#do i really come across as someone who people are whipped for ?? cos that's so sososo so sweet i'm gonna cry T_T | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jenoloqy · 3 years

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romancing | lee donghyuck

REPOSTED FROM MY OLD BLOG!

pairing. lee donghyuck x female reader

word count. 23.7k

genres and warnings. fluff, comedy, college au, enemies to lovers, podcast au, contains: loads of banter, swearing, weird references of tinder and tiktok references; and hyuck being whipped asf

synopsis. running a romance advisory podcast with lee donghyuck means clashing and feuding with him because you’re too hopeless while he’s too realistic. practically everyone in campus listens to it, which is why you have no idea that your co-host has started asking the show for love advice since he’s fallen for someone. for all you know, lee donghyuck does not fall in love, but you don’t know what’s changed.

author’s note. i am so scared to repost this. idk why. but ahahahaha i hope you enjoy my favourite fluff monster

Welcome to Romanicing, a romance advisory podcast hosted by two broke college students who are only doing this to pass their Speech Communications class. Nothing really special, except for the fact that the two broke college students starring this podcast haven't actually been in any form of romantic relationships. Fun, right? If you believe so, tune in every Friday 8pm for mediocre content and send in your love letters for your story to be featured!

EPISODE 1: the art of online dating sites

If there is one successful dating tip that you know could never go wrong, it would be to never chase over people that do not have the same values as you and will not care to change theirs for the sake of the relationship. You’d like to give full credit to your history teacher back in high school for introducing you to that idea, because now that you’re more exposed to the dating world with all it’s perks and scandals, you’d like to say you survived a good portion of people and their opposed political views from yours.

It is the reason why all your tinder dates have been a failure; none of them can’t even go past the first date level and it almost scares your neighbour from seeing the amount of dinner dates you come home from with the worst scowl on your face. In fact, your tinder dates are worse than Jaemin’s calculus marks, and everyone knows he failed that course twice already.

You won’t fully admit that this dating tip has been the major factor to why your dating life has been a total flop, you’d beg to differ. It actually gives you a greater hope that one day, you’ll find the perfect person that will actually fit your standards out of all the other ones that haven’t fit it. And when you finally find that person, it will be the best day of your life.

For now, let’s focus on the worst day of your life.

The day you are forced to chase a person who doesn’t have the same values as you. All for a decent mark in your Speech Communications class because your professor had the audacity to partner you up with Lee Donghyuck even after witnessing all the heavily tensioned debates that ensue between the both of you in class.

“The fact that this is all going to be pre-recorded but we sound like complete idiots makes my headache,” you mumble to the microphone, earning a look of displeasure from your partner, “Anyways, I’ve recently opened our PO box, and I didn't realize that tons of you guys would actually participate. Thanks for the support.”

“With all the posters you placed on campus and peer pressuring anyone that passes by you in the hallways to send in some love letters, I’m surprised if nobody would participate.” You watch as Donghyuck rolls his eyes, and if it only weren’t for the expensive equipment separating the both of you across the table, you would’ve thrown the closest item to you, which is your morning coffee.

“It’s called advertising, Donghyuck.”

“No wonder why you didn’t pursue business; wise words from a Communications Major.”

There’s a sparkle of satisfaction running through his blood when he sees you taken aback. And knowing that you can’t do anything about that witty remark, he leans back on his chair, watching as you make an attempt to keep yourself composed during the recording while he lets out a light chuckle.

The moment he notices you clench your fists, the smile on his face grows wider.

Fake it till’ you make it.

“And since we’re talking about communication, the first set of love advice we’ll be sharing with you guys is about online dating and meeting people through Omegle—you like what I did there?” You say to the recording. Not to Donghyuck — never Donghyuck. “Many of your stories were surrounded by this concept and it’s only fair if we start off this podcast with a bang.”

“I think online dating is stupid,” your partner comments unhelpfully. It doesn’t help that he hasn’t read any of the love letters and has been relying on you to carry the project. Curse him and his invalid opinions. “I’ve never seen anybody that used Tinder to have gone farther with their relationship other than the talking stage or one-night-stand stage”

“That’s because you're searching in the wrong places,” you take his words to heart, almost pettily because you have to deal with a person who easily stereotypes the online dating world when you know there’s so much more to it. You can’t really say much about it (since your experiences really aren’t the best), but the fair share of documentaries and stories you heard about the successful matches should get into people’s heads.

“Look— there was a couple that started dating through Omegle, and the boy lived in California while the other is currently living on campus. They’ve been together for two years.”

“Oh. That’s cool, I guess.” He shrugs, still seeming unconvinced. You’ve made a lot of bad decisions throughout your lifetime, but creating a podcast surrounding the concepts of love and dating with Donghyuck is your worst decision yet. Because now that you watch him tap the pencil on the table with little to no interest on his face, you conclude that Lee Donghyuck knows nothing about love and the perks of it.

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?” You stare down at him, agape.

“I mean— What else do you want me to say?”

“Donghyuck, this is a podcast.” With that, he looks at you as if you’re speaking to him in a foreign language. You don’t understand why he chose to pursue this type of education when he doesn’t know the basic means and fundamentals. “You need to… you know… talk…”

“Can’t we just cut this part then?” Donghyuck raises both of his hands, his tone sarcastic and emotions unbothered.

“Don’t play stupid. I’m not going to spend most of my evening editing this just because my co-host, which to note is pursuing a career that consists of talking to other people, can’t think of the proper words to say.” You let out a loud sigh, grabbing your mug of coffee and chugging down the lukewarm drink out of stress. They say that doing group work means less individual work, but when your partner does the bare minimum, it feels as if you’re doing double the work instead.

“Okay, okay, calm down.” he chuckles lightly, whisking away his hand and adjusting the office chair to speak closer to the mic. He looks straight into your eyes when he talks, and you don’t know if he’s doing it to tease you. “Hmm, I’m just a little sceptical about meeting other people through the internet. I have my skepticisms on it. The first and last time my housemate tried online dating, he just got catfished.”

“Are you talking about—?” You suddenly get reminded of Jeno.

“Mhm.” He nods. “So yeah, big red flag for me there. If you guys want to find sentimental, genuine relationships with others. I’d say look for the people around you in person.” Donghyuck is right and wrong at the same time.

“I don’t think online dating sites take away someone’s ability to be genuine to another person. I don’t think it really takes away anything for the matter. Yeah people use it for hookups but there’s a whole other side where people actually look for love. In fact, it probably makes relationships stronger; especially when there’s a distance, a screen that’s refraining you from actually meeting a person until you do; it just shows how even through this separation love can bloom.”

“Now you’re just sugarcoating.” He wails and leans back aggressively on the chair, the both of you done with each other's opinions but have nothing to do with it because you need this assignment mark. And it seems like even with 50% worth of both your grades worth on the line, it seems he can put his differences aside to make this podcast seem less of a circus and instead a decent outline to get dating advice.

“I’m just spreading hope. Unlike you over here who probably hasn’t made an attempt to download a dating app.” It’s no use trying to correct someone who doesn’t want to be corrected.

“Did any of your Tinder dates work?” He attacks out of nowhere, and your heart stops for a second when a smirk forms on his face mirthfully.

“Pardon?” You ask, blinking your eyes repeatedly.

“Answer my question.”

The heat on your cheeks keeps Donghyuck’s face looking satisfied because he knows that he’s cornered you at the end of the alley. And it’s worse that you're a person who never lies, “No…”

Your hands slightly clench under the table. “And that concludes our stance on online dating. It. Doesn’t. Work.” At that, Donghyuck pats himself on the back.

Your eyes widen. What is he doing? It’s like Donghyuck wants to lose viewers and lose both your credibilities. And now, you genuinely hope your professor steps on a path of Legos for partnering you with him. “Don’t listen to him, I swear one day you’ll find someone! Love takes time! You’re first right swipe isn’t necessarily your life-long partner, you just have to be patient—”

“Are you going to listen to someone who can’t even find a date herself?”

It’s when Donghyuck bites his lip to refrain himself from laughing that you’ve lost all the last droplets of your patience.

“Your face looks very punchable right now.” You tell him through gritted teeth.

“Come at me. I don’t mind.” The beam that breaks out on his face doesn’t make the situation any better, and your whole body collectively agrees to never be in the same room with him, alone, after this project ends.

EPISODE 2: the morning after (the show went live)

Right off the bat, you knew the podcast would gain some talk around the campus, but you didn’t actually expect for it to blow up over night.

You have a faint idea as to why it happened, and it’s no surprise that the first two thoughts that popped up in your mind would be because of the excellent marketing skills you’ve contributed to the project or; because Donghyuck is the school’s well known striker in the soccer team and (you hate to admit) a heartthrob and most of the views are coming from the people that think he’s hella cute. You hope for the former.

But when Jaemin reads out the school’s bi-weekly paper in the middle of his tutoring lesson, you realize that the reason why people in your school are tweeting about the podcast is because of a whole other reason.

The reason being, yours and Donghyuck’s on-mic banters.

“That was so hilarious,” Jaemin gets distracted for the upteenth time during his tutoring session with you, indulging himself into some talk about your new podcast with his roommate while he throws his pencil up in the air in a frantic manner. Fun fact, actually really really sad fact, the reason why you know Donghyuck on a personal level is through Jaemin, and being the wonderful best friend he is to you (insert the sarcasm), he finds it absolutely lovely you can interact with his roommates.

“For you, it was.” You shove in a piece of broccoli from the college meal plan in your mouth. Well, Jaemin’s piece of broccoli because he refuses to eat it and gives it to you instead. You chew your food as you talk, “I mean… yeah people got a good laugh because of it. But I don’t want to enter the lecture and see a disappointed look from prof’ after hearing how unprofessional me and Donghyuck were.”

“Uh…” Jaemin chuckles nervously, not knowing what to say as he scratches the back of his head. There’s a meek smile playing on his lips, “It’s not about being professional. I think it’s nice that you guys are able to banter like that, it shows your personalities… and some on-mic chemistry.”

“C-Chemistry?” You stare at him in the most awe-struck expression your face can muster up, lips turning pale at the fact that Jaemin thinks that you and Donghyuck have a dynamic like that. It’s weird to think about. You and Donghyuck... with chemistry... you feel a shiver run through your back.

“Well, yeah. You guys always know what to say to each other.” Jaemin absentmindedly comments as he closes his calculus textbook. You’re pretty sure he’s stalling at this point and he doesn’t want you to talk anymore mathematical terminology, but you’re too worried about his opinion to continue teaching him.

“That’s because we argue a lot. I practically think of arguments in the shower so I make decent comebacks from his insults.” You raise your arms in defeat, leaning back on your chair and unable to realize that Donghyuck is listening well to your conversation with Jaemin.

“So you think about me in the shower?” He says from the living room — which is honestly only ten metres away from the dining table — and a smirk lingers on his face, “I love that.”

You hate his egotistical mindset, “Not in that way, you idiot.”

“Oh,” he shivers delightfully, “I love the degradation, keep on going, princess.”

You jerk your head to face him, squinting as you watch him sit down on the couch, placing his sports bag right on the vacant area beside him and turning his periphery back to you to notice the literal death glares you're giving him. He likes the attention.

You decide not to argue further, unless you want to make Donghyuck satisfied. You don’t. He wants you to piss him off, to give him all the attention you can give. So you give him the opposite of what he wants.

“Anyways, Jaemin.” You turn your head back to face your best friend, opening up his textbook and watching as he slumps down. Jaemin really thought he could get away with his act, “Look at problem number four...”

And while you start to get back into the tutoring lesson, Donghyuck watches you argue back and forth in the slightest ways with Jaemin, his heart racing when he hears the small giggles that elicit your mouth when you let Jaemin complain to you how much of a pain his mandatory calculus class is, or when your eyebrows furrow at reading his textbook. He thinks it’s cute.

Wait, what?

“So... How long are you gonna put up with this act?” Donghyuck almost forgets that Jeno is in the same room as him, which is why he jumps from his seat when he sees Jeno looking up from his laptop to look back at Donghyuck with such a taunting expression.

He clears his throat, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Donghyuck makes a reminder to himself to keep his tone low, because even if yours and Jaemin’s voices are too loud to be able to hear the other conversation happening on the other side of the room, there’s still a possibility you can hear it.

“Yes you do.” Jeno chuckles, standing up from the love seat and making his way so he can sit on the same couch as his roommate, “You definitely know what I’m talking about.”

At this, his throat turns dry.

There’s a confession Donghyuck needs to make, and probably everyone has already been aware of this secret before he even confesses it. Well, not everybody. He doesn’t actually hate you. In fact, he doesn’t know what catalyzed him to pretend to hate you in the first place. But you don’t know that. Not when you’re too busy mustering up your next argument with him to realize he actually doesn’t reciprocate the hatred you give.

He doesn’t hate you. He thinks you’re pretty cool. Pretty and cool.

And the thing is, when Donghyuck thinks someone is pretty (and) cool, he would like it if he could get their attention. Even if that attention isn’t the best form of attention that could exist. It’s stupid. It’s his beautiful and absolute form of desperate measures. But you’re pretty and cool.

He wants your attention.

"Okay, listen," he keeps his tone low, leaning closer in order for Jeno to hear his whispers. It's almost passive aggressive, and he talks through gritted teeth. "You don't just say this out loud, what if those two hear you?”

Although it contrasts Donghyuck's stance, the last thing he wants to happen is for you to find out about his perception of you. It's better this way, he assumes. It's better because he doesn't have to over-analyze anything. If anything, it keeps him more at bay; obviously excluding the times Jeno has to call him out on how whipped he looks. Because he isn't whipped nor infatuated, he just finds you tolerable more than you can account. And, again, pretty cool.

“You’re. Right. What if those two hear us? Will something happen?” Jeno emphasizes; still not empathetic of Donghyuck and deciding to talk in such a loud manner.

Donghyuck's heart races when you momentarily turn to their direction, eyebrows furrowing at the commotion of the two boys. It makes him freeze to his spot, terrified of almost getting caught before you turn back around casually and continue on helping with Jaemin.

Jeno watches as Donghyuck releases a breath of relief, and this causes a nudge on the shoulder, because Jeno should know when to keep his mouth shut, yet he still decides not to. He wiggles his eyebrows at Donghyuck with a mischievous glint taunting his eye, enjoying the scowl on the boy's face.

“Don’t.” Donghyuck leans back on the couch, sending Jeno those words in a whisper-yell.

If Donghyuck ever regrets any moment he's done in his life, and his you-only-live-once agenda, it would be that he told Jeno of all people his secret. And with every passing second, Donghyuck feels as if he's falling into a miserable hell hole because of anxiousness, trying his best not to look back at your figure just to make sure you aren't listening to the conversation.

He feels like a high school student being painfully obvious about his crush. But he knows better than to compare this to a crush. It's not a crush. It's just you. The bane of his existence. And that can mean something different depending on the context and perspective you look through.

“Don’t what?” Jeno tests. Yup, he hates his guts. And the chuckle that escapes the other boy's lips is turning Donghyuck crimson red.

“Fuck you.” He mutters underneath his breath, trying to fleet his mind of the situation as he plays with the laces of his soccer shoes inside his backpack; anything to distract him. He doesn't even know why Jeno has the audacity to bring this up now, he knows you're at the same roof as him; and his eyes light up when he hits a nerve.

“Imagine all the girls that will be disappointed when they find out that pretty boy over here can swear.” Jeno shakes his head in faux disappointment, making his way to grab the remote controller and turning on the television. In attempts to drown out the noise they are making. “Now tell me, what with Y/N that makes you act like… this.”

The question causes him at a halt. Why is he even acting like this? What the fuck?

After a five second pause, he speaks up, “Nothing. I just think she’s cute.” Donghyuck shrugs, finally making an effort to compose himself instead of staying flustered in front (but not really in front) of you.

“Yeah, sure.” Jeno rolls his eyes. He doesn't buy it.

Blame his marketing tactics, because Jeno knows when someone is lying or not. It's a business major instinct, to know if someone is being genuine with their words, or just saying them to save face. He knows Donghyuck is just saying that to save face.

And you know what gave it away?

It's when he looks down at the ground, smiling to himself when he says those words. No one does that unless they are whipped.

“What?” Donghyuck looks up, furrowing his brows and staring at Jeno questioningly, his eyes asking for him to elaborate.

He has a slight idea of what Jeno is implying.

“So, you’re not going to tell her.”

Jeno says more as a statement rather than a question, nodding to himself to accept how that situation will end up as. For some reason, Donghyuck can hear the downheartedness enlaced in his roommate's voice, and he doesn't understand why so. Because Jeno knows you, it's not even that serious. He knows Donghyuck isn't that type of person.

But it's the fact that it is you of all people that caught Donghyuck's eye. You. Just regular, mediocre, you. Jaemin's best friend who visits the apartment every other day and shares an 8am class with him. Nothing special at that. But something special enough to gain a reputation from Donghyuck that is not part of the people that likes him for clout. You're the enemy-not-so-enemy.

It's almost flattering that you both end up like this. It keeps him up his toes, excited at what next argument you'll be able to muster up in front of him. There's no compliments nor sweet interactions. It's purely of insults and dirty looks and maybe a casual interaction once in every new moon. And he thinks that that is pretty cool.

“Hell nah. She doesn’t need to know.” He likes it this way. It's fun, new, refreshing. “I don’t want to see her getting all gassed up because of it.”

Donghyuck chuckles to himself, zipping up his backpack.

“Or maybe you can actually have a chance.” Jeno corrects, but Donghyuck refuses to let this get to him.

“Nope.” He shakes his head. “Never that.”

And he will take this stance till’ the day he dies.

Because Lee Donghyuck, soccer player, campus heartthrob, will not say those words out loud. Lee Donghyuck refuses to, and he too refuses to fall in love. Romance podcast or not, he will not fall in love with anyone; his extent will only be thinking of someone as ‘pretty cool’, and that already, is sending red flags his way.

EPISODE 3: the sports captain stereotypes

The next two weeks, you find yourself in utter chaos as you navigate through the waves of learning how to properly detail the podcast so it will be user-friendly enough — curse being a Technology Grandma™ in the first place — and; doing the editing, rough scripts and idea planning all by yourself. All while your supposed partner in crime does the bare minimum.

You try not to blame him, since he did mention that his schedule is pretty hectic: Tuesday and Thursday mornings are designated for going to the gym, Wednesday to Friday at 3:00pm is for soccer practice, his weekends are also busy because he uses that time to party and study; and though you have your fair share of college struggles, it isn’t as ridiculous compared to a student athlete, which is why you brought it up to yourself to carry the assignment.

But it still doesn’t change the fact that he must still contribute to the good mark, after all, he too is one of the professor's favourite student’s (along with you, surprise), and he would be dead-fucked if he fails this course.

It doesn’t help that you hate his guts.

It doesn’t help that you have to put aside that hatred to get this project finished, instead of hating him more for not doing anything.

You don’t know how you’ve managed to memorize his schedule… then again, you also remember Jeno’s schedule so it shouldn’t be that of a big deal… but you decide to take advantage of this piece of knowledge and proceed to reach out to Donghyuck.

It’s a shame that desperate times call for desperate measures, because if Donghyuck had the initiative to at least help you with some parts of the project, even with his schedule, then you wouldn’t end up with this predicament.

Jaemin and Jeno says they will wait in the car, eating away the fast food takeout you three ordered earlier (you doubt they will even save some food the time you return) and sending you an encouraging thumbs up before they bury their faces in the burgers, you looking at them painfully disgusted before grabbing your laptop and notebook, trudging across the parking lot and towards the campus field.

Right from the get-go, you can already dread the image of talking to him; Donghyuck, the one who’s most likely dripping in sweat because he’s just finished practice, feeling the shivers crawl down your skin the moment Donghyuck realizes that you took the time to work on the assignment even under the sun. Especially with your whole “I don’t chase people” ordeal, he will definitely not forget this.

To you, Lee Donghyuck is merely a boy who you will only act respectively because he’s your best friend’s roommate, and for the sake of getting a good mark. There has always been a principle to his arrogance and smugness — something that will unforcebly cause your face to scrunch in disdain. And with the amount of torment he’s given you by just simply existing in your life, you’d like to say you have your fair share of valid reasons why you don’t want to be in the same league as him.

But nevertheless, you will still work with him. Again, just for the sake of getting a good mark.

The sun delicately drips down the soccer field, rays of golden light seeping down the grass patch just while the Coach’s whistle blows, the sound of him screaming ‘thirty seconds left’ from the sidelines causing the team to speed up their laps around the field. At the opposite end of the field from where you're standing, is the specific person you’re looking for; he who has placed more effort than anybody else to sprint the last few seconds.

“Oh,” you accidentally let out when your eyes trail to Donghyuck’s figure, seeing how his jersey tightly clings onto his body. Although everybody else in the field is decked out in the exact same uniform, you could easily recognize the outline of his ass and how his shorts perfectly hug his skin like it’s already part of his body. And you instantly look away, hating that you can admit such a fact in the first place.

A smirk plays across his face when he realizes he’s the first one done the laps, his chest heaving up and down heavily and placing his hands on his knees, catching his breath. You swear, you don’t mean to look at him, heck you don’t even know why you still look back at his figure, but the odds are never in your favour when Donghyuck looks up.

He feels a presence looking at his figure, and when he decides to see where it’s coming from, he sees you, standing meekly by the sidelines, hugging your laptop like it’s a safety blanket and the tote bag tempting to fall off your shoulders, and the smirk on his face grows wider.

And Donghyuck is good at maintaining eye contact, because his gaze lingers on you for a little while, wiping off the sweat trickling down his face all while keeping his eyes on you. You can feel your cheeks heat up, and when you turn to stare at another soccer player to save some embarrassment, Donghyuck scoffs and chuckles to himself.

He stands straight, turning to the coach and lifting his hand.

“Coach give me five,” he calls for five, and the whistle blows loudly through your ears. It's only been less than thirty seconds since your arrival, and you can already feel yourself regretting going here in the first place. The hold on your laptop gets tighter when he walks up to you, an aura of confidence and mirth radiating his presence as he moves closer to you.

You glare at him, but it doesn't make your side of the situation any better. Instead, the smile on his face unwavers. The annoyance dripping against your gritted teeth reaches the maxima when he stops in front of you, only inches apart, placing both hands on his hips and wondering why the hell you're here.

“Well, if it isn't my favourite girl. I’m glad you came to cheer for me,” the sweetness in his voice irks your skin, if your hands weren't full in this moment, then you could've used it to push him away from you.

“Woah, calm down for a sec’,” you step back, opting to place your stuff on the bleachers beside you and giving him a slight glare, “I’m not here to ‘cheer’ for you, I’m here against my own will just so I can find time to do this project with you. So if you can, will you please catch your breath quicker and do this with me?”

He pants heavily, touching his chest and controlling his breathing. When he sees you roll your eyes at his act, he snickers and proceeds to swipe his hair back, feigning amusement when you try to ignore what he's trying to do to you.

Honestly, you could just turn your heel around and act as if you never made the decision to visit him during practice. You can act like this was all just a plain dream and pretend it never happened; just texting him later in the evening to do his part of the project and hope for the best that he will, actually do it. In fact, you can pick your stuff up from the bleachers and just eat the take out in the parking lot with the other two boys, but because Donghyuck has called a five minute break just, it's the simplest reason why you're holding back.

“Feisty.” Donghyuck notes to himself aloud, and you send him a snarl, only for him to make another step closer to you, “Anyways, you know we could’ve just done this at my place.” He crosses his arms, waiting for another one of your (excuses) retorts and waiting for you to pretend as if everything he does, does not matter to you.

“And everytime I try doing it at your place, you end up stalling and telling me to hang out with Jaemin instead.” You spit, moving aside to grab a seat, the heat of the metal causing you to wince for a quick second before getting accustomed to it.

If only Donghyuck isn't a pain in the ass, then you could've been doing this project peacefully at his dorm; though you realize after years of hanging around with him and the other boys that he is not like that. Donghyuck is of spontaneous, messy schedules that end up seeming as if he has his life down to a t. He can do these things with you anywhere other than mid-practices, but that really doesn't sound like a Donghyuck move to do so.

So, this is what you have to deal with for now.

“Fine then,” he sits beside you by the bleachers, grabbing a quick drink of water before facing you, “What do you want me to do?”

He watches as you turn on your laptop, giving him your notebook in your tote bag and a pencil to write some stuff down. Little do you know, the rest of the team, along with the coach, is giving the captain a strange look; pretending to talk amongst themselves about new game tactics and such, but they instead are just observing your interactions.

Especially since they all know that you both host the new hit podcast around the school. And they all know about the on-mic banters that ensue you both. They briefly wonder if that's all a popularity stunt, a hoax, a marketing plan so you both can get clout, or, if you and Donghyuck actually hate each other.

And seeing how uninterested their captain looks, while you on the other hand look stressed, they assume that whatever the hell your relationship holds with one another, they know that it isn't one that is good.

“I need a new idea for next week.” You start to type on the document that stores all your podcast ideas, Donghyuck just waiting for you to say something that will have to deal with his contribution. “And, I won’t be able to edit this week’s audio. I have to study for a test in my other class, so I was wondering if you can do it just for now?”

You look up from your screen, and you notice that he's holding back a laugh.

“Damn.” Donghyuck nods to himself, drawing scribbles on the notebook for good riddance while you look at him confusingly.

“Huh?”

“This is the first time you’re begging me for help.” He drops the notebook in front of him, propping his hands behind his back on the seat.

His eyes light up when he realizes he's hit another nerve in you.

The shit-eating grin seems to never leave his face, and you can just pull his locks away from his head out of displeasure. You want to wipe off that sickening look on his face, but your annoyance seems to gain him more pleasure. Remind you that he does this all for simple measures — to gain your attention, nothing less, nothing more — and you're just giving it to him.

“I am not ‘begging’ for help, Donghyuck.” The amount of time you have to talk back and answer/correct him for the past few minutes has already started to make your head spin. If only you really could, you would've stuck up the middle finger at him right then and there, but you're desperate, and even if you don't want to admit it, you are begging Lee Donghyuck for help. You sigh, hesitance enlaced in your words, “Listen, if you don’t want to do this. I’ll find a way to do it myself.”

“You talk too much,” this time, he rolls his eyes, placing his hand out, “Just give me the USB. I'll do it.”

Your eyes widened in surprise at how easy this was, “Are you sure?” And you can't blame yourself to think that he might just be pulling a joke on you, and at the final second, that he might pull his hand back and tell you to do this yourself because he needs to work his ass off for the his stupid, upcoming game.

Wait, no. He actually looks serious this time.

“It’s my project too, you know.” He says out loud, exasperated, yet for some reason, you can also hear a tone of reassurance in it. “I have to do something.”

You almost think he’s a hypocrite for saying such words — and since you're already in this topic, you would like to complain just how group projects are just pure, blissful pain. Period. Because Donghyuck could’ve been doing something this whole time.

Well, it’s still partially your fault for volunteering to do the majority of the work, but still! Who’s going to do it if it isn’t you? Your trust with group projects doesn’t make your reliance on him any better. At least he’s the professor's second favourite student? Oh. You totally forgot about that.

You look down, smiling at yourself at the amount of stress you're giving to your body and how crazily worried you are, at this point, it’s better to just shake it off. After this day, you make a mental note not to underestimate the man sitting across from you, and maybe, rely on him more often, only if he’s deemed worthy.

“Well, I’m glad you know that.”

You giggle, and Donghyuck’s heart starts slamming out of his chest, taking a breath of relief and shifting on his seat. He’s in a state of bewilderment, almost taken aback that you didn’t scold him this time or tell him that you will punch his face. And he doesn't know how to feel about it.

“Okay,” his voice doesn’t come off as strong as he initially wanted it to, but he’s thankful you’re not paying much attention to it, immersed in your own feelings to worry about his’. “For the next episode, what if you talk about secret admirers, I’m sure there’s a lot of love letters they gave us about that.”

It’s the first idea that pops up in his mind. No clue to how he got that idea. But it works. It makes sense. And probably better than any idea you can think of on the dot. You quickly type it up on your laptop, and you too are surprised at how easy this conversation has been in the end. Well, compared to all the others then yeah.

“Hmm, okay I’ll write that down,” you give him a meek smile before shutting down your laptop, taking the notebook away from Donghyuck and facing away from him to fix your stuff, “Thank you, I guess.”

“Whatever,” he proceeds to stand up, you see his shadow on the ground, and you’re unable to see Donghyuck’s gaze lingering on you a little longer, “I have to go now, coach is calling. Do you need anything else?”

“I’m good now, thanks.” You shrug, glancing up at him for a split second before going back to placing your items back in your bag.

Donghyuck takes one last sip from his water bottle before he walks back to the field, the coach blowing his whistle and everyone rounding to huddle in a circle.

“Wait.”

Oh my god what are you doing?

Donghyuck turns back at you, puzzled. “Do you want me to wait for you until practice ends? Jeno and Jaemin are in the car right now, and we’re going somewhere after.”

His eyes soften, you can feel a weird flutter settling in your belly, having the sudden urge to slap your head at the spontaneity of your question. Donghyuck can assume you probably didn’t mean it at all, and it was just an act of kindness. But he can tell that you're trying. “It’s fine. I might have to do more drills after practice, but I appreciate the offer.”

He wants to say yes, after all, this is the first time you're offering for him to join whatever you, Jaemin and Jeno are up to, but he feels as if you’re just doing it for the sake of being nice.

What Donghyuck assumes is something far from the truth.

“No worries.” You tell him it’s fine, and Donghyuck rubs the back of his head, taking a step back awkwardly. Just then, his coach screams out his name from across the area.

He apologizes, before running towards the huddle circle with his team. You watch his demeanour shift during his practice, and you let out a sigh, trying not to over-analyze the whole situation. You stand up, heaving another breath before turning your body to walk to the parking lot.

Donghyuck turns to look if you're still there, but much to his dismay, he sees you figure slowly exiting out his periphery.

Maybe next time, he tells himself.

If there even is a next time.

EPISODE 4: for lovers who hesitate

Donghyuck reads the set of love letters for the first time during the podcast. After reading through just one of them, he has made a conclusion to never read another one for the remainder of the season, and he will partially — or maybe wholeheartedly — blame it on the way the letter was almost as if it was directed to him.

It isn’t directed to him, he wishes.

Because he feels awfully attacked by it.

“Dear Romancing…” He follows through, eyes glued to the paper as he reads it aloud in front of the microphone, “I have a friend. He’s a great guy, really, but I sometimes think he’s the dumbest person to have ever existed. He says he doesn’t fall in love. But it looks like he wants to fall in love. And I think that’s really weird because I don’t know what’s stopping him. I hope he listens to this podcast, because I want to knock some sense into him.”

It’s the last sentence that makes his eye unconsciously twitch, sending imaginary daggers to the person who gave the letter because he knows exactly who wrote this. Either it has to be related to the things he said to a certain someone, or he’s just overthinking and this isn’t actually about him. But his gut feeling is telling him it’s about him.

Yeah, you could say that these type of friendships are the ones that are keepers, since they tend to be chaotic yet for a reason, and Donghyuck honestly thinks having friends like that are cool, but when he’s on the receiving end of the slander, he just wants to take his soccer ball and drop kick it to the person’s face.

Because he can imagine the look of amusement on Jeno's face when he placed this letter on the PO box.

“Oh wow. That’s so cute.” You giggle quietly. Usually Donghyuck would feel some sort of butterflies when hearing it, but he feels more at fear for himself and has no time to give a damn about what you're saying. Because all he cares about is to save face from you. “People who have friends like these are the best. Right, Donghyuck?”

He’s reading the letter quietly one more time, the only thing remotely important at this time is if any part of the piece contains any easter eggs that will show that his roommate (and now-ex-best friend) is the cause of this.

“Hyuck?” You call out his name, turning to see his eyes glued on the piece of paper.

“Mhm. Yeah. What you said.” You can tell he’s not listening, it’s all evident from his facial reactions.

“Are you even listening?” You drum your fingers on the desk repeatedly, waiting for Donghyuck’s gaze to shift to you as you raise your tone of voice a little louder. There’s a difference between someone being able to hear a person and someone listening to the person. And you know for a fact Donghyuck can hear you, he literally winced when you spoke up, but the thing is, he’s not paying attention.

“Mhm.” Donghyuck mumbles, if it wasn’t for the podcast currently recording you would’ve easily just grabbed the paper away from him and asked him what’s his problem. But you have to act like a proper civilian here and add even one more droplet in the smallest bottle of patience you have for the boy.

“So if you were forced to be in a room full of creepy dolls, then you would?” You raise your brow, testing him.

“Mhm.” And he replies immediately.

The corners of your lips twitch up.

“And if Jaemin asks you to buy him a $100 meal tonight, would you give it to him?”

“Mhm.” This time, he adds a nod to his answer, nose still up the paper. To that, you let out a snort, glad that this conversation is even recorded in the first place so now people can realize how much of a fool your co-host is. The noise coming from your mouth makes Donghyuck look up, “Wait, what?”

“I think there’s a little birdie in the room that can resonate with this letter.” He gulps at your word, and you feign innocence in front of him, acting as if you didn’t just make him agree to buying a hundred dollar meal for Jaemin, “So… Hyuck… How’s your love life going?”

The taunt in your voice makes him want to add you on his ‘people to drop kick list’, and the way your batting your eyelashes, attempting to keep things at bay at the same time poking fun of his actions, gives him more of a reason not to tell you about his slight attraction for you.

The moment you find out about that, he’s completely, one hundred percent fucked. He doesn’t think the idea of it stroking your ego would be the best. And this idea makes the one hundred dollar meal for Jaemin look more appealing.

“Shut up.” He mutters underneath his breath, before sliding the love letter across the table. You take it from him and read the words yourself, the smile on your face evident that it will stay there for a while.

“Okay but really. To whoever sent this letter, I too get confused when people get scared to fall in love. I swear it’s the best feeling ever.” You gush over it, exasperated and talking to the mic, it makes Donghyuck want to barf. He gags when your cheeks heat up at the thought. “Or that’s probably just me being the hopeless romantic that I am, but people are missing out if they hold back with love.”

“At least you admit that you’re hopeless,” he sighs, tempted to slap his palm on his face, but deciding to do so mentally, “It doesn’t hurt to think rationally sometimes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You give him a look, taken aback at his offense as you fold the letter closed.

“It means your acting as if being in love is the solution to everybody’s problem.” He’s diving onto an even more sensitive topic over here, and the smile that was evident on your face slowly dissolves with each nasty word coming out of Donghyuck’s mouth. It’s nasty because you know he isn’t wrong, which on your part is a struggle to admit. “Maybe the friend is hesitating because they are scared.”

Donghyuck, ever the realistic one between the both of you, leaves you tongue tied again. Your heart drops at the thought that someone would refrain themself because of fear.

“You’re right…” You swallow the pill in your mouth, feeling some sort of lump in your throat as you search for something— anything from Donghyuck that will make you understand further. “But I don’t get why they would be scared.”

You don’t get why people are scared because you’ve never felt the reason to be scared.

You fall in love because you find you have a reason to, even if you don’t know specifically who or why you like the feeling.

Donghyuck thinks it’s naive for you to think so.

You think it’s heartless for him not to think so.

“I don’t know.” Donghyuck slowly rolls his thoughts off his mouth, shifting on his seat. It doesn’t take him long before he finds the perfect excuse for him and his predicament, something so simple yet effective, and it’s the two sentences that he tells everybody else when they ask him why he doesn’t fall in love. No one gives him follow up questions after he says it, “Maybe they already felt it once. And maybe they don’t like the feeling.”

Donghyuck lets out a quiet breath of relief, assuming that you’ll understand now that he doesn’t want to talk about it. But much to his dismay, your eyes light up instead, concluding that he says his words so vaguely because he wants you to talk to him more about it. No. He doesn’t want that. Sigh. “Have you ever fallen in love before?”

You prop your elbows on the table, curious as ever, and so oblivious. Donghyuck makes a mental note to not read any more of the love letters during the recording. He also makes a mental note to discuss what weekly themes the podcast will talk about before recording sessions, so he won’t act like a complete idiot in the room. Sigh.

“Do you want an honest answer?” He’s hoping you just drop the topic, but he might as well just say it. He might as well just say it in front of the fucking podcast, for thousands of people to hear, for you to hear. Just so you won’t bother him about it again. After all, if you think of him as Mr. Pessimist, you might as well know why.

“Well.. yeah.” Your body tenses up the same time he does this, you almost regret saying you want to know about what happened.

“Then yes. I did. And I think it’s overhyped.” Donghyuck says it firmly, and it gives you a reason to shut up. He doesn’t say anything as well after, and the recording turns dead. You conclude the podcast with an awkward chuckle, a meek apology to your co-host for being so nosy, while his jaw is clenched and his heart is at closed doors.

When you leave the studio that day, you take along with you new knowledge about Lee Donghyuck. Firstly, he might potentially have a hopeless heart. And that hopeless heart started to become a little too literal till it finally crushed him into pieces. The idea terrifies you. Mainly because you have a hopeless heart right now. And you wonder what would happen if you were in his shoes.

Secondly, Lee Donghyuck fell in love once. And you briefly wonder who that person is, before wondering why they would break his heart. Truth be told, Donghyuck is a decent man to an extent, and you wonder why they would make him feel this way.

You walk back home with a messy recording ready to be edited, and Donghyuck walks home with a shard of glass running down his body; pissed and anxious. He feels the vibrations of his phone, and it doesn’t make his mood better, but at the same time, it doesn’t make it worse.

[2 messages from Jeno to Hot Boy Shit]: so… how was the recording? did you like what i sent? *smirks*

[2 messages from Jaemin to Hot Boy Shit]: wait whats happening lol ive just got a text from bestie that you owe me a 100$ meal ?!

[2 messages from Donghyuck to Hot Boy Shit]: nah fuck you both of you

EPISODE 5: past and present roads collide

Donghyuck comes home to a lot of things.

He comes home from the sight of Jeno doing his marketing homework, papers sprawled in the middle of the dining table while his oversized hoodie gets the best of his body.

He can also come home from Jaemin’s failed attempts at baking, the weird smell of something burning seeping through the air, and him fanning a cloth over the smoke detector just so it won’t alarm.

Honestly, it’s safe to say he’s seen a lot of things when he comes home, whether it be something so simple, or something so questionable. This is his small ball of a constant, and him being a strong advocate of habit, he thinks this is all part of routine.

But there he is, coming home from soccer practice, his headband pulling back some parts of his hair away from his face, and he sees a sight he’s not accustomed to (Spoiler: it’s not you, because that sight of you is something that's already been part of his constant).

In other words, Donghyuck thinks he’s seen it all, seen so many oddities in the past years of being roommates with two fools, there will be nothing that phases him.

Or so he thought.

“Congratulations!”

Because there goes Jaemin with a light pink party hat, standing by the front door of the apartment, holding up a banner alongside Jeno that says the exact words that elicit out of his mouth. It’s ten past seven, and Donghyuck was expecting to come home and take a fat nap, but he looks at the sight in front of him, and tries so hard not to drop his duffel bag on the floor in awe.

“Awe, what’s with the face? Do you not like it?” The enthusiasm in Jaemin’s face drops, and although Donghyuck doesn’t like seeing him being the killoy of all this, he genuinely can’t understand why there is an all of a sudden surprise party. He looks around, and there are faces here that he is more so familiar with, like yours, and some others he sees passing in the hallways.

“What is happening… is it someone’s birthday?” Donghyuck rubs the back of his head, awkwardly chuckling. He tries to look around the room if there’s any clues to the occasion, and he is completely aware that it’s neither anyone he’s close to having a birthday around this time… so?

Jeno steps forward, grabbing Donghyuck’s sports equipment, placing it on the corner of the room and proceeding to take off the boy’s headband, replacing it with the same designed party hat as Jaemin’s, “You know how you reached 10k listeners the other day? Yeah, Jaemin wanted to celebrate.”

He points to your figure, who is busy interacting with a group of first years. You look like you don’t mind the party, and he pulls the tiniest form of a smile when he sees you laughing over something the girl beside you said. The party hat on your head looks like you’ve a unicorn puked over your head. He wonders if you know how much of an idiot you look with it.

“Oh.” Donghyuck’s lips part, turning back to his two roommates, he doesn’t really know why they decide to host a party over something like this. But you know, they are college kids and uh— Jaemin will find every reason to party, even if it means celebrating the amount of clout you and him gained over the podcast.

“I swear to god, Hyuck. If you don’t show enthusiasm I will kick you out of this house.” Jaemin squints his eyes, his arms dropping, tired from holding up the banner and waiting for a decent reaction to come out of Donghyuck. Don’t be mistaken though, he’s lowkey touched by this celebration, because the boys always take the time to accomplish him with any milestone he’s reached, he’s just in awe.

Who even knew that he had the luck to get such roommates? He’s so starstruck, to the point he can even formulate the proper words, but apparently Jaemin thinks the opposite.

“No, no. It’s wonderful, I’m just shocked.” There’s something about this that Donghyuck finds so fucking endearing after each passing second, because when he looks around the room more, he sees a small cake in the middle of the table, and if he listens closely, he can hear the speakers blaring the recordings of his podcast (but let’s be real, Donghyuck hates to hear the sound of his voice).

Donghyuck pats his friends’ back as his gesture of a thank you, and takes off his shoes slowly.

The two boys move out of the way so Donghyuck can see the commotion they’ve done. You turn away from the first years you’re talking to and do a double take when you see Donghyuck finally home from practice, and Jaemin takes this as his cue to leave, “Okay, then. We’ll be playing Monopoly in Jeno’s room if you’ll be looking for us.”

“I won’t,” he jokes around, but when he peaks through Jeno’s bedroom and sees five more people trying to fit in there just to play that game, his words might be truer than he supposes. He cringes at the sight, before making his way to you.

“Well you seem grumpy in this fine evening,” you call out, watching as Donghyuck approaches you with ease, giving a head nod to the people he is familiar with, and pausing to stop in front of you, “Who am I kidding, you always look grumpy.”

He gives you a look, before clearing his throat. “Y/N.”

The way he says your name stiffly makes you scrunch your nose in disgust. And Donghyuck too crunches his face in disgust when he’s up close, next to you. You reek of alcohol. But you don’t look like you're getting tipsy, maybe give it a few more minutes, but the looming smell surrounding you explains why you’re easily talking to Donghyuck.

You hold out your bottle of alcohol and offer it to him, as if you guys are friends sharing a drink. “Here, drink this. It will help you loosen up.” The group of first-years move to a different spot in the house, maybe to get a drink from the kitchen, who knows, but for Donghyuck, he hesitantly takes the drink from you.

“Thank you.” He takes a sip from your cup, a small smile forming on your face when he doesn’t bother to hesitate — you repeat, as if you guys are friends taking a drink. You both know this won’t happen again, not unless you're sober. “Congratulations by the way, to us, that is.”

“Can you at least not sound dead when you say it?” You giggle, and Donghyuck awkwardly chuckles, chugging down another sip of the drink and facing away so you won’t study his reactions.

Donghyuck made a terrible mistake by doing that.

Just when Donghyuck is ready to loosen up and have fun at the party dedicated to him, he sees two figures he’s been trying to avoid since senior year of high school.

And he has no idea which one of the people in the room concluded that they have the audacity to bring these two here as their plus… two.

Two years of not seeing them. To be specific, two years, seven months and three days, but who’s counting? Definitely not Donghyuck.

He mutters curse words underneath his breath, and you’re too busy talking about how many streams the podcast reached and how much pride you take in doing so, but Donghyuck honestly is not listening. The second time he’s done that to you in the past month. Somewhat the same reason — or same context — because he feels so bothered looking at the sight right across from him.

Your back is facing it, continuing to ramble on and on, all while Donghyuck feels his heart just pondering just as his mind unlocks a distant memory.

“You good?” You finally look up at his face, and realize the wrinkles on his forehead from frowning. Before Donghyuck can get further welled up by the sight, he turns right at you, and musters up the fakest smile possible. You reek of alcohol, so he hopes you don’t sense this facade he’s putting up.

“Yeah uh, I just need to g—” his words trails off, before glance at the sight of the girl he onced loved, and once of his best friends in high school, looking at each other like they are so in love. He wants to scoff at it, he wonders if they even know that they’re doing such an act at his home.

And he asks himself, again: who the hell invited these two?

He’s not mad. Because it doesn’t feel like his blood is boiling, instead it feels like it’s turning cold.

“What are you looking at?” As you turn your head back, curious to the cause of the boy’s suspicious behaviour, he sees the two, observing an interaction between the two that just shows that they are a happy couple before turning back to Donghyuck, who’s not fully chugging the rest of the alcohol in the cup. “I—? Um— Mark?”

“You know him?” Donghyuck looks at you, tilting his head, clearly flustered and confused.

“Yes, he was in one of my classes last sem,” you explain to him, taking one more glance at the two, “I’m guessing that’s his girlfriend.”

The word girlfriend makes him wince. His heart tries to get accustomed to the title, and he hates how the cup in his hands is empty. He can’t drown those sorrows away.

“Yeah…” Donghyuck sighs, he feels helpless. Which is weird, because he rarely feels helpless, and all of a sudden it’s all crashing down on him.

You can tell something is up.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask, grabbing the empty cup in his hand and walking towards the area with the drinks, refilling it for him because you almost feel bad.

He leans his body on the wall, amused at your observations. “Woah. Did I just hear that right?”

“Huh?” You hand him back his cup, and he chuckles.

“Last time I checked, you don’t care about me.” He calls you out, in a light tone, not spiteful. His almond eyes continue to regard you with keen interest as you tempt yourself away from slapping his arm.

“Shut up.” You mutter angrily, but soften up to him when he spares another glance at Mark and his girlfriend. It’s the fact that he is acting like this matter isn’t making him feel some type of way, while his eyes tell a different story.

“But really, do you want to talk about it?” Look, this will be the only time you’ll feel empathetic towards him. (It’s the alcohol in your system that makes you talk to him like this. That’s all.)

But it’s enough to make Donghyuck try to forget. He shrugs, lips forming into a thin smile. “I’m good.”

“No. You’re not.” You say as if you’re talking to a child, causing another sigh to escape his lips. The small persistent nature in you has been making Donghyuck say too much about himself to you, and he doesn’t know why he keeps on word vomiting such vulnerable parts of his life. To you.

And he knows it’s not your pretty (cool) privilege that he has for you.

“Remember that one podcast episode, when I told you I fell in love with someone?” You nod, remembering it clearly because the idea of Donghyuck — the boy who doesn’t fall in love — actually falling in love has been living in your mind for the past few days. “I liked Yeri before, That’s Mark’s girlfriend.”

He swirls his drink, taking another aggressive chug before moving his gaze at the two. The more he keeps on glancing at them, he thinks it will make the pain less, since he’ll start getting accustomed to it. But the more he sees how in love they are — how in love his old best friend is, the pain he tries to subside doesn’t get easier.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” He glances at you, and you try to reassure him. But he doesn’t know why you're sorry. You don’t know why you’re sorry. It’s not your fault Donghyuck's life has gone to this. He chose to love, and though he once understood how much of a beautiful thing it could be, he refuses to do so again. It’s not your fault he feels this way. It’s his. He doesn’t know why you’re saying those words.

And he doesn’t like that you’re saying those words. Because you of all people don't know how it feels to be heartbroken like this.

He won’t despise you for it, though. After all, he once knew how it felt like, and he won’t take that away from you, nor place the negative emotions penting in his body towards you. “It’s no worries, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

If he thinks about it, he’s thankful that you’re here. It makes the fog trafficking his thoughts subtly clearer.

And you try to change the topic. To make the atmosphere between the both of you lighter. It’s a party dedicated to a milestone you both reached, and it would be foolish if you spend the rest of the night worrying about what could have been. You pat Donghyuck’s shoulder awkwardly, yet with sentiment, and it’s enough for him to forget.

“By the way, there’s cupcakes in the refrigerator. Don’t worry, I baked it this time. If you need it, you can take the whole batch.” You gesture to the kitchen, and your head starts spinning when you take a step forward.

It’s the way you barely drink. Oh god.

“You’re being awfully kind to me,” Donghyuck looks down at your figure, taking a hold of your hand before you accidentally tip forward. It’s his first time making contact with your skin, and his heart — from being so stone cold — warms up at the thought.

“At least I’m not being a pain in the ass this time, you're welcome.” The corners of his lips tug up when you try to compose yourself. This is much better than being a heartbroken fool at your own party.

“You’re so drunk.” He grins when you swat his arm away from his hold.

Who knew, huh.

From the corner of his eye, he can feel someone’s gaze lingering his way, but he’s too busy to notice.

“No I’m not. I only drank half a bottle.” You argue back, trying to keep a firm stance but your voice starts to slur. As you try to explain yourself, Donghyuck takes the party hat off his head and swipes his hair back. Oh.

“So you’re lightweight?” Though he tries to refuse the delight creeping up his way at your drunken state, Donghyuck can’t help to feel at glee, especially after seeing you just gulp down harshly, unknowingly keeping eye contact with him for longer than the normal.

You look away immediately when he smirks. “No no no. I’m alright. It will take an awful lot of effort for the alcohol to do its job, I’ll be alright.” Your words and actions say two different things, and when you take one more step, your mind suddenly faces some difficulties.

These difficulties come in the form of you almost tripping over air, and Donghyuck having to grab a hold of your wrist, you throwing your body at him, and him scoffing at you for it.

“If you say so…” He most likely drank more than you with his two complete chugged down drinks, yet here you are, looking like a complete idiot. As always. If he can, he would declare it as your brand.

“Yes. And let’s get some of my cupcakes and go play Monopoly with the others.” You finally reach the kitchen, and Donghyuck props his weight on the counter with an eyebrow raised, watching you (try to) open the fridge.

“Who said I want to do that?” He does not want to play Monopoly with the boys in that sweaty room.

“You want to stay here and watch those two lovebirds?” Even when you're intoxicated, you still find a way to say smart things, and Donghyuck hates that for you. He doesn’t glance back this time.

“So… cupcakes?”

Monopoly it is.

Donghyuck moves towards you and then beside you, helping you take out the batch of cupcakes after seeing you struggle to get it yourself. The proximity makes the butterflies in your stomach do some flips, re: you’re drunk and you won’t think of this while you're sober.

But while you’re still not-sober, you turn your head to face him, realizing your faces are inches apart from each other’s. He gives you an endearing beam, and that not-sober mind of yours makes a pact that smiling looks better on Donghyuck than a frown, and you’ll do whatever it takes to see it again.

Re: you’re drunk.

EPISODE 06: the rise of secret admirers

Lee Donghyuck does not fall in love, but maybe there could be a few exceptions.

“Okay so I will pick out our fifth love letter of the day… again, by natural selection.” You try to joke around, but your attempts to do so ends up in the trash when the boy across from you rolls his eyes. And you shoot him a sarcastic grin back at him out of impulse.

With Donghyuck, there’s bound to be endless banter from left to right, no matter how much progress the both of you made to try and cross the line between being in each other throats to finally having a decent form of friendship, all costs and efforts are lost the moment one of you open your mouths to say something to the other.

“Please. If you’re just going to laugh at me, why don’t you say something interesting instead.” You wail in frustration, throwing your rough script up in the air hopelessly. Being a comedian has never been your strong suit. “We need content. And I’m the only one giving proper content to the media.”

“Excuse me for being a prude,” Donghyuck straightens his posture on the chair, staring right at you as he speaks, “But I have made my fair share of top tier content for this podcast. You just don’t have the humor to think mine are okay.”

“No. Shut up.” You grumble.

And he puts up a taunting grin, “You’re just mad that I’m right.” He begins to tease, voice echoing with rich velvet and mirth, “And watch your language, we’re recording.”

“College kids listen to this, not elementary kids. I think I’m allowed to swear.” You fire back. There are so many things tempting to come out of your mouth, but the evident distaste in your features leave him with pure entertainment. He’s such a hypocrite, because you know that in the next few seconds, he’ll probably blurt out some foul language that is much more inappropriate than your simple ‘shut up.’

You continue to stare down at him, sending daggers at Donghyuck’s way and him easily dodging each one.

“Just read the goddamn letter.” See? What did you say?

After that night, the night where you treated Donghyuck as if he was a friend — someone that can lean on your shoulder when times get tough, he seems to search for the version of you through the days following. But the more the both of you keep firing fire in the pit, he slowly wishes that he never associated with you in the first place. Because you are a pain.

You are so intolerable.

He doesn’t even know why he likes you.

“Dear Romancing, I’m the friend that got called out the last time. The one that doesn’t fall in love. I don’t know, it’s not that I don’t want to, I just don’t think I’m ready.” You begin reading another letter from the pile, but this specific one causes Donghyuck to freeze. He forgot he wrote that out of impulse.

Let’s see. How shall we explain this? So to keep a long story short, he did it for a variety of reasons that absolutely make no sense, but if they had to come down to the top three, most rational, valid explanations it would be because of Jeno’s peer pressure, content for the podcast, and seeing your reaction without directly asking it from you.

It’s like a beta; to see how you would present yourself in this type of situation, and how you’ll handle it, so Donghyuck will know what to do when he himself introduces his not-so-loving self to you. He wants to see if you can teach him to fix it.

But he can’t imagine that the letter — out of the hundred others in the mail — that this one would be the lucky draw. If he calculated correctly, then the chances of his letter being read out loud would be lower than the acceptance rate of Harvard.

This says a lot about his fate, because if you think about it, Donghyuck is one lucky bastard.

Your eyes blink at the paper, forming sparkles as it moves across the sheet. He hopes that the look on your face is a good thing. “But there’s this girl. And even though she can be an ass sometimes, it just feels nice to be around her. But I don’t want to admit that.”

As you repeat the words written, the tone of your voice can depict your excitement. And if only the both of you were filming a Youtube Video instead of recording the podcast, the audience would be able to witness how bad your cheeks are heating up. You think it’s absolutely cute how the person sending the letter is able to find exceptions in his stance.

At the same time, the boy across from you contemplates on how oblivious you are, because there’s a complete set of puzzles set in front of you, and you still haven’t pieced any of the dots together.

“Now this is content.” You chide delightfully, enthralled that there even is a part two to this specific love-advice-story. Everybody, say thank you to Donghyuck for this.

“Damn.” He comments quietly; nibbling his bottom lip to refrain from word vomiting.

“Mr. Guy That Doesn’t Fall In Love, let me just say one thing, because I have a feeling you already know what you're feeling inside.” You beam, sitting on the edge of your office chair as you clear your throat. “If you feel happy with that girl, it’s most likely you’re making the girl happy too.”

His eyes widen.

What the fuck.

“What type of advice is that?” When Donghyuck bursts, you look back at him with an unphased expression, shrugging at him because you know that what you said is correct.

This is not what he was expecting from you. He expected something along the lines of ‘aS a hOpeLeSs rOmAnTic, i tHinK yOu sHouLd gO fOr iT,’ then that could give him a sense of validation that falling love wouldn’t be so bad. But… this?

You tell him that you won’t say anything because you apparently know what he’s already going to say… and you end up giving him reassurance about giving each other happiness…?

What does that even mean—!

“It’s great advice. Better than what you can think of.” You commend yourself with great honour at the piece of advice you gave; Donghyuck thinks it’s pure bull. It keeps him in place, it reminds him why he doesn’t fall in love with people because they too don’t know how to properly explain why it would be so great to do so.

But at the same time, though he utterly, unquestionably, undoubtedly thinks that sending in this letter is such a waste of time, now that you have given him one of the worst replies — and those words only start with the letter ‘u’, there’s much more where he comes from — it still lifts some sort of weight. It did jackshit, but nevertheless, it made Donghyuck somewhat better. Just a little bit.

He feels so conflicted.

“You said something?” Donghyuck pretends to be deafened, holding up his hands to cup his ears.

“Get out of here.” You groan, attempting to ignore Donghyuck as you make an effort to give the patron the advice they are looking for, “But Mr. Guy That Doesn’t Fall In Love, if you feel something towards someone, don’t stop yourself. Don’t be like Donghyuck. Look at him now, he’s a miserable motherfucker.”

At that Donghyuck looks at you in disbelief, crescents in his eyes forming, and though he tries not to show it, he thinks that that was one of the best things you’ve said all day. Even when the ridiculing is directed to him. It made him smile.

“Cute.”

Donghyuck’s pretty sure he said that in his mind. Not out loud. But when you look at him, taken aback, he flutters his eyes shut and wishes he can erase himself from the embarrassment. You perk up, and he knows you won’t let this off the hook.

“Thank you, I know I am.” You over-exaggerate how flattered you are, flipping your hair dramatically and straightening your posture. Deep inside, you still feel flattered, but by acting over the top, it makes it seem like your heart isn’t failing on you at this moment. But it is.

This is the art of sarcasm, and it has given you a whole lot of perks.

“I wasn’t talking about you.” He tries to take back what he said, but it’s already engraved in your mind.

You lean forward to the table, “Then what are you referring to as cute? The guy in the letter?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Donghyuck has reached peak humiliation, and he doesn’t know why he can’t just embrace his slip up and act like the charismatic guy he is towards other people. It’s your fault he’s like this. It’s your fault everyone will find out how whipped he is for you the moment this podcast episode goes live.

He wonders why he can’t act normal toward you, why he can’t ever do his almost-playboy antics— but it’s you. He uses this as another opportunity to learn something about you. And it is exactly how hard it is to figure out who you really are that keeps his interest levels high. He could go whipped for any other person, he is the star soccer player on campus, but his dumbass-of-a-brain chose you.

“Loser.” You voice out Donghyuck’s thoughts about himself. Because he’s starting to slowly admit how much of a loser he is. And it’s all your fault.

EPISODE 7: the first-first kiss

Slowly but surely, Donghyuck starts to admit that he is going through a free fall. Well, not really a free fall because there would be air resistance — the air resistance being his metaphorical refusal that he is indeed going down. And if this version of Donghyuck told the version of him several days ago that he will one day admit this calling, past Donghyuck would not take it well.

But here he is now, grasping in the atmosphere of his defeat; he almost feels like those Ancient Gods that carry the weight of losing an important battle, but he doesn’t know which one specifically because he hasn’t taken any world history courses.

Lee Donghyuck has hit rock bottom with his relationship with you. He is like a lost puppy, a clown embarrassing himself in his own circus, a shrivelled up leaf on the sidewalk, and every other comparable item that he can think of on the top of his head.

So when he looks up at the ceiling, he acts as if all the answers could be found there, throwing and catching the soccer ball in his hands as he lies down on the couch as another awful sigh escapes his lips. He can hear your voice inside his head spewing out nonsense. Honestly, you’ve been living in his mind for a while now and could ask you to pay for the rent you’ve been occupying.

He’s immersed in his own thoughts, that he has forgotten that you are actually here, and he can hear your voice. And it’s not the voice that he’s imagining. “Can you stop sighing, it’s getting annoying.”

Donghyuck catches the ball with his hands, holding it firmly before proceeding to turn his head to your voice. When he looks at you, he’s faced with the wrath of your dead face, seeming as if you’ve been sick and tired of his noises of complaint, that he isn’t aware he’s doing. It’s the way you have your arms folded, waiting for him to do something, as you sit on the floor by the coffee table with your laptop in front of you with a bored expression that makes him sigh even louder.

“Why are you even here?” He sits up, leaning his back on the cushions and mirroring the expression on your face, “Aren’t you done tutoring Jaemin?”

“Yeah. But is there something wrong with me staying here?” You interrogate him, and he just closes his eyes in despair. Does he want to deal with this right now? Not really.

Here we go again. “If you’re wondering why I’m still here. I’m going to make those Dalgona Coffee things that’s everywhere on Tiktok with Jeno. I’ve been dying to make them, and Nana did not want to do them with me. He says it’s too messy—”

You stop your rant abruptly when you realize that Donghyuck has been staring at you quietly. He’s nit-picking one of the pieces of loose thread on the throw pillow, and even listening to you, which is to your surprise.

“Oh?” He tilts his head when you quit mid-sentence, waiting for you to continue on, but instead you shake your head, shifting closer to the coffee table and typing away on your laptop.

“I went on a tangent, my bad.” You purse your lips, and you still feel the weight of his eyes directed towards your face.

He feels his heart soften at how casual you are just seconds ago. All while you feel hues of crimson taint your cheeks, bashful at your passionate ramble about coffee. “And you didn’t try to ask me?”

You tilt your head up, eyes churning to see Donghyuck with a grin on his face, which causes you to furrow your eyebrows, “Because you’re going to say no?”

“You never know. I could’ve joined you.” You’re pretty sure this is all talk; last time you checked, you and Donghyuck never did something together voluntarily.

“But knowing you, if you did join me, I would’ve probably thrown all the ingredients at you in less than five minutes because you would make me mad. Plus, Jeno seems like he’s actually down to do them with me. You’d probably feel forced to do it.” You take note that you’re rambling again, and you want to slap your forehead for it.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep kicking in your system, because that always has been bringing you to do this you won’t usually do on the norm (I.e. talking to Donghyuck properly), of course other than drinking alcohol, that also makes you do weird shit.

But you're making the coffee with Jeno later in the evening, most likely around 11pm, since he needs to use the caffeine to stay up for his Marketing assignment. That’s still in a few hours, though.

“Wait. Do you perhaps have any fever patches?” You shut your laptop and ask.

Donghyuck is taken aback by it, eyes slightly bulging out of his head from worry (but you don’t know that), “Are you sick?”

“No,” you trail off, rubbing the back of your head meekly, “I’m just getting really sleepy and I need to stay awake.” You don’t explain further to him, you don’t need to. But he finds that there’s a certain level of oddity at your proposition.

Remembering that one kdrama Jaemin indulged in around a year ago — where the guy placed a fever patch on his forehead during a midnight study session, because the coolness kept the guy awake — Donghyuck nods in acquiesce, not bothering to question if those things actually work.

That’s probably why Jeno once bought a whole stash of them one time, “Okay, lemme get them. I’m sure there’s some in the bathroom.” He gets up and pats down his shirt before proceeding to get the fever patches.

You fidget and tap on the surface of the desk while waiting for Donghyuck to come back, yawning shamelessly and shaking your head furiously to remove all the sleepy jitters trying to crawl your skin. From your periphery, you can see him coming back with a fresh box of the item you asked, speculating it before diverting his eyes to you.

He stops in front of you, kneeling down to level himself alongside and letting you watch as he rips open the packaging. “Oh. Thanks.” You try to grab it from him, but he pulls his arm back.

Wait, what.

As you try to grab the fever patch from him, he preps it and holds the edges of the square with both his hands, making sure he doesn’t touch the sticky part. “I’ll put it on you.”

“There’s no need— oh.” Donghyuck shifts his weight, leaning forward as he takes off the grasp of one side of the patch to tuck your hair back behind your ear. Your breath hitches when you take note that his body is inches away from yours.

He delicately swipes back more strands of hair before aligning the patch straight on your forehead, rubbing it with his thumb softly to ensure it won’t fall off. You look up at him, seeing that he’s focused on putting it properly. This is probably the closest you’ve seen Donghyuck.

“I must say, you don’t look that bad up close.” You comment, Donghyuck feeling your breath hit his skin, and his lips twitch up. The way you’re studying him gives him the sole reason why the butterflies are fluttering in his stomach.

“It’s good that you know that, Princess.” He smirks, finally mustering up the courage to bolden up, just to cover up the fact that he is clearly flustered at where you both are positioned. He wonders where this energy has gone a few days ago.

“Not the nickname again.” You cry, letting out a huff before pushing him away from you. He’s still sitting in front of you, and there’s an evident glint in his eye. “Nevermind what I said earlier, sometimes your face looks very punchable.”

“Oh, really?” He tests you, lifting up one of his eyebrows.

“Yes. Really.” You squeak, looking down at the carpet with a smile, but as your gaze diverts back to him, you can suddenly feel a lump in your throat when he looks right back at you. His eyes pierce into you, as if he’s searching for something in the stars of your own set, “Donghyuck, what are you doing?”

You awkwardly clear your throat.

“Looking at you.” He says straightforwardly, and the way he’s still looking at you sends shivers down your back. Donghyuck notices the effect it has, and it makes the crescent of his lip more apparent, “Why? Am I not allowed to?”

“It feels weird.” You reply truthfully, wanting to bury your head in a hole or maybe run to the opposite end of the country just to avoid this contact. It’s leaving brushes of shimmer against your skin, and you don’t particularly know how to feel about it.

“May I know why it feels weird?” He waits for an answer, so confidently, as if he wants to challenge you.

“You better stop what you're doing.” As you warn him, it only makes him more satisfied, more bold.

“But you said I don’t look bad up close.” There’s a tone of mockery enlaced in his voice, trying to reach and copy the same tone of your voice, only to end up pitches higher as he pouts. The way Donghyuck’s eyeing your lips don’t go unnoticed and your eyes unknowingly rests on his as well, “Don’t tell me you regret saying it. That would be unlike you.”

“Shut. Up.” You say through gritted teeth, looking at him through your lashes as your heart continues to beat rapidly. It’s so intense, you swear if Donghyuck is paying attention to it, he would be able to hear it synchronizing with his own heart.

He looks back up at your eyes, only to catch you staring at his lips.

“Make me.”

Before neither of you can take back the situation, his lips smash against yours.

You don’t even know who decided to finish the act, whether it be you or him, because he asked you to do it, but you don’t know if Donghyuck was impatient and just did it a millisecond before you. But there are goosebumps rising on your skin when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss; his lips finding solace in yours, it just feels so sweet.

You don’t even know if you're doing it correctly, but Donghyuck makes it so that your stomach knots harder and unravels quickly again, a bloom blooming throughout your chest as you relax under his touch.

If he’s being honest, he’s always associated a pair’s first kiss as something so over romanticized. Because he’s never felt that way before. And he would always scoff at the idea of first kisses feeling like fireworks or warm vanilla. He doesn’t know how to describe this one. But he knows it feels right.

Donghyuck doesn’t fall in love, but if this, if this is what it feels like to fall in love; the one that you won’t ever shut up about, then maybe he wouldn’t mind it at all.

Because maybe he’s growing fond of the idea.

EPISODE 8: shoot your shot

“And there we have it, Lee Donghyuck scores another goal!”

HOME: 1 | VISITORS: 1

Neither of you talk about The Incident for the next few days and you’re thankful Donghyuck doesn’t taunt you for it nor bring it up. If you think about it, it might be better this way. It’s just as if that distinct memory you shared with Donghyuck by the coffee table banished right after it happened, and you blame it for your sleep deprivation that it even happened because having lack of sleep should be able to make you irrationally kiss the boy you would never think of kissing. Yeah. Totally.

At least Jaemin, or Jeno, did not see whatever that was. If they did, you would’ve hid in the closet for the rest of your lifetime. But they didn’t. And that’s all that matters.

Which is why when the two boys drag you to one of Donghyuck’s soccer games — as their means of being supportive to their roommate, as well as to drag you out of your dorm to get some sunlight — they don’t act differently towards you, and they don’t interrogate you about the status of your relationship with Donghyuck. Because they don’t know what happened.

Unbeknownst to Donghyuck, he doesn’t know that you will watch his game. Especially since you never even bother to participate in watching any of the sports games held around campus, so he believes that he has the liberty act however he pleases, just because a specific pair of eyes, that belong to you, isn’t watching him. And it’s doing him hella justice.

Or so he thinks.

“He looks so cool.” Jeno says through the food he’s eating, leaning forward on his seat to get a better view of the game while there are spots of ketchup and mustard left on the corner of his lip from the hotdog.

You raise your head to get a better view of Donghyuck, finally spotting him as his brown locks are pulled back by a headband as he jogs from one end of the field to the other. His tongue is slightly sticking out as he runs with the ball, eyes following it attentively and glancing up to see where his opponents are going.

As you carefully take a bite of your hotdog, you focus your periphery on the main action on the field, seeing the ball fly up in the air towards Donghyuck’s direction, before it lands on the ground a few metres away from his foot. You realize that there aren't a lot of people with the ball other than Donghyuck, and when he sprints to it, there are multiple opposing players trying to take the ball away from him or stopping him from getting closer to the ball.

He slides past them like it’s such an easy feat to do so, and the crowd goes wild when Donghyuck makes a successful long-distance pass, kicking it to one of his teammates before it reaches the other team’s goal.

“Oh my god, did you see that?” Jaemin stands up next to you in excitement, turning momentarily to see your reactions with an awe-struck one laid on his face.

“Yes, Nana. We saw it.” You chuckle, shaking your head with a smile before shifting at your spot once more to find the best view to the game, since there are so many heads in front of yours and the three of you came to the stadium with half the seats already filled.

As you jerk your head to follow the ball, you see the backs of two familiar figures, pointing at the game and clapping just like everybody else is.

“Is that Mark and his girlfriend? Over there, look.” You point your lips to the two, nudging Jeno’s side so he can look at where you are looking. He snaps his neck and widens his eyes when he recognizes Mark and Yeri.

He then turns to you in question, “Yeah. What about them?”

“I don’t know. Donghyuck told me something before.” You shrug, lifting your shoulders.

“Wait. He told you?” Jeno purses his lips, before a knowing smile slowly forms in his face, thinking the most out of the situation. “I didn’t know you were close like that.”

“I don’t think we are? It was a one time thing.” You answer honestly, a nervous chuckle coming out of your throat as you avoid the way Jeno is staring down at you. He scoffs in disbelief, and when Jaemin is finished cheering, he sits back down and joins the conversation, leaning his body to hear what you two are saying.

“I’m surprised that it’s only a one time thing, since you guys have been spending a lot of time together the past few weeks.” Jeno confesses, which makes Jaemin nod furiously as he adds on. “I think you’ve been spending more time with him than me.”

Your gaze shifts back and forth at the two boys, tongue tied because you don’t know how to reply to that. The fact that they are stating this out of the blue, in the middle of a freaking soccer game, makes you want to cough out the hotdog you're eating.

They might be right about that, how you’ve been spending the past few weeks a little more than your liking with Donghyuck; but them of all people should know that you’re only doing so because of reasons that include everything along the lines of ‘podcast assignment’ or ‘mutual friends’.

Your heart races at the idea, and when you can feel Jaemin and Jeno waiting for your next move, you suddenly just want to break out in cold sweat.

What makes you even more terrified, is that you’ve only realized now that you stopped complaining about Donghyuck to Jaemin.

“Go, Hyuck!” The girls sitting behind you scream out loud, causing you to flinch while the two boys jerk their heads to see why the crowd is suddenly getting hyped up. You let out a huff of relief when they finally quit the curiosity towards your relationship with Donghyuck, and now moved to the game instead.

But your half-second calmness is immediately replaced with a new problem.

Because as you decide to see the commotion, and why everyone is starting to cheer for the captain (yet, again), his eyes land where you are sitting. He notices you. He looks down at the ball for a second before turning back to you, and it causes you to freeze at your spot.

Everyone around you is cheering loudly, some of them even standing up from their position in enthusiasm. Donghyuck grins smugly and looks back at you, pointing his index finger in your direction that has several fellow watchers trying to find who he was exactly pointing to. Your cheeks start to heat up when Jaemin’s jaw drops and looks at you in disbelief.

“Holy shit. Donghyuck has never done that before. You saw that, right?” Jaemin says in excitement, his lips curving up the slightest as it replays in his mind. “Y/N. What the fuck. He’s fucking flirting with you.”

Oh no.

“He was just pointing at me. I don’t know what that means.” You lie. You have an idea what it means, but trying to admit it will only make you feel even more flustered, so it’s better that you avoid it and play dumb.

“He just straight up dedicated his next shot to you. Come on, Y/N. Did you not find that cute?” Jaemin tries to get something out of you, but you don’t bulge; your eyes are still on the game, Donghyuck gets the goal in and the yells from around you helps you ignore the crazy thumping in your chest.

Yes you find it cute. Nobody’s ever done that to you before. Donghyuck’s never done that to you before. Now shut up before you start feeling some type of way.

“Oh, please. He’s probably done this to other girls. It’s not that serious.” You shake your head, trying to get your mind out of the gutter. You’re trying to remember that Donghyuck and you still despise each other, but you begin to take knowledge of the little things that are changing in this relationship.

“I’d beg to differ.” Jeno smirks, leaning back in his seat with amusement taunting his iris’. You turn your head with a frown.

“Shut up, let’s just watch this game.” Jeno laughs, shaking his head at your denial.

“What if Donghyuck likes you?” Jaemin gasps at the sudden idea he’s thought of, proud at the on-the-go assumption he’s made, while you look at him disappointingly. “Come on. Don’t give me that look. It was like he was dedicating his next score for you.”

“Jaemin.” You warn him, and he lets out a giggle.

“Look at that. Someone’s blushing.” Jeno pokes your shoulder teasingly. You should’ve never allowed them to bring you to the game if this is what they were going to do.

“Jeno.” You say through gritted teeth, and you don’t miss the way the two boys bump their fist together behind you.

“So you like him.” They say as a statement instead of a question. You wonder why they are so convinced you like him, because you haven’t done anything to make them think in such a way. Well, unless Donghyuck told them about the kiss— if he did, you would whoop his ass. You suddenly think back to the time Jaemin noted to you that you and Donghyuck seem to have ‘chemistry’ while recording the podcast, and you don’t know if he’s taken those words to heart.

“I don’t like him. And he doesn’t like me. It’s as simple as that.” You make an attempt to sound strong and firm, but your words come out as a mere squeak.

If anything, you’d like to say Donghyuck has turned into a friend. That’s only if you’re willing to call him such, because the past few weeks prove to you that he really isn’t as bad as you suppose. But you don’t like him, you swear. Maybe.

“If you say so.” They drop the conversation, since there’s still a game you have to focus on.

You don’t even understand why you’re getting affected by this; last time you checked, you and Donghyuck don’t share the same values. He doesn’t fall in love. And you want to fall in love. But if you fall in love with someone who doesn’t, then it won’t do you any good. But what if he’s changed? But what if—

“30 seconds on the clock.”

The commentary snaps you back into present time, a quirk of an eyebrow while you flick your eyes to the scoreboard makes you realize that both teams are on another tie.

HOME: 3 | VISITORS: 3

“Oh shit.” You hear Jaemin curse, moving his butt closer to the edge of the chair while he grasps on his hotdog tighter. You too, feel the rate of your heart quicken.

“Here comes Lee Donghyuck with the ball—”

Fixated on his figure, your able to follow where Donghyuck is moving with the bolded #1 on his jersey, seeing that he’s running towards the ball with all his might, zipping through all his opponents and flashing through the grass like lightning. A player with a different coloured jersey starts to run beside him, and it cues Donghyuck to pick up his pace. Everything is getting intense, and Donghyuck starts to grow in desperation after every passing second just so he can touch the ball and kick it to the net.

Jeno’s holding the handle of the chair like his life is on the line, muttering in hushed whispers ‘you better get this one, idiot’ and you want to laugh. But you have no time to laugh.

“Finally!” Jaemin shouts when Donghyuck gets a hold of the ball after failed attempts prior, kicking it to the other side of the field where the goal was. Every student who is rooting for the team is now standing in excitement, ready to cheer if Donghyuck delivers the winning point. Since he’s captain, though you might now want to acknowledge so, you believe that he can do it.

It’s not until he moves closer to the opposing side’s goal, moving past the defence players and slipping in between the gaps as they try to take the ball away from him. Donghyuck uses his footwork to keep the ball to himself, and your fists subconsciously turn white at how it’s clenched.

Donghyuck looks at where he’s trying to shoot, doing his best to break the tie and win this game. In a millisecond, he swings his leg back and kicks the ball with just the right amount of energy, causing it to fly before it stops at the net.

“There we have it. The winning shot from none other than the captain himself!”

The commentator tries to scream the stats louder than the noise in the crowd, but everyone is busy screaming in glee, Jaemin and Jeno included as they almost throw their food up in the air from all the exhilaration. Jeno claps his hands, and Jaemin hollers. As for you, you let out the biggest breath, not realizing how apprehensive you’ve become.

A soft giggle elicits from your throat as you watch Donghyuck run through the field haphazardly, his teammates scurrying over to him to engulf him in hugs and pats. And you feel at ease.

When Donghyuck takes off his headband, wiping the sweat off his head with his arm. He takes a sharp inhale, and eyes going off to search the crowd, immediately stopping when they meet yours in the crowd. There’s so much screaming from the crowd, but you hear bells. You hear bells ringing through your ears and everything about this just feels too good to be true.

He ignores the pushes and shoves from his teammates when his gaze is at yours, and it’s just as if time has stopped just for you to share this moment with him. You give him a smile, a small-thumbs up, and he reciprocates the act, making your heart set off into a rocket.

“So, what’d you think about your first game you watched?” Jaemin asks, “Is it good?” The thing is, you don’t need to say anything for them to know what you're feeling.

“It’s… okay…” And both Jeno and Jaemin know that you’re lying. Your eyes are telling them it’s more than okay. In fact, by the looks of it, they can tell you won’t be needing your Tinder app anymore.

The two share a knowing look at each other when you continue to look back at Donghyuck, a whole galaxy painted in your eyes. If only you can acknowledge them.

EPISODE 9: meet-cute (and puppies)

There’s a shift.

You can just sense it.

Or perhaps, you can’t only just sense it, but you know it. And you know it because you have never looked at Donghyuck in that way before. Not in a way where you seem like you're looking for something in him: something specific but not knowing exactly what it is.

For the most part, this acquired proposition doesn’t completely impact your relationship with him: there’s still the occasional banter from one end to the other, and his continuous foolish acts still makes your skin boil, but now, the way you act around him, when it’s only the both of you in the room, is more tense.

And not the good kind of tension.

“Hey, are you okay?” Donghyuck says softly, his eyes showing worry when he’s caught you lacking and staring off at a random spot in the room for the past few minutes.

Your eyes avert to him, and you swear, it feels much weirder to look at him straight in the eye. It doesn’t feel natural. It feels like you’re hiding something from him, but you don’t know what it is in Donghyuck that’s making you feel this specific, new way towards him.

Nowadays, you feel yourself holding back when you converse with him. It takes you an unusual amount of willpower to not all of a sudden worry about the way you speak to Donghyuck. He’s supposed to be one of the people you have no filter for, to be yourself and not worry about what he thinks. But it really doesn’t feel the way you want it to be at the moment.

He waves his hand across your face, causing you to get your mind off your daydream and you give him a faint smile of reassurance before sitting up straight. “Yeah, I’m good.” You clear your throat, adjusting your headset and placing your face closer to the microphone, muttering an apology.

You can still feel Donghyuck’s stare on you. You’re unable to meet his eyes without panicking, which is why you avoid looking at his figure.

This shift is making you shift on your seat uncomfortably.

“Your shoulders are tense. We can’t have you breaking cold sweat now.” Donghyuck notices the tension in the air, trying to fix it by calling you out and chuckling it off. But everything comes off as awkward. A disconcerting feeling starts to stir in the pit of your stomach, so you take a deep breath and try to forget that Donghyuck is in the room.

Just pretend you're talking to someone else. Absolutely. This is going to work out perfectly if you act like it isn’t your crush that’s right in front of you. Wait— holy shit you did not just say crush.

“Right.” You yelp, and flick your leg to stop acting like a total fool. Donghyuck just stares at you suspiciously, before he suddenly grabs the notebook where your podcast ideas are written down and pretends to not notice the strained atmosphere. He gets ready to talk, pressing the resume button on the recording and your shoulders drop in ease that he total focus isn’t on you anymore.

“Anyways, I’ll be the one introducing this week’s topic.” he brings himself closer to the mic as he looks up at the ceiling, trying to formulate and visualize the proper words to say. He looks really pretty. “I think it’s my first time introducing the topic… huh.”

“It’s about time,” you mumble, blushing when you feel the sudden weight of his gaze. He gives you a warm smile when you're finally trying to talk to him properly, and it makes things seem much easier to do so.

“Okay, okay. Here we go.” He says excitingly, and your wariness slowly fades away; the bliss he’s giving you when he gives you a knowing look that reminds you that you both are going to talk about a topic you’ve been dying to discuss in the podcast. Donghyuck checks off that topic from your list as he talks, “We’re going to be talking about meet-cute incidents. A topic that has been on our list of discussions for a while now. But we only decided to talk about it now for one specific reason:”

He gestures for you to continue on. He sends you a message through telepathy on what to say, and you hold back a grin suddenly remembering why you and Donghyuck decided to make this your theme this week. Because of Jaemin. The boy across from you feels his heart blossoming when you start easing up in the room.

It’s like the saying, ‘seeing you happy makes me happy,’ in this case, that form comes in you.

“We have this friend, and when he came back home from his volleyball practice, he brought home a dog that he picked up on the sidewalk because apparently the owner couldn’t be found. At first, we thought that the dog had rabies so we told him to kick the dog out, but he insisted on finding the owner.” You start to talk about Jaemin’s incident from earlier this week, and Donghyuck finds that the small giggle coming out of your mouth is very pretty. “Next thing you know, the owner comes and picks up their dog. And our friend just looked so starstruck when he opened the door.”

Here’s the thing: you’re pretty good at sharing stories about other people in your circle without spilling out their names, and although most people know and associate you with Jaemin and might have an idea that this story is about him, you still do not mention his name for many reasons. But at least it gives a mysterious element in the story, because they wouldn’t officially consider that you are talking about him unless you straight up announce it.

You try to stop yourself from smiling at the memory too hard, picturing how Jaemin looked when he met the owner of the puppy for the first time, because minutes after the puppy is gone, he either wouldn’t shut up about how cute the owner looked, or would just start grinning to himself at the small memory. You, Donghyuck, and Jeno saw him almost trip on his foot once because of how distracted he’s gotten.

“I never seen him with that look before. It looks nice on him.” Donghyuck laughs wholeheartedly, neither of you getting slightly worried that Jaemin will come screaming at you for telling his story to the podcast. But again, you did not say his name. And if anything, you can drag Donghyuck down with you if Jaemin does get mad.

“It does.” You agree with him, and he throws his head back in bemusement before huffing a sigh of content.

“To the person who picked up their dog from our friend. This is our love letter to you. Our friend is probably whipped for you now.” Donghyuck does his job as a love advisor, but this time, a matchmaker too, “Last time we talked to him — which was a few hours ago, he couldn’t stop blushing while doing his calculus assignment.”

You’re happy for your best friend, you really are, but the more you see romance happening all around you, from the podcast to now your best friend, your mind goes back to asking when you’ll have that moment as well. Because you, of all people, have been waiting patiently for your turn.

“I wonder when I’ll have my meet-cute moment,” you say out loud, and it perks up Donghyuck’s interest.

He wonders if you remember the first time you met him.

“You know, when I first heard the term 'meet-cute’, I thought it meant that you’re meeting a really cute person for the first time.” This makes you giggle. You nod at him, agreeing because you thought the same thing as him when you first heard of this term. “But it isn’t necessarily that.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

“Yeah…”

You clear your throat. “Okay, I’ll get started with the love letters. Donghyuck, pick one from the pile and give it to me.” Grabbing the basket with all the letters you place on the table in front of Donghyuck, as he picks one out, there’s something about the way he looks up at you; it makes your body feel as if it’s zapped by electricity. He’s barely doing anything to make you feel like this, but it almost makes you dizzy — like the blood is rushing hard around your head.

“Here.” He takes one and gives it to you, your hands momentarily brushing which makes your whole body jolt. A warm tingling feeling courses to your own fingertips, and you wonder how holding his hand would feel like.

“Thank you.” You mumble bashfully, your cheeks painted with scarlet hues as you try to open the letter. When you unfold the piece of paper, you are meeted with a full page, and you look up at Donghyuck, widening your eyes. “Oh. This one’s a long letter.”

He chuckles, and leans back on his chair, as you start reading.

There is a shift. You can sense it. But for some odd reason, you’re starting to let it grow on you.

“Dear Romacing…”

EPISODE 10: professor’s matchmaking services

If there is one (1) professor that has been bearable throughout your years as a college student, it would be Professor Dae. And you have a variety of supporting evidence to why you picked her.

For one, she too is a hopeless romantic and will rave over classic love stories she’s stumbled on through Netflix with you. Professor Dae allowed you to email her some Kdrama recommendations, throwing the professionality aside and even giving you five minutes of time after the lecture just to talk about it with her. It’s lovely. Dae is lovely.

And she also likes mint chocolate chip ice cream— though, she seemed more like a caramel ice cream lover. But when after hearing that fact about her during the icebreakers on the first day of school, you knew that you would get along with her easily, because unlike all the others that think mint chocolate chip ice cream tastes like toothpaste, there’s someone you know that finally has a good set of taste buds.

You love your professor just as much as you love your romance films and mint chocolate chip, but after the stunt she pulled, where she made you and Donghyuck partners for this project, she became one of the teachers in your list of ‘watch-out -for-next-semester’ professors.

“So, how’s the projects going along?” She looks around the classroom, blazer and suit in check, clasping her hands sweetly with a warm smile and her overly large glasses looming over her face when she turns to face you. “Donghyuck? Y/N?”

You freeze when you hear your name, shifting your gaze away from the powerpoint slide filling the window in your laptop, and turning to see everybody in the class looking at you in anticipation. Professor Dae notices you trying to tiny yourself in your spot, and she chuckles.

“I’ve been hearing a lot from yours. Care to share a little bit with the class before we start our lesson?” She raises her eyebrows, she’s not offering you to share what’s happening in your project, she’s making you share what’s happening in your project. Professor then moves her head to look at Donghyuck, who is seated on the same row as you as she coughs aggressively, making him turn up in surprise.

“You don’t have to share if you don’t feel comfortable.” You have to share whether you feel comfortable or not.

You and Donghyuck give each other a look from across the lecture hall before turning back to Dae.

“It’s been good…” you clasp your lips together, your cheeks heating up from all the attention. “...We’ve been getting a lot of… exposure.”

“Oh really?” Her eyes widen, though little do you know, Professor Dae already listens to your podcast (look, she listens to all her students podcasts, there’s no favouritism here). And she knows what has been happening, at this point it’s just playing the oblivious role. “It’s that good?”

“Well, I’d like to think it is. But there’s probably more arguments in the podcast than actual advice.” You can feel yourself beaming like a complete fool, in front of everyone that’s watching you, and potentially Donghyuck too, which is super risky. But he doesn’t notice because he himself is grinning behind his laptop screen, scared that you’ll catch him.

Professor Dae bites back a simper.

“I’m excited to listen to it.” She claps once, enthusiasm radiating through her words that gets a couple of students to laugh. “Especially since you two would always get into arguments here. I’m surprised you two haven’t gotten along yet.”

Your eyes widen, shy to respond while your tongue gets stuck in your mouth, unable to tell any of them you did start getting along with Donghyuck just recently, but you’re too afraid to admit it. You’d expect Dae to move on and discuss with another student about their communication assignment, since you’ve stopped talking and moved on to continue reading the Powerpoint slides, but apparently she’s not done.

“Well…” She waits in anticipation, but you have no idea what she’s referring to.

“Well—?”

Oh.

So she does want you to correct her.

“We’ve gotten a little bit closer? I think?” You don’t sound as confident as you intend to, because the mere idea of getting closer to Donghyuck, and tipping over that relationship that consists of you despising each other to tip over to friendship, makes your gut, mind and heart ricochet right before your eyes.

You turn to his direction, seeing if he will correct you and say that you both are still what you were at the beginning of the podcast, but when he looks at you, he sends you a subtle grin, as he nods hesitantly.

Professor Dae snickers, face livelier than ever, “Then that’s nice to hear. It’s about time that happened.” She shakes her head, and finds a new group to taunt.

Hold up.

EPISODE 11: there’s just something about you

Donghyuck’s mind is engulfed by you.

And it means a lot coming from him.

When you sit across from him across the recording studio, he feels like the luckiest man alive that Professor decided to partner you up with him. There are plenty of victories he can acknowledge that happened during his college life — the notable ones including his numerous wins during his soccer games — but this one feels special in it’s own way. There’s triumph in this sense, and his mind can’t simply phantom why he particularly feels this way around you.

But he finds solace in it. He finds solace whenever he sees your eyes from crescents over the smallest things, whenever you try to hold back that smile of yours, whenever you pout or frown over something stupid he says.

He’s always enjoyed the attention from you, the way you banter with him because you're not like the other ones who easily let him into their lives. But the very moment you showed him the other side of you, the side he didn’t think you would ever give him, you make it feel like it’s a dandelion wisp, something so fragile that he’s scared he would never see it ever again.

It feels so beautiful and painful in every way, and Donghyuck didn’t know he would ever have the capacity to hold such emotions for you.

“So, we’re nearing the finale.” You note out of the blue in the middle of the podcast, “How do you feel?”

He remembers when you both were so done after the first episode, but after all the things you’ve been through, he can genuinely say that he will miss this. “Delighted. I don’t have to talk to you as much anymore, and we can go back to our separate ways and ignore each other.” He jokes around, it’s all shown in the way his eyes sparkle.

“Fuck you, Lee Donghyuck.”

“I’d love that.”

And maybe. Just maybe. You're going to miss Lee Donghyuck; questionably humbled soccer player, decent podcast co-host, not so charismatic and more awkward boy, and the boy who’s somehow entered your heart in the weirdest way possible.

“This will be our last week of accepting letters, so get everything in while we’re still here. We won’t be having a Season 2.” It leaves you with a bittersweet taste in your tongue saying these words. You’re going to miss this, but you don’t think you’ll be able to tolerate spending another series of sleepless nights just to edit and think of ideas. Yeah the clout is cool, but it has drained you out a lot.

“We have reached the end of this week’s recording, so a reminder to hit that five star rating and tweet to us your thoughts of this episode.” You start to sound like those Youtubers that shamelessly promote their content, and it makes Donghyuck’s lips curve up to a grin. You sigh, confessing your thoughts, “I’ll miss this.”

“No you won’t, you’ll be thrilled we’re done with this. No more pulling all-nighters to do the editing.” He says in a sing-song tone, and you place your hand by your heart in faux pain.

“That was so uncalled for.” You sneer at him wittily, and as much as you can agree with him, you don’t like the way he’s bluntly saying it for the world to hear. Who knows. Maybe Professor will take off part marks for saying that.

“Okay but I think I’ll miss this too.” When you turn back to Donghyuck, his features soften; the words escaping him simmer in the silence between you, and you never could have imagined that things would end up like this. That you both would actually be at a level where you’ll feel weird going back to the lives you had before Professor brought you together.

And you press the stop button. Sighing, full of contentment and giving Donghyuck an air fist-bump, in which he gives back through tired eyes.

You take off your headset and gather your bag from under the desk, standing up from the chair and slinging your backpack around your arms, clutching it tightly as you get ready to get out of the room.

“Do you need a ride home?” He asks while you get ready, he’s still sitting down, watching as you move and scurry along the recording studio.

“Nah, I’m good. I’m meeting up with an old friend in that Korean Barbecue place in thirty minutes.” You play with the strings of your backpack as you reply to him, standing awkwardly by the exit. He stands up,

“Should I drop you off there, then?”

You shake your head, reassuring him that you’ll be fine, “It’s okay. Thank you, though.” But he looks at you as if there’s so many things drowning his mind, like there’s so much more of the unspoken words that you share. For some reason, you want to say yes to his question, just so you can spend just a few more minutes with him.

When you turn your heel and turn the door knob, you hear Donghyuck quickly clutching on his keys, the metal clinging furiously as his chair pulls back.

“Wait, Y/N.” He hurries to your side, and next thing you know, you can feel his fingers wrapped around your wrist. You give it a glance, and you suck in a deep breath, your heart dead struck at from his touch.

“What is it?” You whisper, doubting your own voice.

“I— I need to tell you something...” His voice trails off, and you turn back around so you can see his face, which is inches apart from yours. Donghyuck’s nerves wrack together as he finds the right way to say what he’s been dying to tell you for the last few days, and when you look at him so patiently, so lovingly, he thinks it’s no better time to tell you but now. “I think I might’ve caught feelings for you.”

There’s a grace period that happens immediately after, the delicacy of his hold starting to tremble as he waits for an excruciating amount of time to hear if you feel the same way or not. He hopes he has a chance, he hopes he’s just not misinterpreting everything that happens, and you as well felt the same spark he felt. It’s like his heart is getting ripped out of his chest, and though you don’t mean to, you might’ve broken him as you say your next words.

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that?” You know why you don’t want to admit how you feel about him just yet. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can believe you.”

“You can’t?” He releases his hold.

“I’m sorry…” But it’s not that you're scared of him, no, you feel everything but that. But there’s just stopping you from telling him now. You don’t think it’s the right moment. There’s a glint flickering your iris’, a heavy burden that makes you want to believe that Donghyuck does feel the same way about you, but he said he doesn’t fall in love. And it’s hard to believe that someone who doesn’t want to have those feelings suddenly gains them in a span of weeks.

There’s a reason why Donghyuck teaches you to be realistic at times, and these are one of the circumstances where you have to.

“B-but I like you.”

The way his body is sending you the message makes you want to believe him. Because heck, you like, really really really feel the same way. But now that you’re able to finally accept what it feels like falling in love, you’re almost terrified at the idea. You’re scared that Donghyuck is just saying that because this was the first time he felt something different, or if he sincerely feels that way toward you.

“Then— then prove it to me, I guess.” You tell him, and this makes Donghyuck feel his body that was slowly falling, earning its wings. “I don’t know if I should trust your words, when just weeks ago, you told me, and everyone that listens to our podcast, that you don’t fall in love.”

And he thinks your words are valid. It’s the way you're giving him a chance that keeps him up his toes. And he knows you’re not purposely playing hard to get, because that game has already been going on since the day you met him. “So what do I do when I prove it?”

You place your hands on his shoulders with a small grin painting your lips, before opening the door. “Do it first. Then I’ll tell you what I’ll do after.”

“Is this a challenge?”

“I don’t know. Is it?”

For some reason, even though it should feel like you indirectly rejected him, he still feels like there is hope. After all, you did not completely shut him down.

EPISODE 12: let’s fall in love

Donghyuck does not know how to ‘prove it’. If he’s being real, he does not know what that statement even means, but after talking it out with the only person who seems to wholeheartedly understand him, also known as his roommate: the Lee Jeno, he’s been given a good pep talk and decent advice to what he should do.

It is the exact reason why he’s gone through with his plans right after his soccer practice just so he can tell you. You asked him to prove it, and he will do just that.

He’s panting at your front door, not because he’s exhausted, because everyone knows he has way too much stamina to feel out of breath from just running to your place for a good three minutes. But instead, it’s him standing at your front door, already knocked at the piece of wood with his practice uniform that makes him feel as if he’s ready to give his heart on a platter in any form he can.

You open your door, wearing one of your worn out high school club shirts and flamingo pyjamas, hair tousled and mix-match socks, and Donghyuck still thinks you're absolutely breathtaking. Your eyes almost bulge out, bewildered at the fact that Donghyuck is standing in front of you at an hour you don’t expect him to. “Woah— what are you doing here?”

“You asked me to prove it to you. So I’m doing it right now.” He doesn’t know why he’s being so straightforward with it, but as he collects all the courage he can muster up so he can talk to you, he believes that this is his one and only chance to make things right. Everything about this feels so right. The drink he's holding, that you still don’t notice, still feels so right.

“Okay,” your face perks up. His attempt at doing this makes you laugh. It’s airy. Light. Saccharine. And it gives Donghyuck hope. So much hope. It gives him hope that love is worth it. “How so?”

“Here.” He holds up the drink in front of you, and you look at it with furrowed eyebrows. “Does this remind you of anything?”

“It’s bubble tea.”

He gives off a single nod, eyes flickering at the same time you look at him in concern, blinking repeatedly, causing Donghyuck to close his lips shut, refraining himself from the crescents tempting to form his lips. It’s just a simple drink. Taro bubble tea. You don’t know why he’s giving it to you.

“It’s how I first met you.” He beams, simpering when you turn speechless. “You said you wanted a meet-cute moment, maybe I can help you remember ours.”

This alarms a strange, familiar tightening in your chest.

“Donghyuck…”

“We met at the bubble tea shop near the library. Jaemin wanted to introduce his best friend to us for the first time, and he was pretty excited and told us all about you. Then you enter the shop with the warmest smile on your face, and I remember feeling so ecstatic seeing you.” He takes a deep breath, and he doesn’t remove the contact he has with your eyes. If he only can, he would choose to be lost in them for an infinity.

And it makes you burst through the seams, letting him take your hand and hold the drink.

“But then when we got our orders, my drink accidentally spilt all over your shirt. And you got so mad at me after that because the purple stuff is now stained on that shirt.” He chuckles, looking down at what you're holding, then back to your face. “You hated me so much after that, and the debates we had in class didn’t make it better.”

“That was not a meet-cute.” You tell him the truth, it’s probably a meet-messy more than a meet-cute, but no matter what it is, the idea of Donghyuck even remembering this keeps your cheeks vividly flaring and fingers quaking. He fucking remembers.

You look at him gently, sharing a comforting moment through the borderline of your dorm and the hallway.

“Yes, it was.” Donghyuck begins to groan, “It was the first time I felt hopeful. After what happened in high school.”

You study the drink amusingly. You can’t believe you, the mediocre and simple you, was able to be the reason why Donghyuck has learned to find the value in falling in love. “I can’t believe I did that.”

But what you can’t believe is that you, the hopeless romantic and tinder date searching you, was able to find your reason to fall in love through Lee Donghyuck. The bane of your existence. But now, that has a different meaning.

“Yeah you did.” He wants you to believe him. “I know I say I don’t fall in love, and I know I have been firm with it. But god, Y/N. If only I knew this is what love would feel like.” And you do. You do believe him in every sense, in every word that he tells you.

“Can I drink this?” You hold it up higher, waving the drink at his face and poking the side of the straw, seeing his face drop because just when he’s sure that you will say the words back — because he knows — you do this instead.

“Are you being for real right now?” Donghyuck gawks, looking at you in disbelief, and you put up your best meekful expression. He really wishes you're messing with him right now, he really does, but it’s exactly the way he just gave his heart to you like that only for you to pull this card on him. “I— you know what. I can’t do this. Nevermind what I said.”

He huffs out a breath, taking a step back and getting ready to head to the elevator.

You grab his wrist.

“So do you love me or do you not love me?” His back is facing you, refusing to turn and look at you because he refuses to make a fool of himself to you one more time. “I can’t believe you're running away already.”

“I said what I said.” He says with a sigh.

“Answer my question.” Deciding to spare a glance at you, he thinks he will be greeted by a stern, or maybe a mirthful expression, but he notices neither. There you are, opposite of hard, of everything fond, sentimental, poignant, compassionate, he really thinks you would play with his feelings for another time.

Instead, you give him a look, one willing to listen to him, one filled with everything he’s been looking for. Seeing how your eyes don’t hold anything back anymore, you hold onto his wrist a little more delicately, like how you would hold his heart, and it makes Donghyuck loosen up and feel jittery at the same time.

“Yes, you fool. I do. And if I want to prove it to you by kissing you, but instead I had to make a whole monologue just so you can believe me. But look at where we are now.” Hearing his blunt words, his voice trembling at the same time, you cup his cheeks, making him look at you.

“You talk too much when you’re nervous.”

You let go of his wrist, moving it to rub your thumb across his cheeks, and Donghyuck finds himself relaxing under your touch.

“So… what are you gonna do now?” He asks you. There’s a twinkle of light that you don’t miss in his eyes, a subtle hint from him to you in hopes you’d continue instead of turning the other cheek.

“I don’t know.”

“I answered your question and you’re not going to say anything—?” Before he can say anything further, or reprimand you for fooling with his heart again, you cut him off, placing your lips on his, and it feels no less than the first time you did so, back by the coffee table.

Donghyuck’s head is spinning, letting out a gasp of air as honey and sugar drips from your lips, he kisses you, brings you closer, realizing right then and there, though he already knows, that you feel the same way. He’s reassured that you feel the same way.

“Oh.”

You smile at him, lovingly. Ready to tell him anything and everything. “Lee Donghyuck. I have started catching feelings for you too, and I knew falling in love would be wonderful, but I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

“Good.” He says teasingly, and you push your drink against his chest, chuckling, not bothering if you spill it, because that’s how you met, right? “Because if I didn’t say it already, I love you.”

When Donghyuck smiles at your expression, you best believe that it is the most beautiful thing in the world. His mouth is formed so tender and lovestruck and his eyes turn into moons, it’s such a sight to bask in under the constellation painted in the night sky. You probably realized this a long time ago, and you have only come to terms to admit it now — Donghyuck is beautiful. His smile is beautiful. Everything about him is so beautiful that he can easily turn your world around just from his presence.

“I love you too, Mr. Guy Who Doesn’t Fall In Love.”

“Wait, you knew that was me?”

“Excuse me what?” You look at him weirdly, unable to register his words until one, two, three seconds, and your head snaps up. “I just said that as a joke. Oh my god, Donghyuck.”

“Oh well,” He shrugs, before the corners of his lips turn up for the umpteenth time, pulling you into an embrace. “At least you know what happened to his story now.”

Project Title: Romancing Member Names: Lee Donghyuck and Y/N Final Project Mark: 95%

Taglist. @vocalracha @jishyucks @strawbaeri-s @neoteez01 @thatanonymousgirl-as14 @b1kon131 @freesmbdy134 @teardroplover @haruharux23 @haechanswhore @ndr1271 @channiedani @fullfarmrascalpeach @ellethereal00 @jensbae @bluejaem @hhyuckkkk @jensrose @zcl01 @tyunsie

if your user is bolded, it means i could not tag you.

#as much as i would say: my humour is dry #this one is acc peak comedy #or whati would like to think it is LMAO #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct soft hours #donghyuck imagines #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck oneshots #nct oneshots #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck scenarios #haechan imagines #haechan x reader #haechan oneshots #haechan fluff

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uwusenpaiuwu · 3 years

Text

Baji Being A Menace To Society (And Your Relationship) 2.0

Sequel to: Baji A.K.A. The Worst (Best) Matchmaker

Summary: Baji’s at it again, acting out-of-pocket and creating chaos for absolutely no reason, other than to see you suffer. In his own Baji-esque way, of course.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Warning(s): Boku no Pico is mentioned, but there is absolutely nothing graphic; mentions of masturbation

Note(s): I am so sorry if it isn’t funny. Sadly, I am but an amateur writer, not a comedian. Still, I hope you all enjoy! ^^

"(Y/n), want some ice cream? My treat."

Usually, you'd be the first to jump at an offer for a sweet treat, especially when you don't have to pay. However, as of now, the word 'ice cream,' when said by Baji, instantly triggers your fight-or flight-response. Paired with the fact that he’s broke as hell, your suspicions only increase for the sudden indulgence.

Since you know you're no match for the long-haired menace, your body automatically prepares to flee, legs twitching to lurch into a sprint. Unfortunately for you, just before you can get the fuck out of there, your hand is being grabbed by Mikey, who leisurely begins to tug you along to claim your dessert.

“You like ice cream, right?” he turns to ask, eyes unbelievably soft when looking at you.

And because you’re weak for him, all you can do is nod stiffly, trading in your sanity for the pleased grin that spreads across his face, his confident strides thereafter likely a result of him successfully remembering another miscellaneous fact about you, as has been the case since you officially started dating him. From the most trivial of things, like which brand of pens and pencils you prefer, to the slightly more important stuff, like ice cream being one of your favorite desserts; he’s made the effort of remembering them all.

He really doesn’t need to do any of that, ‘cause you’ll love him either way, but the conscious decision to do so is what makes you love him even more.

Zoning back into reality, you shake your head to reorient yourself. It isn’t the time to be going over the reasons why you’re such a lovesick puppy.

No, there are other things to worry about, mainly Baji.

You squeeze Mikey’s hand as you’re led to the nearest ice cream parlor to try and calm yourself. It works for the most part, especially when you get a reassuring squeeze back.

‘Right,’ you tell yourself, ‘it’s going to be okay.’

After all, Baji wouldn’t do anything too drastic, right?

~~~

You were wrong. So, so wrong.

Despite nothing having transpired yet, every alarm in your head is going off, pounding at the door of reason to get you to wake up and realize that it’s Baji you’re talking about, the same person that sets cars on fire when hungry and punches the first unfortunate soul he passes by on the street when sleepy.

You really should’ve listened to your survival instincts and ran. Alas, it’s much too late to escape, leaving you to wallow in your anxiety, while you wait for misfortune to strike.

And strike it does.

“Please, don’t sit next to me. You make me nauseous.”

“That’s cruel. I bought you ice cream, and you treat me like this?”

Yeah, he may have bought it, but you refuse to eat it because of how intensely Baji is staring at you. Fucking weirdo.

"Oh, do you want some of mine instead, (Y/n)?" Baji accentuates his question with a sensual lick to his ice cream from the edge of the cone to the finessed peak, making you extremely uncomfortable as he stares you down with the full motion.

As slowly as he licks his frozen treat do you slowly raise your middle finger, eliciting chuckles from the other occupants of the table.

You think you won that mini battle, though?

Ha! Nope.

Baji mirrors the vulgar action, not once breaking eye contact as he dips the tip of his finger directly into his ice cream, pulls it out, and proceeds to lick that, too.

Disgusted, you promptly avert your attention elsewhere, praying that Baji won’t continue being, well, himself.

Your prayers fall on deaf ears.

"It's cold!" As soon as the exclamation leaves your mouth, your blood runs glacial, knowing that you've unintentionally played into Baji's trap. The appearance of a sly, almost feral, smirk when you whip your head around to glare confirms what you already know.

The curtain has risen, and you’re standing center stage in a performance you can’t break free from.

"Aw, can't let it go to waste,” Baji continues, reaching over to scoop the ice cream you’re 100% certain he purposely spilled on the front of your shirt, with his fingers.

Then, to your horror and everyone else’s shock, he asks, without an ounce of virtue to his name, "Want me to lick it off with my mouth?"

Chifuyu is seated on the other side of the table, hiding his face in his hands. “Baji-san...”

"It'll stain if it dries like that." Dear God, how you wish to un-see Baji batting his eyelashes at you.

“I don’t care!” At this point, you’ve resorted to clumsily scooting your chair as far away from him as possible, which isn’t actually as far as you’d like considering your surroundings. Hell, so long as you put some distance between yourself and the crazy bastard that wants to see you suffer, you don’t mind having to force yourself halfway onto Mikey’s lap. (The firm hand that keeps you steady by the waist proves that your presence isn’t unwanted either.)

"Geez, (Y/n), you're such a scatterbrain."

Seeing Baji sell the line with a slow tugging of his hair behind the ear has you torn between laughing and dying a little more. Truthfully, his acting is frighteningly impressive, and you would’ve applauded his performance, if not for the fact that the role he’s playing still haunts your dreams.

By this time, most of who accompanied you to the ice cream parlor have figured out what kind of drugs Baji is on this time, which also means that those fuckers have seen, or are at least aware of, the cursed trilogy of questionable porn that’s being reenacted before their eyes, with you as an unwilling co-star. Those that are puzzled as to why people are shoving their fists in their mouths to refrain from laughing are obviously God’s favorites.

“The fuck is going on? I wanna laugh at Baji’s dumbassery, too.”

“Pah-chin... I think it’s best you don’t know.”

Interestingly enough, the one you’re most concerned about hasn’t said anything yet, splitting his attention between observing the scene unfolding and eating his portion of a deluxe sundae.

Then, out of nowhere-

“I understand.”

You and Baji freeze where you are, each of you grasping the other’s collar, you to shove him away, and him to draw you closer.

“(Y/n),” Mikey says, your name rolling silkily off his tongue in a tone much too fond for his next words, “if you like roleplay, just tell me.”

...

“Huh?”

“I’m fine with pissing, remember? So, roleplay shouldn’t be a problem.”

Heat rises to your face at an alarming pace, and it continues to climb as Mikey takes your free hand in his, which serves not to comfort but to unintentionally remind you of the humiliating experience from a few months back. And just when you convinced him that you didn’t want anything to do with getting freaky with the body’s excreta, too.

“You’ve got it wrong! I don’t- arfghfgh?!”

Your prayer to help cool down your flushed cheeks must have been heard, but you’re pretty damn sure you didn’t ask for Baji to shove his ice cream in your mouth!

“Oh, yeah. (Y/n)’s a fuckin’ geek when it comes to roleplay,” the unhinged bastard speaks in your stead, indifferent to the nails clawing at his hand clamped over your mouth. “You should try it with him. We were doing a scene from his favorite anime.”

Mikey tilts his head, interest positively piqued. “Which one is that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, leader?”

Mikey raises an eyebrow.

Baji opens his mouth.

You lunge.

It’s a series of events that happens in the blink of an eye and ends with loud crashing as you tackle Baji to the ground.

“Listen up, Baji Keisuke. We took an oath that day, and if you dare utter a word of what went down, I’ll consider that a breach of the code of secrecy and take you down, making sure you drown in a pit of your own shame and despair.”

Surprised to have been pinned down so quickly, it takes a while for Baji’s brain to catch up, but when it does, he’s frustratingly unfazed at the threat.

“Oho~ How scary. Too bad for you, I have no shame.”

“Not even if I tell Mama Baji where your porn stash is?”

That has the great Baji tensing up.

“You wouldn’t dare use an underhanded tactic like that.”

Your lips turn into a wicked grin. “Are you sure? I have as much dirt on you as you have on me, and like you, I won’t hesitate to use it to my advantage.”

If your grin is wicked, Baji’s is downright evil, showing off his sharp, gritted canines and all.

“You got balls, (Y/n),” he snarls, “but mine are bigger.”

The boy beneath you opens his mouth, and faster than you can stop him, he just...does it.

“(Y/n) (L/n) watched Boku no Pico and liked it!”

Silence.

Silence is all that’s heard for a good, long minute following the booming roar of the revelation.

You dare not look up to gauge everyone’s reactions, instead keeping your icy glare fixated on Baji, who looks smug as shit for having caused the glorious eruption of heat to spread like wildfire across your entire body, from the tips of your ears down to where your skin disappears under the collar of your jacket.

This...

This is war.

Taking in a deep breath, you answer his uncalled for declaration with your own thunderous shout of, “Baji watched Boku no Pico and jacked off to it! Twice!”

Baji laughs. “Oh, pray tell, saintly (Y/n), how many times did you jack off to it?”

“None of your fucking business, asshole.”

“Pretty fucking sure it is, since we were in the same room.”

Someone chokes, while you choke Baji.

“We. Swore. To. Secrecy. You. Asshole,” you practically growl, with each of your words accompanied by a ruthless back-and-forth shaking of the other boy’s person.

“Let up on the choking, dude. I’m not into that. You, however-”

Unable to take the ceaseless slander to your name anymore, you reel your fist back, but, upon seeing Baji’s cheek turned to you, jaw jutted out, as if inviting you to take your best shot, you hesitate. You know you wouldn’t be able to pack enough of a punch to actually leave an impact on him, which is terribly upsetting.

On the bright side, there’s still one tactic you can use that’ll be just as effective, a technique courtesy of your health teacher, who happily taught it to the class to use in case of an emergency.

Technically, it’s meant to be used to assess a person’s level of consciousness, but you suppose it can be used to get back at inconsiderate idiots, too.

“Ow! Ow! What the fuc-! Ow!”

You keep a straight face as you continue to rub your knuckles against his sternum, fully intent on delivering the worst possible pain to the current bane of your existence. It brings a sort of sadistic satisfaction to hear the ever prideful Baji’s screams of pain, and while it doesn’t completely undo the damage done, it does help soothe your wounded self-esteem.

“You want me stop? Beg for it.”

“Pissing, roleplay, choking, and begging? Goddam- OW!”

Your reign of terror comes to its untimely end when you’re lifted up into the air by the armpits, and through the haze of your power trip, you realize that Baji’s saving grace is Draken, who proceeds to carry you out of the parlor with ease.

“People are staring,” he coolly explains when you protest to having unfinished business.

Pouting, you cross your arms over your chest. “It’s his fault.”

Once outside, Draken doesn’t immediately put you back on your feet, until Mikey strolls out of the parlor. Only when the gang leader has his arms outstretched to you are you promptly deposited on the ground and taken into his embrace.

“Are you done letting off some steam?” is the first thing he asks you. Even though you can’t see his expression, the way he holds you and the way he cradles the back of your head, handling you with the utmost care, is indication enough that there will be no reprimand for, essentially, assaulting your division commander. (You would argue that it was an act of self defense against verbal harassment, but whatever.)

There’s just an overwhelming amount of love. So, so, so much love for each other.

“Yeah, I am,” you eventually answer, followed by a content sigh.

“Good.”

Naturally, that’s the perfect time for the tinkling of the bells above the parlor door to pilfer your attention. Baji’s appearance causes your face to morph into a scowl.

You cling tighter to Mikey, peeking over his shoulder to flip the ravenet off and mouth, ‘Go to Hell.’

As always, Baji answers your attempt to appear opposing with an obnoxious smirk.

‘See you there.’

~~~

“Boku no Pico, huh?”

“Draken, don’t laugh! Baji forced me to watch it!”

“All 3 episodes?”

“Twice.”

“...”

“Favorite scene...?”

“As if I’d have one.”

"Actually-"

“Ahh! Shut up! Why are you here, stupid Baji?! You live in the other direction!”

~~~

“Hey, (Y/n). Want to try doing the same thing with me?”

You look up, perplexed. Mikey literally just walked into the room, and that was the first thing he said to you.

“Do wha-?”

Your breath catches in your throat when you turn your head, only for you to come centimeters from bumping noses with him. And because he can, he lovingly knocks your foreheads together, too.

“It’s okay. I promise it’ll definitely be fun.”

You should feel ashamed for recognizing the same sequence of lines from Boku no Pico so quickly, though any coherent words are overtaken by an incomprehensible, high-pitched screech, a feat achieved solely by a teenage boy going through puberty.

A combination of shock and amusement crosses over Mikey’s features then. He’s never heard you make that sound before.

It’s cute. Strains the ears quite a bit, but cute.

While Draken lurks beside him, questioning Mikey’s standards of what constitutes as ‘cute,’ you’re sprinting across the room, red-faced, to Baji, who’s already grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Stop tainting my boyfriend, you piece of shit! Give him back his innocence!”

(Unbeknownst to you, whilst immersed in your fit of hysterics, your use of the word ‘boyfriend’ has a certain blond beaming.

“Did you hear that, Ken-chin? He called me his boyfriend.”

“Wow, congrats.”

Mikey either doesn’t give a shit or is simply too smitten to acknowledge Draken’s apathetic response.)

Baji blinks, unable to believe what you’re trying to insinuate. “Innocent? That little gremlin motherfucker?”

Both of you look in Mikey’s direction. When he sees you staring, he breaks out in a smile and throws a wave.

Your heart involuntarily skips a beat at the sight, and, okay, you’re convinced. Mikey deserves better than knowing of that cursed series’ existence.

Clearly, you’re down bad for Toman’s leader, and as such, Baji figures he can use that to quench his boredom for the day.

“Ooh, if only you knew what he gets off to.”

The tone in his voice instantly rouses suspicion. You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t care what kind of porn he gets off to.”

“Porn? Nah, ya silly goose-”

“Don’t call me that.”

Baji ignores your comment as he moves to sling one arm around your shoulders, the other raising up to mimic an obscene tugging motion that no teenage boy is a stranger to.

“He jerks it to yo-”

BAM!

One second, Baji is lazily hanging off of your person, the next, he’s sprawled out on the floor, face down, and groaning in pain. You expect nothing less after witnessing him receive a rather impressive flying kick to the chest from Mikey.

Before you can assess the full damage, your view gets obscured by a pair of keys.

“Wanna take my bike out for a spin?”

Yes, you know Mikey is trying to divert your attention from whatever Baji was going to say, and, yes, you probably should check on the figure that has yet to get up.

But do you really care?

You take one glance at Baji’s concerningly unmoving body and quickly come to a conclusion.

You do not.

That being said, you quite literally drag Mikey and, by extension, Draken out of there, chanting an excited, “Let’s go!” on your way, abandoning Baji to wither on the ground.

Baji?

Baji feels betrayed.

~~~

"Chifuyu?”

“Hm?”

“Y’know, I was joking.” Baji flips onto his back with a grunt. “Man, who knew Mikey was all grown up?”

The vice captain of the first division hums, seemingly uninterested in his commander’s musings.

It goes quiet for a few minutes, the sole instigator of noise being Chifuyu flipping the pages of his manga.

Unpredictable is Baji, and the same goes for his train of thought.

“I should punch Mikey for kicking me.”

“No, you’d get beat up.”

“...”

“I should punch (Y/n) for Mikey kicking me.”

Truly, unpredictable and senseless.

“You’d still get beat up.”

Baji opens his mouth to argue.

“By Mikey.”

He promptly closes it.

“Fuck it. I’ll keep spicing up their relationship as payback.”

Sighing, Chifuyu closes his book to crouch down next to him. “Baji-san, with all due respect, you’re an asshole.”

Baji Keisuke has experienced betrayal twice today.

And he deserved it both times.

#mikey x male reader #sano manjiro x male reader #sano manjirou x male reader #mikey x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #Tokyo Revengers #Sano Manjirou #sano manjiro #manjiro sano #manjirou sano #i tried #im so sorry #pls dont cancel me #PSA: don't masturbate in the same room as baji

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alwaysmarveling · 3 years

Text

Laryngitis

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Nat’s a protective girlfriend and you may or may not be sick

A/N: I somehow just realized that since yesterday was Monday, by my unofficial posting schedule, I was supposed to post something yesterday. Sorry for missing it, but I hope you guys enjoy this :)

The annoying beeping of the alarm filled the pitch-black room. Not fully awake, you realized Natasha didn’t have to be waking up this early, so you shot up to turn off the clock before it could wake her up. Just as you were fiddling with the buttons, a groan from beside you told you that you were too late.

“D’you have to go already?” your girlfriend asked, her voice husky and slurred. You whispered back to her in an effort to not wake her up completely.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for waking you, Natty. Go back to sleep.”

“You don’t have to whisper, babe. We both know I’m not going back to sleep.” You let out a sigh, rubbing your eyes slowly to pull yourself into consciousness. She was right; Natasha was a light sleeper, and once she was up, she was up. “Don’t worry about it, dorogaya. Means I can do your hair for you.” That brought a small smile to your face. Not only was Natasha amazing at doing your hair, but it was always an intimate moment between the two of you that both of you loved. As long as Natasha wasn’t away, she made it a point to do your hair for you, even if you two were in an argument with each other.

A small cough brought you back to the present moment. You weren’t sure what it was, but you just weren’t feeling it today. You thought it was the sleep at first, but it was never this hard to wake up, and it wasn’t like you did anything particularly exhausting the day before. Shaking out your arms, you dismissed the thought and slid off of the bed.

“I’m going to go get ready first.” Both you and the redhead froze at your voice.

“Are you okay, detka?” You leaned over the mattress to gently rub at the deep crease between her brows, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, I must just have something stuck in my throat.” The spy chuckled at your response, but you could still sense an uneasiness in her.

“Go drink some water. Does your throat hurt or anything?”

“I’m fine, Nat.” She simply hummed, watching as you shuffled into the bathroom. You may or may not have told your girlfriend a little lie, but so what if your throat hurt? You’d be fine in less than an hour. You didn’t want to worry her over nothing.

When you were finished in the bathroom, the lights in the room were on, and Natasha was now sitting on the edge of your bed, legs crossed.

“Come sit.” She tapped the small footstool in front of her with her foot before returning to her position. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked again as you joined her.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. You really don’t want me to go on this mission, huh?” you teased. Your face contorted at the end as you tried to hold in a cough, and you still sounded like a frog. Still, you tried to play it cool, hoping Nat was still buying your previous excuse.

“Well of course I don’t want my girl to leave me.” You could practically feel your heart jump out of your chest when she called you hers, but you simply winked at her.

“I shouldn’t be gone long, half a week at most,” you informed her, sitting down on the stool.

“I’d miss you even if you were gone for five minutes,” Nat murmured, leaning over to kiss the top of your forehead. “Oh my god, Y/N. You are not going on this mission, you liar. You have a fever!” As if she planned it, you shivered as a chill ran through your body.

“Nat, I promise you, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed. “You sound like a zombie. You look like a zombie too.”

“I- hey!” You didn’t mean to yell as loudly as you did, and it threw you off a little bit, causing you to release a series of dry coughs. Lips pursed, the redhead rubbed your back in an effort to soothe you.

“You are definitely sick, Y/N. Get back in bed. I’ll tell Fury.”

“Natty, you’re not going to-” Before you could finish, she was already at the bedside table, phone to her ear. Damn your girlfriend and her spy skills.

“Hey, Fury, Y/N’s sick with a fever and probably laryngitis. You’re going to have to get someone else to cover the mission.” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. You hated missing work. You’d never been one to take a vacation or a day off; for the whole time you’d been working under SHIELD, you only took a sick day once after you’d had to get surgery due to a mission gone slightly wrong. Even then, it took some serious persuasion to get you to do so. You were too busy stressing about missing the mission to listen to the rest of your girlfriend’s conversation with Fury until you heard her calling your name.

“Y/N. Babe? Y/N? Hello?” Looking up from your hands, you met her concerned gaze.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Fury’s asking how you’re feeling.”

“Good enough to go on the mission?” The redhead rolled her eyes.

“Try again. He’s worried about you.” She held out the phone to you. “Fury, you’re on speaker.”

“L/N, how’s the throat? Try tea with lemon and honey, it’ll help.”

“I’m fine, old man,” you rolled your eyes.

“Wow, you really are sick.” Your lips parted slightly, and Nat couldn’t help but chuckle at the indignance written across your face. “Get some rest, L/N. Don’t worry about the mission, it shouldn’t be hard to get someone to cover for you.”

“But-”

“No ‘but’s. L/N, your powers are literally based on your voice. This is a minor mission, but if this goes south, we need someone who can defend themselves to their full capacity. You are way too valuable to be lost just because you got sick. Listen to your girlfriend. Get better soon. That’s an order. Goodbye, L/N. Thanks for calling, Romanoff.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Wait, Fur-” The man hung up before you got the chance to finish. “This is all your fault.” You crossed your arms, turning away from the former assassin.

“Y/N,” Natasha sighed. “It’s just one mission. I promise everything’ll be okay.” She knew well of your anxiety regarding missing work considering she was the one who had convinced you to take the sick day after your surgery. While she hated making you upset, she knew—and if you were being honest, you did too—that you couldn’t go on a mission like this.

“What if I fall behind? Or what if Fury decides he doesn’t need me anymore? Or what if-” Your voice got weaker the more you spoke, partially because of your nerves but also partially due to your illness.

“Babe, as much as I’d love to talk this out with you, you shouldn’t be talking. Your throat is already destroyed, so for now I’m going to need you to trust me and just listen.” She took your hand and gently guided you back to the bed, purposefully avoiding the glare you were giving her.

“You won’t fall behind because this mission isn’t important. Fury said so himself. I promise it won’t affect your performance at work. And Fury will never decide he doesn’t need you anymore because he literally sees you as his kid.”

“He-” Natasha pressed a finger to your lips before you could finish.

“No talking. Yes, he does see you as his kid whether you want to admit it or not. He will also never replace you because you’re one of the best agents he has. He asked you to join the Avengers for a reason, printsessa. He’s not going to fire you just because you get laryngitis one time, even if you fall behind because of it.” Your girlfriend bent down slightly to meet your eyes, which were still directed at the floor. “You’re doing amazing, Y/N. You do so much for so many different people, and now it’s your turn to let people return the favor. Okay?” You stared at her for a second, your face so blank even Natasha couldn’t read it. When you finally nodded, the redhead let out a small breath of relief before giving you a small smile and a peck on the forehead.

“You stay here. I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?” You reached your arms to her, fingers grasping, when she began to walk away. Letting out a light laugh, she turned around and held one of your hands. “I’ll be back as fast as I can, malyshka. Why don’t you pick out something for us to watch?” She let go of you after one last kiss to the back of your hand and left before you could stop her again.

---

Natasha shuffled through the cabinets as the water was heating up in the kettle.

“Morning, Wan, starting breakfast?” the spy greeted the witch.

“Yeah, you’re up early. Y/N’s mission?”

“Actually, she’s sick,” Natasha grimaced. “Fury’s going to reassign the mission.” Wanda let out a whistle as she placed various ingredients on the kitchen counter.

“I bet she didn’t take that well?”

“Nope. But she can barely speak, and even when she can, she can’t speak more than a sentence or two without stopping to cough, which means…” She trailed off as she inspected a medicine bottle.

“No powers.” Satisfied, Natasha put the rest of the bottles away and returned to the now whistling kettle.

“Exactly.”

“Huh, the kid who can kill people just by speaking with a certain tone gets taken down by a virus.” The former assassin chuckled as she squeezed lemon juice into a steaming cup of tea.

“Don’t let her hear that.”

“Which part?”

“Any of it.” Wanda’s laugh rang through the room.

“Is she hungry? I can make some soup after breakfast if she’s up for it.”

“That would be great,” Natasha smiled gratefully, “Thank you so much.”

“Of co- Your girlfriend is calling for you.” Red flashed as Natasha’s head whipped up, confused.

“Are you sure? I didn’t hear anything. I told her not to-”

“No, no, not verbally. She’s just thinking it. Very loudly.” Nat sighed, but the corners of her lips curled upwards at your antics.

“Is there anything the queen needs?”

“Just you. And no medicine.” The spy shook her head.

“Tell her,” she started, tossing a spoon into the sink, “that I’m on the way. With medicine.”

“You got it,” Wanda promised with a wink. “Warning you now, though, her majesty won’t be happy.”

---

Sure enough, Wanda was right. You had already opened your mouth to complain about the medicine in Nat’s hands, but one stern look from her had you zipping your lips closed in a second.

“You take this, in a couple of days you can talk again.” Your girlfriend didn’t need to be able to read minds to understand what you were thinking; your face said everything. “Yes, a couple of days,” she ordered firmly, handing you two pills. “Take them. Here’s your tea, and I also got you a bottle of water.” You gave her a grateful smile before swallowing the pills, grimacing as they scratched their way down your very sore throat.

“Good girl,” Natasha murmured. “Now,” she started with a peck to your cheek, “Do you need anything else? Blankets? A cool towel? Oh, Wanda’s making you soup, by the way, but I could get you a popsicle or something if you want?” You shook your head at all of her requests. Instead, you patted the spot on the bed next to you.

“Alright,” the redhead smiled. “What’d you pick for us to watch?” You pointed to the screen in front of you. “American Idol. You really aren’t making things easier for yourself, huh?” Nevertheless, she slid in next to you, sitting cross legged, and pulled you into her, your head resting on her lap with the laptop placed in front of you.

“Maybe I can pull an Ursula and use one of their voices for the mission,” you whispered.

“I swear to god, Y/N, if you don’t shut up,” the spy laughed. A smile on your face, you hit play and snuggled yourself further into her.

As Nat ran her fingers up and down the length of your arm, you couldn’t help but relax into her. Sure, your throat wasn’t better by any means, and you had some lingering anxiety about the mission. But if you had to miss a mission, this was sure as heck the best way to do it, with Natasha right by your side.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #I wrote something #alwaysmarveling

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ahtsumu · 3 years

Text

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

1K notes · View notes

tennessoui · 3 years

Note

Please give me the TA scene where Vos takes Obi-Wan to a bar to get drunk and forget about Anakin and pick up some hotties but oh no Anakin is there and Obi-Wan is a little tipsy and doesn’t want to be rude so he goes to say hi. Then for the rest of the night when he tries to go Anakin pulls him back into conversation because he doesn’t want Obi-Wan going home with someone else

yes!!!!!! TIS THE SEASON (halloween)

(2.3k)(the first TA obi-wan snippet!!)

The thing about Quinlan that Obi-Wan hates the most is that his friend is the only person in the entire world that can out-stubborn him. That’s usually not a problem. But sometimes it is. Sometimes it results in Quinlan forcing Obi-Wan into doing something he’d rather not do.

All those people that say peer pressure isn’t really real have never met Quinlan Vos.

Obi-Wan sort of wishes he’d never met Quinlan Vos when the man shows up at his door on Friday evening carrying three different bundles of clothing.

“Because I’m nice, you get to choose what you want to be for Halloween,” Quinlan announces, laying out the options on Obi-Wan’s coffee table.

“Drunk and alone in my apartment,” Obi-Wan says. “That’s an option, right?”

“Just for that, I’m taking Indiana Jones off the table,” Quinlan replies, not sounding sorry about it at all. “I��ll be that one. I think I could make the whip look hot as hell.”

Obi-Wan crosses his arms and peers at the costumes. “Sexy nurse or sexy….Red Riding Hood? I’m not wearing that. I doubt it would even fit me.”

“Bullshit, you have a very dainty waist, Obi. But hurry up and choose because we’re going to be late.”

“We’re going tonight?” Obi-Wan splutters. “It’s not even Halloween!”

“It’s the Halloweekend, Obi-Wan. It’s like you’ve forgotten all of our sophomore year.”

Obi-Wan’s tried to block most of it out, that’s true. The parts he remembers, at least. “I think we’re a bit too old for Halloweekend, Quin,” he protests, staring down at the costumes. “And I--”

“Have been obsessing over this so-called hottest professor in existence, yes, I know.” Quinlan holds up his hand when Obi-Wan starts to disagree. “No, you know I’m right. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I’ve never heard you casually talk about someone so much and I’ve been there for all of your co-ed crushes. So what we’re going to do tonight is go and get your hot professor fucked out of your head, and the best way to do that is either sexy nurse or sexy Red Riding Hood. So.”

“I do not want this,” Obi-Wan reiterates slowly. “I very much am not aboard this plan.”

“Don’t make me invoke the BFFFOC, Obi,” Quinlan threatens.

The BFFFOC, or Best Friend Forever Failsafe Override Code, was thought up between them one night their first year of college. If ever one of them was going down a path that the other deemed unwise, they had the right to invoke the override and talk some sense into them.

“I don’t think me not wanting to dress in a slutty and offensive nurse outfit counts,” Obi-Wan protests loudly.

“It’s not about the costume, Obi, and you know it. It’s about this professor. You know you need to get over him. So get under someone else. I’d offer, but that would be in complete violating of--”

“BFFNBTBT,” Obi-Wan finishes with him, rolling his eyes. “Yes, I recall.”

That one, Best Friends Forever No Below The Belt Touching had been resurrected after a very unfortunate one night stand. The grounds for that code are some of the ones Obi-Wan is still trying to forget.

“Fine,” he snaps and hates himself for it. One day he’ll learn how to say no to Quinlan. “But I’m going with Red Riding Hood.”

“I thought you would!” his friend cheers. “The cape’s long enough to cover more of your upper thighs and you’re a bit of a prude.”

Obi-Wan snatches up the packaged costume from the table. “Fuck off,” he says, quite pleasantly in his opinion. “And I’m not paying you back for this.”

“You should shave,” Quinlan tells him as he turns towards his bedroom. “Really commit to the role!”

Perhaps tonight Obi-Wan will strangle Quinlan with his own length of Indiana Jones whip. The thought puts a smile on his face.

In the end, Obi-Wan does end up shaving. It’s not something he does often, but he’d looked at the costume. The dress doesn’t even come down to his fingertips. The hooded red cape somehow just a little bit longer.

And he thinks making Quinlan wait for thirty minutes while Obi-Wan gets ready is the very least of what he deserves.

Dragging out the process, however, doesn’t magically give Quinlan enough time to realize how stupid this is, because when Obi-Wan peers around the edge of his door, Quin’s on the couch in full Indiana Jones costume regalia, flicking through his phone.

“I look like a pervert’s idea about what Swedish barmaids looked like in the 18th century,” Obi-Wan complains, trying to flatten the hem of the flared out dress as he regretfully leaves the safety of his bedroom.

“That’s what the hood’s for,” Quinlan says sagely, looking up from his phone to take in Obi-Wan. “What, no makeup?”

“I need you to know that my biggest regret in my entire life will always be that I sat next to you on our first day of chem,” Obi-Wan tells him placidly, adjusting the cape around his bare shoulders. He hates to admit it, but the feeling of the inner fabric of the hood feels good against his skin. Soft.

“Oh, don’t say that, Obi, I’m sorry. You’re pretty without makeup.”

“I’m about to throw a punch,” he warns.

Quinlan grins and slings an arm around him. “Well then, looks like it’s time to go.”

----

They slide into two seats at the very crowded bar only thirty or so minutes later. Everyone around them is wearing some sort of costume, some so wild or revealing that Obi-Wan doesn’t even necessarily feel bad about the amount of skin he’s showing off.

Someone walks by in a golden speedo and Obi-Wan takes a gulp of his drink. At least this place does some heavy pours.

Quinlan leans into his ear. “See anyone?” he yells of the din of loud music and voices.

“I see a lot of people,” Obi-Wan reports back immediately.

“One more tongue-in-cheek response out of you, and I’ll make you do tequila shots, young man!”

Obi-Wan narrows his eyes, but then a girl in a french maid costume smiles at him flirtily from across the bar. His first thought is that he likes Professor Skywalker’s smile a lot better. Then he wonders about what Professor Skywalker’s doing tonight, if he likes Halloween. If he’s dressed up. If he’s alone.

“I would like two tequila shots,” he tells the bartender when she passes them.

“Obi-Wan, you shouldn’t have!” Quinlan tosses his arm around his shoulder and pulls him in for an awkward, but enthusiastic hug when the shots arrive.

“They’re both for me,” he responds. “You can choke.”

“You wound me so precisely,” Quinlan shakes his head, and flags down a bartender to order his own. Obi-Wan decides to ignore him, licking at the back of his hand quickly before sprinkling the salt onto the damp skin.

The first shot goes down easily, but he doesn’t even wait ten seconds before he’s brought his hand back to his mouth for another lick.

Halfway through, he looks up at the feeling of eyes staring at him. He follows his own instincts until his eyes latch onto bright, familiar blue ones across the way.

If he’d taken the shot, he would have choked in this moment when confronted with Anakin Skywalker, out of the lecture hall and looking so intensely at Obi-Wan that he feels strangely vulnerable. Examined.

He breaks eye contact with his professor when Quinlan’s arm tightens on his shoulder and he knocks their shot glasses together.

It’s second nature at this point to do shots with Quin, and he drinks his down automatically as his eyes can’t help but to dart back to Anakin--Professor Skywalker--at his table.

He’s sitting alone. Not even that dressed up. Obi-Wan has no feelings about this.

Quinlan, who is frighteningly observant at the worst times, clues into Professor Skywalker’s presence before he thinks he should, after only ten or so minutes have passed. “That guy is staring at you,” he whispers very loudly to Obi-Wan, taking a pointed sip of his newest drink. “Or maybe me, but he sorta looks angry whenever I touch you.”

As if to prove this, Quinlan moves in to place a sloppy kiss on Obi-Wan’s cheek. Obi-Wan can’t shove him off quickly enough.

“Yep, definitely looking at you.” Quinlan concludes. “Looks blond, older than us, but like. Not ancient. What are you thinking? Wanna go over? I think you should, he looks like he’d give you a good time.”

Obi-Wan stares down at his drink. Quinlan doesn’t know what Professor Skywalker looks like. He doesn’t know that he’s actually cajoling Obi-Wan into the arms of the one person he’s set against him seeing. If Obi-Wan were a better friend, he’d tell him. But Obi-Wan isn’t. Obi-Wan’s feeling a little tipsy from the drinks, and his legs are all smooth, and he wants to talk to Professor Skywalker. He wants to see if maybe the man could want him if he’s wearing this. If he looks like this.

“I’m gonna go over and talk to him,” he decides in a rush, already lifting himself out of his seat. Quinlan crows in delight and reaches out to steady him when he stumbles a bit.

Water next, Obi-Wan thinks. He’s going to have water next.

It’s a short trip across the room to where Professor Skywalker is sitting. It just feels longer because of nerves. God, what is he doing? Why is he doing this?

But suddenly he’s at Anakin’s table. Suddenly he’s standing right in front of him, drink clutched in both hands, very aware of how much skin his outfit is showing off.

Anakin’s eyes dart down and the back up again before lingering at the exposed skin of his thighs. If it were anyone else, Obi-Wan would think he’s being checked out, but it’s his professor. And no matter how much Obi-Wan may want Anakin’s eyes to stick on him like a brand, he knows the older man would never want that same thing.

“Professor Skywalker, hello,” he finally says, fiddling with the straw in his drink. A few seconds later, he takes a sip, conscious of the way the man follows this motion. If it were anyone else--

But it’s not.

“Obi-Wan, I’ve told you to call me Anakin,” the professor scolds. “Especially outside of the classroom.”

“Sorry,” he says immediately. “Um. Anakin.”

Anakin’s arm drapes itself over the back of his booth as he sits more comfortably in his chair. “Please, sit.”

“I don’t want to intrude or anything, I just saw you and thought I would say--”

“Obi-Wan, sit,” this is a much clearer instruction. Obi-Wan drops into the other chair. Anakin looks him over again. “I have to admit, I didn’t have you pegged for being into this holiday,” he says roughly. “Or so committed to it.”

Obi-Wan thinks he’s probably blushing as red as his hood. “No, I um. You’re right. My friend, I--he wanted me to come out with him, and he only got me two costumes--I wouldn’t, but he--”

“Indiana Jones?” Anakin cuts in to ask sharply. “Sounds like a bit of a controlling boyfriend if he made you do something you’re not comfortable with.”

There’s an air of protectiveness in Anakin’s voice that makes Obi-Wan feel warm on the inside. Even though the professor couldn’t have been more wrong.

“No, no,” he corrects him anyway, even though a part of him is yelling that Anakin really doesn’t care that much about the details of his personal life. “We’re just friends. And I….”

He trails off, and Anakin arches one of his thick eyebrows in expectancy.

It may be that expression, the knowledge that Obi-Wan could give Anakin the answer he’s looking for, or the drinks in his system, but he finds himself continuing, admitting quite quietly, “I like it.”

Anakin straightens in his seat and takes a long pull of his own drink. “You like it,” he repeats. “Am I to assume you’re just a fan of the fairytale?”

Obi-Wan bites at his lip. He knows he shouldn’t say anything more, but....but they’re so far from the lecture hall here. It’s hard to remember why they shouldn’t talk about this. It’s hard not to let his mind wander to what he would say if the person he was talking to was not his professor, but a man he was interested in spending the night with, someone he was trying to seduce.

He shakes his head shyly.

“I like the hood,” he admits, because once he’s thought of it it’s incredibly difficult not to say it. He hardly even tries, if he’s being honest. “The cape is just long enough I can feel it on my thighs. And I like the skirt and--” he hesitates here, but it’s not called liquid courage for nothing. “The lingerie it came with.”

Anakin freezes with his drink halfway to his mouth. Slowly, he sets it back onto the table again and studies Obi-Wan with darkened eyes. His expression is unreadable and it makes Obi-Wan squirm in his seat.

“Fuck,” Anakin breathes out, the word almost lost to the roar of noise in the bar.

Obi-Wan fidgets in his seat. “Actually, sir,” he says suddenly. “I’m sorry, I should go, I only meant to say hello--”

“You should stay,” the professor interrupts, leaning forward and placing his hand on Obi-Wan’s forearm. The touch is electrifying. “For a drink.”

“Just a drink,” Obi-Wan agrees probably too quickly, a part of him responding to Anakin’s pleading expression perhaps more than it should. “My, what big eyes you have,” he jokes in regards to his professor’s begging look.

“The better to see you with,” Anakin replies immediately. For a second, his hand on Obi-Wan’s arm doesn’t move. Then his thumb strokes over the smooth skin there before he pulls back. “My dear.”

#asks #sorta cuts out right before the good stuff rip #but still!!!#fun to write and easy to write this time!!!#i did almost have obi-wan be a bunny but at the last second i was like lets keep it classic #and just a lil dirty #in this scene anakin is constantly thinking about how many days are left until the semester ends #he's like '2 months it's 2 months you can do this skywalker it's just 2 months'#'oh fuck did he just say he's wearing lingerie???? FUCK TWO MONTHS IT'S ONLY TWO MONTHS'#ta au #obikin #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi

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little-ditsy-dreamer · 3 years

Note

Viktor x mage reader? And being protective of their identity so the wrong people don’t find out and try to use them for the wrong reasons? >:) maybe some angst thrown in there

Oh, I like this idea! Thank you for the request! This will be a 3 part series I believe. You'll get your angst in the following chapters :) Hope this is what you wanted! I'm sorry if this is a lot like that scene from frozen lol.

Warnings: none

Pairing: Viktor x Mage!reader

Being a mage in Piltover was hard enough. But growing up in Zaun was harder. There were often times you wanted to use your powers while growing up to protect yourself, or even to save and heal someone. Your fear of the Counsel finding out was too strong to ever reveal them as a child. Though you knew the beauty your powers could bring too this world, there would also be so many dangers.

You grew up with Viktor. He's been your best friend since the beginning. You both shared the same passion for science as children, so when he asked you to join the academy with him, of course you said yes.

You sit in a small chair, your arms resting on it and your head placed on your arms. The table faced a large window overlooking the city. It was a beautiful night. A few people fumbling around on the streets below, lights shining from across town, and the sky littered with stars.

You've been waiting for Viktor to come up to the lab for almost an hour now. He's usually so punctual. You fiddled with your sleeve and wiggled impatiently. You look behind you, take in your surrounding and make sure no ones around before turning back and lifting your palm up to face the ceiling.

Small blue light shown from your hand before it morphed into the form of the constellations. Wasn't often you were able to use your powers, but when you were able to it was almost reliving. Like you can actually be yourself.

"Y/N?.."

You whip your head around to see a amazed Viktor. You quickly turn to him. "I can explain!" He looks at you and tilts his head. "Who said you need to explain anything to me. I've never seen a real mage before. You seriously think the co-inventor of HexTech is afraid of a little magic? Can... can I see more?"

You look back at him with a look of disbelief. You never expected anyone to ever react so calmly to the power you were born with. But, it was Viktor, and he is right... Maybe it is the era of magic.

You nod and smile, lifting your hand and create smalls stars that spread out into the air. His eyes shine with wonder as he takes in real magic. After a few minutes of showing him some of the things you can do, you finally do your absolute favorite spell.

Both Viktor and your feed begin to lift off the ground. His eyes grow and his mouth turns into a wide smile as he looks up at you. Before long you're both floating through the air, just fooling around and having fun.

You felt so free. Like weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Finally, someone knows who you truly are. But you begin to question if people will really accept you for it. Sure, they love HexTech, but that's controlled but the Counsel. They can't control you.

You look up at him with a serious look. " What do we do about this? About you knowing?" Without looking away from the array of stars scattered across the room he answers "We keep it between the two of us. We keep you safe."

To Be Continued...

#viktor imagine #viktor #arcane #viktor arcane #mage #mage reader

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raekahwritings · 3 years

Text

BNHA Gods AU - Thanatos - Shindou Yo

GODS AU! - What kind of shitty god are you?

Pairing: Shindou You x Reader

Rating: Explicit, NSFW, Minors, DO NOT ENTER.

Warning: NSFW, Mentions of non-consent, slight blood/gore/murder,slight yandere.

Word Count: 2016

Authors Note: This was written in one night, I really wanted to make it in time for this collaboration despite everything going on right now. I hope you all can forgive me since this wasn’t proof read but hopefully you all can enjoy the Gods!AU Shindou!

GODS!AU Collaboration: Please check out the collab here from @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten

The age of gods was long over. They no longer walked this earth. No one worshipped them; they became the words of fiction and stories.

Let the gods guide you.

Live your life well and the gods may reward you.

Do not turn away from the path of good, lest the gods punish you.

Where were the gods when you needed them? When your mother had dressed you up as a pretty doll, when you smiled and jumped in the excitement of a new dress, and when she had shown you to a portly older gentleman. He took you, none-too-gently, and placed a bag of coins into your mother’s palm. She had left brusquely, curtly, and took care not to look you in the eyes.

How long had it been since then? Your childhood had gone by in the mess of yelling, screams, and scullery work. When you were old enough? You now lay on the floor with your clothing strewn apart, dried tears on your face and a voice hoarse from screaming.

This was a life where no gods deigned to visit—this was a place of vileness, sordidness, and loathsome men. You were nothing more than a commodity to them—they had no qualms about leaving you on this dirty floor.

God, you had prayed so many times. Save me.

You’d been delivered to them, lent like broken toy until they called the brothel master to fetch you.

You had been defiled too many times to believe that any God would help you now.

Where were you? What had they consecrated this time? They had laughed and they had jeered while you had cringed at the blasphemy they spewed. They had taken their belts to mark you, left you bleeding, and then poured acridly old liquid, “—better hope this fucking holy water works.”

“They would laugh at this.” You blinked away the tears, blinked to see the dormant idolatry of Thanatos nearby. You scrabbled at the ground, trying to find a perch to lay your hands on so you could get up. You winced at seeing the dried blood and spilt fluids. If there was a moment for Thanatos to judge you, this would be now.

But would he?

Gods had come and gone, with nary a care. You tried to stand, tried to ignore the mess they had made, and you glared at the idolatry. “You didn’t stop this.” You pointed to the empty room – “You’re supposed to be some merciless, hateful god of death.” You scoffed, knowing it was pathetic. Here you were, reaching a level of desperation to talk to some useless piece of stone and an empty room like it would answer you. But all the resentment, anger, and bitterness spewed out – here and now— you hissing, “You’re a fucking piece of shit god.”

And yet.

“If my life was enough of a price, would you come here and now? Or am I too dirty for someone like you? You want a precious little girl, an innocent naïve little sheep?” You furiously took the idol, glaring before slamming it as hard as you could to the floor. Take that, you fucker.

You watched the idol shatter into pieces, the useless stone rolling away. You should fear your own blasphemy and yet… satisfaction had you feeling smug.

“My, my, that doesn’t seem very nice.”

Holy fuck. You whipped around—the room was empty. When had someone come in? You nearly screamed at the mysterious voice, your arms reaching out to blindly shove at the culprit while you stumbled backwards.

A masculine hand caught your arm, tsking at you and he emerged from the shadows with a disappointed look. You nearly fell backwards but his iron clasp had you standing upright.

“Who are you?” Shock and fear colored your tone, the smugness was fleeting as you look to the door, a door that hadn’t budged since the scraggle of men had left earlier. How did he get in? You looked at him, swallowing nervously, your gaze flitting up and down to make out this stranger in the darkness.

“You called me and yet, you still ask me?” He stepped further into the firelight… You looked up at this dizzyingly tall man, you could make out the messy, dark locks framing his chiseled face. But more so, you found yourself staring into eyes the color of pure jade. He was far too handsome, his features bold and brooding, the stubble on his face giving him a heathenish look. He was broad and lean, the muscles of his arms and chest visible through his disheveled shirt.

Someone who made you stop breathing.

“No.” You breathed— “You’re lying.” You called no one, he was here to take you back to the brothel, you tried to wrench your hand pathetically away. He couldn’t fool you, no matter how handsome he was.

“Calm down.” He pulled you into his chest, you were the one falling forward as he stopped your mewling struggles. You heard those words countless times; it had always preceded the acrid smell of chloroform…

“I don’t want to go back.” You choked out, letting your wrists fall slack. “I don’t want this.”

His voice lilted up, questioning. “Go back where?” You could almost believe the sincerity in his voice, the confusion, the perplexity of the situation. But people loved playing with you, toying with you in these games— men liked playing with women as if it were a game of cat and mouse. You curled your fingers into your palms, once again trying to suppress any kindle of hope—because you inevitably always were sold back.

Meanwhile, Thanatos, the god you had summoned with your blood, piety, and holy water—looked heavenwards in frustration. “Girl, speak your name.” He commanded—you answered obediently.

How? You didn’t mean to answer him.

“I am Thanatos. Now speak plainly. I’ve heard your desperate cry for help, for vengeance.” He leaned back against the stone table, tugging you into his lap. “Now can we dispense with the formalities? I’d much rather you call me Shindou instead.” You found yourself caged in—your chest against his bare one as he gestured for you to look up. “You summoned me. And while I normally ignore mortals…” He let his hand fall loosely to your back—you stiffened, squirming—as his calloused fingers brushed against the filth on your skin, the torn scraps of fabric that hid nothing from his gaze.

“I was personally interested in this offering of yours.” You stilled. There had been no one in the room with you to hear your vitriol words—but this was the temple of Thanatos. Could it be? “Oh. You don’t believe me?” You looked doubtful. Well he couldn’t blame you. His lips curved, expecting this reaction. He waved a hand in the air, letting the firelights flicker to black and purple flames, letting it dance across the room hauntingly for you. You watched transfixed. “But parlor tricks? A dime a dozen.” He said dismissively. He tapped the table, a prompt for the shadows around you to contort menacingly and snaking up your legs.

You jumped more into his arms, away from the strangely prying and invasive shadows as it crawled disturbingly high up your body.

“Girl, they’re simply an extension of me.” You could hear the humor in his tone, see the shadows snake away as he chuckled at your close contact with him. “But I suppose I can be nice for a bit.” He let the darkness recede and the orange firelight to flicker back.

“Now that’s settled, may I discuss your price?” You… took a moment to blink, to really focus on him. Something about him, the closer you were, was making your senses hazy. He seemed to realize, crooning gently to you. “Oh baby, I know gods are supposed to be tempting to mortals and all that but where’s the little spitfire that threw a little tantrum at me? I quite enjoyed it.”

The haze dissipated a bit. You… had thrown down the idolatry, you had committed blasphemy in the actual face of a god. You wanted to die, the shame overwhelming you. Thanatos—no, Shindou simply laughed though—“Baby, don’t think of me as one of the pious assholes. I don’t need you to prostrate yourself to me and those hopeless,” he waved at the ostentatious ornaments adorning the room, “piece of shit, ugly crap of me. I’m a lot more handsome in person, don’t you think?” You couldn’t disagree.

This kind of man—God, you corrected yourself—exuded charisma, aura, sexuality that vibrated with your own being. Like you were made for him, your body melted against his light touch.

“Demon got your tongue? I can fix that.” Shindou cradled the side of your face, leaning in to press a kiss. You gasped, giving him an opportunity for his tongue invade your mouth—ravishing and giving you no air to breathe. He reached down to anchor your hips against his, drawing you more into his lap and letting his hardness press into your dampened, slickened ache between your thighs.

But you were dirty and filthy. You pushed him, and he let you, you knew his strength far outstripped yours. “I can’t.” You shook your head. “You must’ve seen what happened…” It wasn’t just one disgusting man, it was many who had left you sticky and ruined with their fluids on your unwilling body.

Even now.

“Seriously? Shindou sighed. He tutted at you like a child—which as a mortal, you must’ve been. “I came all this way out for your offering, for this delectable and luscious body and you dare to impugn me with your sense of shame?” He cocked his head. “Like I didn’t know? All those men…” He parted your legs, let the sticky fluid drip. “All those men, and they didn’t break your spirit. You come to me, fiery and burning with revenge, and I answered your call. What could be more attractive than this?” Albeit… Shindou did frown. “I don’t care for those worms to mark what’s mine. I guess they all have to die, wont they?”

Your eyes widened… your words caught. You wanted to protest—the mocking feeling of horror should’ve come at the thought of such senseless murder and death…. But you could only feel the sense of relish, of pure desire to see the blood of your captors. You bit your lips, futilely trying to hide your anticipation and eagerness.

“Ah, that’s my girl. I knew you and I would get along.” Shindou pulled down the rags of your dress, watched your nubile body pull close to his and you shivered—his hardness grinded against you—a god like this wanted you. You could hardly believe it. You whimpered as he bit down your throat, bit at the junction of your shoulders while you bled. He licked the bloody trail down your ample breasts, swirling his hot tongue around the hardened peaks and making you arch in muted pleasure.

“Oh no, you can’t stay quiet.” He let the shadowy tendrils return, let it wrap around your throat and craning your neck backwards. His hands traced over your slickened breasts, pinching, pulling, vibrating as you screamed in pleasure and pain. “Sounds quite nice.” He mused, condescendingly. His hands eventually travelled to your taut thighs, teasing the inside of them, and drawing them further apart. His fingers brushed against the dirty cum—he didn’t care for it but he supposed he’d just have to fuck you enough so you’d be dripping with his own cum—all the more reason to cleanse this lustful, vengeful darling of a human.

He had waited for someone like you. Other gods deigned to have their innocent little virgins on their sacrificial alter.

He wanted a tainted, corrupted human whose lust rivalled their desire for revenge—a human he could turn into his little fuck toy of a god, one who would stand by his side as he ruled over mayhem, murder, and death. Preferably, begging for his cock and drunk on cum – not a bad start, he mused. Not a bad start.

#shindou you #shindo yo #bnha x reader #bnha smut #gods!au #boku no hero academia #boku no hero #fanfiction #boku no hero fanfic #shindou yo x reader #shindo yo x reader #raekah #bnha fanfiction #fanfic

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iwantutobehapppier · 3 years

Text

Our Future

Pairing: Dark Steve Roger x reader

Summary: You left Steve after he did the unforgivable. But what lengths will he go to to make you forgive him?

Warnings: +18 only, smut, dark themes, sex pollen, dubious consent cause ya know, implied cheating, dark Steve Rogers, dark avengers. Please if any of this bothers you read no further.

Word Count: 2.924

A/N: Happy 7th night of Chanukah! It’s almost to the end! Can you believe it?! Thank you everyone who has read, and reblogged. It means the world to me! Hope you enjoy this nice Dark Steve Rogers fic. Shout out to the ever talented @imanuglywombat for helping bounce some ideas off on this one I didn’t know totally where to go and she helped me find my way.

Trying best to hid your wince you hold your dislocated arm close to you to ease any jarring as you make your way up the ramp into the Quinjet. You’re fairly certain you’re bleeding somewhere if the wetness you feel in your suit is any indication. All you wanted to do was get back to the compound, see medical, then make your way to SHIELD Strike quarters with some good narcos.

“Let me see your arm,” you could break glass with the intensity your jaw clenches at the sound of his voice.

“I’d rather let it fall off,” Steve sighed at your clipped tone, he moves to reach to your arm to set it but you jerk away. Unable to hold in the grunt of pain. Steve frowns at your stubbornness

“I don’t want you touching me,” adamant to solidify your words you take a seat.

“Fine be in pain see if I care,” he stomps off not missing your muttering “You never did care.”

Steve could admit that gutted him. His steps faltered for a fraction. He cared for you more than his own life, more than stupid missions. Sometimes he was just a fucking idiot with women. He’d find a way to fix it though.

Squaring his shoulders he keeps walking to the pilot seat, sitting next to Bucky in the co-pilot seat who side-eyes him. “You gonna leave her like that?”

“She won’t let me touch her,” Buckling himself in he tries his best to keep the pain at bay. Was it really that bad that he couldn’t even set your shoulder back? You’d just sit there in pain than even have him touch you?

He knew you would be mad at him for a while but he figured after 3 months some of your ire would wane.

“Hm,” Bucky watches Steve start up the QuinJet controls, “well can you blame her?”

“Told you not to let her catch you,” he flicks Steve’s ear who tries to swat the hand away, “ever,” Bucky’s condescending tone the same he’d been hearing for months on end since the incident.

“Please don’t start too.” Bucky shrugs flipping switches in response to Steve’s prepping the Quinjet for take off.

Bucky turns his head back, catching your figure way in the back, head tilted down. Your slowed heart rate indicating you’d fallen asleep. He turns back to Steve.

“Now you’ve fucked it by letting her catch you with a side piece,” Steve can’t help but roll his eyes, if Bucky went on about this one more time he was liable to punch his best friend unconscious.

“I wouldn’t start if you’d not fucked this up,” Steve grunts wishing for this conversation to not start-up once more, “how long did I have to hear you going on and on about wanting her?”

“I offered my help,” Bucky bobbed his head back and forth in mock “But no the Great Steve Rogers had to woo her.” He scoffs, resituating himself in his seat.

“My side piece? The girl was yours after all.” Steve recalls for Bucky.

“Yeah well let’s be thankful she didn’t know that when she caught you balls deep in her.” there’s a soft snort from you and they both look back catching their breath. They were fairly certain you hadn’t heard anything, but still...

“All I’m saying is fix it,” Bucky grumbles in a whisper looking directly at his pal, “Cause if I have to hear you whine about not being with her one more time-”

“Yeah I get it, Buck,” Steve sighed looking back at you once more.

Once you’re all back at the compound Steve is hot on your tail following you toward medical. You wanted to scream at him but with your loss of blood, still not sure where from, and the pain in your shoulder you didn’t have any fight left in you.

Steve should have headed his buddy’s words of giving you more space but he was unwilling to be apart any longer. You just had to forgive him and let it go. Simple as that. He’d make sure you saw it that way too. It’s not like you knew about all the other times.

A nurse sees you before you can say anything and you’re ushered into a room the door shutting in Steve’s face. Your snide smile makes his hands ball up.

Pushing his thumb to the entry bad you stick your tongue out when it blares at him denied entry. Of course, you would have made sure FRIDAY knew to keep him away from you. He’d get in. He could see through the partially closed vertical blinds making out your figure removing your gear and uniform. Licking his lips at the outline of your breasts.

It had been too long since he’d had sex. None of the other girls did it for him anymore, knowing you weren’t at home waiting for him to go another round with. He had to get in.

Looking at the pad he types in the override code and smiles in triumph with the door slides open for him to come in, shutting after his entry.

Turning around after finally getting the gown on provided for you, you hiss at the sight of him “Why don’t you bother whatever whore’s bed you crawled out of today?”

“I am not sleeping-”

“I don’t really care Steven.” the resignation in your voice when you interrupt him leaves him speechless. You had been mad at him, that’s all he had seen since that night. Just your fire.

“I’m not the one who stepped out of our relationship,” You squeezed your eyes tight trying to will the overbearing oaf out of your life.

“That’s not fair, as far I knew you-” Eyes snapping open at his pathetic excuses you whipped around, finger-pointing. Steve couldn’t help but inhale the smell of your shampoo at the quick turn. God, he missed you.

“I what? Slept with some dude?” Your fingernail presses into his chest, not caring that he couldn’t feel it through his suit, “Well, I didn’t but you couldn’t listen to me so you went,” you jab your finger into his chest feeling the anger flash through you as if it was that night all over again “and got your dick wet with one of those SHIELD trainees.”

Saving you from this hell the nurse comes in with supplies to tend to your wound and reset your shoulder. You step away from Steve to fall onto the bed, the nurse starting on the gash across your abdomen.

”Go” The soft defeat in your voice, turning your to the side catching his gaze from the corner of your eyes.

“I want to be here,” he makes a step towards you, ignoring the way you hiss at the antiseptic being applied makes his stomach turn. He never did enjoy seeing you uncomfortable, it reminded him of his younger years feeling helpless.

“Please,” You whimper, “If you love or ever loved me you’ll leave me alone.” looking at the nurse you try to convey your apologies for the awkward situation you put her in

“I’ve always loved you,” you can barely find it in you to scoff in disbelief at his words, just so tired of this back and forth.

“Sure have a fucked up way of showing it.”

He knew he had to leave, the finality in your tone let him know there was no moving you. Just yet.

Four weeks, he didn’t see you for four weeks. It was making him irritable, he doesn’t have to talk to you but to at least see your face even with the surly look you give him now would be enough. But nothing for four weeks.

“If you sigh one more time I’m gonna blast a hole through your chest,” Tony declared pointing the blaster cannon he’s tinkering with at Steve.

“I mean you can find another girl right?” Bruce offers before Bucky can stop him, scrambling in his chair. The four of them sitting in Tony’s lab relaxing, having guy time. Well, now it’s just friends’ time. It used to be guy time when he had you.

“No, don’t-” Bucky buries his face in his hands resting elbows on his knees after seeing Steve’s face scrunch up.

“Find another girl?” Steve lamented. Oh if it was so simple.

“Well fuck now you started it.” Bucky groans into his hands. He had just gotten him to agree to getting out of the apartments and spending time with some people.

“What?” Bruce looks around confused at his suggestion. It seemed reasonable, there is plenty of fish in the sea as they say.

“I can’t just find another girl like her, she’s one of a kind. Full of fire and passion but nurturing. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted. But she won’t talk to me,” Steve cards his fingers through his hair messing up the perfectly comb style. “I know if I could get her just have an honest conversation we could work past this.”

“Maybe if you had some HYDRA truths serum you could get her to talk,” Bucky sits up straight sure Steve is done for now.

“Why not give her the serum?” Bruce offers nonchalantly.

“The serum?” Steve raises an eyebrow.

“Dude!” Tony reprimands Bruce who has the audacity to look confused by Tony’s displeasure

“It’s just this thing we made,” Tony opens his mouth before Bruce can start. “Nothing just gets someone to express their thoughts as they come to them and cannot stop.”

“A truth serum.” Bucky offered.

“Nooo,” Tony rolls his eyes, “it’s just a serum that makes them… talk.” Bruce looks at Tony in confusion.

“That’s not the one I meant,” Bruce looks at Tony not picking up on his eyes shifting and grimace to get Bruce to stop talking.

“The one you call ‘Sex Pollen’,” Bucky tried to hide his chuckle with a cough, but Tony catches it glaring at him.

Steve stands up and marches to stand in front of Bruce who looks up at him. “UUh,”

“Show me.” Bruce can only nod at the authority in Steve’s voice.

“What a pushover,” Tony mutters going back to tinkering with his hand blaster. Bruce scampers away to return quickly with a vial.

“It lowers the progesterone and raises estrogen, but the only caveat is the hormones don’t level out until, well,” Bruce stutters trying to explain.

“Until you cum in her, mouth, pussy, ass anywhere,” Tony supplies, Steve’s brow raise, and Bucky stands up in curiosity. They all surround Bruce’s hand holding out the vial.

“Just a little bit,” Tony instructs, “And she’ll be crying for your cock.” All four men stare at the vial with varied interests. More so pride on Tony’s part. “It also makes them fertile as fuck so if you don’t want a baby don’t finish where you can have one.”

Tony chuckled to himself recalling a memory he fails to share. “That’s kind of how we got Morgan.”

“If you don’t give her what she needs, though, her body temperature will climb and well,” Bruce flusters himself trying to explain without being so technical.

“Boiled brain,” Tony finishes watching Steve grab the vial.

“Only about 3 drops bud,” Tony calls out to Steve’s retreating figure.

Steve heard him but his mind was focused on a plan to get you back. Using this he’d easily seduce you, show you why the two of you were so good together and leave a little present in your body tying him to you forever.

Yeah, this would work just fine.

Steve couldn’t believe his luck, you had left your quarters and he was able to slip in, put three drops in a water bottle on the kitchen he knew you’d finish soon.

Then he waited. It wasn’t 20 minutes later that he was knocking on your door upon your return. You were already flushed when you answered. He knew you had drunk the water, if not all of it.

“St-Steve?” You questioned, you had been doing so well not seeing him or knowing he even existed. It had helped so much in cooling your temper. However, it wasn’t to say you did miss him. You missed him something fierce when you were alone in bed using your toys. Toys that never compared to what Steve could do for you.

Eyeing his physique in front of you now was temping enough. The tight shirt showing his pecks and muscles hidden underneath, your eyes trailed down to the sweat pants sitting low on his hips. You had no shame licking your lips at the sight. Maybe you should have rubbed one out this morning?

Gripping the door frame tight you felt shivers run up and down your spine, centering in your underwear where you could feel growing dampness.

Steve,” you repeated, not failing to notice the way his eyes trail up and down your body. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles, pushing his way in, you stumble back giving him full entry into your living space. One part of you says to push him out but the other says to feel his pecs. Shaking your head you repeat yourself. “What are you doing here?”

Steve says your name, it’s deep, masculine, and soaking in desire. You teetered on your feet.

“You feeling okay baby girl?” he catches you in his grasp, though you weren’t really running. His arm around your back, the other holding your hip.

You try to speak but your throat feels suddenly too dry. Eyeing the water bottle on the counter Steve grabs it, keeping one arm behind your back, and hands it to you.

“Go on,” His eyes trained on your lips as you take the bottle to your mouth. You drink and Steve watches the way your throat moves with each swallow. Just as you’re about to take the bottle from your lips Steve tips the bottom of the bottle up making you swallow the remaining contents.

You keep eye contact even as he sets the bottle back down, his thumb running over your bottom lip collecting missed water. Without thinking your mouth opens and you twirl your tongue around his thumb. Collecting the remains.

“Such a good baby girl,” He purrs, your hands on their own accord trail up his shirt, nails dragging along the defined muscles.

“Yeah, you missed me huh?” You begin to nod your head but something shakes you from your stupor. Your eyes widen, hands on his chest begin to push trying to get him away but that only makes him pull you in against his chest.

Your head tilted up, looking at him with growing fear. “What-” you try to think clearly. “What did you do?”

“I only did what I had to,” His eyes shift to the side for a brief moment and when you look over you see the water bottle.

“Did you drug me?” Your words slur, and your hands that were once pushing him away began kneading his muscles under them.

Steve slides his hand down your back to cup your ass. Two fingers dipping between your butt cheeks and pushing you to your toes. When your body rocks against him you can feel his erection pressing into you.

“Its gonna be okay,” He coos, you fight the sensations pushing through, Your desire to rub up against him, the way his fingers feel so good pushing against your ass. A soft mewl pulls at your lips, feeling his chest rub against yours, nipples pebbling with arousal.

He flips you around holding your back to his chest, hands sliding down your sides to pull your shorts and underwear down. One hand cupping your mound, he groans at the dampness against your mound, You certainly had made a mess.

Tony wasn’t lying about this ‘sex pollen’.

“What did you do?” your voice softer than you want it to be. You should be screaming but your body is responding completely contradictory to how you want it to. When he pushes on your back sending your chest forward he doesn’t relieve the pressure until you’re bending in half.

“I’m reminding you how much you need me,” He pushes his sweats down to under his balls. He didn’t wear any boxers for this, no he wanted to be ready to enter you as soon as he could.

He leans back to groan at the sight of your pussy dripping with arousal. Oh, he may have to start giving you a drop of this every day if you were ready so quickly every time.

You moan when he drags his knuckles up and down your slit, admiring the way you rock on your tiptoes and back down pushing his cock against your ass. You knew you were asking him something but for the life of you, you couldn’t recall. All on your mind is how you can feel the heat of his fat cock behind you, the tip rubbing against your ass cheeks.

“What..?” You speak out, your subconscious trying to push through.

“I’m making sure you won’t leave me again baby,”

“No,” you mewl, upset at the thought of leaving him. Not when he makes you feel so good.

“It’s okay though,” he comforts you, gently caresses your sides before lining his cock to your entrance.

He pushes in grunting at the way you grip him, it had been so long since he’d be in you, and from the feel of your tightness it had been just as long for you to take anything inside.

“I’m securing our future.”

#dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x you #Dark!Steve Rogers #Dark avengers #dark fic #smut #sex pollen

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powdermelonkeg · 3 years

Text

Missing Links: A New Hyrule

This story has a prequel called Secrets in the Breeze! Go check it out!

My Missing Links

Wind took a deep breath, savoring the scent of the breeze as blew by. It had been awhile since he'd smelled salt in the air.

It was good to be back near the ocean.

One by one, the other heroes came through the portal, which shut behind them with a blue flash. Hyrule looked at Wind curiously. "Do...you recognize this place?"

"Nope!" Wind spun around with a bright smile. "But we’re near the sea! That’s always a good sign!”

“I beg to differ,” Legend muttered, taking note of his surroundings.

It wasn’t much. They stood atop a cliff that overlooked the sea-bordering countryside, with a sparse collection of villages tucked into the nooks of the nation. But what caught the pink-haired hero’s attention most was the network of golden roads that stretched across the land, leading towards a grand tower far inland.

In the shadow of the massive building stood a castle; one the young man immediately recognized, which threw the whole tower into proportion.

It was...big.

“So, here’s the plan.”

The redheaded man slapped a map against a tree, stabbing it through with his hairpin to keep it in place. He snapped his fingers, and the circuits of his prosthetic hand lit up in timeshift blue. “We came in here,” he said, drawing a glowing X over a place in the north of the Forest Realm. “The loser that stole my control slate ran off, and we got lost chasing him. So now we’re down here.” He circled Whittleton Village.

Fox watched the hero explain with wide eyes, fixated on his glowing fingertips.

“The guy could be anywhere,” he continued. “HOWEVER, if he knows how to calibrate it right, he probably has a map updated on the slate. And if he knows what the slate does, which he has to in order to pull a stunt like he did twice in a row, then he’d head for Hyrule Castle.” Taps drew an arrow towards the castle and tower in the distance. “We’ve already lost a day just getting out of Lost Woods. He’s probably way ahead of us if we travel on foot. But if we use one of the minecart guardians people drive around here...” He traced his finger along the minecart tracks that stretched across the land. “We can probably beat him there, as long as we catch one within the next couple hours.”

He spun to face his companion, clicking the drawing rune off. “Any questions?

Fox’s hand shot in the air. “Mr. Link? How does your arm work?”

Taps gave him a flat look. “Timeshift-powered output core.” He gave his prosthetic a solid pat. “Sheikah tech. Not what we were talking about. Any relevant questions?”

“...Well...” Fox rubbed the back of his head. “The...guardian things...they take passengers, right?” He looked at the hero with big eyes. “So, don’t they charge rupees?”

Taps paused. He hadn’t considered that. “...We can stow away.”

“Absolutely not.” The Hytopian put his hands on his hips sternly. “These people have lives to live outside of us. It’s wrong to steal labor from them.”

“They’re not GONNA have lives to live if this timeline gets screwed with by my slate!”

“Then we should get money fast, shouldn’t we?”

Taps’ eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms. “I didn’t exactly bring my wallet with me when I got yanked through time and space. You plan on selling your extra clothes for it?”

Fox gasped in horror, hugging his bulky luggage. “Never!”

“Well then. Not that big a problem, is it?”

Fox bit his lip. “...Give me one hour,” he finally said. “If I can’t earn us enough rupees for a trip by then, then we can talk about stowing away.”

Taps rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He held up a metal finger. “You’ve got one hour.”

Legend walked along the strange track, examining the golden triangles beneath his feet as he followed the rails. The power in them tugged at his attention, no matter how hard he tried to look away.

What were they?

“Hey.” An elbow dug into his shoulder. “Hyrule to Link, are you there?”

Legend side-eyed the offender crossly. “No.”

“Well then,” Warriors replied, smirking. “I guess that means I get your share of lunch.”

“You touch my apple pie and you find out exactly what my medallions do.”

“Ouch. Touchy.” He followed Legend’s line of sight down to the ground. “Must be an interesting road.”

Legend nodded, looking back at the tracks. “They’re...powerful,” he said, gesturing to them. “They radiate magic, and they feel...Hylian. Like they’re alive.”

Twilight shuddered. “I certainly hope they’re not,” he said, giving Epona a pat. “The last thing I want to worry about is living roads.”

WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

The Chain jumped in unison at the loud sound, attention forcefully torn from the Spirit Tracks at their feet.

Off in the distance, blurred by a shimmer of heat, a steam-powered machine charged down the tracks at breakneck speed. With a frown, Twilight whipped out his Hawkeye mask to get a better look.

It was HUGE; it had to be at least as tall as three horses standing on top of each other. As it rounded the bend and headed towards them, he got a good look at its segments—a house, a tray, and a cannon?

Twilight squinted, adjusting the mask’s scope. “What in Farore’s name...”

“What is it?” Time asked, raising an eyebrow.

“...Some kind of mechanical caravan.” Twilight concluded after a moment of thought, lowering the mask. “And it’s not stopping. We should move.”

WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

“NOW.”

Quickly, the group got off the tracks, giving them a WIDE distance.

As the steam-powered beast approached, it let out a shrill, screeching noise, causing the heroes to clamp their hands over their ears in pain until it finally rolled to a stop with a pressurized hiss.

Time slowly lowered his hands, shaking off an involuntary shiver at the redead-esque noise. “Everyone alright?”

Hyrule groaned, rubbing his ears sorely. “I think I finally feel bad for DIgdogger...”

“We’re fine,” Four answered. “I’m going to have a headache for the next week and a half, though...”

“Tell me about it...what even WAS that?” Wind asked, scrunching up his eyes as he popped the pressure in his ears.

“‘Hoy!”

The seafarer suddenly snapped to attention at the familiar greeting.

“’Hoy!”

Link leaned out of the engine cab and waved to the band of...soldiers.

They had to be soldiers, right? They had swords and armor. Maybe there was a ceremony or something coming up.

One of the group, a young-looking boy in blue, waved back to him. “‘Hoy, stranger!”

“Everything alright?” Link called. “You look kind of...lost.”

The group looked between each other. “We kind of are,” another one said, a heavily-scarred one with a long ponytail. “Can you tell us where we are?”

“Just west of Whittleton. Where are you trying to go?”

“Hyrule Castle town,” the most heavily armored one replied. “Is it far from here?”

Link looked the group over critically. “...Not really. It’s a 20 minute ride by train. Can I ask who you guys are?”

“An orchestra!” The kid that had initially greeted him exclaimed.

“...An orchestra.”

“Yep!” He pulled out his baton. “See, I’m a conductor, and he’s got a harp, and he’s got an ocarina...”

“What are you playing, then?” Link said, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh-”

“Song of the Hero,” the friendly-looking one in the white cape supplied. “It’s a classic.”

“...Right.” Link held back a sigh, feeling like this was going to be trouble. He could just leave them...

...But this was Bulblin territory. He’d feel bad.

He could just tell the guard captain to be on the lookout once he got to Hyrule Castle. That’d keep them in line, right?

“...Do you guys want a lift?”

The train ride was such a change from walking everywhere. Granted, it had been difficult to convince Epona to climb into the passenger car with them, and Legend was sharing a VERY uncomfortable stare with a fluffle of rabbits gathered at his feet. But, for the vast majority of the heroes, it was a chance to rest their legs and watch the scenery fly by.

And it was incredible.

The only comparable thing Wind had seen in his travels was speeding around on Linebeck’s steamboat, and even that required him to be focused on not running into barrels and sandbars.

This, though? It was smooth. The train ran in a straight line, zooming by acres and acres of land without so much as a bump in the wrong direction, with endless ocean through one side of the car and towering mountains through the other. Thinking fast, he pulled out his pictobox and snapped a few shots as he went along.

When the train made its first stop, the screeching sound was notably more bearable through the barriers of the cabin walls. It still made Hyrule wince, but it was a far cry from the veritable scream they’d had to endure before.

As it finally came to a full stop, the engineer that’d picked them up peered into the cabin. “Nobody get up yet, we’re not here. I’m just picking up some more passengers.”

Time raised an eyebrow. “You do this kind of thing often?”

The stranger gave him a deadpan look. “Nope. Never in my life.” Without another word of explanation, he shut the door.

Time stared after him, taken aback.

Had he just....been sassed?

A moment later, the back door of the cabin opened, and two new passengers entered.

“I told you I could pay fare!”

“Yeah, yeah. Still think we could have saved money.”

They sat in the back seat, bickering quietly and, to Legend’s relief, attracting the fluffle away from him. As the train resumed its travel down the road, he found himself listening in to their conversation.

“-plan once we get there?”

“We start looking. Duh.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”

“Look, if someone uses it, we’ll know. It’s not exactly an easy thing to- ...hide.”

Curious at what had made the newcomer trail off, Legend looked back at them over his shoulder.

The redhead—the one who had ended the conversation—was staring at Wild in shock.

The pink-haired one, on the other hand, Legend recognized instantly. His head spun; the Chain had only just gotten the means to time travel themselves, how had the Hytopian guy with the friendship tokens-?!

Feeling Legend’s gaze on him, Fox looked up, unnerved, then froze in shock as he came to the same conclusion Legend did.

I know you. You shouldn’t BE here.

Suddenly, the train heaved, throwing everyone out of their seats. The once-smooth ride came to an abrupt halt as the train derailed, skidding across the raw ground with a terrifying SCREECH before grinding to a halt and tilting precariously. Twilight and Wild both scrambled to grab Epona and brace her as the car finally tipped, landing on its side with a crash.

Silence hung in the air for one brief, panic-laced second.

Then, in an instant, the redheaded stranger shoved his companion out the back door and vaulted over the cabin seats, barreling into Wild and leaping for the front door. As Wild was abruptly yanked out of his daze, he spotted the Sheikah Slate in the thief’s hand before the redhead made his escape.

Fox stared at Taps as he ran outside. “What are you doing?!”

“Shut up, I’m focusing!” Taps said, frantically clicking through the slate. “Where is it, this layout is atrocious-”

“Did you just steal the-”

“He had my control slate!”

“They had SWORDS!”

“So do we!” Taps stopped on a screen, and sighed in relief. “Finally!” With a blue flash, he summoned his Divine Beast, wasting no time in clambering on board. “Come on, get on!”

“But my clothes-”

“HEY!”

The two time travelers looked over as Wild emerged from the train car to shame mankind, eyes blazing with fury as he raced towards them.

Fox squeaked in alarm, quickly leaping onto the Divine Beast and clinging to Taps. “Drive, DRIVE!”

Wild did his best to give chase as the duo sped off, but his mortal Hylian legs couldn’t keep up with the ingenuity of Sheikah technology. Before his very eyes, two complete strangers fled into the distance with his Divine Beast.

Link picked himself up off the ground, clutching his ribs in pain as he raced back towards his toppled train.

He had so many people on board, he had a horse back there. If any of them were hurt—

Without a moment’s thought for himself, he threw the cabin door open. “Is everyone okay?!”

Everyone jolted, reaching for their weapons in panic, when suddenly, there was a yelp of pain from the back seat.

Sky clutched his stung hand as he dropped the Master Sword, staring at the engineer in shock.

“You’re...one of us.”

#i. am not revising this any more.#i'm aware that it's not my best work but this was difficult.#AAAAAAAAAAAA #anyways. enjoy #missing links chapter 1!#for those unaware #taps is the hero from the botw tapestry #fox is the faux hero from triforce heroes #and the engineer...yeah. spirit tracks #loz #zelda #spirit tracks #missing links is FINALLY #FINALLY UP #botw #linked universe #i need to practice more #the chain gets robbed #fanfiction

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harveywritings92 · 3 years

Text

BNHA Dad scenario: You get your quirk! 2

Izuku: [You inherited your grandmother's quirk, you can telepathically pull objects towards you, but your is a tad bit stronger then hers.]

He was worried when you didn't show any signs of having a Quirk, and was mentally panicking that you'll wind up singled out like he was growing up! Of course today that was all going to change Izuku was taking a nap, when he heard something topple over, his green eyes opened as he looked over and saw you weren't sitting in front of the TV watching cartoons, he sat up now fully awake. "Y/n?" called out looking around the living room for his four year old.

then heard something fall in the kitchen. "Y/N!" Izuku jumped from the couch and ran into the kitchen to find you sitting on floor, mouth and hands covered chocolate with snack cake & cookie wrappers surrounding you; whimpering and holding your stomach, obviously not feeling well... Izuku was about to scold you for sneaking into the snack cupboard! But paused when he realized the snack cupboard was on top of the fridge... Way too high for you to reach. "Y/n, how did you get those cupcakes?"

You looked at him like a deer in the headlights... before turning green in the face and throwing up all the snacks you had stolen, causing your broccoli haired dad to briefly forget about what he was inquiring, pick you up and rush you to the bathroom!

He made sure you were on empty and got you in the bath and than cleaned the kitchen, he then went checked on you... just in time to see you telepathically pulled a bottle of bubble-bath off the shelf towards the tub, ready to pour it all out! only for him to grab it at the last second. "Nice try..." He huffed giving you a stern look, yes he's happy you weren't Quirkless, but that didn't mean you were off the hook for raiding the snack cupboard!

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Shoto: [Your mom's Quirk is called Cyclone breath, she can breath in air and blow out powerful winds, His ice half combined with her wind quirk, Creating yours: Frost-breath, which is pretty powerful on it's own, the only downside is that just like your mom if you over use it, you get asthma like symptoms, so you gotta carry around an inhaler.]

Your family had sat down to dinner, you were having mac and cheese, but it was little to hot so naturally you did the logical thing and blew on it! both your parents flinched at the sudden drop in temperature they looked at each other, then at you to see you gawking down at your now frozen dinner shock, giving them both this help me look.

It took a lot of training with your mom to figure out how breathe with without turning everything in front of you into a skating rink! It sucks you got to carry around an inhaler around now, but ever since your quirk manifested it been harder to breathe without it, That Your older cousin [Dabi kid.] and her creepy friend {Shigaraki kid} seemed love using you as their personal Air conditioner and popsicle maker in the summer despite your uncle Dabi telling them to stop!

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Warning here: Hawks scenario is fricking long! Cos my lazy but decided to combined two ideas into one, it might as well be it's own one shot!

________

Hawks: [Technically You inherited your mom's quirk Cheshire, it's a teleportation quirk it kinda works like.... um, If anyone played God of War 4, It's like how the dwarves can slip between realms, like people can see it, but their minds can't properly comprehend it, so it just look like your walking behind a tree, only to be seen coming out from behind a flagpole a few feet opposite the way you were just walking, however you also have little red wings on top of your head.

that are pretty much useless, but they're the only thing (aside from his eyebrows) that you got from your dad, Which Hawks finds adorable especially when they flap up and down when your happy or puff up when your angry.]

You ran away from home some bullies at school and your mean babysitter had convinced you that you weren't Hawk's real daughter and your Quirk seem to solidify that theory, so while your sixth babysitter? (You lost count) was distracted, you packed up some clothes and a sandwich and left, the whole time watching this delusional woman, (She thinks she's dating Hawks) rummage and steal from your mom's memory box, not even concerned that you've been quiet this entire time.

That was fine you'll be long gone by the time she notices... you thought as you put your hat on to cover the tiny wings on your head, ignoring the itchy feeling you got from your fuzzy down feathers brushing against their nylon prison, You looked at your room one last time as you remember all the fun times had here before slipping away into oblivion... and stepping out of the haze from behind a light-post across the road from your apartment building, and started walking you didn't know where, but anywhere was better then here, maybe if your lucky you'll find your real parents... You paused and glanced back at the apartments one last time then kept walking... sniffling all the while.

Meanwhile...

Hawk took a break off patrol he had weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was wrong, as soon as he step through the balcony door his heart dropped, he couldn't sense you anywhere in the nest! his instincts were on fire! as his feathers surveyed the penthouse for you, then stilled when they sensed someone moving around in his room. Keigo's eyes narrowed as he silently walked to his room to find your babysitter going through his late wife's belongings wearing her jewelry…

"What do you think you're doing?!" he said through gritted teeth causing your baby to jump and whip her head around to see Hawks glowering at her rage in his eyes. "Honey...I mean Hawks! y-your home early...um um." she stammered something whizzed by her embedding itself in the wall behind her, she hastily started taking off the earrings and necklace and his wife's engagement ring, telling him it's not what it looks like!

He noticed her phone on the floor before she could stop him, his feather's snatched it he saw all the dating crap she'd lying and posting about, but really set him off was text she had sent talking about you... calling you an orphan and plans to send you away once Her Darling "opens his eyes" Keigo's rage reached it's boiling point, people can say whatever they want about him, But don't ever involve his little girl... it won't end well. Your babysitter watched in horror as Hawks destroyed her phone, then took a step back turned his death gaze on her.

"Get out, you're fired."

"But but… Hawks baby I lo-"

"Did I fucking stutter? I said get out!"

"*runs out of the penthouse crying*"

He knows that delusional woman was in the hall outside of his penthouse waiting for him come after her, she's not the first woman he hired who thought they're were the heroine to whatever fantasy they've concocted in their head, She'll find out pretty quickly that Hawks didn't give two craps about her as the apartment's security had been called to escort her out, what he cared about at the moment was; where. in. the. fuck. was. his. daughter? After the rage had subsided panic had soon set in as Hawks barged into your room the drawers were opened , your backpack and sleeping bag and [fav plush] were missing! Your dad started hyperventilating.

That woman... Had she done somethin to you?! He was going to call security and put her in holding ….Then Keigo felt it, that chill in his wings the familiar feeling of being physically pulled out of reality... he followed the feeling and he looked in your closet and found one of his feathers stuck...no, fused the wall, *You have her Quirk, Why didn't you tell me...* he thought then remembered what your mom had told him told him to do when his feather gets stuck in something... "Just clear your mind and think of me, your feather will find me …" Taking a deep breath Hawks closed his eyes thought about you, seeing you...finding you... like that the feather was free.

Meanwhile.

It had started to rain as you walked down through a park not sure how far you walked, but your feet and knees were hurting from the fall you had earlier, you saw some kids from your school got scared and ran you ended up tripping and rolling down a hill, scratching up your legs and covering your clothes in mud and grass stains...

While you were looking down at the ground moping a pair of shoes walked into your field of vision as a shadow sudden casted over you, your [y/ec] eyes looked up and saw a man wearing a dark hoodie that covered most of his face, his cerulean eyes regarded with mild concern. "You okay there kid?" he asked eyeing your legs and puffy eyes, That broke the dam all the stress and torment you endured the passed couple months all came out in loud wail..

The guy standing over you to panicked and tried shushing you, before picking you up and carrying you off, luckily bystanders mistook it for a parent dealing with their child's tantrum, and that's how you found yourself sitting on a bench under a bus shelter. while the man who introduced himself as Dabi put band-aids on your legs...which was strange, cos someone who looked like Dabi didn't look the type to carry glow-in the dark neon-rainbow band-aids! "They ain't mine...I got a kid about your age back home." the stapled faced man stated as if reading your mind, he sighed taking a seat next to you and examined your miserable expression, you looked very familiar but he couldn't quite place it... Something about those eye brows... he shook his head.

"Speaking of home, you gotta a number on ya? I bet yer parents are probably looking for yo-" You cut him off. "I don't have parents and no ones looking for me!" You huffed stubbornly Dabi cocked a brow very skeptical at that claim, and was about voice that thought when something red caught his attention... His cerulean eyes squinted at the pole the bus schedule was nailed to and was surprised to see a familiar red feather just kind of shot itself out from behind it...

He watched it kind of sway around before pointing directly at you. "You're sure no one's looking for you?" he said watching feather bristle then harden when he spoke up, his eye twitched knowing that was a mistake, if that was here then that meant... *Ew, someone actually reproduced with that Kentucky Fried Dumbass?!* Dabi snorted.

"I know he's not looking for me, he wasn't my daddy he just felt sorry for me...Just like everyone else."

"Well everyone else is an idiot... and your old man obviously cares for ya!"

"No he doesn't... he didn't even go to my school on parents day..."

"look, kid I don't know what's going on with you and Chicken-Tenders, but he obliviously loves you."

"How would you know?" You wept keeping your puffy eyes on the ground and tears fell from you eyes, Dabi's voice had nervous edge as he spoke up again. "Because he's here..." You looked up at the scarred man in disbelief, only to see him starring dead ahead with a serious expression on his face, the little wings on your head twitched under your hat as you followed his gaze just in time to see your dad land, But something was off...

His wings were darker than usual and his eyes were feral and scary looking, like he was going murder someone... "Dabi.." he growled fist clenched as he slowly walked towards the two of you, when said cremator slowly stood up causing your dad's feather's to go haywire. "Easy Hawks... You know I'm not in that business anymore." Dabi said calmly holding his hands up, this only made Hawks more agitated a low growl escaped his throat.

"Leave..." the blond hissed obviously giving Dabi one chance, the scarred just put his hands in his hoodie pockets and walked, but as he was passing your dad. "Might want to set that kid's head straight, cos you're on the verge of losing her for forever." Hawks shot him a glare as he went over to you who was curled up on the bench looking at your dad scared.

Dabi watched from a good distance as his old enemy resolved things with his daughter there was a lot of yelling at mainly him screaming "Why did you run, what were you thinking Y/n?! I already lost your mom I don't want to lose you too! …" a bus drove pass blocking out whatever else he was saying, as the bus passed Hawk now crouched at your level, he's guessing you were telling him what's going on...

Hawks looked devastated with every word you were saying. He said something to you before taking you hat off, giving Dabi a view of the little red wings on your head he looked at Hawks managing to read his lips "You may not have my power, but those are definitely my wings!" the two of you hugged before Hawks picked you up and flew away.

Dabi waited a few seconds before taking out his phone looking through his contact and picking [My Fairy] and waited a few moments. "Hey babe... how goes the homestead?" his wife told how things were going at the dive and him it was al none of the rowdy guys bothered her. "Good to hear... is the kid still up?" Dabi waited a few second hearing his wife call his daughter over. "Hey, Firefly, how you doing?" he smiled as his daughter told him how her day went. "That's good, I'll be home tomorrow, give yer mom a kiss for me alright?...I love you too, Firefly" He hummed and hung up started walking down the street.

Back to Hawks

You both took a few days off to cool down they went out of the city for a while and visited your mom's grave, Hawks hardly let you out of his sight if he wasn't in the room one of his feathers was always there. He let you sleep in his bed for the first couple nights, when it was time to go back to school.

You sighed expecting another babysitter or sidekick to take you, instead you were surprised to find you dad waiting for you, which was bewildering he's usually gone or sleeping when you leave. "Why are you here?" you asked bemused you dad smiled and patted your head. "I'm taking you school obviously." He said taking you over the balcony and picking you up.

"Hang on tight Chickadee." he said before lift off the wind felt nice blowing through your down feathers the little wings on your head started subconsciously started flapping, which caused your dad chuckle at cute display, when he finally made to your school all the kids were in awe to see the #2 pro-hero landing in there playground, but what really got the kids was the fact that he was carrying you!

Your teacher nervously came out the greet him where Hawks loudly exclaimed. "Oh, yes sorry for the late introduction and thank you for looking after my daughter." His sharp eyes carefully caught every face in playground and noticed a certain group of kids looking like a deer in the head lights. It didn't take him long to figure out who putting all that orphan crap in your head, he made note to have a word with they're parents...

Keigo was brought out of his thoughts by you tugging on him. "Daddy let me down." he looked at you bemused before remembering right school!... Damn it, he didn't want to let you go! your first day was months ago! He reluctantly set you on the ground but didn't let go of your hand. Why the hell was the separation anxiety kicking in now? *because you weren't there the first time...* he mentally berated himself for missing out on that mile stone several in fact.

The blond was confused why the school hadn't been calling him about you, he found out that one of his PR directors had been intercepting anything school related meant for Keigo and sending random representatives or sidekicks to attend them... Because apparently being a widowed father didn't look cool or edgy enough for the #2 hero's public image, Needles to say that guy wasn't part of Hawk's PR teams by the end of the day.

Keigo walked you the front door then crouched down at your level. "I'll be waiting right here when it's time go home, alright?" You nodded the and hugged your dad, (who may or not of slipped a feather on you, just in case.) "Have a good day, I love you." You nodded as walked inside leaving your dad outside, he stared at the school by before taking a deep breath and flying off...

=================================

{Wing horns photo source from a Manga called: Demon mother!}

#bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #boku no hero academia #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto torodoki #hawks x reader #keigo takami #bnha dabi #long post

151 notes · View notes

mrs-i-have-too-many-biases · 3 years

Text

Stray Kids as your Secret Admirer

Scenario: They are your secret admirer. Genre: Fluff/ Humour AU Prompts: College AU/ Office AU/ Idol AU/ Fan AU/ High School AU/ Non-Idol AU/ Bakery AU Pairing: Stray Kids Members X Female Reader Word count: 7,4K Warnings: None really, maybe some swear words.

Chan: (College au)

“Just talk to her already!” Minho whined at the music major next to him. Chan, one of the biggest heartthrobs of the campus and known for his confidence, his kind nature and his amazing songs, was right now trembling in his boots because his crush walked by and almost caught him in his tracks.

Minho sighed as he spoke up again. “And how long do you think you’ll be able to keep this up?” “As long as I need to.” Chan murmured back, his face seemed to have heated up as his eyes followed her figure. Minho shook his head in disbelief at his smitten friend. It was time for another step and both of them knew it.

Chan continued his secret admirer act, writing Y/n love letters and notes of adoration.

‘You looked ethereal today, I’ve learned about this word the other day and I couldn’t help but think of you. ‘Extremely delicate and light in a way that seems not to be of this world.’’

Y/n blushed under the tree she was sitting under as she read the note over and over again. The little notes of adoration were the highlight of her day. She couldn’t believe that there was someone this good with words and this sweet who was possibly interested in her.

And Minho on the other hand couldn’t believe that Chan still was keeping up the same act like he has been for the past 4 months. But today things were going to change, Minho made sure of it. Especially since Chan didn’t notice Y/n sitting behind the tree.

“Is that another letter of affection mister Bang?” Minho teased as he noticed the familiar envelope in his friend’s hands. “Yeah.” Chan simply giggled. The younger lad would playfully roll his eyes at him as he continued his not-so thought through strategy to make Chan confess. “When are you going to give this to Y/n?” “She has a free period right now, so I have no idea when I can sneak this into her bag or locker.” “Why don’t you just do it right now.” Minho said as they abruptly stopped walking, Minho’s hands on Chan’s shoulders to turn him around.

Causing him to finally face his crush who looked at him with a surprised expression. “Good luck buddy.” Minho simply said, patting his frozen friend before he walked off.

“So, it was you all along?” Y/n asked him as she got up on her feet to face the shy boy. “Y-you sound disappointed.” Chan mutters softly under his breath, feeling like he was going to be rejected any second now. She noticed his trembling hands and his sad eyes under his hair that was hanging over his face. She rushed to him and took his face in her hands. “I’m not disappointed, not at all! I love these notes! I cherish them dearly. They are the highlight of my day. It’s just I can’t believe that it’s you.” She giggled shyly as she made him look at her, this time her eyes filled with adoration as she looked at her admirer.

“So, your feelings are mutual?” “I fell in love with the words you’ve left me, now it’s time for me to fall with the man who’s written them.”

Minho: (Office au)

“Sometimes I really wonder why you’re my co-worker.” Y/n whined as Minho took the small stuffed animal from her hands that she was trying to hide from him. For the past few weeks Y/n had been receiving notes and small gifts almost every day from her ‘secret admirer’. And her best friend Minho, who happened to be her colleague as well, couldn’t miss a second of teasing the living hell out of her for it.

“Seems like this guy really is whipped for you huh? Did you blackmail someone to make it seem like you’re loved by somebody- ouch!” Minho whined as he rubbed his punched arm that was hurting because of his friend. She quickly took the stuffed animal from him and placed it back on her desk.

“Shut up and no, I didn’t blackmail someone or bribed them before you even start asking.” Y/n mutters, huffing as she sat back on her seat. Minho only laughed and secretly stole a glance as he saw her look at the small soft toy in adoration.

When Minho sat across from her he had a hard time to not stare at his crush, especially with a big monitor dividing them both. He would have often have to tease Y/n and annoy her just a little bit, only to gain her attention. Her rolling eyes would be enough for him, not the best kind of attention, but it worked for him. Besides, he couldn’t make it obvious that he was the one gifting Y/n all of this or that he was her secret admirer. He wouldn’t hear the end of it if she found out that it was him.

Minho was done with his tasks and had nothing better to do, so he went to search online if there would be anything cute or anything his friend and crush would like that he could give her. If he could, he would’ve given her the world. It was a natural thing for him to admirer her. She was excellent at her job and she shined independently, so he often wondered if she even thought of him as more than a friend.

Y/n had wondered the same, she knows her best friend is eye-candy. And sadly the other colleagues of the department saw that too. Many people were all over him during breaks or would find any reason to talk to him. And all the teasing and bickering she and Minho had going on between one another, didn’t really make it look like he was interested in her like she was in him. So, this secret admirer came almost at a perfect timing as Y/n was slowly giving up on Minho and her feelings towards him. “Psst!” She heard him whisper not so subtly. ‘Dinner?’ The blue note said that Minho held up. She chuckled to herself and gave her friend a thumbs up as confirmation.

Hours passed and the two of them were now seated in their favourite restaurant. Minho was grilling the meat in between you as the two of you complained together about work.

“Let’s talk about something else.” Minho eventually proposes. “About what? You probably just want to tease me for having a secret admirer.” Y/n pouted as she munched on her food. “I mean, you’re asking for it. You have that thing on the table as we speak.” Minho laughed in disbelief. “Hey, it’s a highlight of my day, shut it.” She pointed her chopsticks at her friend as a threat, causing him to burst into laughter once again and throwing his hands up in the air. “Am I not enough for you?” Minho joked, but not receiving an answer from her cracked his heartstrings.

He looked back up after sighing softly, seeing her being too busy munching on her food. He wanted the kind of attention that she was giving everything else but him. “Maybe I should gift you a filled lunchbox next time.” Minho muttered under his breath. But Y/n’s gasp and the sound of her choking on her food made him panic and realise what he just said.

“I-it’s you who’s been gifting me things?” “Uhm-“ “You are my secret admirer?” She asked with wide eyes. “This wasn’t part of the plan.” Minho sighed as he put down his chopsticks, knowing he had to get this over one day. “I-“ “So, you are my secret admirer? Yet, you make fun of ‘him’, which turns out to be yourself?” “I’m not going to hear the end of this, am I?” “Yup.”

Minho groaned, but was sooner enough stopped by the sudden touch of her hands on his. “You’re pretty stupid you know.” “I know, but you like me. Or well, at least the gifts I gave you.” He chuckled before taking another bite of his food to avoid any kind of awkward tension. “You know that I like you better, right?” Minho breath was caught in his throat and he almost spat out his food in surprise by her confession. “Really?” “Yes, you dummy. You better get me that lunchbox you were mumbling about! Thank you baby!” She shot him a smile and pinched his cheeks playfully. Making him shake his head before he fed her some food this time. He knew better to let her make fun of him.

Changbin: (Idol AU)

“Changbin-“ Chan was cut off by his younger friend jump up in his seat. “Why?” Changbin sighed as he tried to calm his heart, his phone clutched in his other hand. “Our manager is now even asking me, to ask you to stop.” Chan simply puts out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Changbin lied as he tried to focus again on his phone. “Mate, I literally saw the email you were writing. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” His older friend sighed. “Chan, I really just want to work together with her.” Changbin whined as his phone was taken from him by his leader. “I get that. She’s incredibly talented and your favourite rapper, but she’s also your crush and that’s why you’re acting like this.”

“Don’t you have any dignity?” Chan asked as he read parts of the mail. “Nope, she’s taken it. My sanity as well.” Changbin stated with a sheepish smile. “Well, I’ve noticed that, but you need to tone it down a little. Her manager might even think you’re a saesang or tell Y/n about all of this and you might never be able to work with her.” “I know, but she’s such an inspiration and so great. I just can’t wait.” “Time will come around, just tone it down for now.”

And time did pass. The boys started to work on their new album and it was time for them again to start promoting. Changbin had kept his promise and toned the emails down. He had hopped on the Instagram DM-train. He would compliment her on his fan-account, so that his identity would stay safe and that his members won’t tease him as much like they used to do. Changbin even hopped onto the trend of making fan-edits, to make his account seem legit okay, nothing else…

That’s what he’s trying to tell himself.

He has so many pictures of her on her phone. Lots of ones where the concept of the pictures were ‘girlfriend material’. Binnie is an absolute sucker for those. He even found a couple edits where Y/n and Changbin himself were edited together, his fans knew about Changbin’s adoration for Y/n and some couldn’t help but ship the two. He would gush at the edits and whine to himself in wish for it to be reality. The buff rapper received weird but commons looks from his team as he was orientated on the pictures on his phone.

“Do you think he knows that Y/n is here tonight?” Hyunjin asked his leader in a whisper. “I don’t think he does. He’s a super fan, but he’s too busy crushing on her to be able to know when and where she’s actually promoting her stuff.” Chan laughed in responds.

The two teammates then had a ‘brilliant’ idea and told the others that they would be back in just a second, before they left the waiting room. Changbin was in the meantime too busy to notice them leaving as he was scrolling through his fan-account and others that posted things about Y/n.

“Changbin-“ Chan once again was cut off by Changbin who jumped up in his seat in surprise. “Again. Why?” Changbin whined as he clutched his chest. “We’ve got someone waiting for you who you’ve been wanting to meet.” Chan states as he dragged his friend with him. “Wait what-“ “Changbin meet Y/n! Y/n meet Changbin!” Hyunjin chirped as he pushed his friend closer to his crush. “Wait-“ “Welp, we got to go for now, it was lovely to meet you Y/n and I bet that we will meet each other again!” Chan grinned before he dragged Hyunjin with him back into the waiting room.

“I didn’t know you were here.” Changbin stuttered shyly, not being able to look her in the eye. “That’s an honest surprise, since my manager has told me a lot about you.” She teased as she shot him a smile. “Of course, he did.” Changbin was able to mutter out, his words seemed to be stuck in his throat.

His hands were clammy and he felt like he was sweating all over the place. He hoped he looked reasonable and that he didn’t gave her a weird impression. “I’ve heard that you wanted to do a collaboration with me?” “Yes! I mean, yes I would love to. I think that we would be able to work together greatly and that our music would go well together.” Changbin could mentally slap himself for not being able to pull himself together. “Could I give you my number then? I’ll be up in twenty minutes. So, sadly I don’t have too much time on my hands right now.”

Changbin could feel his stomach do flips in his body and his heart skip a beat. He unlocked his phone mindlessly and handed it to her as he stuttered out a ‘sure’. And then it hit him. Especially when he saw her surprised expression: his fan-account. “Wait!” Changbin stressed as he quickly took the phone from her, but she saw it already. The damage was done.

She must think that he’s a weirdo now. “You’re that sweet fan who’s been sending me all those nice messages?” Or not?

“Wait, you’ve read those?” “I’ve seen the account pop up in my DM’s quite a lot and I once accidently clicked on it and read the messages you wrote. I thought you would be able to see when I read a message you send, but I guess not. They really motivated me and they were truly the sweetest thing. My manager even teased me for having a secret admirer. Turns out that those nice emails and the sweet DM’s had a connection to each other.” Y/n said with endearing eyes to the guy in front of her.

“I guess you could say that I’m very fond of you.” Changbin shyly admits. “I’d say I’ve become quite fond of you too, but I still would like to know you better and maybe in the future work together one some music. You could say that I’m also a pretty big Stray Kids fan.” “Oh yeah, who’s your favourite then?” “Let me think, his name starts with a C and ends with an N.” “Chan?” Changbin blurts out sadly. “No silly, you Changbin.” She giggled.

Hyunjin: (Fan AU)

“You know you will never meet her, right.” Jeongin, Hyunjin’s best friend, teased. “Shut up! You don’t need to rub it in my face you know.” He sighed as he tried to push his younger friend in the bushes next to them. “I know that it’s a hard pill to swallow, but she’s an idol. We’re not from that world, it’s not likely for our roads to cross.” “But not impossible.” Hyunjin states as a matter of a fact, causing his younger friend to sigh.

“You’re impossible.” “I’m just living my life man, just let me be.” Hyunjin cried out dramatically as he tried to continue drawing during their break. They were seated outside of the campus grounds under a nice tree, sheltered from the sun as it shined brightly.

“I get that she’s a great artist-“ “The greatest artist of all time.” Hyunjin bummed in to correct. “We’ll see about that-“ “I’ll fight you baby bread-“ “Anyway! How’s your artwork going? I still can’t believe that you build a fanbase within Y/n’s fanbase based of your art.” “I know, I’m just so inspired by her and her music, her beauty. It’s all so overwhelming I just feel like she’s unreal sometimes.” Hyunjin sighed as he stared of into the distance. “And I feel like you are unreal sometimes.” Jeongin mumbles as he stared at his ridiculous friend.

“Got anything new planned to make?” “No, I only have this one drawing that I want to finish and post.” Hyunjin answered as they continued to enjoy the warmth of the sun. “Maybe you should find an actual job that pays you money, besides trying to sell your sketches or artwork that you make off miss Y/n.” Jeongin teased. “You’re starting to sounds like my mom. At least she’s supportive of me.” He cried out dramatically, before receiving a punch from his friend. “I’m just saying, you need to do something else besides dedicating your life and all of your time to her.” “I’m perfectly fine, honestly. Sleep is just a little-“ “Dude.” “I’m kidding.” Hyunjin assured. “Well, I hope you’re not lying, because I rather not find you in a hospital due exhaustion and I got to go now, I don’t have a free period like you.” “Actually, I’m already done for the day.” Hyunjin smiled as he started to pack up as well. “What the hell are you still doing here then?” Jeongin exclaimed. “Bothering you, got to go now! Good luck on your lecture!” Hyunjin chirped before walking off.

Hyunjin had gone home and started to work on his assignment and homework. Not necessarily because he was a great student. No, he really wanted to finish of the drawing he was talking about with Jeongin earlier that day.

And he did, but then he received a notification. His breath was caught in his throat. Y/n had posted an announcement that she was holding a special concert in Seoul, where he was living and breathing. Well, not so sure about breathing. Jeongin neither.

“Hyunjin breath!” He yelled over the phone as Hyunjin had called him to rant. “I want to go so bad! But you know what the ticket sales are like!” Hyunjin cried out late at night. “Dude, just post your art for now and go to sleep. I have a test to study for-“ “But-“ “Goodnight!” Hyunjin groaned as he put his phone away and grabbed his laptop to post the artwork he had finished.

Hyunjin sighed and contemplated on sleeping in early tonight, or at least what he dares to call early at it was one o’clock already. But he decided to spam his group chat instead.

HJ: HAVE YOU SEEN HER ANNOUNCEMENT FL: IKR YJ: FELIX DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM HJ: HE’S THE ONLY ONE WHO TRULY UNDERSTANDS (⌯˃̶᷄ ﹏ ˂̶᷄⌯) HJ: *sends a picture of one of the promo photo’s* YJ: Wait a minute FL: Jinnie I also saw your new art post! I loved it HJ: Thank youuu~ YJ: Are you two really going to ignore the fact that Y/n’s promo photo’s look a lot like Hyunjin’s art style? YJ: or….? HJ: ┌╏ º □ º ╏┐ FL: ┌╏ º □ º ╏┐ HJ: No it doesn’t YJ: DON’T YOU DARE START THIS BOII FL: BRUH HJ: YOU’RE SEEING THINGS MAN MAYBE YOU SHOULD GET SOME SLEEP YJ: YOU’RE THE ONE TO TALK FANBOY FL: BURRRRN HJ: DUDE DON’T GET ME STARTED ON YOU AND YOUR BINGE GAMING- FL: ...･ヾ(。￣□￣)ﾂ

A couple weeks had passed and Hyunjin got was in his room as usual as he checked his Instagram. He never bothered checking his notifications, but he wished he did. ‘Y/n_Official’ The account read.

‘It couldn’t be.’ Hyunjin muttered to himself. He checked the message and the account multiple times to see if it was legit. The young artist tried to calm himself as he read the message one last time:

‘Hi! I just want to say that I love the art that you make and I feel very humbled and flattered by it! I would love to meet you at one of the concerts that I’m holding soon. Please send your personal information to this email if you’re interested! If not, I totally understand. In that case I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate it! Thank you for supporting me!

With much love,

Y/n’

Hyunjin’s heart was about to malfunction or jump out of his chest he didn’t know. All he knew was that within the next two weeks he was now finally standing in front of his celebrity crush. Jeongin and Felix couldn’t believe how lucky their friend had gotten and even called it a fanfiction moment.

After the concert Hyunjin was taken backstage to where he’d be meeting Y/n. She had changed into a big hoodie and looked cute and comfortable. “So, you are the amazing artist behind these?” Y/n asked after they greeted each other. Hyunjin simply nodded due to his nervousness, causing his crush to giggle. “I can’t believe you’re hiding behind your own art when you yourself are stunning!” Y/n exclaimed as she shamelessly stared at the boy in front of her. “You’re the stunning one here.” Hyunjin mumbled to himself, but loud enough for her to hear. “Why don’t you give me your number I think we look stunning together, but I’d like to get to know you a little better. I would like to hear more about you instead of reading those sweet and supportive words you left for me under your artwork my pretty admirer.”

Hyunjin knew her confidence was unattainable, but that’s what he liked about her.

Jisung: (High School AU)

Jisung sprinted through the hallways after slipping a note in her locker. He caught his breath in the hopes that she hadn’t seen him. ‘You need to be careful, otherwise you’re going to get caught.’ He scolded himself.

This is the result of falling in love with your best friend. One day they’re hanging out together, cosy on their couch and Jisung stared at her.

‘Her lips are pretty when she pouts like that.’ ‘Has her eyes always been this sparkly?’ ‘Gosh she just looks so cute and cosy I want to hug her to death.’ ‘Her cheeks look very kissable- wait what.’

Right there and then, two months ago to be exact, he realized that he had the biggest crush on his very own best friend. Suddenly she shined brighter than the sun and the stars at night. She was the only one he could see in a not-too big crowd, Jisung doesn’t really like crowds that were too big. She’s so comforting and sweet, always there for him, as a friend.

Jisung sighed once again as he made his way to class where he’d be waiting for her to join her as they were desk-mates after all.

“Sungie~” She sang whilst walking towards her own seat next to him. “You look happy today, Y/n.” Jisung states as he wiggles his eyebrows. “Another note.” She sang once again as she waved the paper in his face. “Your secret admirer?” He teased, receiving a hum in responds.

“I wonder who it could be.” “I think I might have an idea who it could be.” Y/n mutters, causing Jisung’s heart to stop. “Who?” He managed to stutter out. “I hope it’s Hyunjin to be honest.”

The answer was like a dagger to Jisung’s heart. Never she had mentioned to have feelings for Hyunjin and why didn’t he know? He could feel his heart break little by little as seconds passed by. He wanted to run away and go home to hide in his bed, but he had an entire day of school to survive. Running wasn’t an option.

Y/n on the other hand, wasn’t being honest. She was well aware that her best friend has been crushing on her. He hasn’t been very subtle about it. He was always staring at her, hearts in his eyes as he did. Y/n had to contain herself into spilling her own love for her best friend to him as she was enjoying his tactics a little too much.

She caught him putting notes in her locker, she’d wait on the corner of the hallway so he won’t notice her, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Now, days later. Jisung was at home, he hadn’t gone to school ever since Y/n’s ‘confession’. He hadn’t been feeling well, physically and mentally. He felt drained and like no hope was left for his feelings. Y/n had missed him at school and decided to surprise him. And surprised he was as he jolted in his bed when he saw his best friend stand in the doorframe of his bedroom one afternoon.

“Why haven’t you been at school?” She asked blatantly. “I’ve been sick.” “You don’t look sick to me. You don’t feel hot either, your cheeks are glowing though.” She states as she cups his face, knowing exactly what she was doing. She knew why he was home, but she wanted to hear it from him and she was growing impatient. “I just haven’t been feeling well, okay?” Jisung mumbles as he shook his head a little to try and get her hands off his now-burning face.

“Because I said I hoped that the letters came from Hyunjin instead of you?” The words made Jisung spin. “What?” He stuttered, shocked at her blunt words once again. “Sungie, c’mon just say what I want to hear.” She whined as she dropped her hands on his shoulders. Looking at him in desperation. “What?” He stuttered once again, this time confused. “Sungie, I know you like me, but I want to hear it from you! I’m literally begging you at this point to confess to me.” Y/n chuckled in madness, she was losing her mind over her dense best friend who she has falling deeply for.

“You know? How-“ “You’re not very subtle mister so-called secret admirer.” She laughed, caressing his cheeks to calm him down. She could feel him shaking after all.

“But you…” He mutters whilst his voice trailed off. “Do you want me to say it?” His silent was his answer as he didn’t know what to expect. “Han Jisung, I like you. I like you more than a friend. I want to stay best friends, because you are my best friend. But I’ve fallen deeply for you and I have started to love you.” Y/n states in a soft tone, causing Jisung’s heart to skip a beat. “I love you too.” Was all he could say before he sat up and pressed his lips onto hers.

Lee Felix: (Idol AU)

As a foreigner and an idol in South Korea, Felix was still working on his Korean every day. He’d still learn and try to improve himself every day in order to ‘survive’ in Korea and to communicate with the locals.

And as he was doing that he tried to perfect his handwriting, which his members found cute. He didn’t know why, but he just had a certain way of writing that his member’s adored.

Felix might be an idol, but that doesn’t stop him from fanboying over his own favourite idols, which was Y/n. He had discovered her through a livestream that he was watching of a gamer that he really likes and he was surprised to see and Idol do stuff like this, she seemed to be free in whatever she wanted to do.

The freckled Aussie really liked that and he became curious about her. He wanted to know her name, but ends up falling into a pit that’s called her and now he’s pretty much stuck and whipped for her. He didn’t know how to approach her, he knew he could. He’s a public figure and so is she, but that made it tricky. He wanted to love and appreciate her, without her knowing who he was. What if she knew who he was and that she could possibly think that it could be a publicity stunt of some sort?

He had been overthinking the situation before it even had started. That’s when he started to send her flowers and handwritten letters or notes to her with words of adoration and praise. Y/n had received them all, today as well in her very own dressing room. She wondered who it could be and if the mysterious person ever wanted to show their face to her, she was curious to know who this romanticist could be. “Flowers once more?” Her stylist teases as Y/n had been busy reading the sweet letter over and over again, whilst the flowers had been resting in her arms. “It’s just so sweet and thoughtful, no one has ever done this for me. In a romantic way at least.” Y/n sighed, putting the gift away so her stylist could get to work. “I know you would like to meet your secret admirer badly, but on the brighter side your favourite group is here.” Her stylist chirps in hopes to cheer Y/n up just a little.

“Suzy stop, the girl isn’t going to let us hear the end of it once she starts about those 8.” Y/n’s makeup artist jokes. “You shh and make her even prettier, she has to meet her favourite people very soon.”

In the meantime Felix ‘only just now’ heard the news about Y/n being in the same building as they are for their promotion. “You already knew, didn’t you?” Chan simply asks after he didn’t get the reaction he hoped to receive. Felix simply nodded and hummed in responds, looking at his best friend with big and happy eyes.

The younger Aussie couldn’t sit still, he was all smiley and was very excited to hopefully meet Y/n today. He hadn’t stopped gushing about her and the boys all knew by now that Felix was hopelessly in love with this girl he’s never met before.

“Are you ready to MC with your favourite girl?” Chan teased as he shook his friend playfully. “I’m shaking,” was all Felix could say, causing his friend to laugh. “You’ll be fine. Plus, we better put on a memorable performance for her and the fans of course. Make sure she’ll never forget you.” Chan chuckled before letting his younger friend rehears his lines.

Felix ran through his notes once more as he was led to where they would be filming. His breath was caught in his throat when he spotted Y/n from the corner of his eye. Chan and his manager were across of him, sending him a thumbs up whilst staying to support him.

“Hello.” Y/n greeted cheerfully before bowing politely to Felix, whose knees were buckling. He bowed as well as he greeted her, receiving a smile from her. ‘Contain yourself Lix,’ he thought to himself before going through his notes once more. Y/n was trying to find the confidence to talk to Felix, but she couldn’t help but notice the small notes that he was busy reading and she recognised the handwriting.

“Did you write the notes?” The question made Felix freeze, but he quickly realised that she must meant the ones he’s holding, right? “Yes-“ “We need to talk- We’ll be right back! Felix needs to help me out with something!” Y/n said to the staff before dragging the freckled boy behind her.

“What wrong-“ “You’re the one who’s sending me love letters and flowers right?” Y/n asked bluntly. “What-“ “I recognise that handwriting anywhere, I’ve read this note already fifteen times and I only received it today.” Y/n states as she showed Felix the note she’s kept with her the entire time. “I… I don’t know what you’re-“ “Please don’t lie to me. It would make so much sense! You’re an idol! Your manager can get information on where I am when it comes to promotions! Not even fans know all of this! Besides, the handwriting is spot on!” Y/n stresses, wanting to know desperately if it is him or not.

“Lix?” The nickname. That was it. That was his breaking point. “Are you disappointed?” He asked carefully, not daring to look at her. Also for the reason hat his face was burning up from shyness and the adrenaline that was rushing through his body. “Of course I’m not disappointed, if anything I’m flattered and happy that you’re behind all these thoughtful and sweet gifts. They’re something that always made my day and if I felt down I’d just remember that there’s someone out there who’s so loving and caring that they would go all the way to do this for me. What if we talked more about this after promoting? I’d love to treat you for all the generosity you’ve given me.” Y/n proposed holding his hand, hopeful that he’d say yes.

And he accepted the offer within a heartbeat, knowing that today was definitely something that he won’t forget and that that performance wouldn’t have to swoop Y/n off her feet. He’s got her already.

Seungmin: (Non-idol AU/ Bakery AU)

There she was again.

Y/n, the girl who’s been coming by on a regular basis and Seungmin had lost it all for her, because of her. All her. He blamer her for losing his sanity.

Ever since the day she’s walked in for the first time, he started losing control. Everything seemed to go wrong whenever she was around him. It was like she has put a spell on him. He always became noticeably clumsier whenever she was around, his colleagues have discovered the pattern as well and they couldn’t help but tease Seungmin for it whenever she walked into the bakery.

“Could you not drop the cakes mister Seungmin.” His boss laughed, which was Chan, a good friend of him as well. “Stop it, I don’t know why this keeps happening as well, okay?” Seungmin mutters, slightly frustrated as he picked up the now-ruined cake off the floor that he had dropped. “When are you going to confess to her? She must have noticed the small things you’ve done for her to show that you like her? You know, giving her a free drink or giving her extra things with her order?” Chan sang playfully.

“What? I don’t do that.” Seungmin scoffed in denial. “Yeah sure, that’s why you never give other customers extras.” Chan laughed, before patting the youngster, who could only sigh.

He took a quick glance of Y/n, who was sitting in her usual booth. She was hidden behind her laptop and was writing down things in her notebook. ‘Probably studying’, he thought to himself as he tried to continue working.

What he didn’t notice was that Y/n was peeking from behind her laptop to look if Seungmin was still there. She sighed and sat back. She’s been coming here regularly and not only because of the amazing pastries and drinks the bakery sold, but also cause there’s a cute employee who works here: Seungmin.

She’s been ranting to her friends about this cute boy for ages, but never had she the confidence to actually talk to him or to ask him out. She has been noticing odd behaviour coming from Seungmin’s side. He’s been stumbling over his words whenever she was in front of him, whenever other people didn’t seem to have the same experience as her.

Y/n also couldn’t help but notice the small extras he’s been giving her. ‘Keep him.’ Is what her best friend had said as soon as she mentioned the extra and free goodies from the bakery. ‘How come you never bring me stuff if you’re going to get it for free?’ ‘I’m not getting all of it for free, just something. And if you want to taste it, come see it for yourself.’ So that was it, she was not nervously waiting for her best friend to arrive as she tried not to burn holes into Seungmin’s head as she secretly stared at him.

Lucky for her, he didn’t notice. He might be just as dense as her for not noticing the mutual pining. When Y/n best friend Minho walked in and sat beside her, he noticed it within the heartbeat. “Just tell him!” Minho yelled in a whisper after hearing her rant on how cute Seungmin looks today.

In the meantime Chan was listening to his younger friend on how he might’ve lost his chance as he saw his crush sitting with another guy in her usual booth. “Just tell her!” Chan whined, taking matters in his own hand as he pushed Seungmin towards her.

Minho was doing just the same to his best friend, causing the two crushes to fall into each other. “Well, we’re going to leave you be.” Minho states, before walking off with Chan, in hopes that the two of them would finally confess so everyone could go on with their lives.

“Hi.” Y/n mutters shyly as she stood across from him. “I like you.” He blurted out, causing both of their eyes widen in shock at his forward confession. “I’m sorry-“ “I like you too!” She squeaked, not being able to look him in the eye. “Thank God, I’m not very good at being a secret admirer. I’d rather be your boyfriend.” He blurted out with newfound confidence. “Take me on a date first.” Y/n grinned, happy that he felt the same, applies for Chan and Minho as well. They wouldn’t have to hear about their rants of the other hopefully liking them, instead they now must deal with a lovey-dovey couple. But, that seemed manageable.

Jeongin: (High School AU)

“You even received a muffin this time Y/n!” One of her classmates yelled through the classroom as soon as Y/n walked into the room.

Y/n had been receiving cartons of milk every morning with either a cute sticker on it or a sticky note with encouraging words. At first she found it very sweet, but after a while the notes became more emotional and more loving.

The class as well as Y/n had realised that she had a secret admirer. She’d say that it’s pretty exciting and flattering, but with the entire class and her own schoolyear watching her, it’s a little overwhelming to get all the curious eyes pointed at her.

Y/n put down her stuff and went to sit down before she read the note that was attached to the carton of banana milk. ‘You look lovely today! Even though I haven’t seen you yet, you’re always the one who embodies beauty. You’re doing great! Have a nice day <3’

Y/n sighed in adoration, the notes were so sweet and she kept all of them in a little box at home where no one could touch them.

Eventually, class had started and she caught someone staring at her. It was Jeongin. He was pretty quiet compared to the rest of the class. He was usually to himself as most of his friends were in a different class and since his older friend had already graduated. Jeongin didn’t notice the fact that she had caught him red-handed and it caused him to blush harshly as he quickly shot his gaze away from her.

Y/n never really paid attention to Jeongin as they weren’t close, but she had to say he’s very good-looking.

Days went by and the cartons with milk and adoration notes continued. One day, Y/n decided to go to school early so she could study for the test they were having that day. When she was about to enter her classroom, she saw Jeongin standing at her desk, with a familiar carton in his hand.

“Jeongin?” She asked, causing the boy to jump up in surprise. “Hi! Good morning Y/n.” He stuttered as he placed the carton back on her desk. “What are you doing at my desk?” “I… I was curious on what was on the note from your secret admirer. I’m sorry I shouldn’t go through your stuff. I’ll go for now.” Before Y/n could tell him that it was alright, he had already ran out of the room.

Y/n didn’t think too much of it and sat down to study, but before she did that she was curious as well to see what her secret admirer had to say to her today. ‘It’s like you’re becoming more beautiful every day, more talented, more loving. It’s almost unfair. Also, I know you’ll do your best on your test today! I’ll be rooting for you! <3’

The message of the note had been on her mind the entire time before class started, she only jolted out of her train of thoughts when the teacher asked her to hand out the tests. After she did that the test soon enough started and ended just as fast.

She was worried if she had done well or not, she’d have to wait until the results. “Y/n, could you please collect the tests and place them on my desk?” The teacher asked her, before she got up and did as she was asked to.

Her mind was still worried about the test that had just taken place as she went by every student’s desk, but her eyes caught something familiar when she picked up Jeongin’s test. The handwriting, why was it so familiar? Could it be… him?

She would’ve never thought that Jeongin would like her, or that he was capable of saying so many thoughtful, encouraging and flattering words, as he usually wasn’t the one to talk that much during class. Or to her.

Class soon ended and she went out to find Jeongin. He has been avoiding her since this morning when she caught him at her desk. It made sense to Y/n the more he thought about it. He had the same carton of milk on his desk every morning. It might be a popular brand, but still it couldn’t be a coincidence.

She found Jeongin outside with his friends and she took a deep breath before tapping him on his shoulder. Jeongin froze at the sudden touch and turned around slowly, only for him to widen his eyes in shock as soon as he saw her.

“Y/n?” “Can I talk to you for a moment?” She asked. Jeongin agreed and soon followed her to somewhere more retreated. “Is everything okay?” He asked slightly worried, feeling his heart pound in his chest as he was standing, for the first time, across his crush.

“Are you the one who gives me the milk cartons every morning with the notes?” Y/n blurted out after minutes of awkward silence. “I…” “I’m not sure if it’s actually you, but it makes sense to me. You always drink the same brand as the milk carton I receive every morning. Besides, I caught you at staring at me the other day. Plus, I caught you at my desk this morning way before school actually started.” “Uhm…” Jeongin didn’t know what to say, there was a big lump stuck in his throat, because he knew he was caught.

Again.

“If it’s not you then I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m really wondering at this point who this person is. I wanted to thank them for everything, from the beverages to the lovely notes-“ “They are from me.” Jeongin blurted out, causing him to smack his hands over his mouth in shock by his own confession. “They are?” Y/n asked surprised. The boy in front of her only nodded shyly, hoping that he wasn’t going to be rejected too harshly.

“Please don’t reject me too harsh.” He asked as he bowed politely, surprising Y/n once more. “Who said I was going to reject you?” She giggled. “You aren’t?” He asked. Him being the surprised one this time. “Of course not! I would love to get to know you, maybe we could hang out after school some more and see where this goes?” Y/n proposed with a smile. “I would love that.” “Good, I’ll get to thank you for these thoughtful gifts after all this time.”

Gifs aren’t mine.

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