sighed, his hands going up to clasp around your wrists, trying to pull it down. “your friends might also be looking for you.”

“i don’t care.” you responded, following with a hiccup leaving your lips. “i’m here with you, and that’s all that matters.”

even if yangyang wanted to believe that, you were drunk. he knew what you were like towards him if you weren’t wasted at all with all that drinking. he did wish that there was more to what you stated, as some people said that one’s true feelings unveil when they’re under the influence.

“y-you’re drunk, you don't mean that.” he tried to pull your arms away from him for the second time, only for you to pull him closer.

yangyang's breath hitched, finding himself entangled in an embrace with his face inches to yours, the invitation of your lips tempting him to close the gap.

he composed himself, his arms caging in between your body as his palms rested on the counter to balance himself. as much as the desire was kicking in, he wouldn't do such a thing to you especially of how intoxicated you were, your vulnerability lay bare before him.

“come on, i need to help you and you need to help yourself. we’ve been here for god knows how long and people might start looking for—”

a pair of lips brushed against his. his completely blown pupils dilating at the action as the way you slid your tongue against his bottom lip melted him entirely, his soul leaving his body at that very moment.

yangyang was a nervous trainwreck at this point, not sure whether to push you away or to reciprocate. no matter how much he wanted you so bad, he wouldn’t want to be in conflict with someone who also liked you, especially hendery. he was a man who would completely back off from people his friends like, but not this one. the drummer had already expressed to the rest of the band that he liked you for too long, yet how he craved for your flavored chapstick smearing over his lips, your mouth driving him insane, and shared breaths between kisses was something he yearned for in every way.

he had fallen hook, line, and sinker.

fuck it, hendery won’t know.

it didn't take long before yangyang returned the kiss. he fluttered his eyes closed as he matched the pace of your lips while his hands traveling to grip the sides of your hips to hold you still. he wasn't so sure anymore if he was still sober, but one thing he is certain is how much he felt drunk from the make-out session.

the air around him turned hot, and somehow your hands were now on his hair, tugging it lightly, pulling him closer. his nails digging into the cloth covering your skin. how he wanted to get that thing away, but he eventually didn't as he just wanted to concentrate on your lips over his.

it was merely a perfect mold to his. both lips moved with such passion and hunger for each other as your tongue slipped into his mouth with ease, causing the rockstar to let out a breathy moan.

he felt his heart thumping against his ribs and your chest the more you tried to close the gap between you. the rhythm of both lips turned sloppy, messy, and fiery, craning his neck to deepen the kiss. yangyang knew that once he broke the kiss, he would never get to feel your lips on his again— yet his lungs were screaming at him, begging and seeking for air.

yangyang's chest heaved up and down, finally abandoning your lips to catch his own breath. his sweaty forehead covered in his bangs rested against yours, completely worn out and drained while his hot breath fanned over your mouth.

“you know, you and i are going to regret this when we wake up tomorrow.” he mumbled through exhales. you laughed in return, and it was such a pleasant sound for the rockstar.

an hour passed by and everyone soon left the party, including you. yangyang carried his things to the truck of kun’s car along with the other instruments and equipment. he gave a double pat on the shiny steel of the vehicle. “there you go, take care of roxanne for me.”

kun scrunched his nose up at the name, an eyebrow raised while looking at him. “roxanne?”

“my guitar.”

“...right.” kun's gaze went back to the front window of his car, the key that was inside the ignition key was pulled back out after he had started the engine. yangyang could see hendery and ten's sleeping silhouette in the backseat through the tinted windows, tired after all the performing, eating, and drinking.

“where were you a while ago? i was looking for you after i found out you've been gone for too long,” the former questioned, which made the latter feel a lump in his throat.

“sorry,” he apologized, “i went up to the balcony to use some stig.”

“oh, well...are you coming with us?” kun asked, hands gripped on the stirring wheel. yangyang refused, waving his hands at him and indicating the three to leave without the rockstar. “i came with my motorbike, i'd be fine alone.” signaling them to go, kun made no second thoughts before driving away from the party, leaving him alone with his motorcycle just around the corner.

he walked back into the backyard where he found his friend and other people cleaning up the area, picking up the used cups and plates on the grass. his hand grasped onto the helmet that he left a while ago during the party as he carefully placed it on his head, adjusting the helmet so that it wasn't too loose nor too tight to wear.

“i’ll get going, thank you!” he yelled out, calling his friend's attention, to which the latter smiled, acting out a salute gesture to acknowledge his presence and bid farewell.

yangyang set his foot out to leave the house, and there he saw his motorcycle at the side that awaited him. he made sure to look at the road before crossing, not wanting to run into some vehicles like he did last time.

the keys in his pants jingled as he took it out, inserting it into the ignition to start the engine of his motorbike. he ensured that his extra helmet was inside the storage under his seat before hopping on, and once he did, he left the area.

he crashed into his bed by the time he arrived at his apartment, and when he woke up this morning, his head throbbed from the massive hangover he had last night. he found himself tucked with the velvet covers of his mattress, his throat dry and itchy, and the oppressive force of his headache squeezing his head tightly.

his phone that was on the nightstand next to him was filled with notifications of messages from his friends. he was met with a video clip that was sent to him and some screenshots of people commenting under the video that was uploaded in a social media platform.

then his heart dropped, watching the video of you and hendery kissing each other at the party last night.

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wincore · 1 year ago

Text

indelicate | liu yangyang

pairing: yangyang x fem!reader

synopsis: missing the last train out of new shanghai was not on the to-do list. however, your project partner liu yangyang promises fun, dazzling lights, and the warmth of a human connection for this festive weekend. perhaps even in the era of diamond and steel, the human touch means something after all.

genre: oriental cyberpunk, f2l, fluff

warning(s): swearing & several innuendos. also out-of-date jokes sorry guys i wrote this in 2021

words: 11.9k

a/n: this is just a rework of an old fic i posted here with another character! if you find any inconsistencies, it's probably because of that LOL also this is not a wincore revival but i did miss everyone on here !!

i. city plaza

Some idiot, somewhere along in history, decided to renovate a city into something so dazzling that the population shoots up to a hundred and fifty percent of what was before, and the rest of the damage comes along with the people. Promises are made and broken to build this city of extravagance. You have the belief that the more people there are in one place, the more difficult it gets to live there. This dazzling hellscape means colliding into too many people on the streets, too many bright lights outside your dorm room when you’re trying to sleep and the god awful sound of deafening firecrackers at every new year celebration.

Another idiot somehow roped you into his ‘midnight adventure: traditional version’ once he heard you missed the last train ticket out of the city. Liu Yangyang has a terrible way with words—but he has a way.

You were, by some unfortunate gamble of the gods, partners for a project that accounted for sixty percent of the grade. While that affair is over, you still haven't rid yourself of the predicament that is Yangyang. Gorgeous, yes, but too overwhelming. You smack your head against the car window only for him to jump in his seat beside you, hand gently driving over your forehead to check for damage. The neon city lays around you, and festive light projections float across the sky in intricate shapes of the ox and written messages. This is going nowhere. You came to this city sacrificing everything and yet suddenly, everything’s hanging on a string again.

The city lights of New Shanghai are cruel. Everything in this place is cruel.

Which is exactly why you’re in Yangyang’s car, parked by the middle level city plaza on New Year’s Eve. It is, in fact, illegal to hover by the city plaza on New Year’s Eve but Yangyang seems to either not care or simply doesn’t know. You forget the law doesn’t exist for rich kids. Out of all man-made wonders, rules are the most interesting.

“Shall we go?” he asks, voice bubbly as ever. Every morning, he chirps like the alarm birds outside your window. Yes, it has made you want to sleep forever at times.

“It’s just one night. And I’ll be with you, so you don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” you snap.

“Not afraid of the dark either?”

You pull your jacket closer to you. Here, the cold streets of the techno-jungle make you shiver more often than not. If you dare go out without friends, a city so grand will inevitably drain the life out of you. Your body alone cannot withstand the dazzle. And—you can’t be afraid of the dark after you’ve complained about the lights.

You look at Yangyang and back to the cityscape outside—large conglomerative blocks of buildings, some hosting advertisements with the faces of inhumanly beautiful models and some with the ‘Happy New Year!’ text animation floating about in increasingly complex patterns. You see the revolving top of one of the grandest skyscrapers, a Dior hotel, not the tallest but certainly the most pleasing to look at. It gleams from red to orange like the pulsating heart of a giant metropolitan beast. There are more funky buildings to look at, some not even the shape of austere corporate skyscrapers.

“Do you wanna go there?” Yangyang asks all of a sudden. “I heard the lounge is closed off from eleven. I can call some friends and we can book a room though—”

“No. No way. I’m not going to spend new year’s eve in a Dior suite.”

He grins. “Thank god. It’s so boring there. Only models and businessmen and whatever freak shit they do.”

You sigh. Liu Yangyang is a whole story in itself. He’s rich and popular—a dream of many—but so few are as welcoming as he is. When you’re in that position, you’re bound to have a little metal seep into your heart. Some hidden part of you, however, tells you to loosen up when you’re with him; just let it go and have a good time. There’s no reason why you shouldn't. The economy is on a steep incline, the people are happy and no other city compares to this place. You could learn a thing or two from Yangyang.

He looks at you questioningly, eyes waiting and the curve of his lips still. You notice his platinum blond hair is more styled than usual, you can almost smell the gel on it, and for a moment, you wish you looked as good as he does. A dark leather jacket accentuates his shoulders, the plain T-shirt underneath not of the flashy type. He looks like he’s ready for club-hopping and you, anything but. If you knew earlier that you’d be by the Strip around midnight on New Year’s, you'd have dressed better.

“If you stay any longer in my car, people are going to assume we’re…y’know,” he states, quirking his eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure it’s illegal, though. Like, who thought fu—”

You were wrong. There is absolutely nothing to learn from Liu Yangyang.

“I would get out of this car immediately and fall to my death before I let that happen,” you retort, crossing your arms.

“No, hey. What an inauspicious sentence. Besides, and I’m not bragging but you should know I’m really good at using my assets—”

“Don’t say a word.”

The heat of embarrassment flows into your cheeks at his implication. You look out the window, weighing out the pros and cons. The scenery is so bright that sometimes it hurts to look outside. It’s not midnight yet but the main streets are already getting crowded for the processions; the sound of laughter and conversation ring in the air. It makes you somewhat sad to not be home for this. But as they say, living in a big city can only be done if you sell your soul to it.

You’re directly above the level one city plaza, the people below looking unsettling in the way they’re so small and far away—they don’t even seem human at this distance. You wonder if you look like that to the people above this, to the level three elites who sit on top of the whole city..

You look back to your companion, who’s transfixed on the bakery across the road—either that, or just really, really zoned out. Knowing Yangyang, it could be either. When you tilt your head, waiting, you find that he has pretty features—a shaped nose and round, curious eyes, all in perfect alignment with plump, pink lips. His metallic ring earrings shine when the light hits them right. No wonder you get girls asking how close the two of you are often. Even in a world pushing manufactured love, boys like him make others daydream. You wonder why you’re the one he loves to drag in with him.

Yangyang flinches when he finds you staring at him. You clear your throat, looking away and hoping you can sweep this under the rug.

“Are you- are you by any chance mad at me?” he asks, a nervous smile awkwardly tugging at his lips.

“I- what? No. I’m not mad at you.”

“You look like my mother when I don’t clean my room. Or Ten's cats when I try to kiss them.”

A tiny laugh escapes you before you get back your poised demeanor. “I’m- I’m not mad at you.”

He smiles at you wordlessly and you feel a little conscious. You glance outside when the plaza music starts to get loud and look back at him, debating whether you should just give in.

“So… you’ll let me brighten your life now?” he asks in his regular baritone, grinning wider. “The semester’s over and it’s festival time! I bring good luck, I promise.”

Liu Yangyang is not a happy serendipity. He simply cannot be. However, he does make you laugh more often than you’d admit.

“Whatever. Go ahead. I just don’t want to be hungover on a Friday.”

“You don’t- you don’t have to drink to have a good time.” He laughs. “I would know. I’m sort of a lightweight. I don’t know why I told you that. I’m supposed to be cool.”

You giggle, taking a moment to think.

“Fine then. Show me your magical access key to our beloved Mobius Strip, the mightiest, grandest structure in all of New Shanghai.”

“Well, if you put it that way… I am pretty cool, huh?”

His smile is too harmless for you to roll your eyes. He’s too gentle, you realize all of sudden, to be as awful as all the uni frat boys you’ve had the misfortune of talking to. You watch him as he drives; his arm moves with ease and he tries to make conversation but you can only hum and respond in singular words. The closer you are to the Strip the more nervous you get. It’s like visiting all those dark places that your mother explicitly warned you not to visit as a teenager—but you’re an adult now. No one owns you. No one should be able to own you. The determination builds up slowly over neon lights and hazy street shops.

Nights here are the fun part. Everyone says that. Other than the fact that you can barely make out the colour of the sky under the vivid city lights, there’s something very enticing about the streets, the upper streets that wind around the city.

Yangyang drives the car to a level three street, the behemoth structure of the Strip now so close that all you can see beyond your window are its placid, white walls stretching out to infinity. You can see little gardens and shops, peeking out from between each strip and one of the shopkeepers wave at you the moment you pass. Yangyang says something along the lines of “thanks for the free noodles” to the woman, before gliding higher.

“Grandma makes the best glass noodles here,” he says, excitedly. “I’ll take you sometime. If you like.”

You hum, noting the joy he expresses at the idea of something so simple.

Level three streets are already thousand and a half feet above the ground. You try not to look down; heights aren’t something you’re very fond of even if you love the sky. You note construction work for street levels four and five, shivering at the idea. The winds of change are fucking cold.

Yangyang swerves the car off-road at one point and you clutch his arm by reflex.

“What the fuck? Don’t do that without warning me,” you say, breathing quicker. You do not do well with: sudden movement, jumpscares and boys with pretty smiles.

“Sorry,” he says, looking at you with concern. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You let go of his arm, more embarrassed at yourself than mad at him. Driving the car closer to the Strip, he brakes carefully by the parking lot. The walls are covered in red wallpaper, a few lanterns attached to drones, floating along the path inside. It looks like a rooftop parking lot, though the mysterious dim lighting makes you walk closer to Yangyang.

“I heard this is gonna be a really cool event—they’ve got the latest AI tech hosting and crap but let me tell you the best part.”

He pauses for dramatic effect.

“The food!” He says, spreading his arms and grinning. “The food at private events is the best thing you’ll ever taste.”

You open your mouth but close it again in part horror, part confusion. “You’re… taking me to a private event?”

“Ah, don’t look like that. It’s really fun, promise.”

“I’m not even dressed for it,” you blurt, embarrassed.

Yangyang shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. It’s for rich kids, you know? If I’m being honest, none of them know how to dress.”

His confident statement gets a giggle out of you and you relax a little. You walk with him, further into the square platform and away from the cars. The sky disappears behind the dark roof and for a moment, you feel like you’ve entered a different dimension. It’s like the architecture models that your professors had on display for the Shanghai History class in your freshman year. Old stuff, that is. Before this place even had the first skyscraper.

You turn to your side and narrow your eyes at Yangyang, suddenly wondering how he finagled his way into bringing you here. Your iron-clad will is not so much iron after all. It’s not even steel, you think, once you catch yourself staring at Yangyang a bit too long.

You step forward to find the entrance to the club; it’s a little lonely to look at in the beginning. Then it clicks that it’s probably the back door. The red pillars encase a black door between them, the overhang of the gateway just a little above Yangyang’s head. You can see the hip-and-gable style roof of the larger building behind, looking like a skyscraper instead of the usual historical buildings you’ve seen on the internet. In glowing red letters, it displays a blinking ‘Club 2’ near the top of the door.

The moment you step on the stairs, a bunch of advertisements pop up on the door, bright bubblegum colours hurting your eyes. Yangyang taps at the little x at the corner of the display till it disappears and finally the door is a regular door. The colour is jet black like any other screening platform.

“I thought the rich were exempted from ads,” you say.

“They’re… more likely to buy things though.”

You make an ‘ah’ sound in contemplation when a whirring makes you jump into him. A little spherical drone flies its way out of an opening in the wall and stops right in front of the two of you.

“Sicheng-ge!” Yangyang says, waving frantically at the camera.

The little drone circles around Yangyang’s head before stopping right in front of his face. It runs a scan before turning sharply and beeping at you.

“My plus one!” Yangyang declares, pulling you by the waist. “Or whatever it’s called.”

Your ears feel warm but you don’t push him off. The camera focuses on your face, likely scanning to identify your age and occupation. When it’s done, a beep resounds and the door slides open to reveal a dimly lit pathway. The main entrance is much brighter, Yangyang promises, but for now it’s just the warm glow of the lanterns, Yangyang’s neon red striped jacket and the mechanical whirring of some sort of device in the darkness.

“What’s that sound?” you whisper and Yangyang stops.

He pauses to think. “Oh, they’re Sicheng-ge’s drones. He’s got like a million of them. I'll introduce you—he’s hosting this club event, by the way.”

He smiles at you reassuringly. If Yangyang’s not bothered by it, you’ll follow his lead. Though, you do take more nimble steps and stay close to him like he’s your lighthouse. (In a way, he is, with all that neon shining on his jacket.)

You’re surprised to find a garden, but then it gets stranger when you see brighter lanterns in the middle area. You see figures and before you can react, Yangyang takes your hand and into the central platform.

ii. orchid club square

Yangyang was right. None of them know how to dress.

The two of you stand in the middle of a crowd, who are in fact dressed either for: a) an impromptu pool party or b) a Sunday morning lecture. You blend in somewhat well given the variety though Yangyang’s painted looks have attracted the attention of quite a few giggling, murmuring onlookers.

You clench your jaw in mild annoyance.

“This is a tour,” Yangyang whispers to you. “I thought… you’d like to know what everything’s about.”

You feel grateful to him for once. Having some sort of knowledge about what you’re getting into makes you feel better about any situation. A set of mechanical clicking fills the air.

A woman—no, an AI bot is the first to greet you. She has pale white metallic skin and her dark strands of hair are in a traditional updo. Her lips are imperial red, shaped in a way that makes her seem as though she’s smiling but also not at the very same time. She holds an extravagant fan by her face at the perfect right angle, the patterns on it painted to imitate an ancient cherry blossom tree.

“Good evening, everyone,” she says, her voice pitched up and enthusiastic. It’s a little funny to imagine metal so lively.

You smell oranges and lavender as soon as she flicks her fan once and precise.

“Welcome to the New Shanghai nightlife!” The bot continues jovially. “The oldest surviving city on planet earth, the birthplace of the human race.”

“You are in virtual space,” she informs. “It might look like a courtyard stretching to infinity but it is only an illusion. However, the club is five hundred and sixty one metres wide and six hundred and twelve metres long. It is large enough to hold twenty-one blue whales in a line. That is, if they still existed of course.”

She giggles algorithmically.

“Where you stand right now,” she says, turning her head in a swift mechanical motion to you and you flinch. “This place is called the orchid club square. As you know, only VIP access lets you in.”

You glance at Yangyang worriedly and he shrugs. There’s no way she could know, right? That was oddly specific. But then she moves her head left to right to address the whole crowd in perfect grace. When her movement starts to get a little too eerie to watch any longer, you fix your eyes on the garden instead. You have no way of telling part real flowers from virtual ones and even so—all of them are beautiful. Maybe reality doesn’t make things any prettier.

However, when you look at Yangyang, the thought gets tossed out. You shake your head, in an attempt to get rid of the image of his face. It’s a little too late to be feeling this way. Either that, or the night is taking its toll on you already. The day was exhausting, considering it was the end of the semester.

The AI guide’s chatter fades into something quieter when you move the club square. It’s a rather empty space, fitting for a rave or just housing large crowds. The decorations are for the new year celebrations, banners of the ox in auspicious colours and a few drones projecting the rest. There’s a garden of evermore orchids lining the area in a perfect square and it’s so precise that it’s pleasing to look at. There’s a door at one edge, similar to the one you encountered before entering the club square.

The music that wafts through the air is so gentle, you almost forget there’s a celebration. The beat makes it livelier and even so, the rhythm of your heartbeat matches it in a soothing sort of way. Turning around, you spot the musical ensemble. It’s another AI, peering over a guqin with trained habit.

She looks the same, except she wears an electronic mask over the lower half of her face. It displays a blue musical note made up of noticeable pixels. She has no fan—instead, her fingers strum the guqin rhythmically, programmed with precision and grace. The sound is accompanied by the woodwind notes of a flute, though you’re not sure where that sound emanates from. There’s also a soft drumbeat which seems to come from the guqin bot herself.

You gasp when a few painted goldfish float through the air, almost real to look at if it weren’t for the glitch effect of holograms. One of them swims closer to you, opening and closing its mouth in rhythm and you giggle at its face.

Yangyang laughs, long finger pointing at the critter in amusement. “That’s adorable.”

He looks like a little kid and you giggle at his expression, with wide, delighted eyes and mouth open in focused mirth. He pokes at the goldfish and it makes a bubbling sound, gears shifting in ticking time before suddenly biting at his index finger. Yangyang lets out a low yelp, retracting his hand before clearing his throat in embarrassment.

“You’re like a cartoon,” you tell him, in between laughs. “No way are you real.”

He grins, in that same way he always looks at you and you look away, feeling hot in the face. It’s too enamored a way to look at someone. But of course, that couldn’t be true—he’s Liu Yangyang and you’re you. Parallel lines do not meet, even if they’re headed in the same direction.

“I think you’re unreal,” he mumbles.

iii. club 2

The doors open to a rather spacious arrangement, with several tables one one side and a sort of dance arena on the other where people are trying to out-dance each other. The intensity makes you move further away from it. It seems a little too festive and you can feel the energy slinking away from you. The music is more upbeat but you suppose the DJ tried to make it sound more eastern; the result is pleasing. He wears a smooth black helmet with a neon red beat visualizer on it, with written SFX appearing from time to time. Two pulsing golden horns glow at the sides of his head. You stare at it for longer than you’d like before composing yourself. You’re very impressionable when it comes to parties.

There are two floors to the club, above the bottom floor itself. The other two floors mostly seem to consist of private booths, however, covered with gossamer silk that glow iridescent. A few floating lanterns sway by the upper floors. The ceiling is open to a midnight blue sky and the stars look much larger than you’ve ever seen them—you suspect it’s an AR mesh over the ceiling. A few light shows project little dancing dragons and coins over the sky and you find them too cute to not stare at.

“Wow,” Yangyang says, right after walking in. “Why is Dejun on the table?”

You look where his eyes are focused on, though it’s difficult through the crowd of people, and find Dejun and Kunhang in some sort of old anime transformation pose atop one of the tables. It’s surprising that they’re not the weirdest pair here.

“Now, bear with me, it’s going to be boring as hell till the countdown and the fireworks,” he explains, waving his hands around. “But it’s a good place to have fun and make friends. You know?”

“Friends?” you ask, a little nervous. You’re not very proficient at making friends and it makes you anxious.

“Yeah! Don’t worry. ” He makes a strange gesture, bordering between posing for a beer ad campaign and looking like a motivational speaker for the army, before furrowing his eyebrows. “You just have to be confident! I’m learning too!”

He lets out a sweet laugh and it makes you laugh in turn, hand covering your mouth so you don’t embarrass yourself too much. You don’t believe the words much, but the glow over his cheeks makes you reconsider.

“You look really nice when you laugh,” he comments, a bright glint in his eyes.

“Whatever,” you reply, punching his shoulder lightly.

Just then, you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder to find Lana from your ethical AI class, smiling at you warmly. She looks a little tired, of people more than the time. Like you, she is also a scholarship student—and not a day has gone when she hasn’t soothed your anxiety about your classes. In stark contrast with Yangyang, you would trust her over him for most tasks. Even if you weren’t partners, you’re okay with the outcome. You glance at Yangyang.

“(name)! Oh my god, I didn’t know you were coming here,” she says. “Did Yangyang kidnap you?”

“I mean, sort of.”

“Hey.” Yangyang looks at you with betrayal.

“And how did you even manage to do that cool ass project with him as your partner?” she continues, squinting at him.

“Honestly, I don’t know either. He can be surprisingly helpful though.”

Yangyang looks from Lana to you in exasperation. “I’m literally right here,” he grumbles.

Lana laughs at his expression, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

“I just can’t believe you let him kidnap you and not me,” she says in mock indignance. “I’m a much better chauffeur, you know?”

“Do you even have a driving license?” Yangyang asks, laughing.

“I got mine before you, rat. Anyway, (name), I’m playing the guzheng. Do you wanna come see?”

“No,” Yangyang interrupts, suddenly grabbing your hand. “I… I mean you guys can go, of course. It's just the countdown’s close, so we have to go to the viewpoint.”

“That’s exactly where—ah. I see.”

"We'll join you another time, Lana," he says quietly, a cute grin on his face like a little boy would make to an older sister for more shares of chocolate.

"No, no. I actually remembered I left my friends in the corner. See you!"

She leaves her epiphany unsaid, offering you a smile and taking her leave abruptly.

“I thought you told me to socialize,” you complain to Yangyang.

“Yes, I’m so proud of you for that.”

“Yangyang, I swear if you treat me like a kid—”

“I’m not, I’m not. Sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “I just need to borrow you for tonight. After all, I promised you, didn’t I?”

You sigh. “Fine then, what’s this viewpoint you’re talking about?”

“Oh, we’ll get there.”

Someone’s watching you. You turn around a full three-sixty but find only the same crowd of college-age kids. No one sticks out much, apart from Dejun, Kunhang and Ten, who are at this point performing some sort of strange ritual unbeknownst to any new year tradition, with a hell load of yelling.

“Oh my god, you’re dancing too?” Yangyang says, grinning ear to ear. “I didn’t know I’d have that much of a positive influence. Wow.”

“I’m- I’m not- never mind.”

Yangyang furrows his eyebrows. “What did I tell you? More confidence! See—”

He takes your hands in his, pulling you further onto the dance floor. You feel a rising panic but swallow it. There’s a beat of silence in which the two of you look at each other. Yangyang proceeds to perform the stupidest sequence of movements you have ever seen, certainly too awkward for his body to accept as natural but it doesn’t seem like he cares. He’s having fun.

You find yourself laughing. Taking timid steps, you try to loosen up although the inevitable embarrassment arrives in flushes of heat across your face. There are stars in Yangyang’s eyes when you join him—not the artificial jewels in observatories but the real kind that you used to see in your hometown.

You take a wobbly step back. It’s starting to get disorienting. If it were the real sky above you, you might even have felt better. Perhaps the purpose is to get dizzy.

“I’m a little thirsty,” Yangyang says, motioning to the table with food and drinks at a corner. “I’ll head over and be back.”

Unsure what to do, you follow him like a lost lamb and though it would be embarrassing at any other time, any other place, now and here are not part of that.

The red and golden lights of the neon patterning the walls don’t seem as harsh anymore and you let your eyes rest on the boyish figure of Yangyang. You haven’t figured him out yet. Something tells you he’s more than a shallow image of the party-loving rich kids of Shanghai. In fact, in quiet, personal moments, he looks more out of place than you do—despite all that bright neon. You open your mouth to ask something when you’re interrupted by a dizzy Yangyang spinning into you.

“Sorry, (name),” he says, rubbing the base of his palm against his forehead. “I genuinely thought I was going to win that game.”

You shake your head, letting him get back to whatever spinning game they were at. He smells like wine and something tells you he’s poor at holding his liquor. The stakes must be high for that game, you figure, because you see Yangyang set aside his beloved shoe on the floor. To be the only scholarship student here suddenly feels scary and awkward.

Yangyang once again tugs at your arm, the touch reassuring as though he understands how you feel. But it isn’t true. There’s no way someone like him can understand someone like you.

“Yangyang,” you call. “Do you come here every year?”

“No, no. I do come for drinks though. I’m only here right now because a friend is hosting this.”

You shrug.

“And you,” he adds and you feel a hot flush rise to your face. “New years are the only time this place is PG-13.”

“I’m not a child,” you snap.

“My mom says childish people say that.”

“Then it's very rich coming from you, Liu Yangyang.”

He laughs heartily, leaning away. A creeping thought grows in your head that you missed out on a lot. But then again, you’ll always miss out on things if you’re not rich enough for them.

Yangyang flinches suddenly, almost knocking a plate off the table. He moves quickly, turning so that his side leans against the wall and the other arm cages you between him and the wall. His frame covers your view from whatever, or whoever arrived at the entrance that made him react so obnoxiously.

However, his lips hovering just a little over yours makes your breath hitch in your throat. This is the worst possible position you could've gotten into. The smell of mint interrupts your thoughts and you look at him with as annoyed an expression as you can muster over the heat of your face.

"Yangyang, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

“I am… admiring the wall. Ooh, it’s got velvet over it, did you notice?”

“You’re going to have your head in it too if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

"Just… sorry. Let’s stay like this for a few moments."

He flashes you an apologetic smile, his face close enough to make yours grow even hotter. A nervous chuckle erupts from his lips.

"Oh my god, get off. People are going to think we’re making out."

"We could do it for real."

"I'm going to scratch your eyes out."

"Sorry, sorry."

“Who are you even hiding from?”

“I’m not hiding… okay, forget that. Bodyguard-watcher-dude. It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“You have a bodyguard?”

“More like a babysitter.”

You try not to laugh, considering the proximity between your faces. “How come you have a babysitter? Actually, wait, I think I know.”

He huffs over your face and you restrain yourself from landing a swift uppercut to his jaw. Now you know the minty smell comes from mouth freshener.

“He’s a prosecutor. It’s weird that he stalks me in his free time. Even- even if… my parents are paying him.”

“They think you’re doing something illegal?”

“No. I don’t think I am.”

You rest your head back against the wall, rolling your eyes. “Really? That’s your answer? God, your brain cells rotted somewhere along the way, didn’t they? It’s all those parties.”

“I’m starting to feel like my mom hired you too.”

He looks back, and noting the absence of his so-called babysitter, he pulls back from you. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath and you let it out in a shallow effort.

“Your babysitter’s gone?”

“Not a babysit—I regret saying that. Look, I really don’t think they appointed him because they think I’m doing something illegal. I have never done anything illegal. Except that one street race but that’s because Lucas told me it was perfectly legal.”

“The what?”

“Anyway, the point is, let’s look forward to good fortune for this year, hm? Leave all the burdens to last year.”

“Fortune doesn’t favour fools.”

“I’m not stupid,” he complains, spreading his arms to express it further. “Mostly.”

You laugh, turning your attention to the food table.

“Ooh, pineapple tarts,” he exclaims, hand reaching out to grab one when you smack it.

“You’ve had, like, fifteen already.”

“Mhm,” he says, with a few more stuffed in his mouth.

There’s a pause.

“It’s me, isn't it?” you ask quietly. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

He gulps, lips parting and closing. “I brought you here. So you don’t worry about it.”

Rich people suck. You believe that strongly. But sometimes, just sometimes, when you have everything you can ever want, you start to want the same for everyone around you. Some people are special. You find Yangyang genuinely fascinating for being someone who makes friends when he’s supposed to be making more connections. You find him fascinating.

It makes sense for someone like him to be the way he is.

iv. fireworks viewpoint

“That’s the old Shanghai Tower,” Yangyang points to a building in the distance. “It used to be the tallest building once but… well, it looks like the little guy now.”

Lunar New Year’s celebrations are a big, big deal in New Shanghai. It means a break from university, work and every other affair to have as many priorities sorted in anticipation of the new year. And the impact is evident from this height, when you can see the city in its golden glory. It looks warm out there for once—although you’re not very sure if it’s because of the warmth that comes from right beside you. The little wooden boats float by on the river a little far off, various images blooming as holograms above them. You giggle at the large animated fishes swimming above the river with blank expressions and painted button eyes.

The golden clock shines bright in the sky, its holographic hands ticking down to midnight. It looks like something out of a fantasy movie, scattering golden pixels everywhere with each minute passing. The size of it alone reminds you of the scale of this city.

This is an empire. It's owned by the kings and queens who built it over the bones left from sacrifices. It's going to be owned by heirs and heiresses. You feel a looming sense of dread come over you. It's so beautiful and it can never belong to itself. It must always belong to someone. It’s the terms and conditions of human creation.

"Hey." Yangyang taps you on the shoulder and you try not to flinch. "What are you thinking?"

You hum. "Stuff."

"This place is pretty cool, huh?"

That, you can agree with. "It is. It's so amazing that I can't believe I'm here sometimes."

Yangyang laughs slowly. "I hope more people can live here. Not in level one. You know. No one should live in desperation."

You hold back a scoff, though you end up frowning. What does a rich kid know of desperation? He might as well be prince, and princes do not know how to beg. It must be something of a saviour complex. You shrink away from him. The new year music is starting to ring a little too loud in your ears.

"That would be difficult," you mutter.

"Not if you lower the cost of living conditions—ah. Sorry." He pauses and you feel a flicker of surprise in you. “It’s not appropriate to discuss. Or so my parents tell me…”

The expression comes from empathy. You’re sure of it. There’s some sort of passion and not the kind of coloured fire that flames up in parties, but a different one. The kind that says, if you can’t bear the heat then you can’t learn how to forge. You scoff. Which prince has possibly known heat?

“I- I get angry too,” you say quietly. “I think it’s something to be angry about.”

He smiles at you, leaning against the balcony railing.

You’re interrupted by a man in the attire of a waiter and it causes the two of you to jump away from each other. It’s not like you were very close in the first place but the proximity of shared words can play tricks on people. The man offers the two of you a screen and Yangyang’s face lights up almost immediately.

“We can order food with this,” he says. “Or book a table. The top strips are all reserved for members of the club. That’s the big daddy restaurants.”

“That’s… pretty cool,” you say, leaning in to glance over the browsing menu. “But don’t say that phrase to me again.”

“I can. And I will.”

“Ugh. Move on.”

“Okay, so we should drop by the convenience store for some ramen. I heard they taste better in the middle of the night,” Yangyang suggests all of a sudden, leaning in further.

It gets difficult sometimes to not be bothered by him, especially when there is a lack of distance. You look at him, pause and then sigh. “Sure. I guess. Are those free too?”

He opens his mouth in sudden realization and grins sheepishly at you. You roll your eyes.

“Do you have money then?”

“Uh.”

“How do you not have money? It’s the New Year!”

“I… uh—”

“Okay, you don’t have to answer that. But I’m not paying for you,” you complain. “You could always ask your parents for some money. What’s the point of being a party kid?”

‘Party kids’—it makes you laugh in amusement—is the colloquial term given to the children of businesspeople who had a direct hand in the economic progress of New Shanghai. You would sell your kidneys to be one and it still wouldn’t be enough.

His smile wavers at your statement but he shakes his head. “If I call my mom, she’ll start scolding me again about how my apartment room needs to be cleaner. Blah, blah, blah. You know.”

“She’s right- wait, you don’t clean your room?”

“Don’t take her side, (name).”

You bite down a smile and he offers you his biggest one.

“Oh, that place looks new,” Yangyang exclaims, a long index finger pointing to the preview of a sushi restaurant. You glare at him, his face nearer to yours than you would prefer but his eyes are fixed like a child ogling halloween candy.

“Let’s go,” he urges, looking directly at you.

You furrow your eyebrows, shaking your head vehemently. “We don’t have money. Or bit-credits.”

He sighs, deflating as though you just snatched the candy right from his hands. “But… I haven’t been there before.”

“So?” You exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You don’t have to try every food place in the city.”

“I need to eat,” he says as though it’s a very reasonable response. “I’m still growing!”

“Not mentally.”

He drops his smile, looking at you blankly. “You don’t have to get so smart with me, let me tell you.”

You snicker at the ‘offended’ expression on his face.

In the next moment, your attention shifts to the sudden crowd of people rushing to the balcony. Yangyang pulls you closer to avoid getting pushed by them, and you look around confused. It all makes sense when they start chanting the numbers, counting down from ten. You can only stare in awe at the clock and the otherworldly glee in the rhythmic chants. It’s like they don’t feel anything but joy at this moment. You let yourself smile.

The clock strikes twelve. The sound of the bell resounds throughout the city and the firecrackers burst into a thousand shades of red and gold across the sky. There’s moving images of animals, floating text and other animations which make the night sky seem like a screen. The sparks of the fireworks look like golden snow, or even happy little pixels.

You point your finger to the sky excitedly but when you turn, Yangyang’s eyes aren’t on the sky but on your hand outstretched towards it. He faces you, rather hesitantly as though caught red-handed.

“You’re- you’re… so pretty,” he says, softly and shrugging as if answering a question.

You wish he wouldn’t look at you like that. It’s the lonely speaking, right? The euphoria of human connection in this time and age—it can make you believe anything. There’s a myriad of colours blooming in the sky behind you, a city dazzling with diamond and ruby lights, people with much more stories to tell than you do. This city, this city, this city. This city will break your heart.

“It’s kind of crappy,” you mutter, to which Yangyang quirks an ear.

“Wh-what is?”

“This city. It’s got bright lights and fun and all those promises of success. But all I see are people desperately trying to survive. All I see are the same faces at the top and—I’m sorry. I’m getting carried away.”

“No, no.” He makes a vague gesture. “I’m listening.”

“We’re at their mercy,” you whisper. “My life is not my own. That’s crappy.”

Yangyang hums in response. “You're right. What’s the point of living a life that’s not your own?”

Looking at him again, you see the entire figure of his being against the fireworks and all the beautiful creations of the human race. His almost silver hair falls perfectly by his forehead, the contact lenses looking like glazed frost over his eyes. Just as vibrant and excessive as the city itself, Yangyang belongs here. This is his kingdom.

No, that’s not quite right perhaps. Yangyang belongs anywhere because he brings warmth. You're suddenly grateful he's with you because no one you know would possibly go out of their way to make you feel comfortable like this. You know Yangyang loves people and crowds. No one would do that for you at the expense of their own enjoyment. You smile at the prospect of solving the blinding mystery that he is.

"We… should leave," Yangyang says, all of a sudden. He eyes a man at the corner of the balcony, dressed in a business suit and looking blank. He sticks out like a sore thumb. You're not sure why he's in that getup.

"Okay," you say, not sure why you're so agreeable tonight.

Maybe it's the night. Sometimes all you can do is drag your feet over the asphalt and hope it'll be sunnier tomorrow.

v. two-four-seven convenience store

College boys are the most god-awful creatures on earth.

“Hey, do you always reach class on time?” Yangyang asks, eyes curious. He keeps asking a question every five minutes or so, trying to keep up conversation. You've already told him he doesn't have to. However, it makes you strangely comfortable to hear the sound of his voice periodically. You won't tell him that.

You nod, returning your gaze to the window, though the advertisements block your view. You can always try skipping the ad every five goddamn seconds.

It's your first time riding the train that travels through the Mobius Strip, and certainly the first time in a luxury cabin. Since it’s free for members of the new year club, you can heave a sigh of relief. You will never in your life, even if it’s genetically elongated, ever be able to afford a luxury cabin.

"Oh, that looks so good," Yangyang says, large hand smacking against the window to get rid of the colourful advertisements.

"It's a convenience store, Yangyang," you say. "It's got everyday ramen."

"No, look. It's a different brand. And they're giving a burger for free with two ramen cups!"

You furrow your eyebrows at him. "Well, I guess it's cheaper too."

"Oh, we can go to one of the upper restaurants too. They're free, remember?"

"I like convenience stores," you mumble. There's something about the lack of even lighting and crowds that made them a comfort spot for you.

“Quick,” he says, pulling you off the seat when the train stops.

“Yangyang!” you warn. He's so easily excitable that you find it hard to believe he's real sometimes.

However, when he turns around with his big puppy-dog eyes, you curse at yourself before you curse at him. Sighing, you follow him down the steps, his hand tenderly holding yours. Sometimes, you wonder if the human touch means anything at all in this diamond and steel era. Yangyang’s palm is warm against yours.

The ramen tastes awfully delicious on stolen time, and you would complain more if it weren’t for Yangyang looking at you with so serene a look. It annoys you and you try to grab his attention by waving your chopsticks in front of him. When it doesn’t work, you resort to swearing. You’ve never seen anyone respond with a smiling hum after being told to “eat shit”.

“Oh, this tastes so good,” he states, cheeks puffed with food. “I think I’m going to cry.”

“I- I think you’re crying because it’s spicy.”

“Oh.”

As usual, Yangyang pokes and prods at you with questions about your daily life, like you’re the most interesting thing in a city full of blinding lights, world-class robots and cyber-enhanced technology. You don’t understand how he doesn’t just grow tired of asking every single detail about you.

Apart from the fact that Liu Yangyang is most certainly an environmental hazard, some part of you cannot believe that he's truly terrible. There's something innocent about him, but all at once, something quiet and mysterious.

“Why are you always so curious, Yangyang?” you ask finally. “Why are you always running off to different places?”

“Because experiences never come twice,” he answers after some thinking. It seems to be a little difficult for him to articulate, deep contemplation over his features when he continues. “This city… all the lights and clubs and arenas, all of it will be gone someday. Like we don’t have telephones or those big computers anymore.”

You rest your chin on your palm, leaning in.

“This moment, right here with you… I’ll never experience it again,” he tells you. “We can have more midnight convenience store ramen sometime later but… each time will be different. I’d rather live now.”

You smile softly. “That’s a funny thought to live by.”

“Yours isn’t any better,” he says, patting your head. “Also, I’m like hot and young and popular and not a cyborg—how can I miss parties?”

You shake your head, laughing. He’s ridiculous. He’s completely ridiculous. In that moment, when you look at him, Yangyang seems to be smiling in a daze, eyes on your face.

“You look nice when you smile,” he says quietly.

"Thanks," you respond. "I should keep it a secret then, huh?"

"Not from me," he says, smiling.

Somehow, the extra minutes you have at the convenience store turn to a few multiplayer games and then, ditching technology, to an arm wrestling match.

"I feel like this game is kind of unfair," you say after losing almost immediately. He's clearly got stronger muscles. Does he work out? Probably against his will, you bet.

“My right arm’s a lot stronger than my left arm,” he says, before looking a little horrified. “That wasn’t a masturbation joke, by the way. I am so sorry.”

You roll your eyes. "Give me your left hand then- wait. You're right-handed?"

"That's not the- uh." He thinks for a moment, trying to gather words. “That’s not the reason.”

“I, uh, I heavily damaged this arm when I was a kid—don’t look like that, there’s a fun part to this. It’s made of titanium! And some other things. The names are too complicated.”

You drive your fingers over the arm, so warm and real and flushed red, anything but metal and code. You find curiosity blooming in you more than ever before.

“You know why I’m not with family,” you say, straightening. “But why aren’t you celebrating with your family?”

He gets quiet, thinking to himself for a few more moments. You almost regret asking when he answers, a hesitant sound leaving him first.

“None of us, uh… none of our parents can spare more than three hours. They’ll come in the afternoon tomorr—today.”

You can’t exactly respond to that very well.

“So all of us go hang out at the New Year’s Club.”

You frown. "But it's not a celebration without family!"

"We have new year lunches. And… it's the future. Traditions die. Very few grieve them for fear of being stuck in the past."

You feel partly horrified and partly dismal. "I… You could come with me next year, if you like."

You're not sure where the offer comes from but Yangyang lights up at the idea.

"I can? Oh, we'll have so much fun!"

"Slow down. There's a year to go."

Yangyang laughs. It's surprising the way he turned out. He must have gotten tired of waiting by the door. And now you know all the things about him that his parents don’t.

You smile at him, warming up to the idea of you and him as friends before scoffing at it again.

Right in the next moment, Yangyang dips suddenly to the ground, crouching below the table. You look around in surprise and fall to your knees with a yelp at the tug on our wrist from Yangyang.

“What the hell?” you hiss. “You’re starting to act really weird.”

“I- Sorry. It’s an emergency,” he says, but there’s no sign of distress in his voice. He simply smiles at you. Perhaps he’s never heard of the emotion as of yet.

“Your babysitter?”

“I say that once and on accident—yes, it’s my babysitter.”

You chuckle. He’s simply too cute at times.

“We have to be discreet now, okay? It’s like—what’s the movie called? Oh, Mission Impossible.”

“I’ve never seen that.”

“What? How can you not? It’s a classic! It’s got so many cool—ah, I’ll show you another time.”

You hum, staring at Yangyang’s facial features tense up and relax again as he scans the vicinity outside the window of the convenience store. It’s full of people, even at this hour so you can’t possibly know who��s looking at you from there.

Yangyang turns back to you. “Have you ever been to blue moon station?”

“The one with the pretty walls? No. No, I’ve never even gone beyond Strip Two.”

Yangyang smiles at you and right then, you feel like you’re about to resent whatever’s going to happen next. It’s in the ebb and flow of tonight’s itinerary, however, and you relax your shoulders just as he does a roll across the floor, looking back at you with a grin for executing it flawlessly.

“You’re so silly,” you mutter.

“I heard that,” he whisper-shouts back.

You’re not as afraid as before, you realize. The lights are absolutely mesmerizing.

vi. blue moon station

It drops a few degrees in temperature once you step foot onto the platform. You can see a bunch of scattered tourists, cameras hanging around their neck and a look of awe over their faces.

Yangyang takes off his jacket, shivering immediately but offering it to you nonetheless. When you refuse, he places it gingerly over your shoulders.

"Is that a…?"

"A tourist bot, yes."

"Oh my god, it's so cute," you say, crouching by the little red robot, a teal-colored smiley face popping up on its monitor.

"A lot of tourists in this station," you note.

"Yeah. It's very… visually pleasing."

That's true. The walls are screens with three dimensional graphics, immersive enough to catch one's eye. A single tree grows through the middle of the station, evergreen and alive with holographic flora and fauna. The sun shines eternally over the tree. It's so beautiful that you had trouble taking your eyes off it at first.

The walls next to you are currently displaying a walk through a fantasy forest, crafted by a visionary artist, no doubt. A blue butterfly flies past you and you stare at it before zoning out.

Sometimes, the lights are too disorienting. You start to feel dizzy, massaging your forehead when Yangyang brushes the tips of his fingers against your shoulder.

“You good?”

Yangyang crouches beside you with watchful eyes.

You nod, turning your attention to the tourist bot. It displays a plethora of information about the architecture of this place which you're sure no tourist will bother to read beyond the first two lines.

“You can make it do cool tricks too,” Yangyang says. “Watch.”

Yangyang pokes at it with his index finger, drawing a pattern over the screen. The bot proceeds to do an old internet dance, waving about its arms and hips. You laugh at it and Yangyang looks at you with the pride of a third grader with first place on their science project.

The colours on the walls change and you see the animation of a man and a fox, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to recall that image. They seem to be broadcasting fables through the holograms. You can’t deny that they’re pretty—glowing with auspicious colours and as animated as the real world itself. As if by compulsion, you hold Yangyang’s hand. It’s nice to feel the human touch real once in a while, especially in the overwhelming loneliness of city nights.

Yangyang looks at you brightly and right then, you feel less inclined to leave him.

“You know, I could teach you better ways to flirt than just grab my hand,” he says, grinning like an idiot.

“What?”

You move your hand. “I’m not flirting.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he responds quickly. “Can I please have your hand back?”

You shake your head, laughing. He worries you. Some part of you says you shouldn’t be worried. It’s not like you’re close friends. (Friends, maybe. Close, not yet.)

The night has a different opinion.

—

“Found you,” a voice declares, and the two of you jump into each other with a scream.

The man in the suit looks at you with a fatigued look in his eyes, hair somehow still neat though he breathes like his lungs are on fire.

“Care to tell me why you’ve been skipping my calls?” he asks after catching his breath. “It’s not like I wanted to follow you—you just needed to tell me.”

“I… I was busy?” Yangyang flashes a smile. “Kun-ge, I honestly had no idea you called. I don’t even have my phone.”

The man shakes his head. “Fine. Just head over to Jasmine for the night. And you can bring your date too.”

He gestures at you and you want to deny it as quick as you can. You do not, however. It’s almost like you’ve warmed up to the idea of it rather well.

“Okay,” Yangyang answers quietly.

vii. jasmine private lounge

You enter a lounge with the capacity of around a hundred people. Despite that, there are hardly five present. The walls are black with neon jasmines pulsating from blue to red. A grand piano lies still in all its elegance in the middle of the lounge, played by a plain white AI. It feels like an expensive place to be, and more so, it feels like someplace you’re not supposed to step foot into. There's a bar table at one side, opposite to the entrance which glows a hypnotizing purple. A flat lettering on the wall declares the time to be 3 A.M.

You and Yangyang sit a little too close on the artificially warmed couch, waiting for Kun to return. Yangyang reassures you that you haven't done anything wrong but the illicit outing of yours certainly says otherwise. You contemplate tasting the cocktail Yangyang ordered before finally giving in and find it pleasantly warm to taste. You take another sip.

“It’s a little strong,” Yangyang warns. “Don’t have all of—you had all of it.”

You shrug. Your throat certainly feels better now. This lounge is fucking cold.

"You know, Yangyang," you say with the warmth of confidence on your face. "You're a really nice guy."

He smiles incredulously. "Thanks. You're really nice too."

"And you're pretty decent-looking—"

"I know that."

"—and also popular. So why are you always hanging around me?"

"Uh, that's your question?"

You nod. Placing your cheek against your palm, you try not to sink into the couch.

"Because you're really cool!" He answers before clearing his throat. "I mean. I think you're fun to be around. You make me see things clearer."

"And what exactly are you wanting to see clearer?'

"You."

You blink aside your astoundment, straightening. "What?"

Your question is left unanswered because a man enters and sits across the two of you, a loud huff of annoyance leaving his mouth. It's not just his disposition but the architecture of his face that grabs your attention. He looks like an AI robot so perfectly crafted with coloured lips and flawless skin that you end up staring till Yangyang elbows you.

“He’s not an AI,” Yangyang whispers.

You furrow your brows and notice it is, in fact, true that he's not an AI. There are no ridges over the joints or hollowness in the eyes. He wears the same frost-patterned smart lenses as Yangyang does. However, it doesn't change the fact that the man is beautiful to look at.

“I’m never hosting a new year party again,” he mutters, sinking into the couch.

“It actually sounds kind of fun,” Yangyang interjects. “I can’t wait for my turn.”

“I’m sorry. Good luck standing at Longhua temple for three hours till midnight just to make sure nothing goes wrong. Without dinner.”

Yangyang makes a face at that.

"That's Sicheng-ge," he says, turning to you.

"Ah," you say in response, remembering the name vaguely.

"He let us into Club 2," Yangyang says, noticing your lost expression.

"I think Kun's looking for you," Sicheng says, eyes trained at the back.

His hands fidget with the dim blue buttons at the edge of the table, till a small compartment reveals itself under the glass. An old world-style cigarette is slowly pushed up and Sicheng picks it up. He offers the next one to Yangyang, who accepts it hesitantly. No one smokes tobacco anymore when nicotine is so readily available. Alas, human nature is to want things deadly and out of reach.

“So how’s Cat?” Yangyang asks, fumbling with the plasma lighter he picked from a compartment on the side.

Sicheng smiles a little, the smoke from his cigarette snaking around him as he raises a hand to dissipate it.

“She’s doing fine. Running everything as usual.”

“Of course. Boss lady.” Yangyang does an awkward salute.

“Oh, a new hair color too. As pretty as flower fields in the spring of ‘22.”

Sicheng’s lovesick rambling is interrupted by Yangyang hacking his lungs out. You turn to him and he avoids your gaze, reaching for a crystal blue glass of water one of the helper bots offer. So, he’s not even a smoker? Why did he think you would care?

“Anyway, Kun is glaring daggers at me now. You better get out of here.” Sicheng grimaces.

You turn around to see Kun by the bar table, gesturing towards Yangyang to come. You're not sure why but either of those men make you nervous.

"I'll be right back," Yangyang says, scrambling up and leaving you in a long awkward silence with Sicheng.

“So, uh, I’m assuming you’re oblivious to that lovestruck puppy following you around?” Sicheng asks, raising an eyebrow. “Or is this some game you guys are into? I’m not judging you for that.”

Your face heats up and you fidget with your collar. “The- A what? Game? Uh? I- huh?”

Sicheng tries to press down his smile but it’s evident enough for you to see. Did you say something funny? Did Yangyang say something funny about you? Oh, you’re going to kill him.

“For all that he talks, he’s kind of terrible at pulling together his own love life.”

“I- I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

It still unnerves you to look at him. He certainly looks more android than human when he’s not making any particular expression.

“Don’t mind me,” he says, offering you a reassuring smile. “You should find Yangyang before he lands the two of you in trouble.”

You turn to look at Yangyang through the glass and turn back nodding. Sicheng offers you a parting smile and you hesitantly make your way to the bar table.

"This isn't in my job description," Kun tells Yangyang just before you arrive. "I didn't know being a lawyer included babysitting."

The tips of Yangyang's ears heat up when he notices you.

"It's not babysitting," he murmurs. “Also, you’re not my mom.”

"You, Ten, Kunhang, all of you give me such a hard time," he continues but pauses right when he notices you.

"Oh, hello. (Name), isn't it?" He says, smiling politely. He's quite young and handsome for a lawyer. "Yangyang talks about you a lot."

"Oh," you respond. "Really?"

Yangyang glares at the older man. "You don't have to say everything, Kun-ge."

"You interested in law?" Kun asks, offering you a seat between him and Yangyang.

You make a face. The law is a tool for the rich and powerful. But then again, what isn’t? The world is in your hands when you have billions to spare. However, you still can’t imagine being a rich man's guard dog your whole life.

Kun chuckles. "You kids are interested in tech more, aren't you?"

Yangyang interrupts, "You talk like you're fifty years old."

Kun grimaces, resting his face against his hand. Shooting a glare at Yangyang, he finishes the rest of his wine.

You're not exactly interested in tech or engineering or the big kid jobs either. You just want a way to survive this man-made food chain. Rich eats the world till there’s nothing left on the plate. Then again, you'd rather be a pet than get eaten.

"Anyway," Kun turns to Yangyang. "If you see Ten, give me a call."

Yangyang signals with a thumbs up gesture, watching as Kun’s figure slowly makes its way out of the gate. It’s the two of you again and suddenly, you feel a strange sort of feeling overcome you. Leaning your throbbing forehead against Yangyang’s shoulder, you take some soft breaths and skip the part where you question your actions. It’s pleasant, at the very least. He shifts his chair closer, extending his arm around you so that your head rests against his shoulder more comfortably.

“You must be tired,” he mutters.

“You didn’t answer me,” you say. “Answer in a way I understood, at least.”

“Hm?”

“Why do you hang around me?”

“Do you not… want me to?”

“No. I like your company, actually. I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

Yangyang laughs. “You’re… you’re really perfect. As a person. At least to me, you seem that way.”

You scoff. “You’re a long way off there.”

“No. No, you felt like clockwork,” he continues. “When I first met you. I couldn’t believe you were real.”

You do work like a delirious robot on clockwork steroids. But you’re not very proud of it. You don’t think overworking is a good personality trait to have—even if it’s for survival. However, the faraway look in Yangyang’s eyes suggests that’s not what he means.

“I felt like I understood you,” he continues after a short pause.

You find it unbelievable. That’s the one sentence you could never imagine coming from him to you, much less agree with. But right then, as his warmth seeps into you, you want to agree desperately.

Yangyang feels an unexpected trickle of doubt down his throat. No matter how many times he’s practised in front of the mirror, the words don’t come out right when you’re with him. With everything you do, he feels more drawn in. There’s something familiar and something honest. And if he’s honest himself, he just likes you. What sort of a hypocrite should he be categorized as, to tell his friends to ‘just confess’ to their crushes when he’s a complete idiot when it comes to you? It can’t be that little voice from his childhood that tells him to stay in order.

Yangyang understands that there are rules to this world but he doesn’t get what those have got to do with him. He sighs, the sound somewhat grim when it comes from him.

"I've seen it before," he says, "People come from all over the country with hopes and dreams, and they get their hearts broken by capitalism."

You frown.

"I don't want you to go anywhere," he mumbles. "I hope you'll stay… even if- even if you feel like that, you know? If you're feeling lonely, I could—"

"Yangyang." You smile. "I’m quite comfortable here."

When you bury your nose into the crook of his neck, Yangyang thinks this is it. This is how he ends the sorry excuse of flirting he’s been trying with you and says something he regrets. It was never this difficult with the other crushes he’s had. He’s always left opening his mouth and then promptly closing it like a goldfish out of water every single time he wants to bring up dating with you. He’s always honest. So, what’s the big deal this time? This is so horrendously not cool of him.

You straighten. “We should get back home.”

“Can you- Can you not move so far from me, please?” Yangyang murmurs, hands gripping yours.

You smile, to yourself more to him but that’s one he likes the most.

“You’re a really interesting person, Yangyang.”

“I am?” He clears his throat and repeats the question.

“How are you so nice to people?”

“I think people are nice.”

“Why do you like parties?”

“They’re fun.”

“When the party’s over, who do you go to?” you ask, words mushing into each other.

“Home,” he answers, gulping down what seems like more words. “Like always.”

A hush falls between the two of you. You’re asking quite the questions.

“I’m sweaty,” you mutter. “I hate being sweaty.”

“You look wonderful though,” Yangyang mumbles, more to himself than to you. “Not that being sweaty makes you wonderful. You’re just nice.”

There’s another hush, the notes of the piano playing a faraway, romantic tune. He turns away and looks back at you again, but right in that moment, you lean forward to press your lips against his. It’s so sudden that he almost falls over backwards, his feet planted firmly on the ground the only thing preventing that from happening. The next thing he thinks is that your lips are on fire and it’s the most comfortable feeling he’s ever experienced.

The two of you fit into each other like clockwork, Yangyang thinks. It’s the one thing in his life that feels whole. Not that he isn’t whole by himself—he just loves your warmth. For a moment he feels like he’s on cloud nine and the next, his heart plummets when he feels you go limp in his arms.

It breaks his heart a little but he doesn’t—can’t bring himself to say much. He’s not this bad when he’s drunk, is he? Pulling you up by the waist, he texts Kunhang to bring his car down to the lounge.

This is going to be a long night.

viii. home

You wake up to the sun in your eyes and immediately know you're someplace you shouldn't be. This isn't your bed. The sun doesn't reach your bed in the morning. This isn’t the dormitory. You see a cubical alarm clock, a pixelated smiley face on it as it displays 10 A.M.

You get up and immediately shriek. You’re not wearing any clothes. Pulling the blanket up to your chin, you look around the room. It’s huge; the walls are multicolored with a little section opposite the bed reserved for photographs. There’s a lot of junk all over the floor that you don’t pay mind to when you notice Yangyang.

“Yangyang?!”

He rouses blinking slowly, hair going every which way and his eyes still unfocused. He looks like he’s had a difficult night.

“Why are you on the floor?” you ask, shrinking further into the ridiculously soft bed when he gets up. Massaging the back of his neck, he looks like he's looking at a mirage instead of a real live person. Unfortunately, he’s not wearing a shirt and you look away after a prolonged minute of staring. This is getting ridiculous. What are you doing here?

“Yangyang!”

“Huh? Oh!”

He seems to be finally awake. You should pop the question before it eats you alive.

"Did- Did we…?"

Yangyang blinks at you in confusion before a loud "oh" erupts from his mouth.

"No!" He says in between laughter. "No, we didn't. Oh my god, you’re so funny. You took off your clothes saying it's too hot and smacked me with them. I didn’t look, by the way.”

Your jaw drops. You can’t even form words through the pulsing headache.

“Your clothes are on the chair. And I didn’t touch your underwear. Out of respect."

You avoid eye contact in embarrassment.

“And… well, you did kiss me once. Twice.”

You look up alarmed and he raises his arms in defense.

“You- you were drunk so I had to push you off. You cried a little after that. Sorry.”

“Oh god.” You cover your face with your hands, sitting down on the bed. That has to be the most embarrassing thing you could have done.

“You- Don’t worry about that. You’re a good kisser. I was kind of surprised,” he offers in an attempt to make you feel better but you only grow hotter in the face.

“And- And I liked it,” he adds in a panic. “Wait, I don’t mean it in a creepy way.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t anyone else.”

“What?”

“You. It’s okay if it’s you.”

You give him a weak smile, still not over the embarrassment.

Yangyang laughs. “I… I think I should’ve said this before but… can I take you out on a date?”

“What were we doing last night then?”

“Well, that was- ah. You’re teasing me. Motherfucker.”

You giggle into your palm. When he takes a seat on the bed, you make a distressed sound and he jumps up immediately.

“My clothes,” you hiss. “Get out of the room so I can wear them.”

“Right,” he says, pointing an index finger at you.

He turns around right then. "By the way…"

You shriek, pulling the cover up all the way to your nose.

"Sorry," he says, averting his eyes immediately. "If- if that was a date, did you like it? Do you wanna go on another one?"

You can see him practically sweat bullets and you laugh at the innocuous questions. He’s too cute. You can’t believe you made yourself shake off the thought every time it crossed you. However indelicate his touch is, you welcome it nonetheless.

"Yes. Yes, I'll go on a date with you. You annoying, stupid, bratty idiot."

“Okay, that was mean.”

Watching his figure leave through the door, you relax your shoulders. In the end, people will always be people. No matter what shiny new toy you give them to play with, people will always search for happiness, and they will laugh and cry and fall in love with people and places and things over and over again. It's lovely to be human in an era of diamond and steel.

#yangyang x reader #nct x reader #wayv x reader #yangyang scenarios #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #yangyang fluff #nct fluff #wayv fluff #yangyang fanfic #nct fanfic #yangyang fic #moonwrites #dawg idk what im doing imma be honest here

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gonelike-ach00 · 7 months ago

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the warmth of youth | nct 00 line

��ａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ

high school! nct 00 line (renjun, jeno, haechan, jaemin, yangyang) x high school! female original character

for quicker updates, you can read it on ao3 or wattpad

summary:

Renjun and Bona has always been friends. They've known each other since they were kids, but why was Renjun suddenly all interested in romance and someone else?

Jeno finds himself at odds with Eunji, the girl who just happens to take his spot as the number one student of their school.

Haechan was always so bright and cheerful and energetic that it was hard to imagine him as anything else. That's until Mina stumbles into his little secret.

Jaemin and Naeun have nothing in common except their common friends, until he starts working for her family's restaurant and they shared a lot more things in common than they thought.

Yangyang knew that Sua was someone he wasn't supposed to be around. Except he catches her at the train and then in school. Not talking to her only became a lot harder than he thought.

genre:

fluff, angst, slice of life, high school romance, recurring anthology

structure:

this work features five lead couples, where each chapter would be dedicated to each their own story. you can imagine it as five fanfics all happening at the same time. the intention to write the fanfic like such is deeply rooted in the idea that although romance is important and the highlight of this fic, it is just as important to highlight platonic connections that help shape your character.

notes:

My favorite genre of nct fanfics is when they're a group of friends first before they are romantic leads. Self-indulged fluff fic inspired by: nijiiro days & koi ni mudagachi

ｃａｓｔ

ｃｈａｐｔｅｒｓ

ᴏɴᴇ - jeno ᴛᴡᴏ - renjun ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ - yangyang ꜰᴏᴜʀ - jeno ꜰɪᴠᴇ - haechan ꜱɪx - jaemin seven - yangyang eight - haechan nine - renjun

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kiestrokes · 1 year ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#hard hours #soft hours #taemin smut #yangyang smut #sunghoon fluff #seungmin fluff #puppymin #sunghoon fanfic #seungmin fanfic #yangyang fanfic #taemin fanfic

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lavenderbexlatte · 2 years ago

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day 10: virginity

nct/wayv 1.4k words female reader insert Reader x Liu Yangyang NSFW

🖤 warnings: outing your bro as a total virg, secret crushes, situation-typical coercion, overuse of brospeak/yangspeak🖤

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

"I'm not a fucking virgin. Get out of my room."

Yangyang's voice holds more vitriol than you've probably ever heard from him, and that's how you know that you and Renjun - mostly Renjun - have officially crossed a line.

"It was just a joke," says Renjun.

You smile, but it feels more like a grimace on your face. "Obviously it was a little-"

"I mean, sorry if you're sensitive about it," he continues, absolutely unapologetic. "Like, okay, Xiao Dejun, way to be mad about nothing."

Yangyang fixes him with a look that would send a lesser zodiac sign running. "I told you to get out of my room."

Renjun, Aries sun, just shrugs. "If it wasn't true, you wouldn't be so mad."

But Renjun does leave, and you follow him out, giving Yangyang another pleading smile that he misses entirely as he turns around to clamp his headphones over his ears and glare at his computer screen.

What was supposed to be a chill night in Yangyang's apartment is ruined. His roommate is out of town and everything (Ten is cool but he's overbearing, and he wins every single board game that the lot of you try to drunkenly play, so you don't miss him this time).

But Renjun had been bragging about his latest hookup-turned-Something, with an insufferable guy from the music department, when the cursed line had been uttered.

Yangyang had showed about three seconds of disinterest, and Renjun had snapped, "At least I'm getting some. Not like some adult virgins we know."

It was vague but pointed, undeniably mean. Renjun can be mean, everyone knows that, but it's not usually used against any of the friend group. That's why, at this sudden slight from one of his closest friends, Yangyang immediately blushed an angry pink and lost his shit.

The two of you were banished from Yangyang's bedroom, where the PS5 is, but not from the apartment yet, so Renjun makes himself at home on the couch while you head to the kitchen for a beverage of some kind. And to clear your head.

You'd never even thought about Yangyang's virginity status before. Why would you? He's your friend, a dorm neighbor from freshman year who turned into a friend after one too many floor parties spent together.

Renjun really called him out, and from the over-the-top anger he'd received in return, you can't help but think that Renjun was one hundred percent right. You go on the occasional date that the boys know about, and Renjun is mostly out of his thot phase now but there was a while back there when he was getting around impressively. Ten, Kun, Chenle...even Dejun has incredible cringefail dick game.

But Yangyang...

"Did you really have to say that?" you ask, joining Renjun on the couch with a bottled coffee thing that you're pretty sure is Ten's.

He glances at the drink. "Ten-ge is gonna be pissed."

"Because you were kind of out of pocket."

"I didn't think he'd be so..." Renjun sighs. "I'll apologize when he chills out."

That's a good plan, in theory.

Only in theory, though, because Yangyang doesn't chill out. Not for the rest of the evening.

After another hour or so on the couch with you, Renjun knocks on his bedroom door, to no answer. He calls it a night and heads home soon after that.

You stick around.

The dude very obviously had his feelings hurt, and eventually he's going to need to talk about it. Ten is usually the one who gets Yangyang to open up, but he's not here, so you think you're probably the next best thing. A very far second.

It's a dumb thing for anyone to be upset about. Especially someone as interesting and funny as Yangyang, someone so cute, so attracti-

Well. No reason to go overboard.

You knock on Yangyang's door, this time. It's late now, creeping closer to midnight, but you know that Yangyang doesn't sleep until the sun comes up again.

He doesn't answer. You knock harder.

The door flies open, Yangyang's snarling face on the other side. "Jesus fuck, Renjun, go shove a-"

"He went home," you interrupt.

"Then you should-"

"Can we talk?" you ask. "Pretty please?"

"About what? All the ass I'm not getting?"

You shrug. "If that's how you wanna phrase it, I guess."

It wouldn't surprise you if Yangyang stuck to his guns on this, but he sighs. He lets the door fall open more, as he turns on his heel to head back to his gaming chair.

"Can't wait until Hyuck and the whole hip-hop team know that I'm perpetually bitchless," Yangyang says.

There's a second of pause while you try desperately to figure out who Hyuck is - Renjun's fuckbuddy, that's it. The mop-headed one that Ten hates. And then you move to sit on Yangyang's bed.

"Renjun wouldn't do that," you say. "He felt really bad."

"He never feels bad."

That's kind of true, but still. "You guys are friends. He wouldn't wanna, like, fuck up your life on that scale."

"People are gonna know that I'm bitchless, and then no one will ever talk to me again."

"Stop saying bitchless, it's weird," you say. "And I really don't think anyone cares."

Yangyang spins his chair around to face you, your knees nearly touching as he looks at you with imploring puppy eyes. "It's not like I'm not trying, dude."

"Third-wheeling Ten to Johnny Suh's frat parties does not count as trying."

He ignores you. "I wanna get laid. It's just a lot of work, and people are so fake, and-"

"Just fuck someone you know," you interrupt. "It's either a total stranger, or someone you know well. Those are the best choices.

"Really?"

"In my experience, yes."

There's a beat of silence, and then, slowly, Yangyang's face breaks into a devious, awful grin.

It takes you another few seconds to figure it out.

"No!"

"Oh, come on!" he whines.

"Not if we were the last two people on earth!"

"You're already here!"

You scoff. "Oh, yeah, because that helps your case so much. Just what everyone wants to hear. 'You're convenient!'"

"It's not like that," Yangyang says. "You know I think you're amazing."

You're unreasonably touched, for an instant, by his choice of flattery. Not hot, not cool. Amazing.

"I know you're desperate, but it's a bad idea," you say.

But even as you protest, you know how you feel.

Yangyang is a good friend, a buddy. He's also irresistibly charming and quick, increasingly handsome as he's grown into his features over the few years you've known him. You've kind of got a soft spot for him, more than for any of your other friends, and you're suspecting that he kind of knows it.

"Fine," he says. "I'm just going to deal with my virg sadness by rubbing one out."

"Ew."

As if daring you, Yangyang slips his stupid cutoff tee over his head, standing there in just his low-slung shorts. He dramatically walks the semicircle around you and flops down on his back on the other side of the bed. You eye the pale jut of his ribs against his skinny torso, the wispiest excuse for a happy trail-

"You can leave. Or you can stick around," he says. "Y'know. If you want."

"You wouldn't dare-"

But he dares, hands going to the buckle of his thick cloth belt.

Well.

Ten's not home, and won't be home all week. Renjun is gone.

You stand up from the bed, as Yangyang is still undoing his belt with agonizing slowness, and slam and lock his bedroom door. Can't be too careful. Lots of people know the passcode to get in here. And the last thing you want is Guanheng or Chenle or someone coming in here and seeing this.

Seeing you, as you throw the last of your caution right out the slightly-popped window and climb right onto the bed again.

Right onto Yangyang.

He yelps, like he thinks you're attacking him, as you move to sit on top of his thighs, effectively pinning him to the mattress. The open belt and button of his shorts is tempting, though the thick band of his boxers has been visible the whole time anyway.

Yangyang's face, however, is just intrigued. Flustered, a bit, but not scared. His hands twitch against his covers like he wants to touch you, but isn't sure if he can.

"Do you actually wanna be un-virginized?" you ask, annoyed despite all of your interest (how did you get here?!).

He nods as well as he can, hair fanning against his pillow. "So badly."

Your heart is fluttering. You hate to admit it.

"Then it's your lucky day."

#kinktober 2023 #kpop kinktober #nct fanfic #wayv fanfic #yangyang fanfic #yangyang fanfiction #yangyang smut #nct yangyang fanfic #wayv yangyang fanfic #nct yangyang smut #wayv yangyang smut #kpop fanfic

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nervouscitytmblr · 2 months ago

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Rag Doll

Kun x WayV

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63326185

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wayvchip · 7 months ago

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making out with wayv

genre/warnings: fluff, suggestive (minors DNI), established relationship, boyfriend!wayv

kun is definitely the type to constantly smile throughout the kiss and you can feel it when he does that, which makes your heart flutter. makeouts with kun are usually quite brief, and very gentle and sweet. kun would also frequently make sure to take short breaks in between kisses in case you ran out of air because he's just considerate like that.

ten would constantly tease you and get you all riled up. wbk ten is a huge flirt. he would smirk the entire time, whisper dirty things to you, and use a lot of tongue in his kisses. plus, his hands would be roaming all over your body and feeling you up. makeout sessions with ten usually lead to more because he gets all hot and bothered just by kissing you.

winwin would be quite shy and even hesitant at first, but quickly gets into the mood. he prefers if you take the lead at first, and then he'll take over after a bit. winwin definitely goes a little crazy when you grab onto the hem of his shirt while he's sweetly kissing you. bro has had so many kissing scenes from his dramas i truly believe he is more experienced than he lets on.......

xiaojun's kisses would be very slow and passionate, because he wants you to feel loved. he's extra and puts on one of his r&b playlists because he likes the romantic atmosphere it creates. xiaojun holds both of your hands in his hands during the whole makeout session too :(( be sure to expect very intense eye contact from him.

hendery KNOWS what he's doing. he knows all the right buttons to push and is a playful tease too, he'll literally pull away and chuckle just as you're about to deepen the kiss. tbh i can see hendery being a biter. now you didn't hear this from me, but i feel like hendery is definitely the type to do the knee thing (iykyk) while he's marking your neck up with pretty purple bruises.

yangyang would get wayyy too excited at the idea of making out with you and practically jumps on top of you, almost bumping his forehead into yours. he would smash his lips against yours and giggle in between kisses because he just can't contain his excitement!!! pro tip: play with yangyang's hair when he's kissing you, it makes him absolutely melt into a puddle.

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blue-jisungs · 8 months ago

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drunken souvenir

# author's note … inspired by that one cute pic of a white cat covered in kisses and the fact that i did the same to my cat accidentally 😭

# warnings … mention of drinking n being drunk (as the title suggests lmfao), not proofread (are we surprised atp)

# word count ... 587

yangyang woke up, stretching slowly. he had a blurry memory of you coming back home in the middle of the night after hanging out with your friends. he only remembered, as if through fog, you stumbled in the corridor and then how you plopped onto the mattress, falling asleep right away.

he looked to his left and smiled upon seeing your still sleeping form. you had your makeup on, which imprinted on the pillow.

“ah, y/n” he shook his head and stood up, deciding to grab some makeup remover. yangyang didn’t even glance in the mirror - just straight up took the necessities.

on his way out coco swirled around his feet.

“one second baby, let me just clean up this big baby” he snickered and leaned to scratch the feline’s ear. his brows furrowed upon seeing a burgundy stain on its head.

yangyang’s heart dropped, thinking coco got hurt. he almost dropped the bottle he was holding but upon warranting a second look he realized it’s… a lipstick stain.

the shape of your lips. on coco’s white-furred forehead.

“morning, baby” your groan caused him to look up. he only smiled when he saw you rub your eye, smearing the mascara even more.

“hi, sleepyhead” yangyang hummed and joined you in the bed again, sitting at the edge next to you. he handed you the makeup remover and pointed at the pillow “did you have fun?”

“oh yeah. i think i broke a rib from all the laughing… it was good to hang out all together again. and, welp, drink… i drank so much… my head is about to explode, actually” you murmured, sending him a soft smile “i hope i didn’t wake you up when i came back home? i think i tried to be quiet”

he shook his head and scanned your features. you could see the amusement painted all over his face, ready to tease you about something.

“what? is it the makeup?” you asked, scoffing.

“no, no. it’s just that… i think you were a little too excited to see coco” he grinned and quickly grabbed the cat when it was strolling next to the bed. the feline meowed but snuggled against his chest.

only then you noticed the vermillion lipstick stain on coco’s head.

you started laughing and touched your lips, bare remains of yesterday’s makeup still on.

“i’m so sorry… i think, yeah. i don’t know, i forgot i had my lipstick on” you laughed and scratched coco’s head “how do we even get it off?”

“no idea… i guess i’ll have to look it up” yanyang laughed and put coco on the bed. the cat purred and sat, observing you two. especially it’s dad. he noticed the feline’s stare and started playing with it “whatcha looking at, hm?”

“well, she has a reason” you giggled and stood up, walking to the bathroom to take care of your face.

“i know i’m handsome–” he started nonchalantly.

“that’s not that” you interrupted him with a laugh.

yangyang furrowed his brows, confused. he stood up, joining you in the bathroom.

only then he saw his face. entirely covered in maroon colored lipstick stains. his nose, cheeks, forehead, chin. even one in the corner of his lips and under his left brow.

he felt blood rushing to his face, something quite… heartwarming about this sight. about the idea of coming home and just pepper-kissing his face with no control.

“you’re crazy” he whispered and traced one of the drunken souvenirs with a whipped smile.

masterlist <3

taglist. @l3visbby ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @w3bqrl ,,

@slytherinshua ,, @haecien ,, @eternalgyu

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fruithoughts · 6 months ago

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when he misses your face. . .

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diaphamin · 6 months ago

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number neighbor — lee donghyuck 𝜗𝜚

in which haechan follows the trend of texting your number neighbor determined to make them his friend

part eleven

diaphamin: SHORT AND TO THE POINT JUST HOW I LIKE IT

previous — next

taglist: open @selleular @swanyvess @222low @dudekiss3r @thegracerammy @strawberrysavi @njmluvr @nosungluv @injunnie-lemon @sleepyvic @ndwp77 @nicholasluvbot @minkyuncutie @mango-bear @kodasity @minhosprettywife @nanaxwi @hyuckmoon @shoetaroshoe @raevyng @yuthabitz @markeroolee @toyoongg @kyubing @slayhaechan @yesohhsehun @chan-yeoldelling @skepvids

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xomakara · 4 months ago

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After Midnight

SUMMARY | You are on a blind date, and the guy turns out to be a total jerk. Increasingly uncomfortable, but too polite to get up and leave, you are grateful to be rescued by Yangyang, the cute college frat boy in your class and the object of your affections, who comes over and gives you an out. PAIRINGS | Yangyang x Reader RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked GENRE | smut, college au, non-idol au, blind date gone wrong CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), fingering, slight dirty talk, praising, vaginal penetration LENGTH | 8,887 words TAGLIST | --- NETWORKS | @k-vanity @ksmutsociety AUTHOR’S NOTE | Finally managed to get something written for Yangyang! Finally! Thank you @shadowkoo for the beautiful banner! I hope you all like it and enjoy it 💚

NCT Main Masterlist

The dimly lit bar feels like a scene out of someone else’s life. The hum of conversation buzzes around you, but it feels distant, muffled by the tightening knot in your stomach. You shift uncomfortably on the barstool, your fingers tracing the condensation on your glass. Across from you sits Wooseok—your blind date. A guy who seemed charming over texts but now drips with an arrogance so thick it could coat the walls.

“So,” he says, leaning back arrogantly, his smirk as cocky as his tone. “You into sports? Or are you one of those artsy types?”

You force a smile, trying to mask the irritation clawing at you. “A little of both, I guess.”

His laugh is sharp, dismissive. “Yeah, I heard that one before. Bet you love yoga or something, right? All that ‘namaste’ crap.”

Oh god. You glance at your half-empty drink, wishing it were stronger, faster. Anything to numb this awkwardness. Why did you agree to this? Why didn’t you just ghost him when his condescension became clear over text? But no, you’d been raised too well for that. Too polite. Too much of a people-pleaser. And now here you are, stuck.

He picks up the thread again, his voice rising above the ambient noise. “Anyway, I’m more of a gym guy. You know, real fitness. Not that flaky stuff. Gotta stay in shape, especially if you want to keep up with me.”

You nod absently, your eyes darting across the room. Relief floods through you as you spot Yangyang, the cute frat boy from your class. He’s sitting with a group of friends a few tables over, laughing and sipping beers. His smile lights up the room, and you feel a pang of longing.

If only this were a date with him.

As if sensing your gaze, Yangyang glances over. Their eyes meet, and for a moment, everything else fades away. His lips curl into a reassuring half-smile, and you feel a flutter of hope. Maybe—just maybe—he’ll save you from this nightmare.

But then your date leans closer, his cologne overpowering even the faint smell of beer and smoke. “So, what do you say we get out of here? Maybe grab some dessert? My treat, of course.”

His tone is smooth, almost too smooth, and there’s something in his eyes that makes your skin crawl. You open your mouth to decline, but the words catch in your throat. Before you can muster a response, Yangyang stands up, his attention shifting fully to you.

“Y/N!” he calls out, his voice warm and playful. “How’s it going?”

Your date frowns, his annoyance obvious. “Who’s this guy?”

You feel a surge of gratitude as Yangyang approaches, his presence radiating confidence.

“I’m Yangyang,” he says, extending his hand to your date. “A friend of hers. Classmate, actually.”

Your date shakes his hand reluctantly, his jaw tight. “Nice to meet you.”

Yangyang’s grin widens, and he turns to you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You weren’t answering my texts earlier, so I figured I’d come find you. What’s the deal? Having fun?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift. But then you realize—he’s giving you an out. A way to escape this unbearable situation. “Oh, uh… yeah, sure. It’s been… interesting.”

Yangyang chuckles, his gaze flicking between you and your date. “Well, I hate to interrupt, but we’ve got that group project meeting tomorrow, and I need to go over some notes with you. You free to head out now?”

There’s a pause, and you can practically see the gears turning in your date’s head. Finally, he straightens up, his pride clearly wounded. “Sounds like you’ve got plans. Guess I’ll let you go.”

You stand quickly, relief washing over you. “Thanks for… uh, dinner? Drinks? This.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, no problem. Have fun with your… homework.”

Yangyang steps closer, his arm brushing yours as he guides you toward the exit. “Don’t be rude, man. Have a good night.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, once you’re out of earshot.

Yangyang grins, his dimples deepening. “No problem. Couldn’t let you suffer through that alone. You looked like you needed rescuing.”

You laugh softly, the tension easing slightly. “You have no idea. How did you even know it was me?”

“Oh, I saw you walk in earlier,” he admits, his voice lowering. “Figured I’d wait a bit, see how things went. When things got weird, I knew I had to intervene.”

You glance at him, your cheeks heating. “That’s… kind of amazing, actually.”

He shrugs, looking away briefly. “Happens to the best of us. Anyway, you okay? Want to grab some coffee or something? My treat.”

Your heart skips a beat. Coffee? With him?

“I’d like that,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

You both step outside, the cool night air hitting your faces. Yangyang walks close enough that both of your arms brush occasionally, sending shivers down your spine.

“So,” he says, his tone light but teasing. “What’s next?”

You turn to him, your pulse quickening. “Depends,” you reply, feeling bold suddenly. “What do you want to do?”

“Funny you should ask,” he whispers, his voice low and husky. He meets your gaze, his eyes dark and intense. “Because I’ve been thinking about this all night.”

Before you can respond, he steps closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice barely audible.

You swallow hard, your heart racing. “Yes.”

He smiles faintly, his hand reaching out to lightly touch your waist. “Good. Because I don’t wanna take this slow.”

And then, without waiting for an answer, he presses his lips to yours. His kiss lingers on your lips, a sweet, dizzying sensation that makes your knees weak. You glance up at him, his dark hair catching the faint glow of the streetlights, and he grins, a playful glint in his eyes.

“So,” he says, his voice light but teasing, “coffee? Or do you want to see if I can make this even more interesting?”

You laugh softly, feeling a strange mix of nerves and excitement. The date with Wooseok feels like a distant nightmare now, washed away by Yangyang’s effortless charm.

“Coffee sounds good,” you reply, tilting your head slightly. “But if you’re trying to impress me, you might have to work harder than that.”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm, and nudges you playfully. “Challenge accepted.”

The two of you walk side by side down the dimly lit sidewalk, the quiet hum of the city surrounding you. Yangyang leads you to a small, cozy café tucked away from the main street, its windows glowing warmly. Inside, the air smells of freshly brewed coffee and baked pastries, and the soft murmur of conversation fills the space. A young barista behind the counter glances up with a bright smile as you approach.

“Hey, Yangyang,” the barista says, their tone friendly but subtly flirtatious. “Long time no see. What can I get for you tonight?”

Yangyang smiles back, leaning casually on the counter. “Hey, Ruby. Two coffees, please—something strong. And maybe a slice of that chocolate cake.”

“Coming right up,” Ruby replies, their fingers already moving deftly over the espresso machine.

As Ruby works, Yangyang turns to you, his expression shifting to one of curiosity.

“So,” he begins, his voice dropping just enough to feel intimate in the bustling café, “what made you agree to a blind date with him? He seemed… not your type.”

You sigh, shaking your head as you think back to Jake’s arrogance. “I don’t know. I guess I thought it was worth giving it a shot? But yeah, he was… not my type. At all.”

Yangyang nods, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s trying to read something deeper. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. Not when you’ve got me around.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you meet his gaze, feeling a sudden intensity in the air between you. Before you can respond, Ruby sets down two steaming mugs on the counter, each topped with a swirl of foam.

“Here you go,” Ruby says, sliding the plate with the chocolate cake toward you. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks,” Yangyang says, taking the mugs and handing one to you. “Let’s grab a table.”

You follow him to a small corner booth, the dim lighting casting shadows that make the space feel private. As you sit across from him, the warmth of the mug in your hands contrasts with the coolness of the night outside. Yangyang takes a slow sip of his coffee, watching you over the rim of his cup.

“So,” he says again, setting his mug down carefully, “tell me something about yourself. Something real.”

You raise an eyebrow, feeling both amused and intrigued by his directness. “Something real? What kind of question is that?”

He shrugs, leaning back in his seat, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. “You seem like someone who doesn’t open up easily. So, I’m curious. What’s something most people wouldn’t know about you?”

Your heart skips a beat at the question, and you shift uncomfortably, unsure how much you want to reveal. But there’s something about the way Yangyang looks at you—calm, attentive, and genuine—that makes it hard to resist.

“Okay,” you say slowly, picking at the edge of the cake with your fork. “I… write poetry. Like, really bad stuff, mostly. But it helps me process things.”

Yangyang’s lips curl into a slow, appreciative smile. “That’s pretty cool. Do you ever show it to anyone?”

You shake your head, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. “No. It’s just… for me. Private.”

He nods thoughtfully, his gaze never leaving yours. “Fair enough. Maybe one day, though, you’ll let me read some. If you want to.”

The suggestion hangs in the air, heavy with possibility, and you find yourself wondering what it would be like to share that part of yourself with him. Before you can dwell on it too much, Yangyang reaches across the table, his fingers brushing lightly against yours.

“You don’t have to answer that,” he says softly, his touch sending tingles up your arm. “But I hope you know I’d listen. To anything you wanted to say.”

You swallow hard, feeling the heat of his words settle deep in your chest.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yangyang’s expression shifts, a flicker of something raw crossing his face before it settles into a gentle smile.

“Maybe because I like you,” he admits, his voice low and sincere. “And maybe because I saw the way he was treating you, and I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to fix it. For you.”

The honesty in his words leaves you breathless, and you realize, with a jolt, that you’ve been holding onto so much tension since the start of the night. With him, though, it’s different. Easier. Like you can finally exhale.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say quietly.

“Yeah, I did,” he replies, his voice firm but warm. “Because you deserve better than that. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to show you how much better.”

The sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, and you find yourself nodding slowly, a knot of emotion tightening in your throat.

“Okay,” you manage to say, your voice shaky.

Yangyang’s smile returns, brighter this time, and he leans forward, his hand slipping beneath the table to rest on your thigh. The contact sends a spark through you, and you bite your lip, glancing up at him with uncertainty.

“I really like you, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice filled with promise. "Tell me if I’m moving too fast.”

Your pulse quickens, and you feel the weight of his hand on your leg, warm and deliberate. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

He laughs softly, his breath feathering against your cheek as he closes the distance between you. “Like I said before, I don’t wanna take this slow.”

And then his lips are on yours again, soft and insistent, pulling a quiet gasp from deep within you. His hand tightens slightly on your thigh, drawing you even closer, and you melt into the kiss, your fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie.

The world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the electric hum of connection. His tongue traces the curve of your bottom lip, and you part your mouth willingly, deepening the kiss until you’re both breathless. When he finally pulls back, his eyes are dark with desire, and he presses his forehead against yours, his breath hot and uneven.

“God, you’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice ragged. You don’t have the chance to respond before he speaks again, his voice thick with urgency. “We should go somewhere quieter. Somewhere we can focus on each other.”

Yangyang’s hand slips into yours, his fingers interlacing with yours as he leads you out of the café. The cool night air nips at your skin, but his touch is warm and grounding, a steady anchor in the otherwise chaotic evening. His hoodie swishes against his jeans as he walks, and you can feel the faint hum of excitement radiating off him.

“Where are we going?” you ask, your voice just above a whisper, curious and a little nervous.

He glances at you, his smile soft and mischievous. “Trust me?”

You hesitate for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah.”

He squeezes your hand tighter, like he’s trying to reassure you without saying it aloud. And then he breaks into a light jog, tugging you along with him. You don’t question it, following his lead with a laugh bubbling up in your chest. There’s something freeing about running through the streets with him, letting go of all the awkwardness and tension from earlier tonight.

The park comes into view after a few minutes, its gates already closed for the night. But Yangyang doesn’t seem fazed. He pulls you along the iron fence until he finds a small gap where a section of bars has rusted and bent outward.

“Shortcut,” he says with a wink, crouching down to slip through first. You hesitate again, looking around nervously. The park is eerily quiet, the shadows of trees stretching across the ground like skeletal hands. But Yangyang sticks his head back through the gap, his eyes bright and encouraging. “Come on, I promise it’s worth it.”

Swallowing your doubts, you duck through the gap after him, brushing dirt off your jeans as you straighten up. Yangyang takes your hand again, guiding you deeper into the park, away from the well-lit paths and toward the darker, more secluded areas. The crunch of leaves underfoot grows louder, and the scent of damp earth fills the air.

Finally, he stops near a large oak tree, its branches twisted and gnarled, reaching out like they’re trying to embrace the sky. The moonlight filters through the gaps in the canopy above, casting dappled patterns on the ground. It’s quiet here—peaceful, almost magical.

"Here?" You asked.

"Yeah," Yangyang nods. "Look up."

You tilt your head back, feeling a rush of awe as you take in the view. The stars glitter against a dark blue background, like tiny pinpricks of light in an infinite canvas. The air feels clear and fresh here, free from the noise of the city, and the wind rustles softly through the trees, adding to the serenity.

"I wanted to bring you to my spot," Yangyang murmurs. "Where I go when everything gets too much. When the world feels overwhelming."

You looked at him. "I'm sure you bring other girls here."

"Nah," he replies, a flicker of regret crossing his eyes. "I came here before I even joined the frat. Back when it was just me, getting by on scholarships and part-time jobs."

You reach for his hand, running your thumb along his knuckles gently. "You had a tough time?"

He smiles sadly. "Yeah. And even now, when I've got help with tuition and the whole student life deal... the pressures are still there, you know?"

It's strange to hear him talking like this, opening himself up to you. It feels vulnerable and intimate. You take a tentative step towards him. "I think I can relate. Even though I have a scholarship and good parents, I still have to balance work, studying and finding time for social life, and it can be a lot."

Yangyang nods, and you can tell he understands. He tilts his head, searching your face as he searches his next words. "What would help you deal with all that?"

The question takes you by surprise. You think it over carefully. "Spending time with friends. Releasing emotions through writing. Watching tv." You look back up at the stars and try again. "But the thing that helps most, the most soothing thing for me, is just going somewhere alone, listening to nature or the city. Finding somewhere peaceful and calming."

"Somewhere like here?" He asks.

"Yeah," you sigh contentedly. "I haven't found somewhere quite like it, though."

His hands settle on your hips as he pulls you in for a sweet, lingering kiss, his teeth lightly grazing your lower lip. You smile against his lips, and the butterflies in your stomach turn into something wild. He backs you up against the trunk of the tree, his body flush with yours, and you can't help but run your hands up his neck and into his soft, dark curls. The moonlight illuminates his face, revealing the hunger in his gaze. You close your eyes as he trails kisses down your neck, sending a thrill up your spine. He lifts his head and searches your gaze again.

God, he tastes so good, you think, your mind hazy with desire. His flavor is sweet, like the coffee you shared earlier, but there’s an undercurrent of something wild and untamed, something that sets your pulse racing even faster.

When he pulls back, his breath comes out in uneven puffs, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Fuck,” he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first day I saw you in class.”

Your lips curve into a smile, giddy and breathless. “Really?”

He nods, his curls bouncing slightly. “Every time you walked into the room, I couldn’t focus on anything else. You have no idea how many times I almost asked you out, but I kept chickening out.”

You laugh softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Well, I’m glad you finally did.”

“Me too,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. Then his lips are on yours again, softer this time, more deliberate. His hands roam down your sides, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to rest on the bare skin of your lower back. The coolness of the night air contrasts sharply with the warmth of his palms, sending a shiver up your spine.

You press closer to him, your own hands fumbling with the zipper of his hoodie. When you pull it down, he shrugs it off his shoulders, tossing it aside without a second thought. Underneath, he’s wearing a plain white T-shirt that clings to his torso, outlining the muscles you only catch glimpses of during class. Your fingers dip beneath the fabric, skimming across his skin, feeling the tautness of his stomach beneath your touch.

He groans into your mouth, his body tensing under your exploration. “Jesus,” he breathes, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “You’re killing me.”

You smirk against his lips, feeling a surge of confidence. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he growls, pulling you even closer. “Not even close.”

His hands move higher, sliding up your ribcage until they’re cupping your breasts over your bra. You arch into his touch, a needy sound escaping your throat. His thumb brushes across your nipple, teasing it into a hard peak, and you gasp, your head tilting back as pleasure shoots through you.

“Yangyang…” you murmur, half-pleading, half-whining.

He presses a quick series of kisses along your jawline, his breath hot against your skin. “Tell me what you want,” he says, his voice thick with hunger.

You bite your lip, suddenly shy. “I…”

He grins, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “That’s okay. Let me guess.”

And without waiting for your answer, his hands shift again, one sliding down to palm your ass while the other slips beneath your waistband, his fingertips trailing dangerously close to where you need him most.

Your breath hitches, your whole body trembling with anticipation. “Yangyang…” you say again, this time more urgently.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes gleaming with desire. “Yeah?”

“Please,” you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible.

His answering smile is slow and triumphant. “Anything for you.”

Your breath catches in your throat as Yangyang’s lips press against yours again, this time with a hunger that sends shivers down your spine. His hands move to your hips, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. You melt into him, your fingers threading through his dark curls as the world around you fades away. The cool night air is no match for the heat building between you, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest.

Just as you’re about to deepen the kiss, a sharp voice cuts through the silence. “Hey! You two! What do you think you’re doing?”

You freeze, your body stiffening as you recognize the authoritative tone. Slowly, you pull away from Yangyang, your eyes widening as you turn toward the source of the noise. A tall, broad-shouldered park ranger stands a few feet away, his arms crossed and his jaw set in disapproval. His uniform fits him like a glove, emphasizing his muscular build, and his sharp, observant gaze locks onto you both.

Yangyang curses under his breath, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Crap,” he mutters, tugging at your hand. “Let’s go. Now.”

Before you can respond, he’s already pulling you deeper into the shadows beneath the tree. Your pulse races as you follow him, the thrill of being caught making your stomach twist in knots. You glance back over your shoulder, your heart pounding as the ranger takes a step closer, his flashlight sweeping across the ground.

“I said stop!” the ranger calls out, his voice echoing through the park.

You press yourself closer to Yangyang, your breaths coming in short bursts. “What do we do?” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Yangyang glances around frantically, his mind working quickly. “We need to lose him,” he says, his eyes darting toward a small trail leading deeper into the park. “Come on, let’s go this way.”

Without waiting for your response, he drags you along the path, his grip firm but reassuring. The trees close in around you, their branches creating a natural barrier from the ranger’s view. You stumble slightly, the uneven ground making it difficult to keep up, but Yangyang’s hand stays locked around yours, guiding you forward.

The sound of heavy footsteps grows louder behind you, and you can hear the ranger muttering under his breath. “Kids these days… always causing trouble,” he grumbles, his frustration evident.

Yangyang smirks despite the situation, his playful nature peeking through. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, squeezing your hand. “We’ll give him the slip.”

You can’t help but laugh nervously, the tension between you and Yangyang growing stronger with every step. As you round a corner, Yangyang pulls you into a dense bush, muffling your laughter with his hand. You hold your breath as the ranger’s flashlight beam passes by, illuminating the leaves around you momentarily.

When the light disappears, Yangyang releases a shaky laugh. “That was close,” he says, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You nod, your heart still racing from the adrenaline. “Too close,” you agree, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yangyang’s gaze softens as he looks at you, his playful demeanor melting into something more serious. “You okay?” he asks, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You nod again, feeling a warmth spread through you at his concern. “Yeah,” you say, smiling faintly. “Just… a little shaken.”

He chuckles, his confidence returning. “Well, I guess we showed him, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face doesn’t fade. “I wouldn’t exactly call that showing him.”

Yangyang shrugs, his dimples deepening as he grins. “Close enough. Now…” He pauses, his expression turning mischievous once more. “How about we get out of here before he comes back?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by his suggestion. “And go where?”

His grin widens, and he steps closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “My place,” he murmurs, his voice low and inviting. “It’s not far. We can be there in ten minutes.”

Your pulse quickens at the thought, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in your chest. Part of you wants to playfully protest, to tease him about his boldness, but the other part—the part that’s been drawn to him since the moment he walked into your life—is already saying yes.

Yangyang must sense your hesitation, because he adds, “I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

You look into his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you find is sincerity and a flicker of desire. And maybe, just maybe, a touch of vulnerability. It’s that last part that seals the deal, pushing aside any lingering doubts.

“Okay,” you say softly, your voice barely audible.

His answering smile lights up his entire face, and without another word, he takes your hand and leads you out of the bush, navigating the dimly lit paths of the park with ease. The cool night air brushes against your skin, sending goosebumps down your arms, but Yangyang’s touch keeps you grounded, his presence a steady anchor in the chaos.

As you leave the park behind, the streetlights guide your way, casting long shadows that stretch and shrink with each step. Yangyang’s pace quickens, his excitement palpable, and you can’t help but match it, your own anticipation building with every passing second.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity but is probably only a few minutes, Yangyang stops in front of a modest apartment building. His free hand reaches into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys as he unlocks the door. He ushers you inside, his movements almost frantic with eagerness.

The apartment is cozy, with simple furnishings and a faint scent of laundry detergent and fresh air—just like him. Yangyang leads you to the living room, where he finally lets go of your hand, turning to face you. His chest rises and falls slightly, his breathing still a little uneven from the rush of the escape.

“So,” he says, his voice low and teasing, “what do you think?”

You take a moment to survey the room, your eyes lingering on the small details—the bookshelf filled with textbooks and novels, the worn couch draped with a blanket, the faint hum of a refrigerator in the background. It’s nothing fancy, but it feels lived-in, comfortable. And somehow, that makes it even more appealing.

“It’s nice,” you admit, your voice soft.

Yangyang’s smile returns, warmer now, less playful and more genuine. “Good,” he says simply, stepping closer. “Because I didn’t bring you here just to show you my apartment.”

Your breath hitches as he closes the distance between you, his hands reaching up to cradle your face. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, and you can feel the sincerity in every brush of his fingertips. When his lips meet yours, it’s slow and deliberate, a marked contrast to the urgency of earlier.

This time, there’s no rush, no fear of being interrupted. Just the two of you, lost in the embrace that neither of you seems willing to break.

Yangyang breaks the kiss, his eyes locking with yours. His hands slide down to your shoulders, then lower, tracing the curve of your back until they settle on your hips. The heat between you is palpable, a tangible force that seems to push and pull at the edges of your restraint.

“Do you trust me?” he asks quietly, his voice low and steady.

You nod, though the question sends a shiver through you. Trust. It’s such a simple word, yet it feels so heavy in this moment. You realize, almost suddenly, that you do trust him—completely. There’s something about the way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the world who matters, that makes it impossible not to.

“Good,” he says, his lips curving into a sly smile. “Because I want to show you something.”

Without waiting for a response, he takes your hand and leads you deeper into his apartment. The hallway is dimly lit, the soft glow of a lamp casting long shadows across the floor. The air is quiet, save for the faint sound of your footsteps and the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards beneath you.

Yangyang guides you to a door at the end of the hall, one you hadn’t noticed before. He pauses for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at you before reaching out to turn the handle. The door swings open with a soft click, revealing a cozy bedroom bathed in the warm light of a bedside lamp.

His bedroom. The thought flutters in your mind, sending a fresh wave of excitement coursing through you. Yangyang steps inside first, pulling you in after him. The door closes softly behind you, sealing the space as your own private world.

The room is simple but inviting, with a large bed taking up most of the space. A pile of pillows rests against the headboard, and a few books are scattered haphazardly on the nightstand. A faint scent of cedar lingers in the air, mingling with the familiar smell of laundry detergent that seems to follow Yangyang everywhere.

He turns to face you, his eyes dark with intent. “I wanted to bring you somewhere… quieter,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Somewhere we could be alone.”

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, the rhythm accelerating as his words sink in. Alone. The word carries a weight that’s both thrilling and terrifying. You glance around the room, taking in the details—the softness of the carpet underfoot, the warmth of thelighting, the way the shadows seem to dance along the walls. It’s intimate, cocooning, and somehow perfectly fitting for what you know is about to happen.

Yangyang steps closer, his hands settling on your waist again. This time, there’s no hesitation in his touch—just confidence, laced with a tenderness that makes your knees weak. He leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Just let me take care of you.”

The request hangs in the air, a silent promise that sends a jolt of electricity through your veins. You nod again, unable to find the words to respond. Yangyang smiles, a slow, knowing grin that makes your stomach flutter.

With one hand still resting on your waist, he reaches up with the other, sliding his fingers through the loose strands of your hair. The gesture is gentle, almost reverent, as if he’s savoring the texture and weight of it. You close your eyes, tilting your head slightly to give him better access, and feel a soft hum of pleasure ripple through you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve wanted to tell you that since the first day I saw you.”

The confession catches you off guard, sending a rush of warmth flooding through your chest. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze, and see nothing but honesty reflected there. It’s overwhelming, the depth of feeling in his expression, and it leaves you momentarily speechless.

Before you can respond, Yangyang shifts his grip, guiding you toward the bed. His movements are deliberate, each step calculated to draw you further into the moment. When you reach the edge of the mattress, he stops, his hands sliding from your waist to rest on your hips.

“Sit,” he commands softly, his voice a velvety rasp that sends shivers dancing down your spine.

You obey without hesitation, lowering yourself onto the plush comforter. The fabric is soft beneath you, and the faint scent of linen fills your nostrils, adding another layer of sensory overload to the mix. As you settle in, Yangyang kneels beside the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

For a moment, there’s silence—a charged, electric kind of stillness that seems to hold the weight of everything unsaid between you. Then, slowly, deliberately, Yangyang reaches out, his fingers brushing against the buttons of your shirt.

“May I?” he asks, his voice a teasing half-whisper.

You nod again, your throat too tight to speak. Yangyang grins, his eyes gleaming with mischief, and begins working on the buttons with expert precision. Each pop of the closure seems to echo in the quiet room, a symphony of anticipation that heightens the tension between you.

When the last button slides free, he tugs the fabric apart, revealing the thin layer of lace beneath. Your breath hitches as his eyes flick downward, briefly scanning the sight before returning to your face. “So pretty,” he murmurs, his tone a mix of awe and desire.

Without warning, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the hollow of your throat. The sensation is fleeting but insistent, a tease that leaves you yearning for more. You instinctively tilt your head back, giving him better access, and feel a surge of satisfaction when he obliges by trailing kisses along your collarbone.

“Yangyang...” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling with a combination of need and uncertainty.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips curved into a wicked smile. “Shh,” he says gently. “Just let me love you.”

And with that, he resumes his exploration, his hands and mouth working in tandem to unravel every thread of resistance within you.

Yangyang’s hands move with an almost reverent grace as he undresses you, his touch light but deliberate. Each piece of clothing he removes feels like a revelation, not just to him but to you as well. You feel suddenly exposed, yet entirely safe in his presence.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and gravelly with emotion. His fingers brush against the edge of your bra, hesitating for a moment before carefully unclasping it. The fabric slips away, revealing you to his gaze, and you catch a flicker of awe in his dark eyes.

“You don’t have to say that,” you whisper, your cheeks heating under his intense scrutiny.

Yangyang shakes his head, his smile soft and genuine. “I know what I see,” he says simply. His hands cup your shoulders, thumbs brushing lightly over your collarbones, and you shiver at the tenderness of his touch. “And what I feel… it’s overwhelming.”

He leans in then, his lips finding the sensitive skin just below your ear. A sound escapes you, half-laugh, half-groan, as his teeth graze the lobe gently. His hand trails down your arm, fingertips leaving a trail of fire in their wake before wrapping around your wrist. He guides your hand to his chest, pressing your palm flat against the rapid thudding of his heart.

“Feel that?” he asks, his voice thick with desire. “That’s all you.”

You nod, unable to speak, your own heart pounding in response. Yangyang’s free hand snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The solid warmth of his body against yours is intoxicating, and you cling to him instinctively.

His lips find yours again, this time with a hunger that leaves no room for hesitation. The kiss is deep, consuming, every stroke of his tongue igniting a blaze within you. His hand slides lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, and you gasp into his mouth as his fingers tease the soft curve of your hipbone.

“Yangyang,” you breathe, clutching at his shoulders for balance.

“Tell me what you want,” he rasps, his breath hot against your cheek. His fingers dip lower, brushing against the wetness between your legs, and you clench your thighs together, both resisting and inviting his touch.

“I—” Your voice falters, uncertain, as his fingers ghost over your most sensitive spot. You arch into the sensation, your hips tilting involuntarily.

Yangyang chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your body. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his tone reassuring. “Take your time. We have all night.”

His words send a shudder through you, a mix of relief and anticipation. You relax slightly, letting go of some of the tension that had been coiled tightly within you. Yangyang takes advantage of your momentary surrender, his fingers sliding back between your legs, this time with purpose.

The first tentative touch makes you jerk, a sharp intake of breath escaping your lips. Yangyang holds still, watching you intently, his expression a blend of concern and arousal. “Too much?” he asks, clearly trying to read your reaction.

You shake your head quickly, your cheeks burning. “No,” you manage to whisper. “Just… unexpected.”

A slow grin spreads across his face, and he resumes his exploration, his fingers tracing delicate patterns against your folds. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, your body responding eagerly to his ministrations.

“So responsive,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with admiration. “You’re incredible.”

His fingers press harder, delving deeper, and you gasp, your back arching off the bed. Yangyang shifts his position slightly, angling his fingers to hit that perfect spot inside you, and you feel yourself spiraling closer to the edge.

“Yangyang,” you choke out, your voice trembling with need. “Please…”

“Please what?” he teases, his voice low and husky. His free hand cups your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple in rhythm with his finger movements.

You whimper, torn between the dueling sensations of his touch. “I… I don’t know,” you admit, frustrated by your inability to articulate the raging storm within you.

Yangyang chuckles again, the sound dark and intimate. “That’s okay,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you deeply. His fingers quicken their pace, stroking in and out of you with increasing urgency. “Let yourself go. Let me take care of you.”

The combination of his words and actions is too much, and you feel the wave building inside you, cresting higher and higher with every thrust of his fingers. Your breath comes in shallow pants, your body tensing as you approach the precipice.

“Yangyang, I—”

He doesn’t let you finish. Instead, he presses a hard kiss to your lips, swallowing your cry of release as you come apart in his arms. Your body shudders, waves of pleasure rolling through you, leaving you boneless and gasping for air.

Yangyang pulls his fingers from you slowly, watching your face with rapt attention. His eyes are dark, filled with a mixture of awe and possessiveness. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his voice raw with emotion. “You’re amazing.”

You blink up at him, still dazed from the intensity of your orgasm. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you manage to joke weakly.

Yangyang laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Oh, we’re just getting started,” he says, his voice dropping to a teasing purr.

Yangyang’s hands trail down your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His touch is deliberate, almost reverent, as if he’s memorizing every curve and dip of you. When his fingers brush against the side of your thigh, you shiver, the sensation sending a spark of electricity through your veins.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. His eyes never leave yours, their intensity making your breath hitch. “I want to see you touch me.”

His words send a jolt of arousal through you, but there’s also a flicker of uncertainty. You’ve never been this intimate with anyone before, not like this. The thought of exploring his body feels thrilling and terrifying all at once. But when he guides your hand to his chest, the moment becomes too electric to resist.

Your fingers curl around the soft fabric of his hoodie, hesitating for just a second before you tug it up and over his head. The movement exposes the warm skin beneath, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You can feel the heat radiating from him, the thrum of his heartbeat underneath your palm. It’s intoxicating.

“Go on,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “Touch me.”

You do. Your fingertips trace the ridges of his collarbone, the muscles of his shoulders, the faint dusting of hair that trails down his sternum. Each touch sends a shiver through him, his breath hitching as your exploration grows bolder. When your hand skims lower, brushing against the waistband of his jeans, he groans, the sound raw and needy.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice breaking. “Don’t stop.”

His reaction emboldens you, fueling the fire that’s already burning between you. You let your fingers dip beneath the hem of his shirt, sliding along the taut planes of his abdomen. His skin is warm and smooth, the muscles beneath tense with anticipation. You can feel the way his body responds to your touch, the way he shifts closer, his breath fanning across your cheek.

“So good,” he rasps, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

His praise sends a thrill of pleasure through you, your confidence growing with each passing second. You slide your hand higher, brushing against the edge of his nipple, feeling it pebble beneath your touch. He gasps, arching into your hand as a low moan escapes his lips.

“Turn around,” he says suddenly, his voice commanding yet laced with urgency. “I want to touch you.”

You obey without hesitation, turning to face the bed and leaning forward slightly. The position puts you on display, your back arched and your ass lifted slightly. Yangyang’s breath hitches as he takes in the view, his gaze darkening with hunger.

“Jesus,” he mutters, his hands coming to rest on your hips. “You’re perfect.”

He strokes your sides, his fingers trailing up to your ribcage before dipping lower, pushing the material of your dress aside to expose the lace of your panties. The sight of them makes his grip tighten, his fingers pressing into your skin as he pulls them down slowly, revealing the curve of your ass and the delicate skin beneath.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he breathes, his voice rough with need. “I want to taste you.”

Before you can respond, he drops to his knees behind you, his hands cupping your ass as he presses a series of light kisses along the crease of your thigh. The sensation is electrifying, sending shivers of anticipation rippling through you. You can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the promise of what’s to come making your core throb with need.

When his tongue finally makes contact, you cry out, your hands clutching the sheets as waves of pleasure crash over you. He licks a slow, deliberate path up your folds, his tongue darting inside you with relentless precision. The sensation is overwhelming, your body trembling as he works you with expert skill.

“Yangyang,” you gasp, your voice breaking as he grazes his teeth along your clit. “Please—”

He doesn’t let you finish. Instead, he bites down gently, the sharp sting followed by a rush of warmth that sends you spiraling. Your thighs tremble, your body tightening as he continues to stroke and tease, his tongue flicking faster and harder until you can’t take it anymore.

“I’m close,” you manage to whisper, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, his hands gripping your hips as he redoubles his efforts. The sudden surge of pressure builds rapidly, your body tensing as you teeter on the edge. And then, with one final thrust of his tongue, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of pure bliss.

Your legs give out, but Yangyang catches you, guiding you gently to the bed. You collapse onto your back, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. He climbs onto the bed, hovering over you with a predatory smile.

“That was incredible,” he murmurs, his voice filled with admiration. “But we’re not done yet.”

He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he positions himself between your legs. You can feel the thick ridge of his cock pressing against your entrance, the heat of him making you ache with need.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice low and strained.

You nod, unable to form words as your desire consumes you. With one swift movement, he pushes inside you, filling you completely. The sensation is intense, your bodies perfectly aligned as he begins to move.

Yangyang’s breath hitches as he slides into you, the heat of his body pressing against yours. You feel every inch of him, thick and demanding, filling you completely. His hips move with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. His lips find yours again, kissing you deeply as he sets a steady pace, drawing out the moment.

“You feel so good,” he whispers against your lips, his voice low and trembling. “So tight… so perfect.”

His hands grip your hips, holding you firmly as he continues to thrust into you. You can feel the way he’s holding back, wanting to savor this moment, but the strain in his voice tells you just how much he wants to let go. Your own desire is building, spiraling higher with every movement of his hips. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him on, desperate for more.

Just as the tension between you reaches its peak, a loud POP echoes through the apartment, followed by the sudden absence of light. The room plunges into darkness, the only sound now the heavy breathing of the two of you.

“What… what was that?” you ask, your voice shaky and breathless.

“Power outage,” Yangyang replies, his tone amused but still strained. “Looks like we’ve got the place to ourselves for a while.”

The darkness seems to heighten everything. Without the distraction of sight, your other senses become sharper. You can feel the warmth of Yangyang’s body pressed against yours, the weight of him grounding you. His breath tickles your neck as he kisses your collarbone, his movements growing more insistent as the adrenaline of the unexpected outage pushes him closer to the edge.

“Let’s not waste it,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with desire. He shifts slightly, adjusting his angle, and you gasp as a new wave of sensation hits you. His thrusts become deeper, harder, each one bringing you closer to the edge.

“Yangyang…” you moan, clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, his voice rough with need. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

“I want you… I need you,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Don’t stop.”

He growls in response, his hips snapping forward with renewed urgency. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the silence, mingling with your ragged breaths. You feel yourself teetering on the brink, the pressure building inside you with every thrust. Yangyang’s hand moves between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit and stroking it with expert precision.

“Almost there,” he promises, his voice a harsh whisper. “Come for me. Let go.”

The darkness feels like a cocoon, wrapping around you both as you fall apart. Your body shudders, your muscles tightening around him as you reach your climax. Yangyang follows soon after, his movements becoming erratic as he buries himself deep inside you, letting out a deep groan as he spills inside you.

For a moment, all you can do is cling to each other, the weight of your bodies the only anchor you have in the dark. Yangyang rests his forehead against yours, his breathing slowly returning to normal.

“That was…” he starts, but trails off, his voice soft and vulnerable.

“Perfect,” you finish for him, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckles softly, kissing your forehead before pulling out of you and lying down beside you. You roll onto your side, facing him in the dark, your fingers tracing the contours of his face.

“What now?” you ask, your voice curious.

“Now…” he pauses, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now we wait. See how long this lasts.”

The thought sends a shiver of excitement down your spine. There’s something thrilling about the uncertainty, about being forced to slow down and enjoy the moment. You nestle closer to Yangyang, feeling his arm wrap around your waist as you rest your head on his chest.

“I could get used to this,” you murmur, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

Yangyang’s chest rises and falls with a soft chuckle, his voice warm against your ear. “I could too,” he admits, his tone laced with contentment. “There’s something about the dark that makes everything feel… simpler. No distractions, just us.”

You smile into the darkness, feeling the weight of his words settle between you. His fingers trace lazy circles on your back, the gentle rhythm soothing yet electrifying all at once. The power outage has stripped away the usual comforts of light and sound, leaving only the raw connection between you two. It’s intimate in a way you hadn’t anticipated, but now that it’s here, you realize how much you crave it.

“Do you think we’ll be stuck like this for long?” you ask, your voice soft as you nuzzle closer to him.

“Who knows?” he replies, his lips brushing against your temple. “Maybe it’s a sign. A chance to slow down, to really feel each other without anything else getting in the way.”

His words send a flutter through your chest. You can hear the sincerity in his voice, the way he’s embracing the moment rather than letting it frustrate him. It’s one of the things you love most about him—his ability to find beauty in the unexpected.

“You’re right,” you murmur, tilting your head to press a kiss to his collarbone. “This is kind of nice. Just… being together like this.”

Yangyang hums in agreement, his arm tightening around you. “Yeah,” he says after a pause, his voice low and thoughtful. “It’s perfect.”

The silence stretches between you, broken only by the occasional rustle of sheets or the soft whisper of his breath. You trace the lines of his chest with your fingertips, marveling at how familiar yet endlessly fascinating his body feels. Each curve and plane feels like home, like something you never knew you needed until now.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks suddenly, his voice curious.

“I was thinking about how glad I am that you were there to bail me out of that bad date,” you admit, your voice soft but laced with gratitude. “If it wasn’t for you… I don’t even want to imagine how that night would’ve ended.”

Yangyang chuckles, the sound warm and comforting against your ear. “Well, I couldn’t let you suffer through that alone, could I?” he teases, his fingers brushing lightly over your shoulder. “Besides, I think we both know how much better this turned out.”

You smile, feeling a blush creep into your cheeks despite the darkness. “Yeah,” you agree, tilting your head to press a kiss to his chest. “This was definitely better. So much better.”

He hums in agreement, his hand moving to cup the back of your head gently. “I’m just glad I could be there for you,” he says, his tone sincere. “You deserve someone who makes you feel as amazing as you make me feel.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you tighten your hold on him, nuzzling closer. “You do,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “You really do.”

The silence between you is comfortable, filled with unspoken words and lingering touches. You trace the lines of his chest again, your fingers pausing over the faint scar near his ribs. It’s a mark you’ve grown familiar with, one that tells a story of its own.

“Do you ever think about how different things might’ve been?” you ask suddenly, your voice tinged with curiosity. “If you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

Yangyang pauses, his hand stilling on your back. “Honestly?” he says after a moment, his voice thoughtful. “I try not to think about it. Because the way things are now… this… it’s exactly where I want to be. With you.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. “Me too,” you murmur, pressing another kiss to his skin. “Me too.”

The power outage may have thrown you into darkness, but in that moment, you realize it’s brought you closer to something infinitely brighter. The moonlight and the stars seem to be flittering brighter above you and you decide, maybe, for tonight you won't wait for the lights to come back on.

Because this is perfect as it is.

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