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dropsofletters · 3 years

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a cherry tied with the tongue [njm]

SUMMARY: there are complicated things that na jaemin will never understand or achieve: math, downing two bottles of beer at the same time, writing a good song and her, the synchronized swimmer in campus that he can’t stand.

but he continues with his life as if nothing happened; as if her smile wasn’t the rarest thing in this universe or her words didn’t get to his last nerve, until the verse she had written for her crush ended up being his first hit.

jaemin planned to keep it a secret, but apparently, he can’t hide anything from his biggest enemy and now, he’s not sure how he will be able to one, get another hit and two, get along well with his songwriter that did not even agree to be his songwriter on the first place.

tying a cherry with his tongue is way easier than getting along well with her.

TITLE: a cherry tied with the tongue PAIRING: na jaemin x reader GENRE: university!au ; enemies to lovers!au ; guitarist!jaemin ; synchronized swimmer!mc TYPE: fluff ; angst ; humor ; suggestive ; drama WORD COUNT: 21,093 words

Oceanic blue lingering around her, splashing in bubbles that she cannot burst, only to turn into transparent hues of her own skin when she comes to the surface. The sun glares down on her features, hair sticking to her face with so much power that it almost becomes a mask, but instead, she’s counting the seconds. A beat and four seconds later, her partner emerges from the water, golden in all the blue, light in all the shadows, salvation in water.

She doesn’t know how Donghyuck manages to do it. How his smile brightens each time that he gets a move right, synchronized with her every breath. It’s as though they were made to be there, in the campus’ pool as their trainer shouted each second into the air. One, two, three, four. Donghyuck is closer, sun-kissed in the paint-drops of freckles on the bridge of his nose. Then, he’s lifting her up by the waist, fingertips scalding, memorizing her every curve when she extends her arms and legs in front of herself.

She breathes in, sucks every little portion of her imbalance to stare forward, but with Donghyuck’s burning gaze from within her, the youth inside herself yells insecurities into her ears. Will he think she’s pretty from this position? Her arms start shaking, hands wanting nothing more than to reach for her bathing suit to see if it’s still in place. Her thighs follow soon after, quivering at the thought of her longtime crush holding her like she’s a feather, and soon after, the golden hues of Lee Donghyuck disappear to be exchanged by burning water entering her nostrils.

Her name is spoken into the air, loud and clear, with so much force that she almost feels whiplash when she swims up to the pool. The trainer is there, as old as ever, seated on her perfectly extended chair with one hand wrapped around her phone and the other holding the tastiest looking burger she had ever seen. Cheddar cheese trails of rain that fall on a barely-clean napkin; hence, a material that has lost its purpose.

“I didn’t know we were divers.” Trainer Han says as she bites onto her burger. Munching lips and smacking tongue resounding against the empty pool. Donghyuck is already swimming towards the edge of the pool, getting out to give a glimpse of his bare torso. Her eyes divert elsewhere, staring at the Trainer instead. “…What did you think you were doing?”

“I wasn’t thinking.” She replies, wrapping a towel by the time she is out.

“Clearly.” That’s the only movement she sees from Trainer Han, when she uncrosses her legs and stands up. “Hyuck, good job.”

“Thanks,” He starts, patting his towel against his mess of brown hair before smiling as brightly as he does. “We can try it again. Sure, it was the worst thing anyone has ever seen, but it was both our faults. I made her slip.”

He didn’t, but that’s Lee Donghyuck. Two years of being her partner in synchronized dancers, trips to coasts and other states in order to champion their talents and represent the university, and that’s what’s created. Friendship that she hates to bits and pieces, because it’s not what she wants from him.

She swallows thickly, seated on the edge of the pool when she shakes her head. “It wasn’t his fault. He’s been going to the gym like you’ve told him, Trainer Han, he’s gained muscle—”

“How you’d notice that?” Waving eyebrows tease her when Donghyuck tosses a saltine inside his mouth. Too much water may make him want something salty.

He doesn’t realize. Donghyuck may spend every given moment with her, practicing, being her friend, talking about the girls that slip in his DM’s and the parties that he goes to, but he never takes a second look into the awestruck gaze in her features. How she worships him much like the sun does to his skin.

“I have eyes.”

“…That look at me only.”

“You wish.” She scoffs, diving into the water once again before turning to Trainer Han. Halfway into that burger that will have her asking where she bought it from, because she has repeated the same routine seven times and onto an eighth and she’s starving. “Get into the water if you don’t want me carrying you instead.”

Though, that’s the magic of Donghyuck. It’s been hours, her muscles hurt, her inner thighs are asking for mercy, she’ll probably end up having to exfoliate after this practice and still, he manages to bring a smile into her features when he launches himself into the water and screams. “Oh, please do!”

“Hyuck—”

Her hands cradle his soft waist by the time he reaches her, throwing himself into her hold until they both fall backwards. Water accumulates around her once again but she sees one last glimmer of his smile in between the unreachable bubbles.

Lee Donghyuck will never fall for her, and yet, she has fallen for him—literally and metaphorically.

“Children, get back to practice!”

His hand reaches for hers.

“Donghyuck, come up already!”

He tugs her up.

“Yes, yes, Trainer Han, we’ll get to it. Start the music again!”

And just like that, the montage of falling in love with Lee Donghyuck starts again.

###

“I really wish I could love you.”

Sometimes, we grow up too fast. We don’t realize how it happens, and it’s definitely not in the moment when we pay taxes that we notice. It��s when we get that punch in the gut that makes you wonder if this is the last day of your life or if you have fifty years to come.

Jaemin hadn’t noticed just how far into his life, into a relationship, he was until he felt the tip of his tongue bathed in the taste of his strong coffee. He doesn’t feel the slightest bit energized in that café that Yejun picked to have their Tuesday dates in, when he’s rushing out of classes that he doesn’t give two shits about and she’s preparing her next Instagram post.

Curtains of black hair fall in the form of bangs on his forehead, damp from the shower he had taken before coming here, fingers brushing away from hers when those words leave her lips. Just two days ago, he had been posted on her social media, he recalls it perfectly, something of the like of ‘my light and stars’ continued by endless needy texts and a sneak-in out of his shared bedroom to get to her apartment and into her sheets. Jaemin felt like he had finally hit it big in a relationship.

“I don’t get what you’re saying.” His eyes widen, thin lips wrapping around the straw of his coffee drink before sipping softly. The brown coat on his shoulders is not enough to stop the shivers that rake up and down his bones, paralyzing him.

Yejun is the kind of woman every single one of his friends envied him for being with. A bombshell with dyed red hair that always makes sure to curl it before getting out, with just the right amount of bite in her lips and that sweetness in her eyes, moles scattered over her face like constellations. Even then, when at the beginning of this afternoon he couldn’t take his gaze away from the neckline of her dress, he had only now noticed that she had taken off that necklace that read his initials.

The one he gave her for their first and last anniversary.

He’s still wearing her initials. HYJ.

“…Jaemin,” And there goes, the hiccup, her hand coming towards her mouth before shaking her head. “You’re…you’re just so…so behind in life. I have my own apartment, you’re still in university. You’re only thinking about this dream of yours and do absolutely nothing to create a hit—”

Now, that irks something inside of him. It’s the paradox, perhaps the hypocrisy, that makes him raise an eyebrow. Hong Yejun, the woman that would relish on the songs he’d dedicate to her in the guitar, that would tug at his hair each time he decided to mumble songs against her lips, now thinks his dream is unreachable.

“I am trying.” Jaemin says, a smile still plastering on his face, because that’s the kind of person he is. Bright even in the darkness. “I thought that was all attractive to you.”

“You’re twenty-one, Jaemin.” Yejun admits, rubbing her tears away with her dolled-up nails. “It’s about time you grow up.”

“…It’s not as easy to become a musician—”

“I have friends—”

“You’re comparing me to your friends?” His voice becomes harsh, smile erasing itself from his lips before he shakes his head. “What’s with the sudden change? One minute you’re sexting me, the other you’re just saying I’m a nobody—”

Yejun stands up, her Chanel purse falling on her shoulder, stomach displayed on her crop-top. She still looks like a dream; like the pictures that got him to text her on the first place, after meeting her in a drunken party, but now, her beauty actually taints him.

“I will not lie to you and say that it’s not hot. You’re very hot, Jaemin. The kind of guy everyone wants in their sheets once, you know, to make them feel loved—”

He scoffs at that, standing up and tossing his complete cup of coffee into the trashcan. Her heels click behind him in small tapping of steps until she gets to him as he gets out of the café. “Not what you thought about when making me feel like shit, because right now? You’re not exactly making me feel loved. You never even loved me to start with, is what I’m getting—”

“You said you loved me, was I supposed to say I didn’t? I had to lie!”

That moment, he turns around, the wind dancing with the strands of his hair when he stares into her brown eyes. In any other occasion, he would have leaned down to capture her lips with his, but today…today, he needs to be an adult.

Today, he realizes this is just another failed attempt at love.

“Yes.” Jaemin spits out. “You were supposed to say you didn’t love me, that way, I wouldn’t have wasted an entire year with you.”

“Maybe, you can use this as inspiration for a song?” The tutting tone in her voice has him sighing through his nose.

“You’re not worth a song.” His shoes pivot into the concrete until he blends through the seas of people, hands pressing into the depths of his pockets before he looks up at the sky. The clouds are not gray, but somehow, he learns that day that adults always look at the profoundness of this world in duller tones.

###

Music majors are difficult to understand when she’s a sports administration major herself, but her best friend involves herself in her role a little too well. Tunes from the eighties fill the air just as Sarang makes a batch of cookies, organizing the ingredients perfectly contrary to what she looks like.

Bleached blonde hair falls off from her half-done ponytail, crooked on the left side of her head, sporting a Bart Simpson t-shirt and a pair of violet pajama shorts when she puts the spoon up to her mouth to taste the recipe for their Friday Girl’s Night.

The topic of tonight? Crushes.

Surely enough, Sarang is her roommate. Has been since freshman year and as they are nearing their senior year, they remain together. Though, Sarang is most likely calling her connections to get into studios and help out with productions in most of her nights, and she’s always practicing with Donghyuck, so that leaves little to no room for all-night conversations. Until Fridays arrive, that is.

Her fingers take pieces of the concoction to roll it in between her palms and form the hard cookies as she speaks.

“…And I don’t know. It was fun before. I’d look at Donghyuck and just gush over how cute he is but also how funny and annoying he can get, the talent he has, how he synchronizes himself with me…” Her words trail, Sarang’s wide and big eyes still trained on her while helping her out with the cookies. “It’s been two years of that, mind you. I’m tired. I’ve met three girlfriends already and I don’t know…I was thinking, maybe, just maybe, I have to con—”

“Don’t say that word!” Plopping the spoon into the dishwasher, Sarang shakes her head as if she had said the most atrocious thing ever. “Girl, I love you, with all my being but Lee Donghyuck will never be into you.”

Ouch. The bees stinging her neck when she used to practice in the community pool when she was younger would hurt less than Sarang’s word. “What? Why? I’m not that bad looking, and we have gotten along well these past few years. Maybe, he just needs a push—”

“He needs eyes, first and foremost. He’s always face to face with your tits and he never does a thing. That’s a red flag. That’s the…the…” Sarang starts rolling cookies in her fingers as she looks for the word. “Bro-zone!”

“He didn’t bro-zone me.”

“He talks about girls with you. He doesn’t even blink at the few glimpses of skin you show during practice. He pats you in the back, I have seen it. He bro-zoned you.” Sarang may be more of an expect about this than she is. After all, she has dated around these past few years, while she has remained stuck in her crush with Donghyuck. “Pats in the back when you hug. That’s the bro-hug.”

Throwing one last cookie into the tray, she sighs deeply. Her oily hand ends up on her waist when she shakes her head. “You really think so?”

“It’s not a reflection of you. It’s more-so Donghyuck being really stupid.” Sarang opens the oven, putting the tray inside before starting that one timer she bought on Amazon with a higher price than it should be. “You know him, he made out with Nina last summer and they knew each other for thirty minutes. If he wanted something with you, he would have made a move.”

It’s harsh. The kind of truth that only a friend would give, so with the timer going and Sarang’s favorite album coming to an end, they are left in absolute silence. Her hands cradle her face when she leans over the light wooden counter.

“What if I show him more of my tits? They’re not the best, but hey, they’re tits.”

“Doesn’t work.” Sarang shakes her head, sitting on the counter before leaning her head back. Her high cheekbones take in the golden lights of their too-small dorm. “I’ve been pouring my A-cups into tube tops the entirety of the semester because this new guy changed into our class and he doesn’t even blink at me. He’s broken up with his girlfriend just last week and he didn’t even consider me as a rebound. I did the whole leaning over his seat thing, talking to him about Elton John’s first album and he was like—” Her best friend changes the tone of her voice. “Good. I’m more of a Paul McCartney fan.”

“But you love Elton.”

“I love that face more than Elton. I had to agree with him.”

That doesn’t sound like Sarang and the devastation on her face must mirror the slightest bit of her disappointment. One thing is liking a guy from class, another thing is falling in love with a friend for more than two years. Both very bad.

“You didn’t!” She screeches. “Show me a picture of him.”

“No.” But Sarang is already looking for her phone in the island. “You’re going to laugh at me.”

“I will,” She confesses, pushing herself into Sarang’s side to elbow her ribcage. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not going to show me.”

“He’s just a typical hot dude.”

“Typical?”

“Like, the kind of guy to serve you cookies after fucking because he doesn’t know what to say to kick you out of his apartment.”

Oh, one-night stands are not her thing, much less hook-ups, but she has enough second-hand knowledge with Sarang. “At least, he’s given you dick and cookies. Isn’t that more than what most women get from men?”

“Yeah, but I’d marry this face.”

“Just the face?”

Her fingers swipe through Instagram just as she continues speaking. “Just the face. The only thing I know about him is that he prefers Paul over Elton.”

“Tragic.” Sarcasm drips from her tone just as Sarang clicks on the first picture she sees on the guy’s profile.

Na Jaemin, her eyes had managed to envision on the screen. Over five thousand followers, going to the same university as them, with too much on his bio and most of his pictures including himself or his friends.

The picture that Sarang shows her is a heartstopper for anyone. He’s laying on a couch, with his cheek squished to a cushion, his elongated body slim yet ending on broad shoulders. A heart-shaped face displaying slim, rosy lips, a button nose and rounded, quite alluring chocolate eyes. His black hair is pushed back by a snapback, highlighting the smile on his features.

“He’s cute.” She says, but her mind can only go back to her crush. He’s too flirty-looking in comparison to the idiot she dares call her friend.

“He’s sex on legs, what are you even talking about?” Sarang questions. “He plays the guitar. Failed the class he’s re-seeing with me. Rumor has it that he’s a great kisser—”

“Hold your horses, you’re sexualizing him.”

Sarang’s bottom lip juts out just as she rolls her eyes. “Sorry, he’s just—you know, too handsome. I have the biggest crush on him.”

She prides herself on her vision. Colors, textures, the glide of light—everything unites for her to see opportunities in mere images. A movement of Sarang’s finger makes her read the caption, smiling in the process.

@na.jaemin0813: Sleepy. Preparing some covers for my guitar night on Sunday 16th. Hope to see you all there. A nap will do for now.

Whiffs of cookies blend in her nostrils by the time she speaks to Sarang. “You’re so dumb.”

“Why?” Sarang elongates in a whine, skimming through more pictures, all liked by her.

“Go to that guitar night. It’s in two weeks. You have time to prepare to know what you’re going to tell him and maybe, you’ll hit it off then.”

A finger ends up on Sarang’s chin, deep in her thoughts until her lips wrap in a pretty ‘o’.

“You’re a genius!”

“Thanks. My romantic life is dying but yours isn’t, at least.”

An arm hooks around her shoulder, a pair of plump lips ending on her cheek when Sarang reassures her with a: “Hyuck is missing out on you. Don’t give yourself a hard time for it.”

At least, the scent of cookies makes her feel better.

###

Jaemin wants a song of his own. What no one tells music enthusiasts, however, is that rhyming is more difficult than what people let on, getting on beat is a headache and that he never manages to sound well on a song.

His eyes are pendules, going from one point to the other. Jeno’s ears and the paper in between his fingers, stuck in the old record store that his friend works in. The man doesn’t give much of a nod as he reads over the lyrics Jaemin had written, listening to the demo of the song he plans on releasing on his Soundcloud, searching for something more than mere covers before his grand event on Sunday.

The earphones are plucked from Jeno’s ears, softly, until they fall miserably on Jeno’s counter. He folds the paper in half, breathes in softly, and Jaemin’s stomach falls in one simple go when Jeno admits:

“…I don’t know how you get girls to like you.”

His head falls forward, resting on Jeno’s shoulder as a pathetic whine leaves his lips. Truth be told, he doesn’t know how he used to do it either—he can flirt with some friends, all in good-hearted fun, hell, he may even be the smoothest talker he knows, but that doesn’t transition into his lyrics.

“Boring. At least, not sexualized, but if I read one more ‘yeah’ or ‘girl’, I may actually pass out.” How Jeno aims to be this rude with a smile on his face should make Jaemin be concerned, but that’s just how Jeno is. Truthful as truthful can get.

“I need a song. I can’t become a music teacher. Do you know how tedious that could be?”

“I know—”

“I told my mom I’d become a star and now, I don’t have a girlfriend, a future or a song.”

With that, he lets go of Jeno, pushed by his shoulders to have the bleached blonde looking at him with every diamond in his eyes shadowed by his pity.

“Hey, there’s a lot of people who are talented but can’t write songs. Maybe, you just need someone to write songs for you.”

Jaemin swivels his hand in the air, an eyebrow quirked. “Uh, what part of I don’t have enough money to craft a career for me don’t you get?”

Jeno shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t give up, then. I know you’re used to things just falling on your lap but hard work does pay off. You just need to take some courses and—”

“Done.”

“Listen to some new artists.”

“Done. Done. Done. Done.” Jaemin repeats, pacing back and forth in the record store. His hands go through his hair, his plaid shirt lifting up the slightest. “I’ve done everything and I—I can’t keep posting covers. I’ll just blend into nothingness and lose the little fanbase I have and—”

Jeno arranges some vinyl albums as he shakes his head. “Nothing will happen. You just have to believe. It’ll come to you; the perfect song will come to you.”

He doesn’t think so. A smooth talker doesn’t necessarily make a songwriter. The weight of his guitar falls on one shoulder when he throws a glare at Jeno, because it sounds easy to say it, but it’s not exactly that way on paper.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Once again, that cat-like grin takes over Jeno’s face, reaching out to pat a hand on Jaemin’s back. “The break-up with Yejun will give you inspiration, I am sure—”

“Fuck you, Jeno.”

“Sorry, rockstar.” His friend jokes around in between short chuckles, the breeze of the afternoon biting at Jaemin’s hands once he opens the door and gets out of the shop. The city becomes part of him once he taps his shoes against the concrete, but nothing comes to mind—not an ounce of inspiration or hope.

The rockstar may be done for before it even came over him.

###

Longing to be lost in him, her hands search for her phone. She’s an hour late to practice and yet, Donghyuck hasn’t asked a single question about her whereabouts. Maybe, in this Sunday afternoon, she aches to be felt—and in such a fucked way, she wants him to strive quite like he does. For Donghyuck to break a sweat as he thinks of her, lips wondering if hers are tingling against someone else’s, with doubts that linger with promises of whatever love is.

Yet, he doesn’t, and Sarang continues to drag her to the lounge Jaemin is going to be playing in. If there is one lovestruck look, it’s Sarang’s. Her bleached hair is curled in romantic curls, sporting a long, quite see-through beige dress and lips in the most obscure of burgundies. It’s a paradox to what she’s wearing; a simple white tank top and shorts on top of what would be her swimming clothes if she had not decided to support Sarang instead.

She’ll be honest if she’s ever asked about this moment in the brink of her death. It isn’t exactly about support for her friend, but for something else…for Donghyuck to feel like she does at times.

Mission failed, though.

“Sarang, slow the hell down.”

Her sneakers tap against the sidewalk, Sarang helping her cross the street with their hands united even if she doesn’t look to the sides. Not afraid of death, she seems to be. “If we get there on time, I may get a word with him before the play.”

“Yes, but I want to get there alive, thank you.”

A muffled screech leaves Sarang’s lips when they stand in front of the Blackberry Lounge. It’s still closed, but truth be told, Sarang’s wit got her somewhere. Leaning against the red doors, accompanied by old, quite rusty brown bricks, are two men. One has a big smile where he perches his cigarettes, blonde and with half-moons of twinkling emotion for eyes, dressed in all black. Next to him is the non-smoker playing on his phone, with a guitar case hanging on his back, a ripped gray sweater and a pair of, equally, as ripped jeans.

Truth be told, he’s not her style. Okay, but not her style.

“That’s him.” Sarang’s hands punch against her shoulder, making her hiss in the process.

“I know.” She answers. “…He’s better looking in pictures.”

Her name is gasped out as a response, Sarang taking her by the shoulders to look into her eyes. “…Donghyuck broke you.”

She rolls her eyes at the mention of his name. Grumpy is short for what she feels. “Just talk to him. I’ll be by that bench,” She points by the bench to their right, forgotten and probably shat on by birds, but she needs some privacy for her thoughts and heartbreak. The bench is as good as it will get, that’s for sure. “And I’ll pretend I’m not watching you thirst over a guitar dude.”

“We could hook you up with Jeno.” Sarang is more of an eye-for-an-eye gal, endlessly thinking about the possibilities of giving out if she’s getting something. She turns around momentarily, looking at the man with the cigarette. “I think he is some kind of sound engineer major. Maybe, we can—”

“Nope.” She’s already turning around and walking towards the bench with her backpack on her shoulder when she hears Sarang reply to her.

“Babe, get back here—!”

“Sorry, nope.”

The cold bench presses to her thighs, backpack set on her side as the tremble of a sigh leaves her. It’s devastation about the fact that she checks her phone as the sun casts down on her and there are, still, no texts to be seen. That’s the moment when she gets her confidante out of its confines, that old textbook she got from her first day at university from one of the students showing her around welcoming all her thoughts and aches.

She hates Donghyuck’s hair and how it dances with the wind when he laughs a little too loud to something she says. She hates his twinkling eyes that relax as they lay on his couch after playing videogames. She despises the way she looks at his lips after he talks about certain date he had, where he had a blast, because she wants nothing more than to be kissed by him.

More than anything, it enrages her that she has spent two years writing poems about whom she calls her love, but has been nothing more than her friend.

In the far distance, she hears Sarang talking about music with Jaemin, who barely lets a few words out. He’s talking about the covers he’s going to be playing and the other artists coming to the lounge, and Jeno joins in. Famously early, he had explained to be, for the mere reason that they had to prepare Jaemin’s set before everyone else’s but The Blackberry hasn’t opened.

She keeps jotting down in that brown notebook with worn-out leather, thinking of him, wishing to throw her phone into the fucking street because she’s so pathetic that she continues checking, even when she’s one hour and ten minutes—

Her phone dings.

Hyuck: Where are you?

Damn her heart for skipping a beat, for her eyes to read it so soon, for her to start typing before deleting it all. It’s as though he’s the ocean and she’s the ship that dares roam him, even though the waves clash against her with more force each time. But she has never been afraid of the water, so while tossing a look towards Sarang, now twirling a strand of her hair in between her fingers as Jaemin and Jeno smile at her, she responds.

Me: With Sarang.

The response comes in two seconds.

Hyuck: We’re supposed to be practicing. The Jeju Championships are in two months.

Me: I’m just busy.

Hyuck: ???

Hyuck: You’re never busy at this time.

Me: What if I get busy now?

Hyuck: Come. Here. Please.

Hyuck: I know you’re not busy.

Hyuck: Are you mad at me?

Hyuck: Please, don’t be mad at me.

She can’t, and that’s the saddest truth. Her fingers move against the screen before she could stop herself—pretend like she hates him, when in reality, she loves every bit of him.

Me: I’m not mad at you.

Me: I’m helping Sarang with something. I’ll tell her I’ll get going now.

Hyuck: Kay.

Hyuck: When are you coming?

Me: Give me twenty-five.

Me: I promise taco night to make up for the delay.

Hyuck: I could kiss you right now.

Please, don’t say that. Please, don’t say that. Please, don’t say that—

She tries to get Sarang’s attention, wave a hand in the air to call her over. After all, Jeno and Jaemin are popular guys in university; and while the whole ladder of popularity means nothing to her, she’s not about to stand some stuck-up guys just because of Sarang’s needs to go for the difficult ones. Though, her motions don’t make her best friend stop talking to Jaemin, now leaning her weight against the door to make the curve of her waist more prominent.

Her lips hiss out Sarang’s name, and she doesn’t listen.

With that, she takes a half-drunk energy drink from her backpack, the orange liquid swinging when she lifts the bottle in the air to toss it to the ground next to Sarang. That must get her attention. Though, a synchronized swimmer is one thing and a baseball player is another, because one moment the bottle is flying in the air, and the other it’s landing against Jaemin’s forehead.

Hard. With a not-that-deep scream from him.

“What the fuck?!” He questions, loud and clear, and she stands up at that moment. Her hands come up to her mouth, rushing over to the three people by the entrance to pick her energy drink bottle from the floor.

It’s at that moment that her eyes connect to Jaemin’s. They don’t look as relaxed as in the picture she had seen of him anymore, throwing daggers at her and softening only when his frown deepens.

“Sorry.”

“Because you were playing catch with a fucking full bottle?”

She doesn’t like the tone he’s using right now. She stands up at that moment, chin jutted forward to speak to him. “Half full, and I already said sorry, math genius.”

That seems to offend him and she swears she hears Jeno muffle a chuckle from the side. “Who even are you?” Jaemin questions, tossing a finger towards the locked entrance. “I have a presentation right now and you just—Oh God, is my forehead bruised?”

He moves over to the window of the lounge, placing a hand on his blossoming red, now turning purple forehead. “I have a fucking bruise!”

“I don’t think a bruised forehead can ruin your presentation—”

“Why did you even throw a bottle?”

“I wasn’t throwing it at you!” Now, she’s shouting back, Jaemin’s chest practically pressed to her own when he shields himself with his arms, taking a powerful stance. Two can play that game. She mimics him.

“People will laugh at me.”

“Just use some foundation.”

“I—” He loses his stability then, curling one hand in the air before groaning. “Why did you throw that bottle?!”

“Holy shit, it was because I wanted to call out for her attention but she’s so fucking lost in whatever you have in you, which I can’t even see, that I couldn’t tell my best friend that I have to go to practice!” She pushes at his chest at that moment, ragged breaths following through. “I’m not in the mood for standing the antics of the exemplary of Pretty Privilege, so goodbye.”

She turns around at that moment, stomping on her shoes by the time she grabs her backpack again. Sarang calls out her name softly, chuckles following after.

“We just need to calm down—”

“I won’t calm down.” She cuts through, shaking her shoulder once Sarang grabs her. “See you later.”

With that, she’s jogging down the street, because she’s not about to look over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of Na Jaemin being an asshole to anyone who’s not sucking up on him.

That bruise was well deserved.

###

He should’ve given the notebook to Sarang when he had found it on that shit-covered fence, but given that his head hasn’t stopped aching and that she had called him the exemplary of Pretty Privilege—which could be a compliment or an endless insult—, he’s not feeling much like it.

The dorm is left for him to enjoy on his own; his senior roommate somewhere in his girlfriend’s apartment, doing good by saving him some lasagna from what he had prepared earlier, but other than that, Jaemin is seated on his bed, laptop opened, notebook in between his fingers and rage seeping from his every pore.

It wasn’t difficult to find her in social media. Sarang posts her every time she can, and while Jaemin had never gave Sarang more than a second glance, she’s cool. The kind of cool that tags her best friend and roommate on everything just to make sure she gets seen, too, but now, he’s left with an account with less than one hundred followers and a big question mark.

He knows various things about her.

She’s rude, so rude that he could potentially have choked her at that moment and he knows she would have, too.

She either likes the beach a lot, doesn’t know about weather fashion or is into swimming.

And when each of her features hardens, mouth pressed into a line, eyes widened, eyebrows raised, voice lowering, courage coming to her…she’s kinda hot. Just enough for him to wonder if he’s losing braincells by the second.

As attractive as she can be, he has gold in between his hands. Gold in the hands of a notebook that looks like it has seen a war of emotions. It’s ripped and old, but when he flickers it open, all doubt left to the side when he lays on his bed and ignores the beeping of his phone from friends that want to invite him to after-parties or frat events, a laugh rips from his throat.

Donghyuck, in cursive.

LDH, with a heart, second page, written various times.

Oh, he knows Donghyuck. Not like they have established a good conversation, but he’s been in some parties that he attended to, and he dated his best friend from high school. His fingers tap on the keyboard, looking for Donghyuck’s Instagram until he sees her, on the fourteenth picture in his profile, both with their arms around the other’s shoulders as they stood in matching swimming attire and big smiles.

So, she’s a synchronized dancer, much like Donghyuck…and she seems to like him, too.

Jaemin should really close that notebook, for the sake of privacy or feeling like he’s not a jackass, but once he moves to the third page, things change. No longer is he reading about the loner woman that had fallen in love with someone that never looked her way, but now, he’s watching art come to life in her words.

His hand roams through his black hair as he reads the first poem. Wish You Would Look Here, simple and sweet, talking about the invisible life of a woman in love who tries to call for someone’s attention.

He keeps reading, hours passing by in the matter of seconds, breathing in the essence of her words. Polite, pensive, thoughtful, smart—what Jaemin lacks in narration, she has it in a few words, rhythmic and rhyming.

The last poem, perhaps written today, is called I Hate to Love.

He’s breathless by the time he finishes it, for there is so much compound desperation and need to be understood in those words. The silent confession would ache to anyone who has been in her place; who despise the feeling that thrives off them the most. It’s so beautiful that he repeats it, over and over again, as he lurks through the file Taeyong had sent him last few after they had worked on the arrangement for a new song.

Then, he tries it out on his mouth over the beat. The comparison of her words to his craft, sang with closed eyes and parting lips, and a smile takes over his features.

That sounds perfect.

But those are not his words, much less had she given him permission like Jeno said he could get from a writer. His mind roams the possibilities, moving through the poems mindlessly, until he remembers the words that she had told him, the connotations of her words that made him feel like an idiot, one that could never reach her level of logic.

…They’re just some lovestruck poems. They’re not exactly copyrighted, correct?

That’s how he starts practicing for his first song, texting Taeyong to meet up as soon as possible to record it.

###

By the time Donghyuck lifts her off in his arms, she’s already taking a breath in.

The championships have always felt like an end-line to her. She works hard for months alongside Donghyuck only to get to that position; if they win, it’s a call-out for aspiring for more, so they have to start again and establish another tie to break when getting to the finish line. If they lose, it’s a restart, now they have two finish lines to reach.

Donghyuck has always been calmer about this. He just likes being in the water, period. It was his way of practically pushing himself to lifting his self-esteem in second year of high school. So, whenever he’s in the endless pools of uncertainty, he’s calm—the rampant thoughts, insecurities and questioning has ended with him knowing he is good. Good enough for him, hence, in his eyes, good enough for the world.

Her body quivers, just like her mind. His hand tightens on her waist. She locks her jaw in a tight hold, only to hear Trainer Han speaking from her position. Always seated, never supporting them.

“Balance, darlin’. You’re not here to be pretty; you’re here to balance yourself.” She closes her eyes tightly, gliding down Donghyuck’s torso when the next step comes and just when her arms extend to her side, she watches too much water splashing on her side. That makes her lose a tempo. “Stop it! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

That’s the moment she opens her eyes, and they don’t burn, but they’re also connected to Donghyuck’s. His smile is not there, and she imagines hers hasn’t been there for a while, either. Once, she loved to be in water—to feel like a fish that could swim away to its free will whenever it wanted. For a while, she has been nothing but trapped.

“I’m sorry, Trainer.”

“Sorry. Yeah, you should be sorry for what you just did.” Donghyuck’s eyes are burning on her profile even as she nears the edge of the pool to look at Trainer Han from up close. “What is going on with you? You seem to have no connection with Donghyuck whatsoever. No synchronization, no nothing. You’re just a blob in the pool.”

“I’m sorry.” She repeats, but the Trainer shakes her head.

“Do you even want a future in this?” A pregnant silence follows. “I asked: Do you even want a future in this?”

She doesn’t know. And that’s the most disturbing thing she could come up with.

The past few years, or her whole university life whatsoever, consisted in organization. She liked Donghyuck, she thrived off being an average student in her major, and she synchronized swam. That’s all she did, all she ever was. But now, adulthood is calling—and Donghyuck, her dreams, aspirations, goals are growing with him. Dissipating into thin air, then into nothingness.

“It’s my fault.” Donghyuck saves from behind her, swimming until his chest gleams its heat onto her back. She looks over her shoulder to capture Donghyuck already staring at Trainer Han. “I’ve pulled away from her so we’re not as in touch as we used to be.”

“Is that so?”

Her burning gaze rests on the younger woman, only to have her humming. “I—I guess so.” She lies, earning a pointed glare from the trainer before she clears her throat.

“Okay, from the beginning and I want you to do it well this time. The championships are coming.”

“Yes, trainer!” Both Donghyuck and herself add into the thick air before they’re swimming to the center of the spacious pool, sharing hushed words between themselves.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Hyuck.” She whispers, placing herself in her position before she shakes her head at him. “We’ve been fine, you know this.”

“I know,” Donghyuck says. “But you need her off your back and you need to liven up.” That’s the moment he shares a smile with her, just before the music starts and he places his hands on top of hers, extended in front of their bodies to start with the first position. “Let me take you out to a party on Saturday. I’ll pick you up. You’ll have fun, too, I promise.”

“Hyuck—”

“Be there, ready, all dolled up. We’ll have fun, just like the old times.”

The old times, she has missed those, much more when being this close to him, in the pool, when she feels like she has a chance…and maybe, it’s stupid for her to do so.

###

“You…wrote a song, that is good. Good as in,” Taeyong waves a hand in the air, leaning back on his computer chair. “A song that is not ‘baby’ and ‘yeah’ merged together for the sole purpose of rhyming.”

Jaemin blinks while inside the booth, and his mind is in two places. One, he’s spending way too much money renting this recording booth by the hour and two, Taeyong should hurry up and record this song before he absolutely loses all his money into recording a song that could very well become a hit or a hit to his head if his mom ever listens to it.

He speaks into the microphone. “Yes, why? A man can grow up.”

Taeyong, his producer of trust, trying to make a name for himself with indie artists, ruffles his black hair with one hand before frowning. “Only that you aren’t really a man, Nana.” He says it with so much delicacy that Jaemin almost lets it slide.

“What are you hinting at?”

“You’re sure you wrote this? That’s all I want to know.”

He thinks back of the woman by the bench. Her hair, pushed back by a ponytail; her quite saddened eyes, that he had only seen from the corner of his eyes when talking to Sarang, her lips, her clothes and the endless nature of her discipline, both in whatever sport she is practicing and writing poems for Lee Donghyuck.

Lee Donghyuck, that’s the punchline. Who crushes over that guy for more than a month?

He fixes the headphones around his ears, because this is a personal matter that he’s putting into a whole song. Stolen, nonetheless, but then he thinks back about the possibilities…about the way she had looked at him as if he was nothing but scum.

And if she wants scum, she’s going to get scum.

“Of course, who would I steal it from?” Jaemin adds into the microphone, straightening his back and fixing the sleeve of his oversized tank top. “Now, let’s get to recording. The money for my kids’ education is going into this.”

###

“You’ve got to tug them like this,” Never had she felt so much force put into the straps of her bra until that night in the bathroom of the party that Donghyuck had invited her to, but Sarang had tagged along just in case a situation like this arose. Just when she hears the snap of the elastic against her skin, as well as feel the burn that comes after, does Sarang give a step back and look down at her chest. “That’s exactly what we want. The Jessica Rabbit look. They’re not how any boobs look like, but men bite into that trap a little too easily. You would never believe I’m an A cup with what I can do with a bra.”

She doesn’t doubt Sarang’s talent, much less when she takes a look at the dirty mirror in that small, blue bathroom. The yellow dress has a pretty cut at the neck, meeting her collarbones, leaving an open space for her shoulders and falling like curtains into the sleeves, but the heart at the center of the neckline is what does it. That’s where Sarang did her magic, a pronounced line ending there.

She tugs at the edge of her dress nervously.

“I’m going to vomit.” Shyly, she announces, watching as Sarang applies another coat of lip-gloss on her thick lips. “Yes, I’m going to vomit. Donghyuck is out there, waiting for me, and I’m practically pouring my boobs out on his face.”

“…So?” Sarang asks before taking her by the shoulders, turning her around to speak straight into her face. “You deserve to feel hot for one night, and if Donghyuck doesn’t see it, at least, you do.”

“Yes but—”

“You’re scared, I get you. I am scared for you, too.” Whew. What a way to make things more lightweight. Just when she’s about to plant her face into the toilet to start throwing up out of the absolute horridness of this situation, Sarang starts speaking again. “But you look so good and this is just another party. He’s your friend. If things will happen, they will happen—”

Then comes a knock to the door, unsteady, quickened, impatient. She knows who it is. Her name is called by Donghyuck’s charming tone.

“…The beers are going to run out if we don’t move our asses.” He stops for a second, perhaps hearing the shushes from Sarang as she pushes her towards the door, opening it in one swift motion. Just when Donghyuck pulls away from the door, she gets to see his smile take over his face, eyes beaming when he says: “Hey, let’s go grab some beers.”

White sweater and ripped jeans, Donghyuck is nothing less of a dream taken out of heaven. She relishes of the sun in him, even at eleven at night in some raunchy party as she hears the sound of lips smacking against skin, even over the music. He spares a look towards Sarang, already inviting her to join them, when Sarang shakes her head.

“Sorry, Hyuck,” With that, she rests a hand on the small of her back, pushing her forwards until her chest comes flush with Donghyuck’s. He does nothing more than steady her, placing his hands on her waist, not even looking at her while she’s inspecting his every detail…and silently cursing Sarang for putting her in this position and tightening her bra-straps this much. “This girl is on a mission to track down the prettiest boy in this party.”

Donghyuck chuckles at that. “You’re not exactly my type, Sarang.”

“Asshole.” Sarang says over her shoulder just as she opens the door to the bedroom that they are now in. “I’ll meet you at four in the main hall, sweetheart,” She speaks to her friend, placing her hands around the door. “And if I’m not there, send me a text. I’m not planning on staying over anyone’s house.”

Well, at least she’s responsible, but not smart enough to let her know what to do when Sarang closes the door behind her. She’s still very much in Donghyuck’s arms, where the art of his heat transcends into her body, his steady heart giving her a glimpse of his relaxation when he pulls away the slightest and places one hand on her shoulder.

The friendzone hand-on-shoulder. His hand should be on her waist by now.

Or maybe, he’s just very, very cautious. Respectful, even.

Points for Donghyuck.

“You’ve eaten something?” Donghyuck asks, walking forward alongside her. “I don’t want you throwing up in front of everybody.”

She laughs at his words. “First year in Sarang’s old frat party, right?” She recalls the moment Donghyuck was learning how to drink, and how he was called ‘water faucet’ for the entirety of that year.

He breathes in harshly before releasing an even louder laugh. “My party trick. You’ll see it tonight if we don’t find the good beers. Come on, let’s go.”

###

Irresponsible is short for what Jaemin is being right now.

Jeno roars the engine of his car as he gives another lap around the front-yard of this house party, and Jaemin tries his best to cling to the upper portion of the car, the soles of his sneakers digging into the little leverage left underneath him as he downs a bottle of beer, cheers surrounding them that will be missed once college is over.

He feels flashes of cameras, his name being called, but the world is spinning by the time Jeno hits the brakes and he gets off the side of the car, fixing the gray beanie on top of his head and placing a hand on his stomach to calm down the burn in his stomach.

One year from now, Jaemin will have to be met with the consequences of his dream. Perhaps, he’ll have to get a boring job as a music teacher for what people say is lack of talent and too little drive. Tonight, he doesn’t care, not when he receives a few high-fives and he foresees Mina, one of the seniors, nearing him with a smile on her face.

“One minute away from throwing up?” Mina jokes around before tugging him into a hug. Truth be told, Mina was one of Yejun’s friends, but Jaemin still considers her fairly close to him. The kind of personality everyone wants around for support on tough times.

“Careful!” Jaemin continues the joke by shouting, earning widened eyes from Mina and a step backwards. Laughter ensues from him only seconds later. “Got you. What are you doing here?”

Mina rolls her eyes at his words. “Not partying, if that’s what you’re thinking. My girlfriend’s somewhere around here, I can’t find her.” She stops for a few seconds, eyeing Jaemin’s features before breathing softly. “How are you feeling?”

Jaemin wants to say he is doing alright, that he doesn’t feel the slightest bit heartbroken or lonely at times, but he does. Jeno had said that he could get it over and done with like how he gets rid of a band-aid. He could sleep with someone and cut the ties to think of something else, but it’s not that easy.

Not that Jaemin wants to move on right now, either.

“As good as I can feel.” Jaemin adds, only to be interrupted by the sound of a womanly voice coming from behind Mina.

“Mina! Mina!”

“Ooh, there she is.” Mina starts giving a few steps backwards, still talking to Jaemin over the noise. “Good song, by the way! I’ve heard it twice tonight!”

Jaemin had posted the song a week ago on his SoundCloud account. At first, only a few friends had shared it, but it’s the best he can do. It wasn’t the hit that he thought it would be, but the sting of lack of success is something he is used to.

“Thanks!"

“Can’t believe it got viral because of that boy Shotaro. I’ll never understand TikTok for the life of me.”

With those words, Mina disappears, but Jaemin is still put in place. He heard a few words, comprehended them, even. Viral. Shotaro. TikTok.

Viral.

His song got viral…

He pats around his jeans in hopes of finding his phone, but then he remembers he gave it to Jeno in case he fell off the car.

One look around and he sees Jeno nowhere in sight. Just where the fuck did that man go? He needs to see if his song is actually viral!

With that, he slips into the house, eyes everywhere and nowhere at the same time, heart bathed in ecstasy.

###

Donghyuck disappears from her line of sight somewhere around two in the morning, when her eyes are almost falling close and she’s tired of being surrounded by drunkards in the kitchen.

Props to her, she has waited patiently. Donghyuck said he was going to ask a song to the DJ and then, he’d return to continue talking about the good old times they shared. She believed him; when a guy smiles with so much happiness at her and adds on memories of his own, it’s hard not to believe him.

She fixes the collar of her dress, breathes in slowly, plays with her long earrings and then, she waits some more.

No one is in sight as she busies herself with wiping the counters and fixing the disarranged bottles to a bag. She almost texts him, but maybe, he’ll think she’s impatient, that waiting forty minutes for him is too little. He must be talking to one of his friends—

Then, just as she aims to plop the bag filled with bottles inside the trashcan, she drops it at the sound of the kitchen’s door opening widely. Almost in a rush.

“Jeno, give me my fucking phone, bro!” Though, the yell is cut short when Na Jaemin, international headache, slips into the kitchen. Now, the bottles of beer are scattered across the flooring, one of the wasted people by the island has whined as a complaint and the idiot that is Jaemin is blinking at her as if a deer caught in the headlights. “H—Hey…”

His voice is trembling. Why is his voice so shaky? “Jaemin.” She adds curtly, crossing her arms across her chest and jutting her chin upwards. “You’ve made me drop the beer bottles.”

His brown eyes divert from the bottles to her, the bottles to her, and finally, he notices something. Jaemin’s vision glides down from her angered face down to her chest, a dumb smile appearing on the corner of his lips. “Sorry.” Well, that’s what it takes to get an apology from an asshole like him. “…Not my fault you’re a klutz.”

She spoke too soon.

Giving a step forward, she shakes her head. “I thought you’d be with Sarang. Where’s my friend?”

Jaemin frowns at her words, joining her in the middle of the kitchen, as well. “Sarang? Why would I be with Sarang?”

“You’ve been flirting with her? Duh?”

That makes him laugh from the pit of his stomach, and she matches the furrow of his brows at that moment. “I’m not flirting with Sarang.”

“…So, you’re just like that?”

“Like what?” Once again, his eyes train down to that glimpse of skin Sarang had worked so hard on.

She breathes out harshly. “Such an asshole. Stop looking at my…” She covers her chest with her hands before sighing. “Where’s Sarang?”

“I have no idea. I saw her earlier, at like twelve, but she just greeted me.”

That’s weird. She thought the man that Sarang was looking for was…Jaemin.

“I haven’t seen Jeno.” She conquers, pushing past him to get towards the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to join Donghyuck.”

In her mind, Jaemin and Donghyuck are from different worlds, and it shows when Jaemin slams his back against the door to close it again, widening his bloodshot eyes at hers. The scent of beer rakes from him when he whispers:

“You’re here with Lee Donghyuck?”

“Yes.”

“As his date?”

Lying is the only way to get him out of her path. “Of course.”

Jaemin’s smile wavers at that moment, his lips wrapping into a circle. “Oh my fucking God, no.”

“What?” She questions, her own tone falling when she blinks at him. “What is it?”

“N—Nothing.”

“I don’t know if you’ve been told, Na Jaemin,” Her voice is harsh as she speaks. It’s a wonder how she manages to be so closed-up around other people yet so widely burning around Jaemin. “But you’re bad at lying. Spit it out.”

“…I’m not bad at lying.” Jaemin defends himself before placing a hand on top of his chest, his striped t-shirt and light jeans matching. “But I think I saw Donghyuck in a room upstairs while looking for Jeno.”

She swallows thickly, pushing him to the side to open the door, and expecting to leave him behind as she rushes up the set of stairs. His footsteps go after her, the noise much more blurred at this time of the night, with a few people already knocked down.

“You’re lying. God, why are you such a chronic liar?”

“I’m not.” Jaemin says, jumping two stairs at a time. “I’m just telling you what I saw—”

“Which room?”

Her name is called out in a tutting tone. How the hell does he know her name?

“I asked, which room?”

The relentless fight that Jaemin has put up ends in a pathetic: “Third room on the left, I believe.”

There are moments that are closure, just as much as they are pain. Healing is promised, but she never knows what hurts more—the process, or the pang that leads her to that position. The doorknob is heavy on her hand, asking herself why she’s doing it, in front of Na Jaemin out of all people, too, but she twists the door open only to see Donghyuck’s hand placed on a woman’s waist, lips interlocked with hers.

Short brown hair and rounded features, smaller than him, the epitome of cuteness in a single woman. Her cheeks even taint pink by the time Donghyuck pulls away from her, inspecting the culprit only to have his eyebrows lifting at the sight of her by the door.

It hurts. It stings that he left her in the middle of a party that he invited her to just to end up making out with some woman she doesn’t even know.

It hurts that he’ll never choose her, or maybe, that she tried to be picked.

“S—Sorry.” She jumbles out the words before smiling softly. “I—I’ll leave you to it. I’m sorry.”

Thick silence follows after when she closes the door, rapidly going down the set of stairs to hear her name being called by the person that she wants to hear the least.

“Hey, wait up!”

But she doesn’t, because she isn’t sure that she wants Na Jaemin seeing her in her worst, figuring out that she’ll never be loved by the man she has grown to adore. Instead, she keeps running, into the living room and towards the entrance door, with Jaemin calling out her name like a mantra behind her.

###

Leaves and insects crawl into his skin by the time he reaches her outside of the house, and Jaemin is not proud of a lot of things he has done in his life, but tackling the woman that he had stolen his song from is the most embarrassing one.

His spine creaks by the time he groans, swatting the ants—he hopes they are ants—away from his arms when he emerges from between the bushes. The first thing he sees is her, unpolished in the way leaves stick to her hair and she screeches at the mere position that she is in. The golden lights of the front-yard bathe her features when she screams:

“Fucking caveman!”

Now, Jaemin has been called plenty of things. Asshole. Douchebag. Scumbag. Pile of shit. Endless nicknames that will go down in history. Caveman? It doesn’t stick well.

Jaemin stands up, trying to tug her up only to receive a swat to his hand. That is even worse than the nickname. “Just let yourself be helped for once, Jesus Christ.”

“I’d rather die than to be helped by you, caveman.” With that, she tries to stand up, but her heels don’t help her out much, making her land onto her butt once again. Jaemin admits that he tries to stifle his laugh.

“You’ll perish and be eaten by ants thanks to your pride, megalodon.” He couldn’t find a better nickname for her but it seems to strike a match within her. She stands up at that moment, balling her fist into his shirt and tugging him forwards.

“You did it on purpose.”

“What? Tell you where your date was with another woman in someone’s bedroom?”

“Fuck!” Quite a lively tone for a woman that is mostly silent. Jaemin watches as she places her hands on top of her head, tugging at the root of her hair. “He is not my date, okay? I’ve been in love with the same fucking dude for three years of my life and now, it’s the fourth time he dates someone who isn’t me. There, happy?”

Jaemin internalizes those words for a few seconds before letting his shoulders fall. Unrequited love has never been much of his problem, but his last relationship had been something of that like. It’s hard not to feel for her. Pity, maybe.

“Hey…” He trails his voice and places one hand in between her shoulder-blades. Her entire body paralyzes, turning to look at him with anger written on her every pore. What does he say in this situation? “Three years? You don’t wait for a guy for three years. Guys don’t wait three years for the girls they like.”

That’s it. That’s the moment that she’s going to wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze until he’s dead.

Instead, she hits him on his forearm, pushing him away from her. “Well, I do, okay?”

“You haven’t dated anyone in three years?” Jaemin questions, raising an eyebrow.

“No, why would I?”

His eyes trail up and down her features before scoffing, rolling his eyes in the process. “Well, when you’re not practically wishing death upon me, you’re kind of cute.”

Though her stomach rises to her chest, she swallows an ironic chuckle. “Good thing that I don’t care about what you think. You’re just here to laugh at me.”

“I mean, I could. You’re a loser for waiting for Donghyuck, out of all people.” He points towards the door then, annoyance rising up within me. “Go fuck his best friend or something but stop treating me like shit just because you’re bitter.”

“I am not bitter. You just think everyone owes you something!”

“Excuse me?” Jaemin places his hand over his chest before leaning forward.

“You think you’re more than what you actually are. Making a scene for everything, and I’m sorry, but I’m not part of your little fan club.”

“You are the one who threw a bottle at me.” Jaemin conquers easily, scoffing in the process. “I’m here trying to make you feel better, and all you do is point fingers at me.”

“I didn’t ask you to follow after me—”

“Dude,” The sound of someone’s voice cutting through them has both of them looking at the source of the interruption of their fight. Shotaro, one of the second-year students, has his Bluetooth speaker on top of his shoulder, nodding along to a song that he’s playing. “I have, like, five hundred thousand likes by now. Your song is a banger.”

Jaemin should be happy. Hell, from within, he’s bursting with an emotion that could bring him to tears. But, with the silence that follows and her squinted eyes, he realizes that she’s listening to his song and her words. About Donghyuck, nonetheless.

“Thank you.” Placing his hands on his waist, Jaemin nods at Shotaro. “Uh, can you help me find Jeno? I can’t—”

Realization takes over her features, anger dissipating from within her and left with some kind of vulnerability when she breathes out: “You took my notebook. That’s where it was. That’s why I couldn’t find it.”

“I think I saw him in the backyard, hold on.” Sensing the tension between she and Jaemin, Shotaro starts moving inside, but Jaemin has quickly shifted his attention to her.

“I—Hey, there’s an explanation to this.” Jaemin tries to start, but she cuts him off.

“You don’t have respect for anybody but yourself.” She says, voice sharp. “And I don’t know if that’s more miserable for you or for all of us who have to face the consequences of your actions.”

“Wait—”

With that, she’s rushing down the street, lost in the sidewalk and away from his line of sight. He doesn’t know how to face her at that moment, so he doesn’t follow after her.

###

Has anyone ever had every feeling of hatred when listening to a song playing from every corner as they rush out of their morning classes? Because she would have never thought she’d be in that position, but she is now.

Everyone loves Jaemin’s voice, the play of his guitar, and the profoundness of his lyrics that has everyone wondering who it is for. That longing, perhaps thrown to his ex-girlfriend, has become the forbidden fruit that people bite on. Now, Jaemin has, at least, twenty people down in line waiting to get into his pants for free.

The only place in which she can hide at this time and know there is nobody around is the pool in which she practices in. The doors are weighty when she closes them behind her, looking around just in case the campus’ speakers reach this place and she has to hear that fucking song on repeat again. It’s surprising that the authorities even support Jaemin this much, but to be quite honest, he has over two million views on his YouTube audio by now—

“I fucking hate that song.” The door must have been open enough for someone else to hear the repetition of it.

That voice is foreign, enough to make her stop on her tracks and look at the culprit that is emerging from the water. She knows everyone in the swimming team, and this man…is not part of it. His black t-shirt clings to his slim body, his half-blonde, half-black hair tied away from delicate features. Too pretty for anyone’s eyes.

“That would make two of us.” She whispers, tossing her backpack down onto one of the seats before crossing her arms over her chest. Droplets of water now accumulate around his figure, seated at the edge of the pool. “This pool is only for the swimming team.”

“Watch me wiping my ass with the rules.” The guy answers, using a towel to wipe his skin before sighing. “…Sorry, failed a test and I had to hear Na Jaemin’s voice all around campus. I’m not in a good mood.”

“Tell me about it.” She starts, rolling her eyes in the process. “It’s not even that good of a song, right?”

“The lyrics are quite something, if you tell me.” The stranger adds before extending his hand forward after standing up. “…I wonder how many panties he has gotten now that he has completely lied to everyone like that.”

Does he know that he stole her notebook and her poems? “Lie?”

“You’ve seen him?” The stranger questions. “He doesn’t look like one of his braincells could come up with that type of longing.”

Laughter creeps up from within her, clashing her teeth together to add: “Well, that’s because he didn’t really write the lyrics.”

The stranger raises his eyebrows and she’s not sure why she’s telling someone she doesn’t know this, but she couldn’t talk about it with Sarang—who is still on a getaway with God-knows-who and barely spares her a few words before getting out of the door—, much less Donghyuck.

He nods. “You’ve got something. Some tea I don’t know about.”

“Depends. Who are you, what you’re doing here, how you know Jaemin, and why you hate him. That way, I can grade your possibilities of getting to know the tea.”

He sits on the chair next to hers before curling his arms behind his head. “Renjun. I swim here when no one is around because I can’t pay for a gym with how much the semester costs. I’m a music major, too, just in a different kind from Jaemin’s, so that’s how I know him.” He stops for a second, looking at her from his peripheral. “And I don’t hate him, I just hate his song. He’s rather cool if you get to know him.”

She places one finger to her chin, only to continue by saying: “You have a better vision about him than I do.”

Renjun rubs his hands together, a smile raking up his features. “Reason behind your hatred?”

“He always treats me like he knows better than me.”

“Oh,” He adds, interested in the gossip. “…And what’s this big secret that you have of him?”

She shouldn’t be telling a complete stranger, but Sarang has been too busy and Donghyuck is not a person that she wants to talk to right now, so she opts for telling Renjun, this guy who is probably friends with Jaemin, or maybe an acquaintance, what she truly thinks about him.

“His lyrics are my words.” She admits, tossing her head back and groaning when sitting down. “And I have to listen to my words over and over again in his voice, and you know what’s worse? I regret every single syllable of what I wrote.”

Confusion passes by Renjun’s eyes and she’s about to fleet without much of a goodbye, because she’s embarrassed of having him laugh at her face or not believing her. Instead, Renjun lifts a fist in the air. “We’re officially part of the ‘We Hate Na Jaemin’s Music Career’ club.”

An amused laugh comes from her. “Excuse me?”

“He is an asshole to you, I thrive off being the antithesis of everything popular. I think we can manage.” Renjun closes his eyes while leaning back on his seat, too. No judgement. No laughs. No overly decorated empathy.

“Who’s the club president?”

“You,” Renjun jokes around. “I can’t deal with responsibilities.”

“We’ll have t-shirts.”

“Oh, yes.” He conquers. “And badges. They’ll say ‘we hate everything’.”

“We don’t.”

“I do.” He adds with a laugh before extending his hand towards her. “Nice to meet you, by the way. Sorry for scaring you.”

His hand meets her own with a brief shake. “Nice to meet you, too, Renjun.”

Though, their conversation is cut short when she hears her phone ringing. Briefly. A text appears on her screen and she glides her finger across it to read messages from whom she wants to talk to the least.

Even less than the caveman.

Hyuck: Look at this picture of a puppy.

Hyuck: [Picture Attached]

Hyuck: It’s Dani’s puppy! You’d love her.

Dani, she had read one or two things about her in his texts, and saw her comments on his social media. That’s the girl he was making out with.

Hyuck: Also, Trainer Han texted me.

Hyuck: We’re changing things up and adding Jaemin’s song to our routine. Apparently, it helps with showing interest in our uni’s students.

Her ears burn by the time she stops him from continuing writing.

“Are you about to have a stroke?” Renjun asks from his position on her side, and she hums.

“I might.”

Me: W.H.A.T.

Me: No.

Me: I’d rather drink bleach.

Hyuck: She said so.

Hyuck: Weren’t you and Jaemin together at the party? You’re supposed to be happy.

Me: You didn’t ask me about this.

An emoji of an eye roll follows suit.

Hyuck: She didn’t give me a choice.

Hyuck: Since when are you this petty? It’s just a song. We can learn the routine.

Me: It’s a horrible song.

Hyuck: Grow up.

Me: Excuse me?

Hyuck: Once you’re ready to deal with things like an adult, text me back.

And that’s how she ends up leaving him on read. Who exactly does he think he is?

“Renjun?”

“Yes?”

“You like coffee?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s head off and grab some. I want to choke on an Americano.”

###

The craziest part about life is how fast it moves. One morning, Jaemin is waking up to his head thumping in hopes of getting a song. The other, he’s meeting with a possible manager that wants to get him on a music company to make him sign a contract, and in an elegant restaurant nonetheless.

Burgundy coat and undone black buttons, Jaemin thinks he is ready to bite into the apple that is destiny. He isn’t, actually, he’s freaking out on the inside. Hands clammy, eyes wavering, he sits on the edge of that elegantly covered leather white chair and waits for a miracle to happen. For his mind to come up with lyrics as if they are grocery lists.

Holy fuck, he’s about to get interviewed for a real opportunity.

And he didn’t even write the song that got him here—

He fixes the tablecloth, eyes fixated anywhere but at his phone. The manager will arrive soon, that’s however much he knows. The walls are a deep blue, fishes roaming around in little aquarium spots plastered within the walls themselves, the smell of spices and crab mingling around his nostrils. People chatter between themselves, and he is finally part of the crowd when a waitress reaches him.

By forces of the universe, she’s there, unaware of his existence for the briefest of seconds. A set of dark tights accompanies a navy flared skirt and a white button down, the menu leaving the spot against her chest to be set on the table he’s taking up.

“Good night, welcome to Legends of The Ocean. I’ll be your waitress for the night. Would you—?” Her words stop once she looks at him, her pen hovering in the air while she blinks at him in complete loss. Then, her hatred restarts, a frown on her features appearing by the time Jaemin awkwardly smiles at her.

“Hey…” Jaemin rests one hand against his cheek, doing his best to use the flirtation in his gaze for his upmost benefit. “What kind of wines do you guys serve here?”

“What are you doing here, caveman?”

There it goes, the anger and that fucking nickname. Jaemin straightens his back, deleting all senses of trying to be friendly from his face. “About to meet a manager, megalodon.”

In the hues of the night, her face sobers up. “Better be careful, you may steal my notes for orders, too.”

“Listen,” Jaemin eyes the menu, his heart picking up. He sure hopes the manager is going to pay for all of this. “I’m sorry that I took your notebook, but I’ll pay for your poems if that’s what makes you stop hating me so bluntly.”

Her eyes widen at that, eyebrows well-raised in her forehead when she scoffs. “You really think that’s what I want? Money?”

He shrugs. “We all want money.”

“Oh my God, you’re thicker than I thought.” Her hand expands on top of her forehead, rubbing at the worried wrinkles on the skin. “I have to listen to your song everywhere and it has every feeling I hold for Donghyuck in the form of a verse. It’s hard to get over someone and not feel ridiculed when everyone is singing how much I love him at the top of their lungs.”

She’s pretty. The kind of beauty that goes unnoticed to most, in light of coverage and albeit, a bit of shyness. Jaemin doesn’t have a clue why she suffers for Donghyuck so badly; as if he’s the center of the universe, but his eyes trail up and down her features, silently inspecting her.

“What are you going to order?” She starts, but Jaemin shakes a hand in the air, swinging those words off.

“I’ll order when the manager is here.” Jaemin starts. “I get you. I really do. I haven’t loved anyone like that, but hey, you do you, I won’t judge you.” With that, he stops, breathing in slowly. “…But I’m shit at writing songs and this is my grand chance, so if you could just suck it up for a little bit and wait until I get my first paycheck with songwriting rights, if I do get the chance to be a singer, then we could—”

She shakes her head, tapping her foot furiously against the tiles. “Suck it up? Suck it up, you say?” She clicks her pen against her notepad, closing it quickly. “You’ll have to suck it up when I start leaving hate comments in every single one of your music videos.”

A low blow, she’s throwing. “That’s harsh.”

“You’ve outed my feelings to millions of people.”

“They think they are my feelings. No one has the slightest idea—”

“Well, even worse,” She adds. “Everyone kisses up to you because they think you’re a guy in love. If I was the one granted lyric rights, I’d be called desperate or stalker-ish or…”

“You have a strange obsession with thinking of what hasn’t happened. Why bother about the consequences of something that hasn’t happened to you?” Jaemin questions, only to have her rolling her eyes.

“Listen, caveman—”

“I’m sorry, Jaemin. There was traffic on the way here. I could use a glass of whiskey right now.” Jaemin recognizes the man in front of him, for he was once just pixels on his screen in various Zoom calls. Kang Sangsoo, a man in his fifties with three gray hairs that he swivels into a hairstyle on top of his head, strictly boring with his clothes, with the eyes of a shark hunting for its prey.

“No worries, Mr. Kang.” The young man says, sparing her a look that pleads for her to stay silent. “Have a seat, my friend was going to take our order.”

She smiles tightly when Mr. Kang gives her a glance, nodding in the process. “I’m not his friend, but please, do let me know what you want. I’ll be your waitress for the night.”

“What’s the strongest whiskey you got here and what goes well with it?”

Jaemin looks at her expression, and there is not an ounce of awkwardness in there. Not even a teaspoon. Instead, he sees the darkness of her gaze, the playful existence of a mind he cannot read.

Now he’s the one tightening a grin on his face. This night doesn’t feel so good.

###

Mr. Kang and Jaemin’s voices barely blend into the background, but maybe, it’s because she has been listening too close to them. As ambitious as the older man can get, he talks about the possibility of recording an album, of marketing programs and opening concerts. He’s painting a life that has Jaemin in a state of awe, chocolate eyes glistening, hands tightening on his lap.

So, by the time she serves him, she has a plan.

Jaemin could’ve easily granted her the benefit of paying her earlier on in their story. She would have been over the top angered by the fact that he stole her notebook and read her poems, of course, but money is money. It works, it helps, it thrives. Yet, down this line, she is not quite sure that money is worth more than her pride. Instead, she relishes on the idea that passes through her head when she takes a tray with all the meals that Mr. Kang and Jaemin had asked for.

The poor little guy had ordered their infamous carpaccio without much of a thought. He wanted to sound elegant, unlike a university student, and he had trusted her with his meal. Mr. Kang’s lobster remains intact when she opens the bottle of the hottest sauce she has in the restaurant, pouring three dots onto Jaemin’s carpaccio before delivering it to them.

“Gentlemen,” She cuts through with a smile of her own, serving Mr. Kang his whiskey first before giving him his plate of lobster and vegetables. On the other side, she connects her gaze with Jaemin, his eyes inspecting her features momentarily when she gives him a smile. “Have a nice meal. I’ll be by the main counter in case you need me. Just tap that bell in the middle of the table and I’ll be here in a second.”

“The treatment here is immaculate.” Mr. Kang speaks while putting a napkin on his lap, and she bows her head.

“Always here to serve.”

Jaemin doesn’t utter much of a word, perhaps scared of what she could let out if he pushed her buttons in any way, so she goes back to the counter. Organizing plates for the people in charge of the dishwasher to take care of, finalizing with a few orders and fixing the ponytail that rests low on the back of her head. She occupies herself until she gets the time to sit down on a white leather stool and look at Jaemin. God, is it worth it.

His tongue dances around his mouth as he tries to clean his mouth with whiskey, but it doesn’t work, each swallow stronger than the last. He is trying his best not to gag or gasp, one could never be so sure, but by the time she sees his eyes getting a bit glossy, her hand comes up to her mouth to stifle a chuckle.

Well deserved.

That’s for being an asshole.

But as much as she loves the sight of Jaemin burning from within, she has things to do. Her digits fix the edge of her skirt, taking another menu upon the arrival of a few customers, jotting down notes of the notepad and returning to the kitchen to give it to the chefs.

By the time she’s out of the kitchen, her mind weights the possibilities of having to wash her hair once she gets home. Too much oily scents from the meals. Nonetheless, that’s quickly erased by the time a tug accompanies her wrist, her eyes widening upon the surprising motion to stare at the person that tries to drag her into the nearest hallway. The one that leads to the bathrooms, in this case.

Na Jaemin jogs in front of her like he’s running a marathon and there are still a handful of kilometers left. He’s in a rush, that much can be seen, but he doesn’t listen to her voice.

“Hey, you caveman, if you don’t let go of me—”

He moves with precision, perhaps with unknowingness, his arm spreading on top of her head, making her give a step back into the wall next to the male’s bathroom. Jaemin’s cheeks have reddened sufficiently to make them stand out, lips blotted out by the heat, eyes glossy but frown perpetually making a home out of him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jaemin asks, gasping by the time he feels another wave of hotness curse through his throat. “You could’ve killed me.”

She plays with the menu that she has in her hold, tightening her fingertips around it until they hurt. There is something about getting to Jaemin’s nerves that lights up a flame in the pit of her stomach.

“Just playing a game.” She answers.

“A game?” Jaemin questions, pulling away from her to fan his mouth with his hands. “I’m in the middle of an interview and you think it’s time to play a game? That carpaccio is so spicy that—”

“Serves you right. You put me in an uncomfortable position, so I did just that.”

He stands in front of her, eyes squinted when he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, okay? But an eye for an eye isn’t the way to go here.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Trust me, you wouldn’t want to play with me.” Jaemin returns, and for the first time in a while, she gives him a smile. Genuine, actually, he may have stolen it out of her without her knowledge.

“Try me.” She conquers, moving away from the hallway but extending her palm towards him to keep him in place. Not that she expects him to listen, but she rushes to one of the refrigerators to get a water bottle out, tossing it at him by the time she gets back to the hallway. “Take it. Drink some water and get out of my way, got it?”

“Thanks,” Jaemin says, though, by the time she’s midway through her way back to the main portion of the restaurant, she hears a few words that she never thought could sound sincere from Jaemin’s thin lips. “…I really am sorry for all that’s happened between us.”

She stops in her tracks, taking in a deep breath before nodding. “Yeah, it was unfortunate.” She agrees.

With that, she leaves.

###

Donghyuck’s hand is interlocked with whom isn’t her. So tightly that it is even difficult to bring it up to his lips to press a kiss to the back of Dani’s hand, seated in the bleachers while waiting for the championships to start.

Be happy, she tells herself, rubbing at her legs and pulling at the jacket over her body. The bodysuit feels constricting when she spares another look at them. Never had she felt so out of touch with someone whom had been almost like her other half, but she tries her hardest to be happy with him. Donghyuck will always fall for someone else, so why is she always surprised when it happens?

She feels someone sitting next to her in her positions in the bleachers, her hair moved over her shoulder by this new companion. In the matter of seconds, the slurping noise coming from a straw fills the air between the bustle of those speaking, the music, the water and the tension that rises inside of her.

“How’s my favorite little Nemo doing?” Sarang questions, taking a big bite of her hot dog before humming in content. “These hot dogs are too good for my own good. This is my second one and I’m already thinking of the third—”

In any other moment of her life, she would have loved Sarang for distracting her nervousness with something of the like of her rants about the exquisiteness of food. Today, she’s not having it. Each time she closes her eyes, she forgets something more about the routine. Her limbs feel weightier, almost petrified in spot.

“I don’t know the routine.” She confesses, standing up at the mere moment that Sarang widens her eyes.

“Oh, babe, of course, you do!” Sarang tugs at the edge of her Pink Floyd crop-top, trying to grab her by the wrist to tug her down again. “You’ve practiced for months. You and Donghyuck. Everything will be fine—”

Another glance at Donghyuck and Dani and she sees it all. The way she lovingly grasps his cheeks to bring him down to a kiss, happiness making him close his eyes even after the kiss, her own arms softly tugging him into a hug.

He loves her.

He loves her. Her who isn’t who she is.

“I need to—I need to take a breather.” She speaks in a rush, moving outside of the pool place and towards the entrance.

It’s another university in their city where the event had taken place. She doesn’t know much about the campus, and she definitely isn’t the most in tact with where to go. The bathroom could be an option, but she isn’t quite certain where it is. Her hands cross over her chest, covering herself more with her jacket and shorts, the bathing suit underneath doing nothing to conceal her from the shivers that attack her spine.

Twenty-five minutes until her presentation, she starts running. Pointlessly, with tears streaming down her face, and she finds excuses as to why. Needs to know the reason of the scalding droplets of water skimming down her skin. In a first instance, she thinks that it is because of Donghyuck, because he doesn’t love her and she needs nothing more than to be loved by him. But then, her mind changes.

The more air she breathes, the more she thinks. Thinks of all the times in which she felt at ease in the water, and how she doesn’t do it anymore. Internalized the insecurity that had taken over her, that bitterness that had been apparent to everyone but her, everything that had stopped her from being as happy as she was. These days, she was always on the verge of snapping.

She doesn’t enjoy swimming with Donghyuck anymore, not because he isn’t hers, but rather because she doesn’t feel supported.

How to trust someone you don’t believe in anymore?

How to trust herself, when she had stopped believing in her long ago?

She stops when cars start to appear within her vision. She’s in the parking lot now, with her chest heaven, stomach aching and her tears still gliding down her face. Turning around, Sarang is nowhere in sight, but one more circle over her own axis and she sees him. Getting out of his car, locking the doors, destroying her peace over again.

Na Jaemin’s striped sweater doesn’t match with his black cap, but he still looks good. That’s something that takes her off guard, because for the first time in a while, she dares herself stop to look at him for more than few seconds before raging at his image. A few more steps and he’s face to face with her, in the middle of the road—and for fuck’s sake, crying.

Fucking crying in front of Jaemin.

He gives a few steps forward, and somehow, she doesn’t run away from him. She’ll say that she’s tired, just as an excuse, but Jaemin does the unimaginable. He lowers his face when he grabs her hands, searching around for her eyes while she keeps her chin low. For the first time, she’s not staring at him from over her nose.

“Oh, uh,” Jaemin babbles, lost in thought, widening his eyes when his hands—absentmindedly—end up on each side of her cheeks to have his thumb rub the tears away. “God, you’re actually crying. Uh, stop, first and foremost. I’m here, and I know I’m not the person you’d want to be there for you in this situation but—”

A hiccup leaves her just as she places her forearm over her eyes, stopping the tears that threaten to appear once again. “What are you even doing here, Jaemin? Are you following me?”

He shakes his head, but he doesn’t laugh. For once, Jaemin shows that he can be serious. “Your trainer asked me to tag along because you’re going to dance to my song. The university thinks it’s a good idea and my manager says it is, too, but I can leave. Are you crying because I’m here?”

“…You’re so dumb sometimes.” She lets go of her forearm, feeling his thumbs gliding across her skin again. It shouldn’t burn as sweetly as it does, but she feels her stomach falling at the mere touch. “I��m not crying because of you.”

A whistle of relief leaves him. “Thank you. I was about to cry myself.” Jaemin lets go of her, tugging at the sleeves of his shirt to rub at her face entirely. As dulcet as he could muster. “If this isn’t about me…”

“Most things aren’t about you.”

“…Come to think of it, yes, you’re right.” Jaemin agrees with a half-hearted chuckle before uncovering her face entirely. Her tears stop falling then, a harsh sigh coming from a clogged-up nose. She must look terrible in front of him. “Why are you crying?”

There are a handful of people she could confess this to. Renjun, her newest friend, who makes sure to share a cup of coffee with her before every class and talk shit about whoever passes through their minds. Sarang, who was more than worried about her back in the pool place. And then, there’s Na Jaemin.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” Honesty pours from her every word, covering her face with her hands and breathing out more words that shouldn’t be said. “I—I’m swimming with Donghyuck when I truthfully don’t feel like doing it anymore. I’m crushing over someone without a reason, because he hasn’t shown me any signs of interest. I’m constantly hating and being bitter and wondering why I am not happy and it’s—I’m tired of being so…so…”

“So tough with yourself.” Jaemin completes for her, and though she would have never thought that the sentence could finalize like that, it fits. “You’ve been nothing but tough on yourself, so you are tough with other people, too. Including me. Mostly me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“…I noticed,” He shrugs. “The first thing that worried you about me using your poems as a song wasn’t that I read your notebook, but that you had to hear what you felt over and over again sung by me. You know what that means? That you can’t stand your own thoughts. Not anymore.”

Her lips press together, wanting to retort yet having nothing to say.

“And it’s not how you should treat yourself. Everyone has thoughts that, on the long run, you’ll feel embarrassed about, but you have to let them be heard so you can grow. If not, you’re never going to understand them.”

The air is crisp, so warm that she doesn’t know why there are goosebumps rising on her arms. Why, out of all people, Jaemin’s eyes seem to have speckles of stardust in them, his eyes no longer the source of her annoyance but more than that. A silent kind of understanding, lack of judgement, just simple and casual…youth.

“Now, go and swim. Not for him, but for you.” Jaemin completes, giving a few steps forward and away from her, only to turn around and walk backwards while speaking. She hasn’t stopped looking at him once, perhaps in awe. “Oh, and another thing you should know.”

“What?” She whispers, the wind playing with her hair.

He takes his backpack off his shoulder, opening the zipper and throwing something at her hands. She catches it, just closely, tripping on her shoes in the process. The brown leather of her notebook is back in her hands.

“I told my manager I didn’t have any more songs. He’s having a team working on the new ones.” He’s crazy, she believes he is. Never would she have thought that he’s say something like that. “…I couldn’t continue to out what you feel for him. So, I just…decided to give it back to you.”

Something overtakes her. One moment, she’s standing, the other, she’s rushing over to him, wrapping her arms around his slim and taut waist, tugging him closer to her chest until she’s resting her chin on his shoulder, hugging the man that she has hated the most. His body stiffens for a few seconds, hands hovering on each side of her body before he rests them on her shoulders, his nose going down until it rests on the crook of her neck.

The moment he breathes in, she decides to pull away.

“Still hate you, caveman.” But she says it with a smile, and actually, Jaemin smiles back.

“I hate you more, megalodon.”

###

Five in the morning and Jaemin’s cheek is just now meeting his pillow, something of the like of a groan merged with a yawn leaving his lips. He recalls that he has some homework, but he has no idea what it is about; there’s a class he needs to attend to at ten, and in the afternoon, he has to go somewhere downtown for a podcast recording.

His phone ends up in between his fingers, almost dying, but he keeps using it. His mom has responded to his texts, those he sent after endless thoughts in the past month. His fame has only skyrocketed. Not hugely, but sufficiently for him to think it’s going somewhere. Over one hundred thousand followers on Instagram, people asking for an album, comments and comments piling up and invitations to podcast and events just to get to know him. Mr. Kang says he could become ‘the Internet’s favorite boy’.

He wants to drop out. His mom says this could only last a few months before all the fame disappears, and now, he doesn’t know what to do.

What if it does? What if his next hit doesn’t go as big and he loses it all? What if it works and yet, he concentrates on university when it isn’t as important as this moment, this time in which he is finally doing what he wants?

He plops onto his back, sighing. He needs answers.

But those, he doesn’t get. Instead, his eyes train down to the texts he has received. Some from Jeno saying he is with his new girlfriend, whom Jaemin hasn’t met yet, others from his friends, another one from Taeyong…

Unknown Number: I miss you, Jaemin.

The picture attached has him widening his eyes. This is definitely Yejun, all smiles and alluring attire.

Unknown Number: We should meet again.

Unknown Number: Am a bit drunk. Come pick me up?

He has to breathe through his nose, let those wounds that healed long ago speak for him before he deletes the picture. Is this what he really wants? For people to love him just because; for no apparent reason at all whatsoever.

His eyes fall closed, forgetting to reply to Yejun or think about the future. For now, Jaemin is just as much as a lost boy as he was yesterday.

###

“I have a boyfriend.”

Sarang has said a lot of things in her life, and done plenty of more, too. Shave her eyebrows off and bleach her eyelashes—how she did it passes her, honestly—, get first row seats for everything without even trying much, but having a boyfriend is always out of the question. She likes sex with no ties, and a boyfriend isn’t it.

She stops looking down at her book, her fingers stopping their twirling motion on her pencil, just to stare back at her friend. Her hair is now darker, painted in a deep green, knotted behind her back in a bun while she tries her hardest to study for her finals. Instead, she has been giggling to her phone without a care in this world.

Her first thought is that it is Jaemin, and somehow, she doesn’t throw up. Instead, there is a burning in the pit of her stomach, a palpitation to her heart, a frown that wants to plaster on her face endlessly. Maybe, Jaemin had been nice to her because she is friends with her girlfriend…but…why would she like Jaemin? Sarang, she means.

He is not special. He’s annoying and territorial and his hands fit her cheeks just perfectly—

“I’ll vomit.” She announces, looking down at the textbook again. “Jaemin is such an asshole, I don’t know why—”

Sarang laughs from her spot, twirling a strand of green hair in between her index finger. “It’s not Jaemin.”

The wave of relief she feels is definitely because she cares about Sarang, she’s sure about it. “Oh,” She stops, a smile spreading on her features. “I thought you said Jaemin was the guy you liked and that you wanted for him to hit it from the—”

“Ew, no.” Sarang shakes her head, a purse of her lips showing her distaste. “I’ll leave that to you.”

That makes her perk up, eyes once again on her best friend. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on, you’re one minute away from hate fucking each other.”

“We are definitely not.”

“Jaemin’s hot, you’re hot. It’s bound to happen, trust me.”

“Sarang! You were all over the idea of him months ago—”

“And now I’m not. I have a boyfriend.” Sarang repeats, fluttering her eyelashes while tilting her head to the side cutely. “I need you to meet him, pretty please.”

This month has been busy. With finals coming up and her break-up from her duo with Donghyuck, things have been difficult. Trainer Han had sided with Donghyuck, as well, and while things weren’t necessarily messy with him, they had turned that way with the trainer. In her words, she was nothing but pulling Donghyuck back and away from his truest potential.

“I’m busy.”

“Please, just one date.” Sarang pouts her bottom lip, fluttering her eyes some more.

Her eyes almost turn white from rolling them to the back of her head. “I don’t want to third-wheel.”

“You won’t, I promise.” Thus, she doesn’t believe her best friend the tiniest bit. “Please, please, please—”

“If I say yes, will you let me study?”

“Absolutely.”

She raises a fist in the hair, swinging it softly. “Hell yes, then.” She feigns excitement, scoffing at her own antics after. “Now study, you’re about to fail this semester.”

###

Cheers and shouts blend in a mess inside the amusement park, but she can’t quite concentrate on that. Golden and red become the colors that she notices the most in the blinding lights, lips almost glued together by the pink cotton candy in between her fingers. She continues to munch on the sweet, while Sarang swings back and forth in the heels of her boots.

“You’ll love him.” Sarang says, clasping her hands to her chest and sighing deeply. “God, I’m so nervous. I really want you to love him.”

She chuckles, wrapping one arm around her shoulder and tugging her closer. “You just said I’ll love him, why worry, then?”

“I don’t know.” But within her, she knows the answer. Sarang is afraid she won’t shed the irritation that has taken over her the past few months. Instead of worrying her more, she gifts her a smile, pulling away to take another big chunk of cotton candy. “Besides, his best friend is coming, and I don’t want you to think I’m pushing you to—”

“You didn’t tell me his friend was coming.” She points out, quirking an eyebrow in the process.

Sarang bites on her bottom lip until it almost turns white before releasing a gummy smile. “Oopsie.” She calls out, tugging her by the hand and taking her to the center of the amusement park, where people circle around them to get to their favorite games.

“I—Sarang, who is this guy?”

She stands on her tip-toes, swatting one hand on her shoulder as if to shush her. “I think I see them, shut up.”

“I’m hoping this is not a double date.”

“Oh, no.” Sarang releases before jumping on her spot. “They’re here!” Soon after, she’s waving her hand in the air. “Guys, over here!”

One would bet that she is the woman with the least luck in the world. One more month after the championships and he is there again. Na Jaemin stands out by the yellow t-shirt on his body, hanging loose over his hips, black sweatpants making his slim legs seem longer. Jeno is by his side, sporting a dotted button down and jeans.

“You told me Jaemin wasn’t your boyfriend.” She pinches Sarang’s skin to get her closer and talk to her ear. Her best friend simply shakes her head, widened eyes showing her concern.

“It’s not Jaemin…” She trails, rubbing at the pained skin soon after. “It’s Jeno. Jeno’s my boy.”

“Jeno?” She shouts in a whisper, watching as Jaemin turns to talk to his friend as well. Seems like someone else wasn’t aware of this double date agenda… “You liked Jaemin.”

“Yeah, but remember that time you threw a bottle at him? I ended up talking to Jeno throughout the entire event and we hit it off.” Sarang pushes at the small of her back to bring her forward and have them join the duo.

“I’m not staying alone with Jaemin. Sorry.” Not because she absolutely despises him like she did in the beginning. That has lulled the slightest. But, nonetheless, he had seen her cry…and she can’t even stare him in the eyes after what he said.

“I’m not leaving you alone. Promise.”

“You really promise?”

“Oh come on, when have I ever failed you, honey?” With that, Sarang returns her gaze to her boyfriend, picking up her step until she can wrap her arms around Jeno’s waist and place a brief kiss to his lips. His eyes glimmer at the mere image of her, looking down at his much shorter girlfriend. “Hey.”

“Hi beautiful.”

Jaemin rests his hands inside his pockets, nodding over at her, still as awkward as she is. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

Her tongue plays on the inside of her cheek. “That would make two of us.” She waves her fingers towards the couple, catching Jeno by surprise. He gives one of those full smiles he always has on his features. “You knew about the two of them?”

“No idea.” Jaemin grins thereafter. “That would make two of us?”

“That would make two of us.”

Sarang fulfills her promise…for twenty-five minutes. Soon after, the haunted house calls for Sarang’s name and she’s dragging her boyfriend by his hand to get to the line on time. When the starry night falls upon them, only the typical rhythm of circus music exchanges its tempo in between Jaemin and herself, leaning against an old wall for an abandoned game. He crosses one leg over the other, she mimics him.

But silence falls in between them, so heavy and thick that she’s on the verge to coming up for an excuse just to leave.

“How’s swimming?”

She scoffs at his question, a smile appearing on her features just when she kicks a pebble forward. “Still no partner. Donghyuck and I no longer swim together.” She stops, quirking an eyebrow. “How’s music? Any album coming up?”

“Two singles.” Jaemin shrugs. “They’ll have me rap in one, which is great. I’m recording a music video in seventeen days.”

She raises her eyebrows at that. Jaemin seems to be in the best moment of his life. “What about university?”

“Frozen for now. I’m taking care of this opportunity first.”

“I see.”

Jaemin pushes himself away from the wall then, turning around to look at her. His black hair falls over his forehead, different from how he had seen him before. He always seems somehow put-together. Tonight, he is different. “You know, I’m tired of this…awkwardness between us. If you have to insult me just to talk to me, do it.”

Amusement is short for what makes her cackle at his words. “Excuse me?”

“Say I’m a privileged beauty or something. I’m tired of this.”

“…You just want me to call you pretty.”

He flutters his eyelashes then, that smirk that only takes the middle of his mouth quirking up. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

Patting one hand to his chest, she moves forward. “Tell you something. Let’s play that game over there—” Pointing towards the bottle-throwing game, she hums. “Whoever wins, has to buy the loser something.”

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“A plushie. They give those to the winner.”

Jaemin picks up with her steps, only to rush into a sprint. “Better prepare to lose and get a gift, then.”

“Ooh, sounds terrible.” She conquers, only to have him chuckling.

“Shall I say I want you to win, then?”

“You should never want me to win, Jaemin. Would hurt your pride.”

Though, he follows after those words, his arms crooking to throw pebbles against the bottles. Some fall miserably, and one shatters under the weight of his strength, earning laughter from her that seems sincere for the first time in so long. He wins, of course, he wins on the first stance, because life is like that for Jaemin—so alike to what he wants.

He also makes it his mission to take the shark plushie.

“Just so you have someone to fight with you, megalodon.” Jaemin complements, but she shakes her head in the process, eyes creaking with a beam.

“I have you for that, don’t I?”

###

Believe it or not, as charming as Jaemin can get, public speaking is not for him.

The kind of public speaking that has to be serious, uptight, and that leaves an impression is most likely what is keeping him at the edge of his seat, swallowing particles of the powder pressed to his face by a brush with deep breath in and out he takes. His fingers fidget with his phone, twisting it over his thigh, trying to remember the notes Mr. Kang had given him.

Truth be told, he would have never thought his first music video would get as much coverage. It’s a bandwagon that hits him with newer aspirations in his life, even when he had only thought so far into his dream. To Jaemin, getting a number one hit was the end of it all. That was the moment he got happiness. And he did, but now, there is more that he seeks for—more that people expect from him.

His phone vibrates and he unlocks it in hopes of getting a distraction.

What he doesn’t expect is that, in between the seas of follows, likes and comments, is that she follows him on Instagram. Just mere seconds ago, she has decided that it was a good idea to join the thousands of people that look at his pictures.

That one enemy that he would have never thought would ever be interested in him.

Perhaps, he should leave it as is, but Jaemin’s fidgeting, looking for a distraction, and he clicks on his music video without thinking. Stories about those in unrequited love situations merge in just one comment section, needing to find those hopeless romantics like themselves, and he screenshots his favorite ones, trying to push back the smile that threatens to escape. He’s voicing out a feeling that he would have never been able to unravel, and it’s all thanks to her.

Slipping into her DM’s, Jaemin writes down the first thing that passes through his head. He can’t have everything right now, worry erasing all intentions of patience and tranquility within him, so texting her seems like a great distraction.

@na.jaemin0813: Here are comments from people who adored your words.

@na.jaemin0813: Thanks for making my dream come true.

@na.jaemin0813: [12 Pictures Attached].

It takes her two minutes to see the message and respond: “Holy shit. Thank you for singing my words, I guess?”

“You’ve just thanked me for something. You must be slowly dying out.”

“In my way to get you burned for witchcraft, caveman. This is impossible.”

Jaemin’s smile spreads across his face. “Admit it, you like my songs.”

Though, there is nothing more relaxing than to imagine her pushing that gorgeous smile off her features to write:

“…Having a huge ego is a bad thing, Na Jaemin.”

“Lucky me that I have you to deflate it.”

###

“I could be your swimming partner.”

No longer does she feel like she’s drowning when inside the water, but once she emerges, she’s sure she has swallowed some of the pool’s chemicals. Her tongue sticks out, cringing at the taste, while she moves towards the edge of it, wrapping a towel around her body when getting out of it only to look at Renjun, playing with the strands of his long hair to safely get it into a ponytail.

“You want to take part in an extracurricular activity?” She questions Renjun, because she has known him for months by now, and Renjun is the owner of the ‘anti-everything’ persona. He is it, after all.

He hums, though he looks down at his nails now. “It’d get me more points with the professors and being this smart for free is tiring.” The smile on his face tells her that he is joking, but there are some true connotations in what he is saying.

Her heart almost weights, but not in the weight that it did before. She doesn’t drown in the necessity of attention from a man that she loved, but she won’t also sit down and say that she doesn’t miss Donghyuck. Miss him in the sense of friendship, before her feelings decided to fuck it all over for everyone, unknown to him and cut off in a way that left him confused.

One would say that she ghosted him, but she gave him an explanation. She said she needed space, Donghyuck tried to get it out of her, and never really got an answer. Soon after, he gave her the same card. Dani wasn’t exactly over the moon of having them exchange texts, according to him, because she had sensed something weird from her. Wouldn’t blame her, to anyone but Donghyuck, it was pretty obvious that she had feelings for him.

That’s the end of an era. Maybe, of swimming like how she used to—freely and with the sense of reaching for something, but it’s the beginning of something else. Trusting herself and knowing that she isn’t someone’s half, but a completed individual that can work with someone.

“Deal.” She extends her hand and shakes it with Renjun’s before tutting him. “But you better get ready for giving your most, Renjun.”

“When don’t I ever?”

“Asshole.”

That has the two of them laughing.

###

A clogged-up nose and covers wrapped around her body accompany her in a hormone-filled week, as she cocoons herself in front of the TV in her living room, in the solitude of her night, to watch another romantic movie.

The main character is closing her eyes as her love interest presses kisses to her knuckles, and she has to cover her eyes in order not to let out a big weep. It’s one of those days in which romance hurts a bit harder, feels a little bit deeper than it should, much more when Sarang is not there with her to cry about tragic endings with her. Instead, she only hears the TV and the buzzing of the air conditioner.

The start of her break is cut off by the sound of someone knocking on her door.

She almost ignores it, still trapped in the scene, warming herself up with the thick blanket, but whoever is out there must have the eager need to get the door opened for them. With her feet dragging and wrapping up around the blanket, almost making her fall, she goes over to the peephole, widening her eyes when she realizes who is there.

Na Jaemin.

Jaemin is out of her door, his hair pushed away, showing that forehead and those lazily romantic eyes, and her heart skips a beat. One, she’s absolutely a mess, and two, now Jaemin has parted his lips to say.

“I can hear the TV. Open up. It’s me.”

Goddamn it.

She uses the blanket as a hood when she opens the door, probably looking ridiculous in her pajamas and dried tears scattered across her cheeks like stardust. Instead, Jaemin inspects her features with tranquility, fixing the sleeve of his white sweater that falls off one shoulder, showcasing his collarbone.

“Is it me?” Jaemin whines, cocking his head to the side, pressing one hand to his chest. “Am I the one that makes you cry? Because you’re always crying when it’s just the two of us.”

She shakes her head, trying to push a grin down by biting on her lips. “It’s actually several men. Men in general. First, it was Paul Rudd in Clueless, then it was that whole Princess Diaries marathon I had, and now—”

“…You’re crying over fictional men.”

“The only men you should be crying about, why?” She crosses her arms over her chest, leaning against the doorframe before looking around the hallway. No one is around, probably out for the break.

“Sarang told me you weren’t planning on going back home.” Jaemin invites himself in, letting his keys fall on the table near the door, where Sarang and she hold their favorite pictures, and she takes this as the cue to close the door. After all, he has some fans, and it wouldn’t be the best publicity to have him entering some girl’s dorm. “Why?”

“I need to be alone,” She fixes the blanket around her, plopping herself down on the couch again and tracing his figure with her gaze. His shoulders are wide, waist taut and slim. Clearly a piece of art. “…For a while, at least, until I figure out who it is that I am right now. Plenty of changes have happened in just months and I am not sure if I am ready to explain them to everybody back home.”

He pats something against his palm, a small agenda in deep green that catches her attention. “I get you,” He responds before she could ask anything, taking a seat on the floor in front of the couch, looking up at her. “I’m scared shitless, actually.”

“Why?” She questions, chuckling soon after. “I knew there must be a reason why you came to me, out of all people.”

“…Jeno’s back home, and I needed to show you something. It’s not exactly because I want you to remind me that I’m more scared of you than anything.” He jokes around, once again clapping that agenda against his hand. “I wrote something, and I am terrified that I have…that it sucks and they are my feelings on paper and I—”

“You’ve written something?” Her voice comes out more surprised than intended, extending her hand and waving her fingers. “May I see?”

Jaemin’s cheeks dust in a pretty pink. “It’s just a bunch of caveman words.”

Laughing, she shakes her head. “But your words nonetheless. I won’t laugh, I promise.”

Jaemin covers his face with his hands after giving her the agenda. The first thing she does is trace the outline, the leather untainted by lack of use, but that doesn’t stop her. The first page reads his name, Na Jaemin, but that’s also not what captures her breath in her throat.

He has written a song about feeling unloved in between so much love, of feeling like he is only seen for what is the outline of him and not the core of his painting. His rhymes are far from poetic, but they feel like him. So simple and sweet, so straight-to-the-point that it almost makes her dizzy. So frustrating because she understands him, and she doesn’t want to.

Na Jaemin is a million things, but she had never thought about him as complicated. Never would she have thought that, all along, Jaemin was tired of falling in love with people who judged him for what they saw, and she feels guilty. After all, she assumed he was an asshole on a first stance when she had also made a few mistakes along their way.

Her heart skips a bit when she looks at him, with his face still covered and now bright red ears.

Jaemin is beautiful, she realizes then, and she’s tired of keeping words to herself each time they feel a bit more meaningful, a tad bigger than they ever were.

“…This is gorgeous.” She confesses, closing the agenda when seeing its lack of other lyrics, before pressing it to her knees and resting her chin on top of its surface. “Jaemin, look at me.”

“No caveman?” He questions, letting go of his features and tossing his head back to connect his gaze with hers. “I thought you’d tell me that it sucks, given that you’re good at rhyming and—”

“You know what’s the beauty of poems?”

“No.”

“…That as long as they feel like they liberate you, they’re beautiful.”

Jaemin ponders on those words for a while, and she drags herself until she ends up on his side. Never had she taken the time to inspect his features as something else than an enraging fit of lack of understanding as to why the most handsome were always the worst. Nonetheless, now that she looks at the rosiness of his cheeks, the flutter of his eyelashes and that romanticism in his eyes…she wonders what she had thought all these months that she spent hating him, when she could have done something else.

“You really like it?”

“…I think you’re more than what you tell yourself you are, Jaemin.” She explains. “You’re not just a hot guy, that’s for sure. You’re not stupid or reckless…only.” She looks at him from the corner of her eyes when saying this, laughing, but he doesn’t. His eyes are everywhere on her features, as if thinking of his next words. “You’re the guy who wiped my tears at my worst and the one that made me so angry that he made me feel alive again. You got me out of my shell and that, in its own way, is poetic.”

Never would she have imagined that Jaemin would take a decision on a whim. Rather, make a choice that surprises her from the get-go. Jaemin’s hand ends up on her shoulder, breath mingling with her own when a force so powerful beams from within him, sending him forward in an explosion of recognition when he sparces his lips across her own. At first, she doesn’t know what to think—his heart is a rampant fire of untold feelings in his chest, pressed right to hers, his hand holding her with certainty, yet with enough softness for her to pull away whenever she wanted. His perfume mingles in her nostrils, his chapped lips tracing her own and wrapping around her upper one in a curl that has her only thinking once for the first time in her life.

Jaemin tastes like all she never knew she needed, and it’s because she never wanted it and now, it’s all she can ever think of. There’s desperation in her touch when she reaches for the strands of his hair, tugging softly, hearing the muffled sound that leaves his mouth to conjoin with her own by the time he opts to play as if tying a cherry with his tongue along her own. The melody of the smack of their lips has her stomach tightening with unknown questions and discovered answers, and the more she touches, the more she feels like she has lost her time with him.

Lost every second in which she could have kissed him.

Every minute in which she could have made him feel loved and listened to.

Every hour they could have spent talking about their biggest fears or most unknown mistakes.

By the time she pulls away, Jaemin’s eyes are closed, forehead pressed to her own as he breathes closely to her lips, delicately, unfinished in labored ways before he says:

“I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s alright.” She says, curling her hand against his nape before resting another brief kiss against his lips. “I think you’ve just illuminated something inside my head.”

Jaemin chuckles at that, wrapping his arms around her waist and opening his lips to hypnotize her with that flirty glow. “What is it?”

“Sarang once said there was tension between us.” She confesses. “…And I think she may have been right.”

“And you’ve only noticed now?”

“Shut up, I don’t get romance!”

###

Water looks different when a person is in love. The curls around every motion that helps the swimmer get forward is enticing, holding her breath comes as difficult, almost giving up on releasing a sigh when she feels a pair of hands wrapping around her waist and bringing her upwards. And she thinks that’s the key, no love will ever let her fall, instead, it will bring her up.

The first thing she sees in this private pool of a party that she had been invited to is Jaemin. His worried eyes and dumb smirk is enough of an answer for her. She knows, right at that moment, a year after that kiss they shared in front of her white couch, that her heart had never loved as widely as she does with Jaemin and perhaps, it’s because it’s shared.

His arms wrap around her waist, her back connecting to his damp and taut chest by the time she tries to continue swimming on the pool. He doesn’t let go of her.

“Babe, could you please—?”

“Don’t play those ‘hold your breath’ games anymore. You know I get worried.” Jaemin instructs, whining when she tries to push the two of them down, earning loud laughter from her.

“I’m a swimmer. Nothing will happen.”

“One can never be too sure,” He says, curling his lips against her nape and bringing goosebumps up her arms, down to her spine and her legs. “You would have never imagined that you’d end up being my girlfriend, but this life only brings surprise after surprise after surprise—”

“I get it, I get it…” She trails, turning around to press a kiss to his lips before sighing. “Get me something to eat in this goddamned place that isn’t wine and I promise I won’t try to hold my breath underwater anymore…tonight.”

Teasing him comes as second nature, and maybe it’s because she’s so used to this part of him. The whines, the frowns, that gleam in his eyes that asks for more. Though, one part of herself is sure of something, once she unraveled the truth of Na Jaemin, she realized he’s more complex than what he shows. A surprise that bites her when he throws the two of them into the water, with his arms still snugly wrapped around her, never letting her go.

#jaemin scenarios #jaemin #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #nct dream scenarios #jaemin au #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #nct au #nct fluff #nct angst #university!au #haven't written one of these in a while lol #but hey there it is

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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

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Hi I love your writing and say you wanted a peter vday request! I have one how about a vday scavenger hunt type of thing that instead of peter setting it up it's reader for peter! And like at the end it will come down to two choices one leads to her and the other leads to still being friends. Fluffy!

Scavenger Hunt

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Masterlist

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” You shouted across the hallway before tackling Peter in a hug.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Peter happily hugged you back. “I have something to give you.”

“I do too.” You grinned nervously. “But I have to go first.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded as he put the valentine in his back pocket.

“Okay, so you know how you have a huge crush on me?” You began.

“What? No I don’t.” He stammered. “That’s crazy. That’s…yeah, why?”

“Well I like you too.” You confessed, making his breath hitch in his throat.

“You do?” He asked as his eyes went wide.

“Yeah.” You said like it was obvious. “But I can’t date someone who can’t be honest about their feelings. So I’m gonna need you to prove to me that you really want to be with me.”

“I do. I really, really do.” He promised. “How can I prove that to you?”

“By going on this scavenger hunt.” You explained as you handed him a red envelope. “If you follow all the steps correctly, you’ll find me at the end. And then I’m yours, Peter. All yours.”

“Okay.” Peter followed along. “What if I mess up?”

“Then we stay friends and pretend this never happened.” You said simply.

“No.” Peter shook his head as he stared at the envelope. “That’s not happening. I’m gonna win this. I’ll find you at the end and give you your Valentine.”

“I hope you do.” You answered honestly. “You have until sunset. Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t.” Peter promised. You smiled softly at him before leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Then I’ll see you later.” You winked at him before walking away. As soon as you were gone, Peter opened the envelope to read the first clue.

“You’ll find clue one where we first met. You remembered my name when I thought you’d forget.”

“Science lab!” Peter blurted, earning looks from passing students. He cleared his throat as his cheeks flushed, giving them a small smile. He stuffed the envelope in his pocket and rushed to the third floor science lab.

You had first met there when you sat next to him on the first day of school. You sat there again the following week, introducing yourself as if you were meeting for the first time. You had assumed he’d forgetting your name over the weekend, laughing shyly when he told you he remembered it.

Peter opened the door to the lab and saw another red envelope sitting on the back table. He walked over to it and opened it up, hands shaking with anticipation. There was a heart shaped lolly pop sitting next to it, which he unwrapped and popped in his mouth.

“Roses are red, violets are blue. Check your locket for clue number two.”

Peter bolted out of the lab, knocking into a few students as he ran to his locker. He fumbled with the lock before ultimately pulling it off with his super strength. He opened the locker and saw a red envelope taped to the door with his name on it. It was scented like your perfume, as if you sprayed it on there.

“You found me! So here’s clue number three. What’s a little honey without the bee?”

“She’s too cute.” Peter mumbled it himself as he shut his locker. He practically skipped down the hallway as he made his way outside, quickly located the tree you used to sit under to eat your lunch. You stopped sitting there when a bee stung you on your hand, but you had a fond memory of Peter sucking the stinger out.

Peter saw a red envelope taped to the tree and took it, ripping it open to read what was inside. Other than the card, there was a small package of his favorite candy. He began to munch on them as he read the clue.

“Look at you, you found clue four. Schools almost over, so check your front door.”

Peter let out a groan, knowing he had two more periods before he could go home. His leg bounced in anticipation during his classes, shooting out of his seat the second the final bell rang.

Peter ran all the way home but when he got to his apartment, he didn’t see an envelope. He checked both sides of the door and found nothing. He slumped in defeat on the couch, assuming you changed your mind.

“Hey, Peter.” May greeted as she walked into the room. “You’re home early.”

“Yeah.” He mumbled. “I was expecting something.”

“Oh, was it a letter?” May asked, making his perk up. “I found this taped to the door when I got-“

“That’s mine!” Peter shouted in excitement as he took the envelope from May. He tore it open and pulled out the card inside. A Polaroid of you and him fell out, and he quickly picked it up. It was a picture of you biting his cheek while he laughed, one of his favorite pictures.

“I hope the wait for clue five built your anticipation. Clue number six can be found at the train station.”

“I gotta go.” Peter hastily grabbed his bag and went for the door.

“Where are you going?” May called after him, but he was already gone. He swung to the nearest train station and found Ned with a bouquet of roses.

“Ned?” Peter panted once he landed. “What are you doing here?”

“First, these are for you.” Ned handed Peter the flowers. “And so is this.”

Peter took the flowers with a smile before accepting the envelope.

“Clues will be getting harder, so I hope you enjoy the roses. Clue seven is with the models and all their dumb poses.”

“Models?” Peter furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Ned in confusion.

“Hey man, I’m just the messenger.” Ned shrugged. “She got me a box of chocolates for helping out.

“I think I have an idea.” Peter said as he remembered something. “But if I’m wrong, then we stay friends.”

“You better hope you’re not wrong then.” Ned said, and Peter agreed.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’ll see you later, man. Hopefully with my girlfriend.”

Peter swung back to Delmars and went inside, going straight to the magazine section. You once stood in front of the magazines with him, flipping through to see who could find the most ridiculous poses the models were in and then doing them. He remembered making you laugh when he mimicked a particularly flexible pose, so he hoped that’s what the clue was alluding to. Peter scanned the magazine section for the red envelope, jumping a little when the store cat jumped on top of the rack. Peter did a double take when he saw you had taped the envelope to the cat, shaking his head at your antics. He carefully removed the tape and looked at the clue inside.

“Our times in Delmars are some of the best I’ve ever had. Now for clue eight, you’ll need someone who’s bad.”

Peter tilted his head in confusion until he flipped the card over, seeing that you wrote, “really, really bad.”

The wheels in his brain started turning and he remembered the song you played him the night you got your drivers license.

“Bad.” He mumbled to himself. “The Michael Jackson song?”

He turned the card over again and suddenly, it clicked.

Bad. Michael Jackson. MJ.

“Thanks for the help.” Peter pet the cat before noticing a wrapped sandwich on the counter with his name written on it. He smiled at the gesture, finally realizing he was starving. He unwrapped it, taking note that it was his usual order, and took a bite. He continued eating it as he went to find MJ.

He hoped she was in he usual spot, perched under the bleachers with a pile of books. Peter nervously checked the time, seeing that he only had two hours until sunset. You said he had to find you before then, and he was worried time was running out. MJ could be anywhere and she wasn’t a fan of answering her phone. He could only hope you allowed time specifically for hunting MJ down.

After checking the local library and realizing he had no idea where MJ lived, Peter felt stuck. He spun around in circles in the middle of the street, unsure of where to go next. The sun would be setting soon and he had no idea how many more clues he needed.

“Hey loser.” MJ appeared out of nowhere with a small smile. “Need some help?”

“MJ?” Peter wondered as he approached her. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“You’ve been spinning in a circle outside my apartment building for the past ten minutes whining my name.” She said flatly. “I figured I should come out.”

“You live here?” Peter asked as he looked up at the building. He realized that he had been there before with you, and must have walked there from muscle memory.

“Yep.” She sounded bored. “Do you want your envelope or not?”

“I do.” He nodded eagerly. “Do you know how many are left?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” MJ yawned as he handed him the envelope. “Oh, and she wanted me to give you this.”

Peter looked up at MJ handed him a watch he recognized.

“My Uncle Ben’s watch?” He asked as he took it from her. “Where did you get this?”

“Like I just said.” MJ said sarcastically. “She wanted me to give it to you.”

“It’s ticking.” He realized with a smile. “It hasn’t worked in years.”

“Yeah, well.” MJ shrugged. “She got it to work. Happy Valentine’s Day or whatever.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, MJ.” Peter smiled in appreciation. “Thank you.”

“Whatever.” She mumbled as he opened the envelope.

“As your watch will show you, time is almost out. For the last clue, you’ll find me at the best place to shout.”

“Best place to shout?” Peter wondered out loud. “Where’s the best place to shout?”

“Well, I would say a protest, but her hopeless romantic ass would probably say something like a rooftop or concert.”

“There are no concerts in the area.” Peter thought hard. “She must mean a rooftop, right? Because when you love someone, you want to shout it from the rooftops.”

“I don’t know.” MJ sighed. “This is the last time I help straight people with anything.”

“I think I know where she is.” Peter decided. “I better hurry. The sun is gonna set soon.”

“Does it look like I’m stopping you?” MJ mumbled as Peter ran away. Once he was out of sight, he swung towards your apartment building and landed on the roof.

You were standing on the roof, next to a small table and chairs. Red candles and pink hearts were on the table, a perfect Valentine’s Day date. Peter walked towards you and put the roses you’d given him in the empty vase before taking in your beauty. You were in a silly red dress with the sun setting behind you.

“You found me.” You smiled softly, gazing at him with pride.

“I did.” He smiled as well as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I followed all your clues.”

“I really thought the Michael Jackson would throw you.” You teased as you stepped closed to him.

“Nothing was gonna throw me.” He said confidently. “I was too determined.”

“I see.” You pulled your lip between your teeth. “Did you like your gifts?”

“Of course I did.” He told you. “This is the best one, though. But the sandwich was a nice touch.”

“I thought you’d like that.” You chuckled.

“Can I give you my Valentine now?” Peter asked, reaching for it in his back pocket.

“Oh, yeah.” You remembered. “Of course.”

Peter handed you heart cut out of red construction paper with glitter and stickers on it. You chuckled at his craftsman’s and slowly opened it up, sequins falling off as you did.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to the most beautiful, creative, and amazing girl I know. You make everyday feel like Valentine’s Day. Ps, I like you. I really, really like you. Love, Peter.” You read out loud, looking up at him in awe. He has a shy blush on his cheeks as you finished reading.

“It’s funny.” You chuckled as you set the card on the table. “You wrote “love Peter” at the end of it.”

“What’s funny about that?” Peter wondered.

“I do.” You smiled shyly. “I do love Peter.”

“I love you too.” Peter grinned before pulling you into a kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, getting your red lipstick all over his face. He didn’t mind it, though. He was too happy to mind it. When you pulled away, he pulled your chair out for you so you could sit down at the table. There was sparkly cider already in your glasses and a cupcake on each of your plates.

“Thank you for a perfect Valentine’s Day.” He said as he held up his glass. “I can honestly say this has been the greatest day of my life.”

“Me too, Petey.” You smiled as you clinked your glass against his. “Me too.”

Tag List 🏷

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

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silverrstarrr · 3 years

Text

Hello, today I am starting a Eren x black reader fanfic. And don't worry, yo girl over here is Nigerian😋😋 I do plan to put smut into it but I've never written smut before so please be easy on about that part! (The reader and Eren are both 18, their first year in University.)

Y/n L/n. Daniyah

Dylan. Jason

Yume

Normal Girl<3

Chapter one:

You love the way I pop my top. Or love how I lose my cool

Music was playing in the background on a loud Bluetooth speaker as you were preparing yourself for the day. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you take off your bonnet, your long black box braids flowing down to your hips. Which cost a bitch. You were cleaning up your face and doing a causal face routine. You grabbed your makeup bag from under the bottom cabinet and began applying. Doing your eyebrows, eyeliner, eye shadow, lipgloss. Placing the brown foundation on your skin to cover up the bumps that were on your face, contour and more. You placed your false eyelashes on, ruffling up your hair a bit more. After a good 15 minutes, you were ready for the day.

Or love how I look at you. Say why?

The song Normal girl by SZA continued to play as you hummed to the rhythm of the song. Finishing up laying down your edges, you gave yourself a small smile in the mirror, feeling hella confident in your looks. Even though you were self conscious, you had this thing when you believed you that you're the most ugliest bitch in the world, next thing you're in love with yourself. It was currently 8 am in the morning, class was starting by 8:45.

You wanted to freshen up before you left for school. Your roommate you shared a dorm with was currently out grabbing you guys breakfast. You guys both settled for Dunkin' since their drink prices were reasonable and good unlike starbucks. You left the bathroom and grabbing your bonnet on the way out, switching the light off. You tossed the hair net on your bed as you went over to your dresser.

For your affection, tryna be down. No fighting and no stopping, Stick around

Oh shit, this was your part. You started to sing to yourself, not ACTUALLY singing it but you know, saying the lyrics.

"Wish I was the type of girl you take over to mama! The type of girl, I know my daddy, he'd be proud of. Yeah, be proud of."

You were singing your heart out at this point, who doesn't enjoy SZA?!

Not to mention, you relate so much to the song. Since you weren't America's "normal girl". You didn't have Blue eyes, blonde hair, or white pale skin. You were a beautiful brown skin woman, with black curly hair and brown eyes. Not to mention you had 4c hair. But it wasn't a bad thing in your opinion, you loved your hair because at the end of the day, you knew it was long ass hell.

A bzzt sound came from your dresser, instantly your grabbed your phone and unlocked it. It was your roommate, Yume. Yume was a pale skin girl, with brown eyes and long black hair. She was mixed. Her mother was Japanese and her dad was white. Yume was pretty outgoing and bold, a lot of people on campus knew who she was. She was a party person. She still managed to get decent grades by that, you meant that she crammed at the last second and got a C+ or above. Opening up messages, you read the ones from Yume.

colonizer but times 2🧑🏻‍🦲

Attachment: 1 photo

Look what I gooottt😩❗❗

y/n is funky🧑🏾‍🦱🦷❗

y/n liked a photo

Girl, hurry up and bring the food😭

over here posing with the dunkin' bag, goofy😭😭

colonizer but times 2🧑🏻‍🦲

I KNOW, IM ON MY WAY

I'm getting in the car now, see you later hot melatonin queen, wakanda queen 👸🏾 remember BLM✊🏻❤

y/n is funky🧑🏾‍🦱🦷❗

LMAAAOOO, I HATE YOUUU

GET TF ON DAMN COLONIZER 😕

You began laughing, using your hand to cover your mouth. You left messages and began scrolling through your other social media. First you check snapchat, it was a bunch of your friends and people who added you, leaving hearts under your post story. Since you posted a little selfie. You had on a cute graphic t shirt that hugged your upper body and showed your stomach. You didn't have a flat stomach but a little tummy. You had on faded blue jeans that rested at your hips. Even though you didn't have a flat stomach, your curvy body and a dump trunk made up for it. You had a few necklaces resting on your chest as well with a few rings on your finger.

I wish I was a normal girl, oh my. How do I be? How do I be a lady?

You clicked on instagram. You had a decent 10k followers. You were considered one of those pretty aesthetic pinterest girl, especially because of your outfit ideas. You look through your feed for a bit, then you came across yume's page. You scroll through her post and liked her recent. You checked the comments and all the guys fawning over her, it wasn't anything new but you didn't expect this one person. They left a black heart under their post and yume replied to it. You clicked on the profile just to check if she had a secret lover and she wasn't telling you. The username was "eyeager45". Surprisingly, he had 18k followers.

Normal girl, oh

I wish I was a normal girl.

I'll never be, no, never be uh

This shocked you, not his follower count but the fact your roomie got him commenting hearts?! Nah, you need to find out. You scrolled through his feed, looking at his photos, he didn't have a lot of post. But damn he was fine. He had long brown hair that rested on his shoulders, his eyes were a teal color but you were still stuck deciding if it was blue or green. Most of his photos, he had it tied into a sloppy bun, a few strands stood out flopping over his forehead. Without thinking, your dumbass liked his photo.

"I-" you said. Before you can unlike the photo, yume barges in with breakfast. It was already 8:20, classes were starting.

"There was traffic on the way and since it's rush hour, everyone and their crew was getting coffee."

Yume placed you guys drinks and food on a nearby round table. She quickly ran to the bathroom to pee, closing the door behind her. You placed your phone back on your dresser and went over to grab your drink. You took a sip, It seem like this time yume got your (f/d) correct and not just getting a random flavor she sees on the menu. Opening up the bag, you grab your (f/f) along with the other food that was apart of your meal. You went back over to the dresser to grab your phone, then back to the small table. You sat down on the small couch that was close to the table and started eating.

"Hey! Make sure you got your own shit and not eating mine by mistake" yume was washing her hands in the bathroom.

You nodded your head with a "mmm". You were digging in, eating fast because class was starting soon. Coming out of the bathroom, yume whistled looking at your outfit. She always gassed you up & was your number one fan.

"Look at you~ all cute and shit" she ruffled through the bag, grabbing her donut already taking a bite out of it then her breakfast sandwich as she sat down next to you. Both of you guys were munching as if the food was running away, like slow tf down. You took out your phone to take a quick insta video of your food and yume. She was taking a sip of her drink when you pointed your camera on her, she did a quick deuces, which made both of you laugh a bit. You quickly added it to your story and tagged her. You went back and forth with your drink and food, until it was finish. You still had a some coffee left but the food? Gone.

You and yume shared an apartment together. It was close to the campus and it was cheaper. Dorms costed a load for no reason. Most of the time they had no kitchen and barley any room other than for the beds. You met yume during high-school but you guys weren't that close but still kept in touch. Summer break came around and you guys so happened to have the same job. It was the best summer of your life, you were really greatful for meeting yume. She was also the first to offer you to share an apartment together since you both were attending the same university.

Both of guys were majoring in different things but that was fine. Yume was planning on becoming a nurse while you were in the cosmetic industry. It's been a dream ever since you were young. Grabbing your mother's makeup bag and just smearing it all over your face by the age of twelve. You remember the first time you did your makeup and showed your mom.

She laughed so hard and took you into the bathroom to fix it up. Slowly you started getting better and better at makeup. You had your own YouTube channel by the time but it wasn't a lot of subscribers, about 3k. Now you were 19 and had a 500k subscribers who supported you all the way. Being in the beauty industry on YouTube was a hassel because there was always drama here and there but you were never included. More like a "I just sit back and observe" type shit.

The apartment you guys shared was pretty big. You had your own room and bathroom, the same with yume. Yume parents were wealthy since her mom was a dentist and her dad was a doctor. Yume never made any real friends. They always ended up leeching off of her and her money, one of the main reason she kept distance from you and others during high school but the summer brought you guys together.

It was the beginning of the first semester, you had your first class today. You were excited but that didn't stop the anxiety creeping up your spine. What if you didn't make a good expression, or did some stupid shit and fell.

"Hellllooooo, y/n. You good?"

yume was waving her hand in your face. She was laughing at bit because of your face expression while you were in la-la-land.

You nudged her lightly and giggled back.

"Stoop, leave me alone. I'm just nervous about my first day"

Yume grabbed the empty bags and wrappers that were on the table, walking to the kitchen to threw them away. She had on a cute oversized black sweatshirt with a white collar. It went well with her white tennis skirt and beige color platforms. Yume was 5'6 but looked 5'7. She was really pretty in your opinion. It was surprising she didn't have a boyfriend.

"Girl pleaseee, you'll be fine. You're pretty and you have a cute laugh—who wouldn't fall for you?" Yume continued cheesying. She went over to the doorsteps and grabbed a pair of pair of black air Jordan 1 retros(the high ones). She walked back over and tossed them on the ground next to you.

"You aren't wrong about that...but you know I literally don't know what to say after 'hi'. I don't know how people do it, it gets so awkward after that point."

"Shit...you're right...well since we're in college now, we can ask others about their majors and stuff but I rather not hear about a guy talking about how much he likes the human body system."

Loosing up the laces, you slip your foot in and began tying the strings—you repeated the same process with the other foot. You grabbed your coffee and did a quick stretch before heading over to your dresser. You picked up your phone and keys, your bag was next to the door, you'll grab on your way out.

Yume grabbed her jacket and you did the same.

"How many people do you think we'll be in my class?" She asked

Since she was majoring in nursing. You titled your head up and started to think.

"Maybe around 335 people."

You zipped up your jacket and placed your phone in the pocket. Opening up your airpods, you placed one in your ear.

"Pssshh, that's an underestimate. I think around 400 or more"

Yume opens the door, tossing her bag over her shoulder— you grabbed yours also. Stepping out the apartment, she stood by the side as you locked the door. You pulled your phone out and played your playlist. It was time to start the day.

pt 2

#x reader #attack on titan #eren headcanons #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #anime #eren yeager #eren x black reader #x black reader #aot x black reader #eren jeager x reader #eren aot #eren yeager x y/n

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mandospace · 3 years

Text

Fooled Around (Din Djarin x Reader)

Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Din x female reader inspired by the song "I Fooled Around and Fell In Love" by Elvin Bishop?Hope u can do it 💕

Requested By: @pepperlen

Word Count: 4,680

Warnings: Some mature content (mention of sex and brothels), extreme pining by our one and only Mando

A/N: I have never written an entire fic in one character’s POV, so I hope it turned out okay! My requests are open for both Din and Boba. I hope you all enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The galaxy was immense, the stars and planets innumerable. People of all races were still trying to understand just how big it was, to what depths the black and empty space stretched out before them. Sometimes, the distances between each point of light were immeasurable, too far for any humanoid to comprehend, no matter how hard they tried. Within the galaxy, there were trillions upon trillions of souls- each with a name and story to tell. One of those souls was a lone bounty hunter that traveled the immense space between the points of light.

Din lost track of how many planets and towns he has been to. The number ranged in the hundreds, if not thousands. Each planet and town was all the same though, even if their topography differed greatly. Every planet held small backwater towns where the scum of the galaxy seemed to hide, evading their captors. In those backwater towns, there was always a lone cantina that sat on the edge of town. Locals and vagrants alike frequented the establishment, where there was always an old bartender. At that bar, drunks of every race tried to drink their worries away in the same liquor every night. Desperate people wandered amongst the booths, looking for work, money, and sex. Sometimes, all three if you met the right type of person.

No matter the planet or town, it was always the same. The lone hunter had fallen into a pattern, one that he upheld almost as strictly as his Creed. Pick up a job, track down the bounty, capture the scum, and haul them back to the Crest. Depending on the job or planet, sometimes Din would wander back into the cantina looking for something to keep him entertained. Sometimes it was fighting amongst the drunks- eager to release his pent up adrenaline from the hunt. Other times, he looked for other means of releasing the tension that constantly laid beneath the shining beskar. More often than not, this release was found in the company of women who too were looking for company.

He wasn’t proud of the numerous one-night stands that he had during the length of his career. It was nothing personal- both participants looking for an escape from the dreary life the galaxy offered. No questions were asked of either party, both just eager to feel something besides the numbness that surrounded them in their everyday lives. While Din wasn’t proud of his many encounters, he certainly wasn’t ashamed of them. Each was a necessary means to an end- a way to break the tediousness that was bounty hunting. A way to feel something besides anger and violence.

When the kid entered Din’s life, his well-adhered schedule was practically thrown out the window. He was no longer the lone bounty hunter that jumped from planet to planet in search of quarries or release. Now, he was a single father that fended off the remnants of the Empire that was hell-bent on taking his foundling away from him. Din was tasked by the Armorer to reunite the foundling with his own kind- even if he had no clue what kind of creature the small green foundling was. It was declared that they would be a clan of two: branded in the Mudhorn signet on the tempered beskar of his pauldron. Wherever he went, the child followed; even into dangerous situations.

After too many close calls with the little womprat, Din started to realize that he couldn’t do this on his own. When foundlings are taken in, the whole covert would raise and care for them. Show them the ways of the Mandalore: how to fight, how to protect the covert. Din didn’t have his fellow covert that he could rely on to help raise and protect the foundling. He was always out-matched in terms of fighting and raising the kid. When it came to fighting, Din couldn’t be as ruthless as he needed to be when he was constantly concerned for the child’s safety. When it came to raising the kid, the little green booger seemed to out-wit him at every turn. How could he discipline the small child that had Din wrapped around his tiny little clawed finger?

He couldn’t rely on the covert that seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Mandalorians were rare already, and the only ones he knew had vanished without a trace. Kuill was Din’s next option before he remembered the early demise his close friend had met because of his relation to Din. Cara was on Nevarro, wiping up the last remnants of Empire scum. Greef had resumed his position at the Guild; and besides, Din didn’t want the kid anywhere near him. Peli was running her hangar on Tatooine, too busy scamming pilots out of their credits over small repairs. He had quickly exhausted his very short list of allies that he could trust with the kid. It had become apparent that he would have to look for outside help.

Din wasn’t looking for anything specific in a caretaker, just someone that seemed competent enough to handle a child. He wasn’t even actively looking for someone when you literally stumbled into his life.

He was in one of the many familiar backwater towns of Dantooine, leisurely strolling through the open-air market that lined the town’s only street. The kid was nestled in the pouch Din had draped over his shoulder, dark eyes peering over the burlap sack. They were in town looking for some supplies, food and medicine mostly. The child had eaten up Din’s entire stores, though he wasn’t sure how he could eat that much. He was only a 50 year old baby, after all.

When they were landing on the outskirts of the small town, Din had noticed that there was a local brothel that appeared on the holo-map. It had been months since Din last had any form of release- caring for the kid and evading the Empire had taken up his entire time. Even though he desperately wanted to relieve some stress, Din couldn’t. The kid was too important to risk taking his eyes off of him for even a moment.

Distracted from the tension and stress that lingered underneath his beskar, Din didn’t realize that he was on a collision course until he collided with your body. You had been carrying a basket full of fruit that was piled high above your head, hence why you didn’t see the intimidating hunter in silver beskar. When the two of you collided, you fell onto your bottom with a groan, fruit rolling out of your basket and onto the dusty ground. Din just looked down in shock at you, surprised that he didn’t even see that you were right in front of him.

“Do you ever watch where you’re going?” You groaned, rubbing your backside in pain.

He just looked at you, blinking slowly behind his helmet. You were beautiful, even though you were scowling up at him. Your hair was tousled from the fall and dirt was coating your clothes. The sun was bringing out the highlights in your hair, and Din longed to card his fingers through it. He had barely known you for two minutes but Din was already fantasizing about the feel of your skin under his, the soft breaths that would leave your lips. Stars, it had been too long.

“Hello, Dantooine to Tin Man?” You were waving your hand in front of his visor, trying to get some type of reaction out of him. “Mind helping me with this?”

All he could do was nod as he dropped to his knees and started to help you pick up your spilled fruit. Your hair had fallen into your face when you bent over and he wished he could tuck it behind your ear. He silently chastised himself. He hadn’t even said a word to you and there he was, dreaming about touching you while you were picking up the fruit that he spilled.

“So, what’s your name?” Your soft voice pulled him from his thoughts as you looked up at him. Din couldn’t breathe when you locked eyes with him- even though you had no way of knowing where his eyes laid under the black visor. Your eyes, though, were mesmerizing. “So you’re the silent type, then?”

Din cleared his throat and offered his hand. “I’m Din.” What was he thinking?! He had never revealed his name to another living being voluntarily, and yet here he is, freely and openly giving his name to a beautiful girl he had just met.

“(Y/N),” you smiled and took his hand in yours. He was shocked at how small your hand looked in his, but even more shocked at the overwhelming sense of rightness that flowed through his veins at the sight of your hand in his leather-clad one. “Oh Maker, who’s this?”

Din hadn’t realized that the kid crawled out of his satchel and started to waddle over to you. He moved to pick up the kid and put him back in his bag, but you had beat him to it. You easily swooped the kid up into your arms, setting him down on your lap. The kid just stared up at you, offering a toothy smile. “Are you hungry, little guy?” Riffling in your basket, you picked out the juiciest looking fruit before handing it over to the child. “There, enjoy that, little guy. He’s precious. Is he yours?”

“Sort of,” Din admitted as he shuffled to his feet. He offered you a hand to pull you to your feet which you gladly accepted. The kid was still cradled in your arms, munching on the fruit. Since your hands were full and the kid looked too happy in your arms to take him away, Din picked up your fruit basket instead. He was amazed at how easily you interacted with the kid. You hadn’t even known the small child for more than five minutes but the little womprat was utterly enamored with you. It had taken Din weeks to gain that level of trust with him and yet here you are, plucking another fruit out of the basket in Din’s arms and feeding it to his kid. “Do you want a job?”

Confusion flashed across your features before a blush settled on your cheeks. “Look, sir, I’m not that kind of girl...”

Embarrassment flooded Din’s system. “No! You misunderstood me. I would-” he almost said ‘I would never ask for that’ when he realized that he has asked for that in the past. He cleared his throat, trying to dispel the awkward tension. “What I meant was, you seem to be really good with the kid, and I need some help looking after him. I can’t provide for the both of us when I am constantly worried about him.” You just stared up at him, the child wiggling in your arms while he reached for your necklace. “I could pay you, and you wouldn’t have to worry about food. I would just need you to look after the kid while I hunt after bounties.”

“You’re a bounty hunter?” Din regretted telling you that detail, afraid that it would scare you off. Bounty hunting wasn’t the life for everyone.

“Yes, but I-”

“Do you travel the galaxy?” You eagerly asked, eyes shining bright at him.

“Of course, I often have to go to lots of different planets to track down my quarries. Why-”

“I’ll do it.” You had cut him off again, but he didn’t care. You had just said ‘yes’ to him without really knowing him at all. You were either crazy or a very trusting person. Maybe both. “I’ll meet you at the south edge of town at sunset with my things.” Handing the child back to him, you swapped the kid for your basket of fruit. You started to head off in the direction of what Din assumed was your house before you turned around to look at him. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Din was puzzled at the girl that was smiling back at him. The sun caught your hair, illuminating the soft highlights hidden within the locks. He wanted to reach out and touch it again.

“For giving me an adventure.”

___

For the past three months, Din has been in an almost constant state of agony.

He thought that bringing you on board would be a good thing: a much needed help in raising the kid. And it was a good thing, for the most part. You were always helpful, willing to do more than was asked of you. Many times Din would come back to the ship and you would have a warm plate of food waiting for him, the kid already asleep in your arms. The first time you did this, Din had to explain his Creed and why he couldn’t eat in front of you. You had nodded along, taking in his words before walking out of the hull and up the ladder leading to the cockpit. Before you had shut the doors, though, you called out to him and told him to eat his food and not to worry. You would take care of the kid and put him down for his nap. That miniscule kindness that you had shown the lone bounty hunter shook him to his core- a warmth seemed to have spread over him and his heart stammered in his chest. You did that for him every night, for every meal.

Not only that, but you were amazing with the kid. Suddenly the rambunctious little green womprat would mellow out any time you walked into the room. He would be fussing in Din’s arms, crying about something and you would just walk up to the hunter, take the kid into your own arms, and he would immediately calm down. It was like a sixth sense you had- you always knew the right thing to do to get him to calm down. When you started to sing the child to sleep every night, that’s when the warm feelings inside of Din’s chest turned to white-hot agony.

It was his favorite kind of torture, listening to you sing softly to his kid. Din was never in the room when you did this, he always kept far away because of his fear. Your voice was so soft, so melodic that if Din heard it directly, he would surely fall even harder for you than he already had. He would gladly succumb to your siren’s call and let you lure him to the vast depths of the ocean.

He wasn’t used to this, feeling something for another person. Sure, Din had cared for other people before, namely the little green foundling in his care. But he had never felt this deep, aching pull inside of him. Whenever Din was with other women, it was to get over the stress and tension that came with his bounty hunter life. The feelings he felt for those women were purely physical, purely surface level. A temporary lust that would dissipate the next morning after he had released his frustrations. Din had never felt these feelings that were emotional, deeper than any he felt before. When he looked at you caring for his kid or making dinner for the three of you, his heart would stop in his chest. With every smile you gave him, Din felt those at first insignificant, warm feelings grow and burn until they developed into a raging fire. He felt like he was swallowed whole by flames and every glance or touch you gave him was only adding kindling to the fire burning in his heart. If your little smiles and touches piled twigs onto the fire, he couldn’t imagine what feeling your lips on his would do to him. He would probably combust into a flaming inferno.

Din tried to ignore the white-hot agony being around you brought. He tried to reason with himself that he wasn’t that type of man. The type that brought home flowers to their lovers just because. The type that would rush home from work just so they could wrap their arms around their lovers and kiss them. The type that would actually want to settle down and start a family. Every time he looked at you though, he imagined what it would be like to have that type of life instead of the violent one he lived. He imagined that he would come home from work, and you would be cooking dinner for the three of you just like you do now, except things would be more permanent. The three of you would actually have a house- he didn’t care on which planet, you could choose any one and he would gladly build the house for you from the ground up. The child would attend the nearby school and make friends with kids his own age- well, kids that were actually kids and not 50 years old and still a child. He imagined that you would be cooking his favorite meal, that he would be able to come up behind you and kiss your neck and pepper kisses across your face because he no longer wore the helm of a Mandalorian. He imagined that you would laugh at the feeling of his stubble tickling your skin before you would turn around in his arms and truly kiss him. You would hold his face against yours and on your left ring finger there would be a simple band of beskar wrapped around it. He imagined that he would have a similar band on his own finger- a symbol to the galaxy that you were his and he was yours. He imagined that he wouldn’t be able to pull you flush against his chest because of your rounded belly, swollen with his child...

“Din?”

Reality came crashing down around him at the sound of your voice. The image of the two of you in his mind faded and was replaced with the very real image of you staring at him, a worried expression etched on your face.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry, Cyare.” Din cleared his throat. He hadn’t meant to call you that affectionate Mando’a nickname, but it just felt right. He hadn’t meant to do a lot of things, namely fall for you.

“I asked if you could pass me the wrench.” Wheeling yourself out from under the ship, grease had smeared across your cheek. Just like you were an amazing caretaker for his son, you were also an amazing mechanic. The place where the ship needed maintenance was too small for Din to get under, but you were just the right size.

Din grunted in response and handed you the wrench. The tips of your fingers just barely grazed the tips of his leather-clad ones, but it was enough to set the Mandalorian on fire with desire. He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t deal with the agonizing feeling of being this close to you but not being able to touch or hold you like he wanted. Before he could do something stupid, like ruin the only friendship he’s had in decades, Din bolted up from the crate he was sitting on.

“I’m heading into town, I’ll be back later.” Din didn’t pause to listen to your concerned questions on if he was alright. This wasn’t the first time he had just bolted mid-conversation.

The Razor Crest quickly disappeared behind him as Din trudged into town, looking for a distraction. It was all the same, each town he visited. He didn’t even need a map to find his way through the dust-covered streets. His feet just took him to the nearest cantina that sat on the edge of town. It was loud inside the bar, music blaring and people laughing. Din didn’t pay attention to any of the people- he just trudged to the corner booth and sat down. His head was swimming with thoughts of you. Even miles away, he could still smell your sweet perfume. It had somehow lodged itself in his helmet’s filters. He would have to change them out soon if he were to ever be able to focus on a hunt.

“You here alone?”

Din glanced up at the woman standing before him. She had some drink in her hand and a lazy smile on her face. Her hair was pulled up into a knot on the top of her head and was the same color as your hair. In the dim cantina lights though, Din was almost positive that your hair would look prettier, much prettier. It was always so shiny, smelling so good.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded gruff through his vocoder. He wished he could drink something, but he wouldn’t be able to in this crowd.

“Want some company?” The woman smiled at him, and all he could do was shrug. People could do what they wanted, it was a free galaxy, after all. “What brings you here?”

“Work.” He didn’t mean to be so short with the woman. Din was just preoccupied with his thoughts of you.

“No,” the woman laughed, resting her hand on top of Din’s. His eyebrow quirked under his helmet. “I mean what are you doing here?” Her thumb started rubbing circles into his worn leather. His brow raised even higher.

“Escaping, I guess.” Her thumb continued to rub over his hand. She gave him another smile.

“Really? Me too. What a coincidence.” The woman grabbed his hand then, intertwining her fingers with his. She pulled his hand until he stood next to her. “Why don’t we escape together?” Her hand started moving over his silver cuirass. Din knew he shouldn’t go with this woman, but as the thoughts of you started to swirl through his head, desire pooled low in his stomach. If he couldn’t have you, he might as well go with someone who wanted him.

So he followed her out the cantina’s back door and into the dark alley. The sun was just starting to set on the town and Din realized that he has been gone from you much longer than anticipated. You were probably worried, wondering where he was.

“Relax, baby,” the woman purred, running her hands down his chest. “Let me make you feel good.” The woman pushed him up against the alley wall and started to palm the front of his pants. It had been so long since Din had gotten the release he’d been craving. His eyes slipped closed under the helmet.

The woman continued her ministrations, hands roaming over his beskar-covered body. His eyes stayed closed the entire time as he imagined that you were the woman that was touching him, running your hands over him. Her hand slipped into his trousers and cupped his growing length.

“(Y/N)...” Din moaned, eyes screwing shut even tighter. Your smile flashed through his mind, adding more kindling to his fire.

The woman stopped dead in her tracks and removed her hand from his pants. “My name’s not (Y/N).”

Her voice broke the carefully crafted illusion that Din’s mind had conjured. His eyes opened to reveal the woman from the bar in front of him, not you. In this lighting, Din noticed that her hair actually wasn’t anything like yours. Hers was a much duller shade, lacking the shine yours held. Her smile wasn’t as radiant as yours. Din’s illusion shattered into pieces before him.

“I-I have to go.” Din adjusted himself in his pants before making his way out of the dark alley. The woman let out a disgruntled cry, but Din didn’t turn back to offer his apologies. Instead, he pushed his way through the crowd of locals making their way back home. The people that saw him jumped out of his path, terrified of the Mandalorian stalking through their town. He didn’t care, though. The only thought Din had on his mind was you.

By the time he got back to the Razor Crest the sky was black- only the stars lit his path home. With a press of a button on his vambrace, the ramp started to descend. He didn’t even wait for it to fully touch the ground before he jumped into his ship. His eyes swept the hull until they landed on you standing near the ladder leading to the cockpit- eyes wide with surprise.

“Din, where did you go?”

He didn’t say anything, only slammed his fist against the button next to the ramp to close it. Din strided over to where you stood, pressing another button on his vambrace. The ship fell into darkness.

“Din, what are you-” Before you could even finish your sentence, Din had ripped his helmet off and tossed it to the floor. His gloved hands reached for your face and pulled you to him, crashing his lips against yours. Din could feel you freeze under his lips for just a second until you melted into his touch. A breathless sigh slipped past your lips and Din breathed in your sweet breath. His heart was slamming against his chest as he kissed you. Your kiss acted like fuel to an already raging fire that warmed him to his core. His left arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you tightly to his chest. Din’s right hand cupped the back of your neck, holding your lips against his whilst he drank you in. Your lips were so soft against his chapped ones and with every brush of his against yours, shivers ran down his spine. Your arms had wrapped around his neck, trying to pull him even closer to you. The way your fingers carded through his hair and lightly tugged made Din moan in pleasure. His grip on you never loosened as he continued to move his lips against yours. When you sighed for the second time, Din took the opportunity to lick into your mouth. He loved the way your tongue tangled with his. Din felt like he was a raging inferno- a star burning brightly in the dark limitlessness of space.

You had moaned his name against his lips when he pulled away for some much-need oxygen. He sighed your name into your skin, peppering kisses down your throat. His name continued to fall past your lips while his made their way back up your throat and to your lips.

“Sweet, sweet girl,” Din breathed against your skin before capturing your lips once more. This kiss was shorter than the last but still held the passion shared in the first.

“Not that I’m complaining,” you smiled against his lips as you held his face in your hands. Your thumb was rubbing soothing circles into his cheek, goosebumps left in its wake. “But why did you kiss me? Why now?”

Your question weighed on his mind before the answer became as clear as transparisteel. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you ever since I’ve met you. I finally decided that I couldn’t wait a moment longer.”

Din could feel your smile against his lips. “I’m glad you became impatient, Tin Man.”

He felt a chuckle rumble through his chest at the nickname you had given him the first day you met. Din couldn’t see you through the darkness of the ship, but he was sure your smile was radiant and would surely blind him if he gazed upon it. He never meant to be the type of guy who fell in love. He always thought that he would be by himself, following his Creed until the day he died. The only future that had stretched out before him was one of loneliness and hunting. Now that the kid and you had entered his life, another path had revealed itself. One where he wouldn’t have to be alone. Instead his future was much brighter: fueled by your kisses and surrounded in the warmth you gave him.

“Me too, Cyare,” Din nudged his nose against yours, fingers grasping your chin. He tipped your face towards his and brushed his lips over yours. “Me too.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin drabble #din djarin oneshot #din djarin one shot #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fic #din djarin masterlist #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian one shot #mandalorian oneshot #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian fic #mandalorian masterlsit

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lassostark · 4 years

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Summary:

Jaskier has a secret. Well, he has two.

The first is that he's in love with Geralt Rivia, captain of the rugby team and his childhood best friend. Only, they're no longer best friends. His second secret is that he writes Geralt poetry and anonymously posts it at the school's Freedom Wall under the pseudonym of Dandelion. And the thing is, Dandelion has become so popular - more popular than Jaskier - that it's getting more difficult to keep his silence when it's clear that Geralt is starting to develop feelings for the mysterious lovesick poet.

How naïve was Jaskier to think that it would be so easy.

Excerpt:

Dear Heart,

You’re the moon And the world is a lonely wolf; It cries at the sight of you For you are glorious And so out of reach.

Yours, Dandelion

“Ooh, another one from Dandelion!”

“Wha— really?”

“Where?”

“Move over, let me read!”

“That’s the second time this week! They’re being productive, eh?”

“Has anybody told Rivia yet? Oh, wait there’s— Triss! Hey! Have you seen Geralt?”

“I just got in, Duny. What is it?”

“Dandelion posted another poem at the wall.”

“Bloody hell, they’re on a roll.”

“That’s what I said!”

“Piss off, Chireadan. Nobody asked you.”

“Okay, Geralt just replied ‘on my way’. Where’s the poem?”

“It’s up there, the blue circle post-it.”

“… Oh. That’s quite painful.”

“I know.”

“They’re pining so hard they could build a forest.”

There’s a collective sigh of exasperation.

“Again, Chireadan: piss off.”

Jaskier slings his bag over his shoulder and closes his locker with a soft thud before going the opposite direction where the small crowd is forming in front of The Freedom Wall.

When he was in freshman year, the bulletin first gained popularity after the student council during that year proposed it to the school as a way to encourage freedom of expression amongst its students in Morhen Academy. Since then, the school never took the bulletin off, and it gradually became a safe space for students to express their thoughts, opinions, as well as anonymously divulge their secrets and desires. For Jaskier, who’s now in his last year of high school, utilising The Freedom Wall for the past year and a half as a means to share his poetry without compromising his identity has become both a blessing and a curse.

It’s a blessing because he can write and post his poetry while his identity remains safe, having come up with the moniker of Dandelion after his favourite flower. Not that anyone would think to guess it’s him. Nobody knows that Jaskier is a lovesick poet, that he has filled out dozens and dozens of pages of writing he hasn’t shared to anyone. Until that fateful day.

It’s a curse because while he pours his heart out into his notebook with prose and verses, some carrying a tune more than others — it’s not like it’ll make the object of his (albeit secret) affections notice Jaskier. Even if he puts up a large neon sign over his head, there’s just no way Geralt Rivia, resident captain of the Morhen Wolves rugby team, would look twice at him and think that those pretty words written for him could ever come from someone like Jaskier.

There’s just no way.

He’s been setting himself up for disappointment and heartbreak from the start, he knows that. He’s more than aware of that fact. But let it not be said that Jaskier Pankratz has always had a dreadful habit of hurting himself further.

Jaskier grows up with two parents and two older siblings. One of his early memories about his parents is that they always fought, and his siblings always bullied him just because he was the youngest.

Jaskier is six when he made his first friend.

He and one Geralt Rivia became inseparable after Geralt pushed their classmate Valdo Marx on the playground after he shoved Jaskier to get to the swing first.

They played together, had recess together. Some weekends, they would sleepover at each other’s place, though Jaskier preferred staying over at Geralt’s because he was scared that if his best friend heard his parents fight, then Geralt wouldn’t want to be his friend anymore.

Jaskier is nine when his parents separated.

He and Geralt still have sleepovers, but it’s Jaskier who often stays at his best friend’s place. He also adores Geralt’s mum. Visenna Rivia being an excellent baker and never failing to indulge the young boys’ every whim.

It’s later in the week and Jaskier has sequestered himself in his usual corner at the cafeteria. His packed lunch has always been the same since freshman year. The sandwich of the week (it’s tuna this time), a pear (it varies, sometimes it’s an apple, sometimes it’s grapes), and a juice box and bottled water.

He likes the quiet. Prefers it, really. But sometimes he’ll be joined by a couple of his friends. Chireadan, Renfri, Shani, and Priscilla are the ones who frequent his table at the corner. Triss, who’s Jaskier’s lab partner this year, as well as Duny and Pavetta, join him on occasion. But most of the time, Jaskier has the table to himself. And he’s perfectly fine with it, too.

With his creative mind, all he needs is his brown leather-bound notebook and favourite pen, and it’s more than enough. It should be.

Jaskier is munching on his pear while fiddling with a torn bracelet he’s decided to use as a bookmark for his notebook when he hears boisterous laughter across the cafeteria. He looks up, only to see the rugby team on the long table they pushed together in the middle of the area to accommodate the dozen players that make up the Morhen Wolves. They’re talking animatedly, voices loud and piercing, while others throw food at each other.

And right in the middle of it is Geralt Rivia. He’s one of the only people there who’s seated calmly, although Jaskier can see that small, upwards twitch on the corner of his mouth. The only indication that the silver-haired captain finds the whole thing amusing. Jaskier’s heart aches in that moment.

Then suddenly, Geralt looks up from his conversation with Eskel to meet Jaskier’s eyes.

Shit, Jaskier curses himself. He averts his eyes and ducks his head instead, cursing himself further when he feels his cheeks heat up with embarrassment at being caught.

He forces himself to focus on his leather-bound notebook, jotting down a few lines for a new song he has in mind. All the while, he continues to fiddle with the bracelet.

On Geralt’s tenth birthday, Jaskier gifted his best friend a drawing of the two of them. Before discovering his love for writing, Jaskier was a pretty decent artist, so he carefully drew a mountain with the sun rising behind it, two figures — one with chestnut hair and one with dark grey — standing beside each other on a forked road before them.

“Why is it forked?” Geralt asks Jaskier with a curious tilt of his head.

Jaskier shrugs. “I thought it looked nice. Why draw one road when you can draw two, right? And besides, that way you can choose which path to take!”

Geralt frowns. “But what if you don’t want to go in the same direction as me?”

“Don’t be silly, I’d follow you anywhere! You’re my best friend!”

“Well, I’d follow you, too.”

The two young boys share grins, and they only get up when Geralt’s mum calls them for dinner.

It’s the middle of November now, and since Jaskier started posting his poetry on The Freedom Wall near the end of second year, he always arrives at the school earlier than usual to put up the post-it at the bulletin.

There’s nobody in sight, the hallways void of students and teachers alike. Luckily, the bulletin is only a few feet away from his locker, which is also near the boy’s toilet. So in case he hears anyone approaching, Jaskier can make a quick escape.

Checking that the coast is clear and he can’t hear any footsteps approaching, Jaskier swiftly takes out the yellow rectangle post-it from between the pages of his notebook. Using one of the coloured thumb tacks pinned to the bulletin, Jaskier goes on his tip toes to pin the note to the upper right corner. Satisfied, he straightens with a huff of breath and takes a moment to scan the other messages posted, eyes landing on other anonymous writings pinned in the bulletin.

“My parents are getting a divorce. I might move schools next term. I don’t want to go.”

“I came out to my family last night over dinner, and for the first time I saw my dad cry. He’s a lawyer, and I can’t even remember the last time we had a heart-to-heart. But he hugged me and told me he loved me.”

“Sure, this school has a zero tolerance for bullying. But what if it’s ourselves we’re bullying? Sometimes, I’m scared of my own thoughts.”

“FUCK HOMOPHOBIA. FUCK RACISM. FUCK ISLAMOPHOBIA. FREEDOM FOR ALL!!!”

“What if one day you wake up and you find that you’re the person you’ve always wanted to be? What would you do?”

“The cafeteria needs to revamp their menu. There’s only so much baked fucking potato I can consume in a goddamn week.”

“This country isn’t for me. As an immigrant, I don’t feel like I belong. But then I remember where I came from, where my family suffered for years of poverty and oppression. And that’s when the gratitude comes. How can I be so selfish when my parents sacrificed so much for my sisters, just so we can be safe and have a bright future?”

“Anyone got any guesses who Dandelion is?”

A bubble of surprised laughter erupts from Jaskier upon reading the last one. He purses his lips and reads it a second time, eyes attentively going over the spidery scrawl of the letters. He’s half tempted to take it down, but Jaskier knows he can’t. No student is allowed to remove or discard anything that’s posted at The Freedom Wall. Nobody except the teachers and caretakers, who clear out the massive bulletin drilled into the wall every week.

Some part of Jaskier twinges in sorrow every time he sees his writing, though anonymous, be discarded so carelessly like yesterday’s leftovers. Once it’s out there, it’s never really gone, though. His words are immortalised elsewhere. What he chooses to share is only a fragment, a sliver, of the deeper parts of Jaskier’s heart.

He only ever posts at the bulletin for one person, anyway.

Dear Heart,

The universe is a brilliant writer; It wrote your name in my stars Before any of us existed So when the time comes They’ll light up your path — And lead you straight to me.

Yours, Dandelion

Like everyone, Jaskier is walking briskly to his next class, which happens to be AP English Literature. He’s adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder, mumbling to himself about purchasing a new one that weekend. He’s fixing the zipper of his bag when he rounds the next corner, only to collide hard with a solid body.

“Oomf!”

Jaskier hits the ground on his arse. His bag, halfway open, spills the contents between him and the person he bumped into.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” a gruff voice says above him, sounding just as shocked.

Jaskier stiffens, belated realising that the figure he collided with didn’t even move from the spot. Slowly, he raises his head to meet Geralt’s golden eyes.

Swallowing past the dryness he suddenly finds lodged in his throat, Jaskier quickly stammers, “I-it’s fine!” He clears his throat. “Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t see you. Was a bit occupied wrestling with my stupid bag.”

“It’s fine,” Geralt replies in that same gruff voice, although his tone is soft.

He looks away from Geralt’s eyes, unable to hold his piercing gaze for more than a few seconds at a time. It’s akin to looking directly at the sun, and Jaskier, who’s always worn his heart on his sleeve, fears that if he stares too long that Geralt will see something he doesn’t want to see. So instead, Jaskier focuses on gathering his books, notebooks, and pens scattered on the deserted hallway.

Wait. Deserted? Since when?

Ah, fuck. It doesn’t matter.

Jaskier is shoving his History book into his bag when he feels more than sees Geralt crouch in front of him. He wordlessly passes Jaskier some of his pens, which he accepts with a mumbled “thank you”. When he catches sight of Geralt clutching a brown, leather-bound notebook in his large hands, Jaskier feels his heart stop.

His eyes drift from the notebook to the rough-looking hands, and up to the chiseled features of Geralt’s handsome face. And he is. Handsome. Breathtakingly beautiful, with his sharp jawline and the high cheekbones. Full lips that are dry but look soft at the same time, an odd juxtaposition in Jaskier’s humble opinion.

Geralt is still looking at the notebook, Jaskier notes, thick fingers slowly stroking the spine as golden eyes study the initials embossed on the front cover.

“You’re finally using it,” Geralt comments, thumb lightly stroking the thin leather cord that keeps the notebook closed.

Jaskier gulps inaudibly. Give it back, give it back. Please.

“I’ve been using it for years,” he reveals quietly. Jaskier shrugs when Geralt looks up to meet his eyes. “Took you long enough to notice.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow at him before he snorts softly and — thank god — finally hands it back to Jaskier. He more or less snatches it from the other man, careful not to let their fingers graze.

“It’s not like I always have my eyes on you,” Geralt eventually says.

Jaskier finally zips his bag closed, and they rise up from their crouched positions. Jaskier opens his mouth to make a sarcastic retort, but stops himself when the words register to him.

He tilts his head at Geralt. “Does this mean you sometimes have your eyes on me?”

Geralt blinks, and he looks startled for a moment that Jaskier can’t help but chuckle. It’s so easy to push his buttons, Jaskier has almost forgotten how much fun he used to have getting a rise out of Geralt.

“That’s not— I don’t—”

“Relax, Geralt. I was only teasing.”

Geralt shuts his mouth, looking nonplussed.

“Hmm.”

Oh, he’s definitely missed that, Jaskier thinks with a pang. His earlier mirth recedes, amused smile fading from his face.

They stand in front of each other in awkward silence. Jaskier fixes the strap of his bag over his shoulder as he fixes his eyes on his black Converse shoes.

Geralt clears his throat.

“Thanks, er, for the help,” Jaskier states. He chances a glance up and fights down a flinch when he sees Geralt already looking at him.

“Sure,” Geralt acknowledges with a nod, his expression pinched.

Jaskier thinks he looks a cross between constipated and freaked out. Could be a bit of both, who knows?

“So. I’m gonna go. I have AP English.”

Geralt nods again.

“AP Biology for me.”

“Okay. Er. Bye.”

“… Bye.”

It’s with an awkward wave, and a more awkward smile, that Jaskier walks past Geralt to turn the corner and get to class. Which he’s already a minute late for, fuck.

If his heart is hammering against his ribcage, and his palms happen to be sweaty and his cheeks flushed pink, Jaskier convinces himself it’s because he hightailed it across the hallway in record time to avoid getting detention from Ms. Tissaia.

Yeah. That’s why. It’s because he ran.

(Read the rest on AO3)

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier fic #the witcher fic #jaskier #geralt of rivia #modern au #high school au #jock!geralt #nerd!jaskier #my writing

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unabashegirl · 4 years

Text

#3 “Equatorial Sun”

Author’s note: Just a little Harry to keep us strong through this quarantine thing.

***Paragraph in italics has been taken from the actual book Love Letters of Great Men. Vol 1 by John C. Kirkland. It is not mine ***

masterlist

They sit across from each other. The room smells like vanilla. It is not brightly illuminated, but it’s slightly dimmed. Just enough to allow her to continue reading the book that she had been putting off because of him. They had finally decided to leave the bedroom. The couple had spent the first few days of quarantine, locked up in their bedroom making up for the lost time.

Y/N sat on the corner farther away from the glass windows. She is constantly cold and after much complaining, she decided to claim that corner as hers since it was perfect. She wears a matching set of pajamas that she had received from Anne for her last birthday. Her hair is down, covering the sides of her big framed glasses. Her legs are stretched out, but they still don’t reach him.

The arm that holds the heavier side of her book rests over the back of the couch as her side is pressed up against the cushions. Her body is facing him, but her eyes are glued on the thin paper of her poetry book. Love Letters Of Great Men Vol I is her choice of the day. Her new fascination for romantic poetry had just recently started.

Harry had traveled to Paris for Fashion Week and had taken her with him. While he attended to the Gucci show, she stayed behind and discovered the streets of Paris. She found her first book in a little shop a few blocks away from their hotel. Harry at first couldn’t understand her obsession with reading about love. At first, he assumed that she was lacking some love from him. He felt horrible and it wasn’t until he sat down with her and asked her what he could do better that she revealed the truth. Now that she was in love, she could finally understand the poems and the hidden feelings that each stanza revealed.

Harry gently shuts close his leather diary after completing three pages. He shifts his body and faces her. He doesn’t say anything and just observes her from the other side of the couch. Her left-hand grips tightly the edge of the book while the other plays with the top corner of the pages, slightly bending them inwards. Her lips are slightly parted as she quietly mumbles the words that she reads. She knits her eyebrows in concentration.

“Have I ever told you that you are beautiful?” He asks as his chin rests on his hand that lays on the back of the couch. She raises her head and closes the book, but keeps her finger in between pages as a marker.

“I love you” A smile appears across her face which he only mirrors back. It is one of those famous smiles of his that reveal his left dimple.

“How is the book?” He asks as he leans a bit forward, intrigued by the words that his girlfriend is finding entertaining enough. “Would you read me some?” Harry picks his head up just to run his fingers through his hair before settling it back down. She bits her bottom lip and opens the book.

“This is a letter from Napoleon to Josephine, his wife” Harry only nods back before Y/N starts reading out loud the loving words from the man. “... in truth, I am worried, my love, at receiving no news of you; write me quickly four pages, pages of those delightful words that will fill my heart with emotion and joy. I hope to hold you in my arms before long, and cover you with a million kisses, burning as the equatorial sun” Y/N shuts the book close and settles it on the coffee table.

“That was beautiful” Y/N nods back and sits up straight. “Maybe I should start writing you love letters” He suggests as he sees the adoration and passion that her eyes fill with as she read. There is nothing more attractive to him that when she speaks about something that she is passionate about.

“What are you talking about? What about your music?” Harry grabs her ankle and tugs her closer to him. It takes him a few gentle tugs to finally get her beside him. She is finally close enough for him to able to touch her.

“What about it?” Harry asks as he plays with a strand of her hair. He tugs on a small piece that always curls beside his ear. It is the stand that she always battles with especially when she had to attend to one of his fancy events.

“Baby” she giggles, “Those are love letters” Y/N smiles as she pecks the tip of his nose. None of the songs were about her specifically, but they were all lovely. Each one of them described the way that Harry was feeling. They were beautifully written and they made the fans feel what he also felt once. He frowns and pulls away a bit from her, clearly disagreeing. “It’s your feelings. All the love, pain and anguish you felt once”.

She didn’t need him to write her songs or love letters. Harry did enough every day to prove his love for her. He did little things every day. They were never overlooked or disregarded by her. Harry would pull her in for a kiss, a long hug, a neck nuzzle, a hair stroke or all together for no reason at all. He would hold her hand whenever they walked down the street. When shopping for groceries, he would remember the type of milk she likes and her favorite snack to munch when they watch a movie in bed. Whenever she cooks for them, he always offers to do the dishes. He gets excited to hang out with her family and considers them his own. It’s always the little things.

“If you say so” Harry takes her hand and kisses it before pulling her into a warm embrace. She hides her face in the crook of his neck instantly getting a sniff of his expensive cologne and aftershave. His arms wrap around her, holding her tiny frame against his.

“I know so” She pecks his lips once more before pulling away from him. Y/N has always hate how much he underestimates and doubts himself. She has always hoped for him to look at himself the same way that the entire world saw him. He has the purest heart. He is constantly worried about everything including the things he can’t control. Attempting to divert him from it has always been a challenge. She has given up on it because that’s the way that he is. If she was to change him, he would no longer be the Harry she knows and loves.

It isn’t until a few months later when the world goes back to normality that he is finally able to write her one. After spending so much time locked away, he had grown even more accustomed to having her around him. The departure had been rough this time. They had both cried, but at different times. She had done it before he climbed into the car whilst he had done it, ten minutes into the ride. She has seemed him cry multiple times, but he had opted not to cry in front of her this time around because he needed to act calm and collected for her.

She finds the letter three days after his departure. She is doing her usual cleaning routine of the bedroom when she opens the second drawer of her nightstand. There is, nicely folded and carefully placed over one of her books. It is not only handwritten but the paper he has used it’s from his journal. He hadn’t bothered in using scissors to cut the side of the paper that has been ripped out. She doesn’t mind, she finds it charming and makes it more special.

It’s three pages and each of them is dated and has the address written on the top left corner. Harry had found it silly to write the complete address by the time he got to the third page and instead he had written ‘our home’ with a small smiley face beside it.

How could I ever begin to describe my love for you? I’ve always thought that I had experienced love, but not until I met you. I can still remember that first day when we finally crossed paths. Do you remember, my love? That day in the farmers market? How you kept gently squeezing the avocados looking for the perfect ones to take home? I keep rethinking our conversation about my music being love letters and it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel right because none of my current love letters are about the woman that I love. I promise you that this will change. Never my love for someone has been so easy, so flawless and so carefree...

Y/N lays back her bed, completely forgetting about continuing to clean. She slips off her shoes and lays over the blankets while she continues to read the letters that her boyfriend had written for her and for her eyes only.

#harry #harrystyles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry fluff #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry blurb #harry styles angst #harry angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry x reader #harry x you #harry x y/n

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

CSI Rogers and Barnes: The Serious Cereal Serial Killer Episode 16: Is This Thing Rolling...

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Part 1

Summary: Having figured out previously where Rumlow has taken Katie, it’s now a race against time for The 4 Avengers to reach her before it’s too late. Armed with…yeah…ok, actually, we’ll let you read that bit because frankly this entire chapter is ridiculously fun!!!

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: LONG update here guys so we split it into 2 for you to read as you wish. I know we said Episode 15 was the penultimate chapter but we had too much to cram in so…THIS is the Penultimate chapter! Episode 17 will be the last, followed by an Epilogue.

Anyway, enjoy!!!

Chapter Song: Everything by Michael Buble

CSI R&B Masterlist // Main Masterlist

You’re a falling star, you’re the getaway car, you’re the line in the sand when I go too far. You’re the swimming pool on an August day and you’re the perfect thing to see.

Almost two and a half months after the unit cracked the case of the Serious Cereal Serial killer, as Thor had coined it one morning while watching Bucky scarf down a bowl of oatmeal at such a rate that he almost choked on it, everything seemed to be fitting into place.

Rumlow and Wanda were rotting in jail. The former had been taken to a prison of maximum security in another county where he had been isolated while he waited for his trial to take place, whereas Wanda had been taken to the female wing, called Nidavellir, at the Nine Realms prison.

Katie had been back at the 99 for almost two months now and was working hand in hand with Peralta, which had given Santiago some relief as Katie was able to appease her husband’s excited and unorthodox methods. Gina had also been back at the 99 full time since another police technician, Scott Lang, previously in charge of the switchboard, had been appointed by Fury as the new Captain’s assistant at the 101st. To say he had been star-struck by the most famous police Captain in the NYPD would be an understatement, wringing Steve’s hand up and down for what felt like 5 minutes.

All in all Steve and Katie were doing well. They were in a happy domestic arrangement. She had moved in with Steve the moment Tony and Pepper had set a date for the wedding, even before she was taken by Rumlow after they had cracked the case and well before she decided to finish her secondment in DC and come back to Brooklyn permanently. And two months later she had given up pretending it was a temporary arrangement.

In fact, one Sunday morning while they were cuddling on the sofa, after an exhausting night and an invigorating breakfast, Katie had shyly asked Steve what he would think if she said she didn't want to find her own place but stay with him till they both found a place of their own. Steve had then flashed her a smile that would have lit up all of Brooklyn on a blackout night and had kissed the life out of her before commenting on how that would be everything a man could ask for. Earning another blinding smile from Katie and a groan from Bucky who, as usual, had shown up from nowhere when he was least expected and headed for the kitchen mumbling something about being fed up of mushy remarks and having to get better ear plugs to avoid having to go to therapy.

This particular Saturday morning, Katie was slumped over the breakfast bar in the kitchen, suffering from the mother of all hangovers after returning from Pepper’s bachelorette party in the small hours. And she was whimpering like a dog when Steve slid a plate of toast and an orange juice over to her.

"You need to eat something, doll."

"Trust me, I really don’t." she said, her voice muffled by the arm that was supporting her head.

Steve was trying to be sympathetic, he really was, but he was also having a hard time simply keeping himself from laughing. Frankly, the whole scene was hilarious. She had been in a right state when she had got home and he’d had to put her to bed once she had finished puking and he had arrested and cuffed her pumps for murdering her feet as per Katie’s request. So he let out a soft chuckle and she groaned as she squinted up at him.

"You know, it’s so not fair." she said blinking at the kitchen lights which felt like piercing her eyes.

"What isn’t?" Steve asked as he poured himself some coffee.

"I came home looking like a raccoon with my make-up smeared all over…and you…" she said as she waved her hand up and down his body "you still looked gorgeous even with that black eye."

"I’m surprised you can remember anything about what you or I looked like last night."

"When I go get my eyelashes done, remind me to take a photo of yours to show the beauty therapist what I want." she continued her ramblings ignoring his comment just before her head fell back on her arms.

Steve watched her and snorted.

"Don’t laugh at me." she whined, her voice once again muffled by her arms.

"I’m not. I’m trying to decide whether you’re still drunk or hungover." he said while he took a seat on the stool next to her.

"Trust me, this is 100% hangover…" she said peeking up at him. “How are you not even remotely ill?"

Steve rolled his eyes as if the answer couldn't have been any simpler. “I didn’t drink enough to be hungover. I know my limits."

"Hmmm yeah, not enough to avoid getting into a bar brawl." And just as she said it her eyes flicked to the bruise along his left cheekbone and eye socket. She sat up to trail her fingers gently over it. "You gonna tell me the full story about what happened?"

"I already told you before Doll, it was some drunken punk in a bar picking a fight. I had to put him in his place, that’s all."

"Yeah, and he put your eye in a dark place from the looks of it." she jabbed at him.

"Trust me, he ended up far worse."

Steve saw her watching him and he tried to hold her gaze as best he could, working on keeping his face straight. But it was proving hard work seeing as he was the worst of liars, he always had been. For a moment he thought she was gonna argue but she didn’t, whether she believed him or was simply too hungover to bother pulling him up on it he had no idea. He was just grateful she didn't.

"Sure he did. Anyway, what are you and your black eye doing today?" she asked.

"I’m on groomsman duty, my suit was a little short last time I tried it on so Tony wants to make sure it fits.” He replied, thankful of the change of subject, trying to sound as casual as possible, when a sudden idea came to him. “Hey, how about we head to Ma’s for lunch? I can meet you there? That is if you feel better later. You got anything else planned, baby?"

Katie reached for the orange juice before answering "Yeah, lying on the couch waiting for death to come and take me."

Steve chuckled and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to her temple but he saw her flinch as Bucky made his accustomed loud entrance in the kitchen.

"Hey doll face..." he trailed off as he looked at her, taking in her appearance and then snorted."Yikes, not looking very doll face today."

"Die Barnes" she bit back at him.

"Gladly Stark, but before I leave this world remember you promised to help me find my suit for your brother’s wedding today." Bucky informed her, a side smile on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

Katie then stilled "That was today?" she asked with a croaky voice.

"Yup." Bucky said and headed to the fridge to fetch some milk. "And seeing as his wedding is next week we are running out of time."

"Fuck my life." Katie groaned as Bucky poured some cereal into a bowl. "Can’t you ask anyone else? My head is killing me and I can’t feel my feet thanks to being in those ridiculous heels all night…"

"Not happening." Bucky shook his head. "Sam has some reports to finish today, but says he will join us later, and I need a woman’s advice."

"Well I don’t feel like being a woman today, Buck. Have some mercy." she said in a pleading tone, earning a chuckle from Steve who was amusingly watching the interaction while he munched his breakfast.

"Maybe I would if you hadn’t sent me the video of the stripper." Bucky took the big guns out.

Suddenly Steve spluttered on his coffee "What?"

"I thought you might enjoy it." she shrugged. "Anyway, I only did that because it was that Gemini Flannagan dude you told me about."

"Gemini Flannagan…huh, no shit?" Steve said as he dried a few coffee drops that had landed on the breakfast bar with a paper towel.

"Wanna see?" Bucky asked him with a grin.

"No, why the fuck would I want to see that?" Steve frowned, visibly disgusted.

"Because in the background to all the thrusting and gyrating dearest Gemini is doing, there’s a very interesting conversation going on between your lovely girl here and Natasha where Stark is clearly saying, and I’m paraphrasing here, that his cock is nothing to write home about because yours is bigger."

At that point Katie could only groan and hide her head in her hands.

But Bucky continued as he was having a ball "... and for the record, punk, if that’s true, I don’t know how you stand up straight." And just like that he took a spoonful of cereal and watched the pair of them.

Steve was sure he was flushing, he could feel his ears and neck burning but he was also a bit smug, well ok, not a bit, he was full on smug. That most certainly was not a bad thing for his girl to be crowing about…

And then it suddenly hit him what Bucky had said.

"Hang on…he was naked? Like…did he strip?” Katie rolled her eyes and Bucky smiled at Steve's naivety "Clue's in the name…STRIPPER. Duh." she said.

“Like he was completely naked?”

“Well not completely, no.” Katie said, “He had this little leather thong pouch type thing covering his, crotch, but it was tight enough not to leave anything to the imagination.”

"You know, if you ever get tired of chasing bad guys there’s a gig there. You already have the uniform." Bucky told his friend as he munched his cereal.

Steve, who was now bright red, tilted his head at him. "Buck, just don’t."

Bucky smiled and decided to let it go but then he saw Katie looking at Steve and a wicked smile flicked across her face.

"Can you strip for me, Captain?" she asked suggestively.

Steve groaned and stood up, still flushing. "Just eat your toast and take a painkiller. I’m going for a shower."

"I love it when you put on your Captain's voice…" she purred, which did nothing to stop Steve’s blush, quite the contrary. And he rolled his eyes, trying to maintain a straight face as she continued "Are you stripping to get in the shower, Captain?"

Bucky laughed loudly as Steve sighed and looked him. "Keep her out of trouble, punk." He ordered.

"I’m not some mischief making teenager, Steve." she protested.

"Then stop acting like one." Steve said sternly, hands on his hips and it didn’t pass him by that he was really adopting his Captain stance.

"Says the man with the black eye." she glared at him and Bucky sniggered.

"I’m going for a shower now. Behave with uncle Bucky sweetheart." he said, winking an eye at her. And as he turned to leave Katie threw the toast from her plate at him but missed completely and it ended up on the kitchen's floor by the door.

"Fuck you, Rogers." she shouted in frustration.

They heard Steve's laughter die down as the bathroom door shut.

"We don’t play with food, little miss." Bucky mock scolded Katie as he picked the toast up off the floor.

"You can piss off too."

Bucky laughed, now she was being a brat. "Sorry, but you’re cute when you’re angry and hungover."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" she frowned at him.

"A James Buchanan Barnes original, yes."

"Well, given how I look and feel this morning, I’ll take it." She breathed in and nodded behind him. "Pass me the Advil, will ya Buck?"

"Sure, doll face." he said as he reached into the cupboard over the sink and tossed the packet down on the breakfast bar. "Take a few, I need you at your best this morning."

"Just my luck." she said, taking the painkillers from the packet.

Bucky chuckled and poured himself a coffee. "Blame your brother, if he had chosen me as a groomsman, I’d have my suit sorted now."

Katie snorted and tossed the pills into her mouth, taking a gulp of orange juice and swallowing.

"I mean, I get why Rhodes is his best man, like they’ve been friends forever but Rogers, Wilson and Banner as ushers, really? What about me?"

Katie looked at him "You really don’t want me to answer that, do you?"

"What you trying to say?" Bucky asked, not understanding why his question was so odd.

"Brucie and Sam are his closest friends at work and Steve’s…"

"The guy fucking his sister." he cut her off.

Katie narrowed her eyes "I was gonna say his Captain, ass hole."

Bucky simply grinned at her over his coffee mug. He loved their little bickering moments.

***** Steve pulled up outside Tony’s and headed up to the door of the large brownstone terraced house. He sighed as he rang the bell. He had been sure about this but now he didn't know if he was anymore. Anyways, he was already there and he'd better roll with it.

"Oh hey Rogers, wasn’t expecting you." Tony greeted him as he opened the door.

"Hi Tony."

"Eurgh, that black eye looks worse now than it did last night. What did Katie say?" he said pointing at Steve's face

"Nothing much. I told her it was just some drunken ass hole causing a scene. She doesn’t need to know anything else." he shrugged.

Tony arched an eyebrow at him "Ooh, Captain straight lace telling lies."

"It’s not a lie, just not the whole truth." Steve explained with a smile.

He had begun to take a liking at Tony's teasing, as long as it wasn't too personal that is. But he had to concede since they had rescued Katie from Rumlow the scientist had toned down his little jabs at the Captain.

"Whatever, your funeral when she finds out." Tony brushed Steve's explanations off with a wave of his hand. "And speaking of my sister, where is she?"

"Shopping with Bucky…complete with one hell of a hangover."

"Yeah Pepper ain't much better. Made her one of my miracle beverages. Looked worse on the way back up, which is saying something…Come on in."

Tony stepped back and let Steve into the tiled hallway, shutting the door behind him. He led the way, taking him through to the kitchen and Steve caught a glimpse of the living room when they stopped at the door.

"Pepper's on the sofa... dying. Probably best we leave her to it." Tony explained when he saw Steve was looking in her direction.

Steve smiled and nodded as Tony looked at him. "So Kiddo is shopping with a hangover? Bet she loved that." he scoffed.

"Well, you know her…never one to let someone down when she’s promised something. Bucky needs a suit for the wedding so…"

"Oh, shit, yeah…er…let me warn you, I was in the middle of a thing with our wedding planner."

Steve paused and turned to face him, raising an eyebrow "What do you mean?"

Tony had never been one for warnings, he just let people draw conclusions by allowing them to dive in head first. He just sat back and enjoyed the ride.

"You’ll see." Tony said before heading into the kitchen.

Steve frowned, there was not a spark of wickedness in Tony's brown eyes when he uttered those words as he would have expected. Instead Steve could feel the exasperation in his voice.

"Steve this is Grandmaster, our wedding planner. Grandmaster this is Steve Rogers, my sister’s boyfriend."

Steve looked at Tony, mouthing Grandmaster? What kind of fucking name was that? he thought. Tony didn't bother answering. Instead, he merely took out his glasses and rolled his eyes, a gesture Steve knew only too well to mean ‘don’t ask’ as it was identical to the one Katie made.

"Nice to meet you, Steve Rogers…you’re a lucky man." the man suddenly spoke.

"Sorry, I’m not…I don’t…what?" Steve was utterly confused and finished a little lamely. His brain was having a hard time registering the wedding planner's flamboyant appearance. He was wearing a sparkly golden jacket even Bucky would have sworn off in the 80s. But his greying spiky hair and blue eyeliner combination was what had Steve floundering for words. Then, what the man had said registered and he frowned. “Lucky man?”

"Your girlfriend, Tony’s sister, I met her at the dress fitting a few weeks ago. She’s an exquisite little thing." Grandmaster explained softly.

"Oh, err, yeah… yes she is. Thank you.”

Steve saw Grandmaster bat his eyelashes at him as if to acknowledge his words. He looked at Tony once more, utterly dumbfounded. Tony simply shook his head in a just roll with it gesture and Steve suddenly realised exactly why Tony had issued a warning.

He then looked at the large table which was adorned with bits of paper, one of which looked like a seating plan, and suddenly he felt like he was intruding.

"Look, if this is a bad time I can come back…"

"Oh, no, Anthony and I were just discussing the brunch…" Grandmaster explained and grinned at Tony.

"For the last time, it’s a Reception, idiot." Tony hissed.

"No, can you…you know I don’t like that word." Grandmaster shook his head, cringing.

"What? Idiot."

"No, the…why would I not like the word idiot? I mean the R word."

Steve stood there, watching the exchange between the two men, his mouth hanging open in confusion. That Greatmaster was certainly a greater piece of work than Tony, which was saying something. Or was it Grandmaster? Whatever...

Tony let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It’s not a brunch, it's an afternoon... you know what? Fine. The post wedding meal."

"Ok, better." Grandmaster grinned again at him.

Steve now understood why Tony had done nothing but moan about this guy for the last few months. He was clearly a fucking sandwich short of a full picnic.

"As for the seating…just do whatever. I don’t much care." Tony conceded, visibly fed up. There's only so much a man can take after all.

"Alright, seeing as Miss Potter is not available, I’ll work on this later and email it over." the man agreed.

"It’s Miss Potts." Tony practically growled and Steve could see he was about to lose it.

"She’s more open to my ideas than you are Anthony." the wedding planner observed, not in the least fazed by his client's angry tone.

Tony stared at him, blinking. His mouth hanging slightly open in a look Steve had seen only a handful of times before, when something had rendered him speechless, which was no mean feat, before the scientist took a deep sigh.

"Whatever."

And just like that Grandmaster moved graciously around the table. Steve watched him as he gathered his papers up and popped them into a leather briefcase. He then fastened it with a click and looked at Tony.

"By the way, it smells in here…burnt toast I think.”

"Yeah, well I like my bread well done." Tony's voice was deadpan and Steve snorted as Grandmaster nodded with a smile. The guy had no idea Tony was literally making fun of him to his face.

"Alright, guess I’ll be leaving now. Bye, Anthony. Nice to meet you Mr Stevenson."

Steve's brain had not quite registered the man's name mixed-up when he heard Tony hiss through gritted teeth "It’s Rogers." He was literally lost for words. So when Grandmaster left the room Tony looked at him.

"Don’t mind him, took him some time until he stopped calling me Mr Starch. That’s why I don’t rip his tongue out for calling me Anthony."

"Yeah erm…where on Earth did you find him?"

“I’m not actually sure he’s from Earth.” Tony mumbled before he shook his head. “He was some acquaintance of Banner. Thor knew him too. He runs a company called Sakaar. They deal with events planning. And orgies, apparently." Tony explained, rubbing his temples.

Steve thought Tony had aged a decade in the ten minutes he had been dealing with his wedding planner and gave them a sympathetic smile just before his brain registered the last part. "What?"

"Don’t ask." Tony said before clapping his hands together. "Anyway, what can I do for you, Cap? You want a coffee or…?

"No thanks, I’m good." Steve cleared his throat. With all the Grandmaster dude shenanigans he had forgotten the real purpose of his visit and suddenly he could feel his palms were sweaty with nerves. "I... err... wanted to talk to you alone. There’s this thing I’ve been meaning to ask you…"

Tony arched his eyebrow. "Me?"

"Yes." Steve replied way too fast. "I mean, I wanted to ask you before I ask her…"

"Her? Are you talking about Katie?"

Steve lowered his head and sighed "Yes."

"Oh, I see what’s going on." Tony said leaning against the counter, folding his arms.

"You do?" Steve asked, lifting his head up and looking at him shyly.

"No thanks to you, you’re a mess Rogers." Tony said, a gentle smile curling on his lips. "Come with me."

Steve frowned before following him "Tony, I…"

"Trust me, I have something to show you." Tony stopped and turned to look at him with a soft smile.

Steve took a breath and followed him. They headed down the hall then up the stairs and into Tony's study. Once there Steve saw Tony sit on his desk chair and begin tapping on the keyboard. Just as the screen sprang to life Tony explained. "See dad had a thing for recording videos, kind of like pep talks for the future." He pressed a few buttons more and moved the mouse before continuing. "After the one he recorded for that old journalist Mr Lee, well it got me thinking there had to be more. So I started searching through his old archives and among other things, I found something I think you’ll find interesting."

Steve frowned "What do you mean?"

Tony looked at him for an instant before looking back at the screen and smiled as he selected a file. "Lets just say my dear old pop was a visionary…"

Steve looked at him, he had no idea what the fuck was going on. Tony stood up and motioned for Steve to take his place on the desk chair

"Just watch this, then you can ask me what you wanted to ask me."

He leaned over Steve to click another button and the screen suddenly displayed Howard, perched on his desk, scotch in hand. Steve felt a shiver running down his spine.

"Is this thing rolling?" Howard asked the person behind the camera as he swirled his glass around.

"Yeah, it’s on…" a voice from off screen confirmed.

"Alright…" Howard took a swig of scotch and cleared his throat. "Tony…congratulations on being the only person I know who is nosey enough and clever enough to crack into my archives…anyway, if you’re watching this it means something has happened to me before I got the chance to tell you all this in person so…."

Steve watched as Tony pressed a key to fast forward the recording a bit, he was winding to find something, before he stopped and the screen showed Howard giving a chuckle and taking another mouth of scotch.

"So yeah, there’s always a secret door." he said before taking a deep breath. "Now I want you to show this next bit to Rogers."

Steve’s eyes widened and he felt his heart start beating fast.

"Steve, you’re like a second son to me, you know that. I hope you’re doing well. I have no doubt you’ve made Captain by now, possibly even Commissioner, depending on how old this recording is. Not too old I hope. Anyway, I digress. I’m willing to bet you’ve cracked a few big cases too."

Steve gulped as he watched his old mentor continue to talk to him through the screen. He couldn't even tear his eyes from the screen to see Tony's reaction.

"Good job son. Now, onto something far more important to me. I hope you and my princess have realised by now you’re made for each other, because I already know you are."

Steve’s breath caught in his throat, his heart was now pounding.

"So if you’re watching this, and you’ve finally figured that out, then I’m giving you my blessing son. If you haven’t figured it out, then you’re a pair of dumbasses." Howard groaned at the last part and Steve gave a soft snort of laughter, shaking his head. "I’d be over the moon knowing you two have finally realised what has been in front of you for the past god knows how long."

"10 fucking years…" Tony mumbled from where he was leaning against a bookcase behind Steve, arms crossed and his right hand covering his mouth and jaw.

Howard then swallowed a little and wiped at his eye as he looked down at his feet taking a deep breath, clearly emotional, before he looked back up.

"Just look after her, treat her well and make her happy. I’m trusting you with one of my most treasured accomplishments son. And I only wish I could be there to walk her down the aisle to hand her over to the person I’d trust her with over anyone." Howard smiled and then thought about something a moment before he continued. “Just don’t try to understand her.” Howard shrugged “Because the minute you think you know what’s going on inside a woman’s head is the moment you’re goose is cooked.”

At that he sat up straight, slipping back into the Howard Steve knew all too well and looked at the camera.

"Ok, you can stop that thing now…" Steve heard him say before the screen went blank.

The room fell silent and Steve swallowed, trying to digest what he had just seen. The lump in his throat felt like a damned golf ball. Seeing his old mentor, his girl’s dad like that, in such an unguarded way had really made him emotional. When he recovered a bit he turned to look at Tony, who was in turn looking at him, and saw his eyes were misting over slightly. "What was it you wanted to ask?"

Steve chuckled "You still gonna make me say it?"

"Humour me Rogers, I like to see you squirm." Tony teased him, regaining his composure.

Steve took a deep breath before speaking, hoping his voice would come out as steady as possible given the circumstances.

"Tony, I’m gonna ask Katie to marry me. And it would mean the world to me, if I had your blessing."

Tony smiled and looked at his feet before he glanced back up "Then you got it, Steve."

Steve felt a feeling of relief wash over him, the fact he had used his name, for the first time in years, and not some stupid nickname didn’t pass him by. He smiled widely as Tony extended his hand, before he pulled him into a brotherly hug.

“Scotch?” Tony asked him as he pulled back.

Steve nodded, smiling widely. "Absolutely."

CONTINUED IN PART 2

#csi rogers and barnes #csi au #steve rogers #steve rogers x original female character #katie stark

44 notes · View notes

stellar-imagines · 4 years

Text

Christmas/Bakugou Katsuki

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Bakugou Katsuki ]

クリスマスソング /back number

Artist: back number Lyrics: Shimizu Iyori Composer: Shimizu Iyori Arrangements: Kobayashi Takeshi (composer) , back number English translation: Here

Somewhere, bells are ringing Unusual words are floating into mind The coldness feels pleasantly good Huh? Why am I doing something like falling in love

Bakugou Katsuki hated winter.

Winter. There were signs of snow that had fallen overnight. The streets were covered in a layer of snow which will have to be plowed later. As the sun slowly rose from the horizon, its glow brightened up the pristine white snow. A few birds chirped as if to welcome the sun. It was early in the morning and not many people were out and about, only very few who were strolling down the streets in warm clothes. This was the season that reminded some that the year was ending, it reminded some that Christmas was right around the corner. For Bakugou, he thought about graduation. It was an odd time to think about it but he couldn't help but to think further.

A lot has happened this year. By the end of every year, one would always say that there were tons of things that had happened to them. There were always bad things but along with those, there were good things as well. Bakugou thought the same as well. Two years ago, he didn't have any intentions of getting all buddy-buddy with his classmates. Kirishima was the only one who persistently tried to befriend him. Other than him, there was you. Annoying, irritating, suffocating―the list goes on. His first impression of you was something that couldn't be described properly. But after getting to know you more, Bakugou soon realized that you were actually a pretty amazing person. Calm, collected, kind and bubbly. Even towards an asshole like himself, you always see the good in him.

Although your presence annoyed him at first, he couldn't help but think that having you around was nice. Coming back to the dorms after training to see you lounging on the couch was like a breath of fresh air. Even though you were always laying in ridiculous positions, mindlessly munching on snacks, he grew used to it. You would lazily wave at him with a chocolate bar in hand, offering the half eaten snack with a wide smile. Bakugou actually liked living in the dorms, he was away from his nagging mother―even though everyone knows that he doesn't mind his mother―and most importantly, you were there. Persistent, clinging, like a moth attracted to light. In this case, he was the light while you were the moth. No, not a moth but a butterfly. You were always the nice one in the class, never seeing any of your classmates as a competition. In fact, you only saw them as your friends and future partners. He added gentle, elegant and kind hearted to his already long list.

Bakugou's Sundays always started early. People always assumed that Sundays were supposed to be spent leisurely. It was the only day of the week where you can sleep in and enjoy the soft blankets wrapped around your body. But it was different for Bakugou, he was already sitting on the couch, dressed in a black pullover and track pants. While he was tying his shoelaces, he heard the familiar elevator ding. Shifting his gaze towards the elevator, he saw you step through the doors and make your way into the common area. Still dressed in your pajamas with small blanket over your shoulders, you trudged towards the kitchen and grabbed a clear glass from the cabinet. It was when Bakugou raised his head that you noticed his presence.

"Bakugou-kun? What are you doing up so early?" you asked in a tired voice.

You had made your way over to the couch, already finished with your glass of water. Even though it didn't really show on your face, the male could tell that you were still tired. The past week had been a little bit tiring for all of you, especially when the final exam is right around the corner. Bakugou often heard how you always stayed in the school's gym, practicing until you were given a warning. You were a hard worker, there was no way anyone wouldn't notice. There were pain relief patches on your shoulders and one on your neck. A small, inaudible yawn escaped your lips and you covered your mouth with your hand as it happened. Bakugou spared you a glance before opening the door. Like you had expected, Bakugou didn't bother to reply but you knew that he was that type of person.

"Itterashai." you gave him a lazy wave before he could leave. Bakugou slowly turned around, cheeks growing red at the sight of your smiling profile. He let out a grunt in response, averting his gaze. Those words made his heart beat a bit faster. He could briefly imagine himself living in the same apartment as you when you were older. Not as friends sharing the rent but something more, something more like a couple. Bakugou shook those thoughts from his head and grumbled something under his breath before leaving. Confused, you thought about what he could've possibly said to you. Deciding that it was probably nothing important, you returned to your room.

It was when Bakugou left the building that he uttered those words louder.

"Ittekimasu."

Is it because it's Christmas Eve, or because of those songs playing repeatedly? Or is it the fault of this city that seemed to sparkle on purpose?

"Come on, its going to be fun!" Kirishima nudged Bakugou who was scowling to himself.

Class 3-A of UA high decided to do one of those Secret Santa, proposed by Ashido and approved by Iida. Now that there were no more classes until the end of the month, you all were always in the dorms. Other than that, you would be at some sort of event that your friends had discovered. But Ashido wanted to do something much more exciting and Christmas-y, thus leading to the current situation. The students began to whisper to themselves and with each other, thinking about how this was a very interesting and fun tradition. From your position beside Todoroki, you were shaking with excitement. There was something about giving a present that excited you. Within minutes, the class president already prepared a box with all your names written on small pieces of paper ready. When you stuck your hand inside the box, you didn't really think about who you wanted to get but you hoped that it was someone you knew well. But in reality, anyone except Mineta was fine.

Once you had pulled out a piece of paper, Iida ushered you back to your seat. You plopped back to your seat beside Todoroki and slowly unfolded the paper. For a second, you could feel yourself shaking in your seat―whether it was from excitement, happiness or surprise, you weren't sure. On the paper was the kanji that only one person had.

Bakugou Katsuki.

Bakugou was one of the very last people who picked the piece of paper from the box. With his hand stuck inside the box, he paid no heed and pulled out a piece of paper, unwrapping it on the way back to his seat. He couldn't believe it. The whole time he walked back, he had his eyes glued to the piece of paper.

[Last Name] [First Name].

Unbelievable, was what Bakugou has said to himself as you glared at the words written on the piece if paper.

"Are you far-sighted or something?" Kirishima suddenly piped up when he noticed how his friend had been narrowing his eyes at the words written on the paper as if they were unclear.

"Shut up, Shitty Hair!"

After a few minutes, everyone had gotten the name of the person they had to gift. There were a few people who made faces when they saw who they had to gift. Even so, it didn't give away who they were giving to. In less than a week, everyone was expected to have their gifts ready for giving at the dorms. It had taken a lot of thinking to decide what you wanted to give to Bakugou. Being more of the type to give presents made by the heart, you decide to purchase some yarn and other knitting tools.

"Nothing beats a gift made by hand and love!" you encouraged yourself before sitting upright and opening a Youtube tutorial on your laptop.

It felt odd. There were tons of pretty scarves in stores and yet, you decide to just sit on your bed and knit one yourself. You noted how it sounded so old fashioned but there was something about homemade gifts that touched your heart. And you somehow hoped that Bakugou would feel the same when he received your gift. You followed every single step of the tutorial and you were rather satisfied with what you have so far, even though it was nowhere near complete. It took you a long time to get used with using the needles and figuring how to do the cast on knot thing. After 5 grueling days, you managed to finish the scarf. You were actually proud of it, even though it looked a little bit messy. Holding the item in front of your face, you frowned. It was nowhere near perfect and as good as you thought it would be. Letting out a disappointed sigh, you laid on your bed and stared at the ceiling.

You fell asleep with the thoughts of what you should get Bakugou.

In the end, you decided to go shopping for Bakugou's gift. You chose to buy your present at night time. It was so that no one could find out who you were supposed to be giving to. When you arrived at the mall, you took a moment to admire all the beautiful decorations as you stepped inside. There were people of all ages and you could spot a few foreigners here and there. Just as you expected, it was crowded as hell, lots of stores offering items at a lower price which caught almost everyone's attention. Like most people, you headed into the department store. After walking around for an hour or so, you finally found something that would look good on Bakugou.

"I hope Bakugou-kun will like this....." you smiled in content, looking into the bag to see the sweater wrapped in a plastic. It took you a very long time just to get this sweater. Buying clothes for someone wasn't as easy as you thought it would be. You pondered about Bakugou's taste, his preferred colors, size and type of clothing for too long. There were lots that caught your attention but none of them seemed to be fitting for someone like Bakugou.

"The fuck are you muttering about?"

"B-Bakugou!?" you squeaked in surprise and hugged the bag closer to your chest so that he couldn't see its contents. Shifting your body to the side, you managed to give him a small, nervous smile.

"What are you doing out here? All alone too....." you questioned, eyes trailing from the ground to glance up at him sheepishly. When you did, you spotted a bag on his hands which appeared to be his gift to someone else.

"What does it look like to you?" Bakugou waved the bag in front of your face. With a small pout, you pushed the bag aside and lightly glared at the taller boy. He watched you huff and mutter something inaudible under your breath. There was a moment of silence between the two of you and neither made any move and just stood there in silence.

"So you wanna grab something to eat?"

It took you a moment to process what he had said. You eyed him with eyes filled with surprise, cheeks becoming warmer. Not often Bakugou invited you out to eat and you knew that he doesn't ask someone out that often. You felt your heart hammering against your chest erratically. With a hand over your chest, you managed to give him a meek nod, giving him a small smile.

"Sure, sounds great."

The number of times I think of wanting to see you, and how this heart of mine hurts when I can't be with you are telling me how I feel about you it's alright, I myself know it Even if I ask Santa, there's no use, right?

It wasn't as though Bakugou never celebrated Christmas. It was the fact that he had never bought you a gift before. Sure he had pitched in when Uraraka proposed on getting you a new tablet because you had been complaining about it for so long. That, of course, did not count. You were one of the very few people he let into his personal space and he could proudly call you his friend. But he did not even know what kind of things you liked. He only knew a few things about you but it was not enough to give him an idea of what he should give you. Did you like sweets? He could make some himself but he didn't want to risk his classmates spotting him doing something so unlikely. Plus, he wanted you to really like it. Preferably, something that can remind you of the day he gave you the gift.

When he saw you stepping into the department store, he was surprised. Out of everyone, he had expected you to do your shopping earlier. However, he couldn't just jump into conclusions. Maybe you just decided to go out for some Christmas shopping. It was crowded with tourists, foreigners as well as locals walking around the mall. At this time of year, it's usually packed either because of the sales or the visitors from other countries who come here to spend their holiday. Bakugou stood there for a few seconds before snapping out of his reverie. Once he did, you were already gone from his sight and the male turned around to resume on his own Christmas shopping. With his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his pants, he glanced around the stores in search of the perfect gift. As he walked by the stores, he started to wonder what you would like.

Now that he thought about it, Bakugou didn't really know what you liked. Inwardly cursing himself, he began to walk faster to who knows where. He had been too busy thinking about buying the perfect gift that he didn't even thought about what you liked. What's worse, he didn't know that much about you either. He thought back to your past birthdays, everyone had given you all different kinds of things and you had accepted them like it was the best thing you had gotten in your entire life. Bakugou growled to himself―now that didn't help at all. As he passed by a few stores, one caught his attention. And he wasted no time stepping into the store, throwing an onslaught of questions and a few threats here and there.

"Fucking finally." he had finally emerged with a small bag in hand. It was a little pricey but after being convinced by the sellers, he thought that it would be the perfect gift for you. He kept on looking at the wrapped up gift inside the bag he was carrying. What if you didn't like it? What if he was trying too hard? Furiously shaking his head, he continued down the path that lead to the exit.

Much to his surprise, he found you standing at the entrance with a bag in your hands, seemingly satisfied with your purchase. He didn't know what got over him but he was moving on his own before he can even notice. You had turned to him with a look of pure surprise when he spoke to you. After hanging out with you for a while, he started to notice the little things you do. The way your cheeks burned into a rosy pink and how your voice turned lower because you were surprised. He answered you quickly when you asked what he was doing here and then there was silence after that.

"So you wanna grab something to eat?"

Fuck! Why the fuck did he say that?! Now, he sounded just so fucking desperate! He was too busy cursing and yelling at himself that he almost forgot about you. When he turned to face you, he waited for your response, watching your every movement.

"Sure, sounds great." came your response.

After that, the rest of the night was a blur. At first, he was nervous as fuck but you proved to be as easy going as ever. Perhaps you had noticed how tense he was and decided to make things easier for the both of you by talking about something you both can contribute to. He had to admit, it was a nice night. When you both returned to the dorms, a few people had a few questions the moment you stepped through the doors together. While Bakugou yelled at everyone to back the fuck off, you told them the truth―you both just coincidentally met in the mall and decided to have dinner together. Still, they had countless of questions. Bakugou had never been the type of easily agree on such things. But with a sharp glare from the ash blonde, everyone decided to keep quiet, except for one fearless student.

"So like a date?"

Everyone turned their heads towards Todoroki who spoke.

"Ah but you don't really know how to ask someone out right? This book says that―"

"Shut the fuck up, half and half! I'll fucking kill you!"

If it's possible, I want you to stay by my side, I don't want you to go anywhere else I want you to always think only of me But it would be uncool if I tell you these things So I'll make it simple, only because it's going to be quite long I love you

With Aizawa-sensei's help, everything went smoothly. The original plan was to just leave the gifts in front of the doors but the risk of running into one another was fairly high. Iida had suggested to hand it all to your homeroom teacher who would be handing it out to everyone until the day came.

The girls had gathered in your room later after the party, sitting around the kotatsu you had bought from home. Atop the table, there were various snacks that Yaoyorozu had laid out for all of you to enjoy. You reached for the butter cookies and ripped open the packet slowly before popping the treat into your mouth, relishing the sweetness that just melted inside your mouth. Laying down on the ground that you had cleaned, you let out a content sigh and grabbed a pillow from your bed, placing it under your head. The rest of the girls made themselves comfortable in the kotatsu you laid in the middle of the room. Asui seemed to be the one enjoying it out of everyone, the warmth lulling her to sleep. But before she could fall asleep, Ashido slammed a wrapped up box onto the table which was tagged with her name. With a wide grin on her face, she glanced around at all of you.

"It's time to unwrap our gifts!" she announced excitedly. The girls then began unwrapping their, some looking genuinely surprised at their gifts while the other looked rather pleased. It appeared that some had gotten what they wanted. The rest got something new and that was actually very exciting, it may come in handy in the future. You took your time to take yours from a small bag which had a light pink ribbon on it along with your name written neatly on a card. You reached inside, surprised slightly at the size of your present. It was small and simple, a white box with a red ribbon. Slowly unraveling the ribbon, you opened the box, surprised to see a piece of jewelry sitting inside.

"Oooooh! That's so cute, [First Name]-chan! I wonder who got you that!" Hagakure squealed, admiring the small snowflake necklace in the box.

"This must've been so expensive!" you exclaimed.

"It has to be a guy. Someone who likes you too."

"Lookie! I think, [First Name]-chan has a secret admirer! It has to be one of the guys and I will not rest until I find out who it is!" the pink haired female exclaimed. Uraraka and Hagakure nodded as well, determined to find out who it was that gave you the gift.

"Let's start with eliminating people from our list by looking at our gifts!" Hagakure suggested.

"I got a box of homemade cookies and it must be from Sato." Jirou stated, showing everyone the box filled with different shaped cookies. You gasped in awe, mesmerized by all the different shapes. The girls were analytical when it came to these kind of things and before you knew it, you had narrowed down to only very few people.

".....Midoriya-chan gave Todoroki-chan a wrist band so he's not [First Name]-chan's secret santa." Asui said.

"So all that's left are Todoroki, Bakugou, Kirishima, and Iida." Yaoyorozu raised her four fingers and looked at everyone with a smile. Somehow, talking about love and all that always excited the girls. Although it was embarrassing when you were put on the spot.

"Ooooh! Getting close to finding out who [First Name]-chan's secret admirer is!" Ashido clapped her hands together.

"Who else have anything to share?" Uraraka looked around excitedly.

"First of all, I need to make it clear that something like this must've cost a lot. I'm sure when they bought this gift, they thought about the price as well." the vice president announced from her seat with her hand half raised. You hummed in response, placing a hand underneath your chin. None of you had thought about approaching this in that point of view.

"So you must be crazy rich!" Ashido spoke with a glimmer in her eyes.

"Like Todoroki-kun or Iida-kun!"

"But.....anyone can do that you know? Save up money to buy the person they like, something special.....After all, it is Christmas."

Everyone hummed, seeing how this was a hard case to crack. Once they thought about what Uraraka said, it was possible that the boys could just save up money to buy you something. A lot of boys do that and you can't really predict their intentions. The more you thought about it, the more frustrated you had gotten.

"Ah....You know, it's fine if I don't know who it is." you suddenly announced with a small smile. This night was supposed to be a night to have fun with the girls, not the time for you to be worrying about something like this. It did pique your interest but you thought that if you didn't know, it wouldn't hurt you.

"So, snacks and movies?"

"Can we have some fries?"

"That sounds great."

Those lovers happily frolicking around Are wearing something like reindeer's antlers on their heads They surely can do it in front of other people huh No i'm not jealous, though I wonder what gift would make you happy? I wonder what's the one thing that only I can give you?

"Is that a new sweater, Bakugou?" Sero pointed out as the mentioned male step out of the dorms to gather with the rest of the students. You immediately perked up at the mention of the ash blonde's name, turning around to see the male dressed comfortably in a black sweater which was decorated with a large orange X in the center. It reminded everyone of his own winter hero costume and it was a lie to say that it didn't match him.

"You're right. As usual, you always have some great taste in fashion." Kirishima complemented. Bakugou rolled his eyes in response, hands digging into the pockets of his pants.

"I didn't buy this, someone got it for me." the boy replied, turning towards the red head who had made a comment on his fashion sense. At the mention of this, Sero and Kaminari glanced at each other for a few moments, processing the words slowly. Bakugou merely stared at them blankly with an unamused look on his face. The two teens flashed him a knowing smirk and it was more than enough to make him glare at the two males. Over the years, everyone had gotten used to Bakugou's feisty, explosive attitude and now, no one was even afraid of starting a conversation with him. And they had you to thank for.

"You mean from your Secret Santa?" Kaminari cooed playfully, lightly nudging the ash blonde with his elbow. You trained your gaze elsewhere, trying to make it not obvious that it was you who gave him the gift. You weren't sure if Bakugou even knew who gave the sweater to him but you were glad to see that he liked it so much to wear it in public. A small, giddy smile decorated your face as you cheered to yourself.

"Why are you smiling to yourself, [First Name]-chan?" Asui questioned, noticing your odd behavior.

"Eh? Er, its nothing, just excited for the carnival! Yeah! Looking forward to the carnival!" you nodded enthusiastically to hide your inner monologue about how happy you were to see Bakugou using your gift.

"She's been smiling ever since she get her gift from a special Secret Santa who might have hots for her! Am I right?" Ashido teased you playfully, slinging an arm around your shoulder as you blushed profusely.

"Or maybe? Could it possibly be?!"

Hagakure was holding her hands, glancing at you and then at Bakugou, she did this over and over until the girls finally took notice of what the invisible girl was referring to. Your cheeks grew red when you came to realize that you had been caught staring at Bakugou. It didn't even take that long for the girls to catch on. Before you knew it, there had their eyes on you, some looking hopeful like they were expecting something while the rest were curious. It was hard to escape the eyes staring at you. You had been backed into a corner figuratively, surrounded by the girls who had smiles on their faces. When you attempt to turn away, Ashido grabbed your hand, causing you to involuntarily squeak and face her out of pure reflex. With that pout and hopeful look on her face, you didn't have the heart to lie to her.

"So you and Bakugou, huh?" she smiled wickedly.

"N-No, its nothing like that! He just looks different today, that's all. I mean, everyone seems to be wearing different clothes than yesterday so I couldn't help it." you rambled on. It was when the girls continued to grin, you realized you were stating the obvious. Defensively waving your hand, the girls watched in amusement as you struggled to find the words to defend yourself.

"I-I mean―"

"[Last Name]."

"I swear I wasn't staring at anyone!" you squeaked in embarrassment. You blinked up at the male who had called out to you, relieved that it was Todoroki. With a small, nervous smile, you peered up at your bicolor haired classmate, sending him a questioning look.

"Yes. Todoroki-kun?"

"I just wanted to tell you that your necklace looks nice."

"Ah, er, thanks. It was a gift." you replied with a bright smile.

"A gift from her special Secret Santa!" Ashido slung an arm around your shoulder and wiggled her eyebrows. While the girls were teasing and pointing at the new accessory you adorn, they failed to notice Bakugou's wandering eyes which were focused on only you. Kirishima believed that the ash blonde was only watching the scene from afar, unaware that Bakugou was actually watching you and only you.

Your answer to when I told you that I love you, Even if it's different from what I thought it would be, I won't come to hate you just because of that Wishing upon a star is really not like me, but After all, it won't do if it's not you So I look up at the sky

On the last day of the year, it was really cold. Even though you had your scarf around your neck, a fluffy jacket, thick pants, warm socks and boots on, it didn't help fight off the cold that attacked your bare hands and face. The streets were illuminated by the bright lights that came from the various decorations littering the city. Normally around this hour, you would be in your room, either doing school related things or relaxing in various ways. Your homeroom teacher had been kind enough today to let you all roam free outside the dorms since it was the last day of the year. That was when someone brought up about a carnival. You couldn't recall who it was but it didn't really matter now. Standing at the ticket booth was enough to make you feel excited. But now that you were inside and surrounded by countless of rides and stalls, you couldn't help but squeal in excitement. There were a few rides you wanted to try out and a lot of food stalls beckoning you over with their addicting aroma.

While you were too busy listing the things you wanted to do, everyone had began discussing about what they were going to do. It wasn't until Iida's loud voice that you snapped your attention towards your friends who were standing nearby.

"Listen! We will meet at the venue at exactly 11:50 sharp! You are free to do what you want now, dismissed!" he announced. A soft giggle escaped your lips as the class rep waved his hands around. Even though you're not in school, he was always looking out for everyone and you found that endearing. Speaking of doing what you wanted, you looked around for people who would tag along with your schemes. You approached the girls first, asking if they wanted along with you.

"Sorry, [First Name]-chan! We really want to ride the ferris wheel and we know how much you hate slow rides!" Hagakure said in an apologetic tone.

"But this is a chance to get close with that person you like." Asui pointed out. You let out a noise akin to a squeak, covering the lower half of your face with your scarf.

"So we're sorry that we can't hang out with you! On the bright side, you can go with Bakugou-kun who is still here!" Ashido said, pushing you towards the aforementioned ash blonde. You were leaning back, forcing your weight on the pink haired female and digging your feet into the snowy ground. Despite your protests, the girl continued to push you towards the explosive blonde. As she mentioned, Bakugou was standing alone, his crimson hues fixated on the various things around him. Once you were forcefully pushed onto him, the male let out a annoyed noise, ready to chew out who had shoved someone at him. The moment he turned, he was stunned, lips agape and his crimson eyes widening.

"What are you shits doing?" Bakugou questioned.

"Come on, guys.....he's uncomfortable." you sighed softly.

"Don't be so shy, Bakubro! Besides, its just spending time with a friend unless you decide to see it in another way." Kirishima teased with a knowing smirk.

"Go on, [First Name]-chan!"

With a particularly hard shove, you were sent forward, slipping on the snow with a gasp. Bakugou noticed this and his arms instinctively wrap around your waist to make sure you didn't slip and fall. He looked away, hiding his rosy cheeks from you. You muttered a faint thank you before slowly removing yourself from his arms. By that time, the rest of the group had already left you and Bakugou alone, telling you both that they'll meet you later at the assigned place. Bakugou began muttering about how annoying everyone was and how annoying all this is. You watched as he let out a string of curses, angrily crushing the snow beneath his feet. The male turned his attention to you when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Cheer up, Bakugou-kun. How about we go eat something over there?" you asked, pointing at the direction of the lined up stalls where all the delicious smell was coming from. You walked ahead of him, your hands clutching onto the backpack you were carrying. The male huffed in response, trudging behind you as you enthusiastically skipped your way over to the overly crowded food stalls. Bakugou let his eyes close for a while, wondering how the hell he got into this situation in the first place.

"Sorry!" he heard someone apologize. His eyes immediately searched for your figure. You were already far ahead and there was a crowd forming around the area quickly. Bakugou picked up the pace when he saw you being swept away by the crowd. His eyes went wide in panic when you disappeared from his sight.

At that time, I met you, it was only just that Parts of me that I didn't even know myself I discover one after the other

Shit, shit, shit! Where the fuck have you gone? Bakugou began to step into the crowd, his head whipping to ever single direction in search of you. Unfortunately, there were a fair share of people who're tall, obscuring his view. Gritting his teeth in annoyance, the male began to move through the crowd. The people around him slowly made way for him when they noticed the aura he was emitting. Some cowered in fear of being trampled on if they stood on his path, some were ignorant, failing to notice him while the rest merely wondered what got him so pissed.

"[Last Name]! Fucking say something!"

"B-Bakugou-kun! I'm over here!"

From a distance, he saw your hand raised up in the air and he wasted no time to get to where you were. The male pushed past through the people without even bothering to apologize. He had to get to you no matter what. Bakugou continued to make his way through the sea of people, maneuvering skillfully past the bystanders. You had tried to move but with the crowd moving at different directions, you had stopped entirely, afraid that you'd be swept away. But you shouldn't let something like this stop you. Huffing through your slightly pink nose, you squeezed your way between two girls who were too busy chatting with one another to hear your 'Excuse me'. After squeezing your way through, you had stop, coming face to face with Bakugou.

"Bakugou! You came! Just got carried by the crowd, it can be crazy sometimes." you chuckled. Bakugou nodded curtly before gently grabbing your wrist.

"Bakugou?"

"If you don't want to have your ass carried by the crowd then keep a good grip on my hand." he scolded you. You smiled softly and squeezed his hands back.

"Then let's go get some food." you announce giddily, pulling the ash blonde with you. He opened his mouth to protest but no words came out. The male showed no efforts to even go against you, letting you drag him from one stall to another. Bakugou didn't realize how close you both were until you stopped in front of a stall to buy some yakitori. You stood in front of the stall, pondering about which ones your should get. He watched as you leaned forward, humming to yourself as you pointed at your favorite ones. It took him a nudge from you for him to snap back to reality. Your hands had detached at some point, since you wanted to pull out your wallet from your bag.

"What kind of meat do you want? They have unagi too, you know." you pointed out, releasing his hand from yours. The male took his time to choose what he wanted and paid for his food.

The two of you walked from one stall to another. While Bakugou decided not to eat anymore, you bought something from each stall you visited and by now, your hands were occupied with tons of plastic bags. You were currently chewing on some mochi. From time to time, you would offer some to your companion but the male would refuse and comment on how he didn't like eating sweets. With a shrug, you continued to eat your food while walking through the festival with Bakugou. Turned out that most rides were ones that you could normally find in amusement parks, so they didn't really interest you that much. Instead, you chose to try out a bunch of food. He didn't mind this though, he didn't particularly like festivals ― it was always loud, crowded with people and honestly, its just suffocating.

But, he didn't mind all this right now. In fact, he was somewhat glad that he could view festivals in a different way.

"Ah! You did buy the unagi! Can I have some?" you asked with a wide grin. The blonde turned to face you for a while before looking back at the food he was holding in his hands. You blinked at him curiosly before pulling out one of the purchased item from the yakitori stall.

"Here, I'll give you a bite of my salmon skin." you offered him, holding the mentioned food in front of him. He didn't actually mind if you stole some of his food but when you offering your own food. With a smile, you urged him to open his mouth. He begrudgingly complied and took a bite from your skewer. His eyelids slowly shut close, taking his time to memorize the taste. The moment his eyes reopened, he was met with your curious and hopeful gaze.

"How was it? How was it?"

"Well, its fine." he mumbled.

"Here." Bakugou handed you a whole skewer of unagi. You looked at him with a look of surprise. Leaning forward, you took a piece from the skewer he had offered to you. The sudden movement allowed him to catch a whiff on the perfume you had on. You had got so close to him just to sample some of his food.

"You don't have to give me the entire thing.....I just want a piece." you told him before pulling away.

"Anyway, let's keep on going! There's some games I want to play together."

Fucking hell. Bakugou followed you without protesting.

How can you be so fucking cute?

Everyday, I think about how I want to see you I want to let you know about that So in this crowd where we might pass each other by, I'm searching for you In this very day, are you smiling together with someone else That part deep, deep inside my heart is becoming painful

"Oh, Todoroki-kun! Did you get left behind too?" you asked.

Along your journey around the festival, you spotted your classmates sitting on a bench.

"No, I'm with Midoriya and Iida, they're over there." the male responded, pointing towards the direction of where the public bathroom was located.

Bakugou only stood close to you as you talked with Todoroki. He kept his gaze on the two of you, silently glaring at two toned haired boy. You had a smile on your face as you shared some food with him, excitedly talking about how you loved the atmosphere around here. Although it irritated the explosive blonde that you weren't paying attention to him anymore, he liked seeing that stupid smile on your face. Plus, the way you ate is just so fucking cute. Stuffing your cheeks with bits of meat until your cheeks were puffed up, it reminded him of a hamster. It was a surprise that you could eat so much. Even though you had told him that you skipped dinner just for this, it was still surprising. You continued chewing onto the nikumaki onigiri you had bought, letting out a hum of delight at the taste. On the other hand, Todoroki was eating the taikyaki you had purchased, warming it up with his quirk. It was silent between the three of you, mostly because you and Todoroki were eating and Bakugou decided to just keep silent.

As much as he complained about how he would be stuck with you this whole time, he didn't particularly like it when your attention was on someone other than him. He simply stood a little bit away from you two, leaning against a nearby tree with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. Bakugou was always a smart person, he always took quite a while to come in terms with his own feelings. Even without having to ask someone, he understood what this feeling bubbling inside him was. It was jealousy. And the main reason to his jealous was not because you weren't paying attention to him. It was actually because he fell in love you. Bakugou understood his feelings as love because he's dreamed of the day he would hold hands and hold you in his arms with you without being ashamed of it.

"Heeeeeeeey! It's Bakugou, Todoroki and [Last Name]." a familiar voice caught Bakugou's attention, making him turn towards the source of the voice. Both you and Todoroki turned to see Kaminari and Kirishima making their way towards you.

"Uwah....That's a lot of food there, [Last Name]." Kirishima pointed at the plastic bags on your arms.

"Oh, here you want some taiyaki?" you asked, handing him the paper bag filled with the said treats. The red haired male accept the treat from your hands and began sharing it to Kaminari who had tagged along with him.

Somehow, with more guys surrounding you, it made him more irritated than ever. He knew how popular you were in the class, being one of the type to befriend everyone and all. With Kirishima's hand slung over your shoulder and Kaminari standing a little bit too close to you, Bakugou felt his eyebrows twitch in annoyance. Even the electric-quirk user's flirting seemed to fluster you a little but all you could do was let out a soft laugh at his playful demeanor. Having known the blonde for a long time was what made you notice that he was only being playful and didn't really mean most of his flirting. But Bakugou didn't seem to see it that way.

"So, do you want to do something together now that we're here? We're going to ride that one next." Kaminari pointed out.

"Well, I originally didn't plan on riding anything.....Plus....." you glanced at Bakugou who appeared to be really bored with everything. The whole time you conversed with your classmates, you couldn't help but think about your ash blonde companion. You felt guilty for leaving him alone to himself.

"I have other things I want to do too." you smiled, walking away from the group.

With a small wave, you gave them your thanks before skipping over to Bakugou. The boys watched as you left them. They could faintly hear your conversation from a distance, hearing how you were apologizing for making him wait for so long. Bakugou merely responded with a grunt, pretending to not care about you leaving him alone earlier but there was a hint of relief in his voice when you approached him. Tugging his sleeve, you urged him to follow you to a game stall. His protests were clear but he made no movements to stop you from dragging him away. Kirishima had a small smile on his face.

"Bakugou's so whipped."

If it's possible, I want you to stay by my side, I don't want you to go anywhere else I want you to always think only of me As I thought, it would be uncool if I tell you these things So I'll make it simple, only because it's going to be quite long I love you

At this point, you had stored some of the food inside your bag and decided to play games instead. While you were wandering around and looking at all the stalls until you spotted something that caught your interest. You stopped in front of a stall which didn't seem to give off the feeling that it was a game stall. Bakugou noticed this and watched as your eyes slowly move over to the prize sitting on the top shelf. The person in charge of the stall put down the boxes he was carrying and strode over towards you.

"Welcome. Would you like to give this thing a try?" he asked you.

"This device here is a power absorber that my uncle made. I brought it here so everyone can see their potential. Plus I have a bunch of things I wanted to give away, I thought about making this into a little game. All the things on the shelves are prizes and you can only win them if you manage to get over 1000 points, you'll get to chose anything on the top shelf. So far, kids can only score over 100 but less than 200. People your age could only score 500. But still, it's worth a shot, right? So hit it with all ya got!" the man said with a smile.

"With all I got, huh? Then again, I don't even have that much power. My quirk doesn't require me to strengthen my muscles or anything like that.....But I really want that plushie......" you mumbled, eyeing the object placed on the top shelf with a longing look in your eyes. To be frank, your quirk wasn't really suited for hand to hand combat or anything like that. Your quirk, Vector, allows you to change the direction of atoms. It actually gives everyone the mindset that you were a physic but in reality, you were just moving items. Instead, you gave him a small thanks, ready to turn around until you bumped into someone's chest.

"Bakugou?"

"Move aside, squirt. I'm doing this." he had his left hand stretched out and his other hand forming a circle on the palm of his outstretched hand. You quickly stepped away. Having trained with him for a long time made you aware of most of his moves. With a loud yell, he fired an explosion through the circle. The loud noise had caused you and the stall owner to cover your ears. Thankfully, Bakugou had focused all of his explosion into one point, aiming straight towards the device hanging on the wall.

"Die!"

Die? Although his choice of words always seemed limited, you couldn't help but gaze at him and at the device in pure awe. You knew your classmate was one of top students in the year despite his horrible attitude but that didn't stop you for admiring whatever he did. Even the stall owner was loss for words at the display of strength, sweating nervously and making a mental note to not agitate the ash blonde. With hints of smoke still rising from the palms of his hand, Bakugou lowered his arms and watched as the numbers rose and stopped at a considerably large amount. He let out a huff, narrowing his eyes st his own score, looking as if he wasn't satisfied with what he got.

"Uohh! Its way over 1000!" you said with a wide smile on your face."

"Color me impressed. As expected from the one who won the Sports Festival two years ago. Here ya go." he passed the large stuffed corgi towards Bakugou who gingerly accepted it. While you were gushing about how much he improved in two years, he took the time to study your features. It was a wonder when you didn't even notice him staring at you so openly but he wad thankful that you were distracted. With a light shove he pressed the plushie against your face, causing you to stop mid sentence. You looked over to the side, wondering what he wanted.

"Take it, you idiot."

"Listen, I didn't do this to get that shit for you. I did because I wanted to know my strength, so don't get the wrong idea, squirt." Bakugou grumbled as you nudged himself gently, letting out a small laugh.

"You're right. I mean, you're not the type to go on dates and win a plushie for your girl like some cliche romcom anime. That'd be just too.....well, you know, weird." you smiled, tightening your hold on the plushie he had given you earlier.

"What?! You think I can't fucking take you on a date!?!" he exclaimed angrily.

"Well, I wasn't actually talking about me because I wouldn't mind going on a date with you. All you have to do is ask. But I'm actually referring to other girls, you see―"

"Just because you're a little cute, doesn't mean you can get away with this. Even if I like you, I won't hesitate to knock you out." Bakugou leaned closer, causing you to shrink back in surprise. Your cheeks burned bright red in embarrassment, surprised by his compliment. Thankful that you had avoided your gaze, Bakugou pulled away from you, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, obscuring the blush on his face.

"A-Are you implying something? Or are you just messing with me like you usually do?" your tone was questioning and your gaze was wavering, as if you were afraid of what was going to come.

"You don't have to answer that. Well, it was just a joke or a slip of the tongue. So you were probably joking around when you said all that. I mean, there's no way you would have those kind of feelings for someone like me―" you were cut off when Bakugou pulled you to him, closing the distance between the two of you and connecting your lips together. You felt your heart stop when he suddenly kissed you. Your whole body was engulfed in warmth, not from the heat of your cheeks but from the heat of another person holding you tenderly. There were no words to describe how you felt but all you know was that―you never wanted this to end.

But alas, Bakugou slowly detached from you, admiring the hazy look in your eyes and the red hue on the apples of your cheeks. His lips brushed against yours softly before he took a step back, keeping his hold on your arms.

"Are you really that fucking dense?" Bakugou questioned you.

"But you were―I mean, you were―Agh!" you cried out in a frustrated manner, lightly glaring at the taller male.

"How am I supposed to know when you were being so subtle about your feelings? I'm not a mind reader, you know. If you could've just say it to me directly, I would understand. Giving hints like that doesn't guarantee the other person detecting that hint and―"

"I love you."

You stared at him, words fading into mumbled nonsense as you looked down onto your feet, avoiding the male's gaze. He smirked triumphantly after successfully turning you into a blushing mess.

"If you still don't fucking get it, then I'll fucking say it until you get it."

"Then say it again." you dared him, your lips quivering while your eyes glimmered in hope.

"I love you."

I'll say it over and over again until you hear it I love you

Total: 8540 words Published: 25.12.2019

Though I don’t spend Christmas, I want to say Merry Christmas to everyone who does. This is our gift to our readers and this might be one of our very last writing for this year. We’re going to do our best next year and improve even more! Happy holidays everyone! Hope you enjoyed our present! Editing the HTML was a pain in ass uwu ― author Hibiki/Lou

This took a while to do! I hope our hardwork paid off! The plot is a little bit out of place and stuff. But we hope that it was god enough. Merry Christmas everyone!― author Natsuki

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

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realllllfangirllllll · 5 years

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Boyfriend!JB

GOT7 Masterlist

Main Masterlist

———

This boy right here

Is the epitome of boyfriend

Despite what everyone thinks

He is far from a “tsundere” type of guy

When he first realized he had a crush on you

He wouldn’t stop thinking about you

Whenever he starts to write a new song

All the ideas in his head were about you

So naturally all his songs became so lovey dovey

And the members started to notice it

Not that he tried to hide it

He wanted to continue composing until he wrote the perfect song to confess to you

One day you stopped by his recording studio

And found him asleep on the couch

He was so adorable you took out your phone to record him

And he started to talk in his dreams

Which led to him talking about everything that he likes about you

And how his crush for you develops deeper and deeper each day

And that he can’t keep it to himself anymore

Or his heart might burst

All the while you were recording him

And your heart beats so quickly

You wanted to get a better angle of him and moved to the left

But accidentally moved a nearby chair

Jaebum heard and woke up

He was still drowsy from his nap

And wasn’t aware of what he just did

You laugh at his dazed state

And played the video you recorded

Jaebum became so embarrassed and shy

His cheeks became a rosy red shade

But you told him he was adorable

And so sweet

He’d look at you with embarrassment and disappointment

“I wanted to confess to you through a song”

You giggled and kissed his rosy cheeks

“We can do it together”

So that’s how the two of you started your first date

In the studio making a song with Jaebum’s sleep talking

Jaebum isn’t the type to be really into skinship

But when he sees you he can’t help it

He thinks everything you do is cute

So naturally he’ll just be so affectionate with you

When he’s with the boys he’d try to keep pda to a minimum

But then again he can’t help it

He’d unconsciously call you by your pet name

Or linger too long around you

Being a little too touchy

And poof! his “chic” exterior is gone

And if you’re feeling particularly affectionate

You’d play into his clinginess

And then the 6 boys will just cringe at how sappy you two are

But is actually really happy for the both of you

Jinyoung will never admit it

But he thinks the two of you are so darn adorable

And that he’s super happy his brother found a person that makes him that happy

SUGGESTIVE TIME

Now Jaebum thinks you’re super adorable

Like puppy adorable

No kitten adorable

So it’s only natural that his dominant personality shows

Especially in bed

He won’t tell you but he has a corruption kink when it comes to you

Because you seem so innocent and adorable to him

He wants to ruin you

In the most sexual way

In public his pet name for you is “baby” “honey” “cutie”

But in private you’re addressed as “kitten” “babygirl”

And he calls you that when making love to you

Or when he’s pounding into you like an animal

He expects to be called “daddy”

And there’s no other exception

Look at him and tell me you don’t see daddy written all over him

It turns him on even more when he finds out you have a major daddy kink

Once he finds out about your kink there’s no turning back

He won’t stop corrupting dominating you

In a more intimate setting

He’d take it down a notch

But still make you feel so good

After all he’s a very attentive person

And knows what you like and don’t like

Both in bed and in everyday life

Back to fluff time

That being said he likes to be aware of your likes and dislikes

One day he’d approach you in the kitchen

While you were just finding a late night snack to munch on

And give you a tight back hug

He’d tell you how much he likes you

And yes he’d whisper his love for you

That’s when you melt

And just delve into the deepest life conversation with him

On the couch

While being tangled in the small sheets

Having Jaebum cuddle you

You realize just how caring your boyfriend is

He listens, remembers, and then does it

Whatever you tell him he will always take to heart

And hope to show you that he understands

When you yawn and start to lean further into his arms

He’d softly sing you to sleep

And just gaze at your peaceful sleeping appearance

Thinking to himself

That he must be the luckiest man in the world to have you

In general he’s the most caring boyfriend you can ever have

Despite the appearance that he sends off to other people

He’s the warmest person

And will never let you get hurt

If someone hurts you even in the tiniest way

*Cue Jaebum’s jaw sticking out*

He’d be extremely protective and not let whoever hurt you get away with it

You might even have to stop him from hurting someone

At the end of the day you know that everything he does

Is because he loves you with all his heart

———

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iamtotallycool · 4 years

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EOA Ship Appreciation Week Day 5: Valentine’s Day

Happy Valentines Day! No matter how you plan on celebrating it, I hope you know that you are all loved!

This year, the honor of this romantic day went to the ship GABABEL! ft Gabe’s parents.

This was actually a WIP I had collecting dust until I finally had the inspiration to finish it!

Enjoy!

There was a certain expectation that came with Valentine's Day, especially when a couple was celebrating their first one together. And even Gabe knew that helping out at his parent's bakery and making what seemed like hundreds of heart shaped Polvorones Rosas was not one of them.

It's not like either him or Isa were particularly the overly romantic types that usually included things like rose petals and original written songs and fireworks. So pretty much anything Elena and Mateo did. Instead, they preferred to go on hikes, read books together, play chess, and do other simple things like that.

Still, the two of them decided to take advantage of the day and go on a more traditional date by making dinner reservations at a high end restaurant and just enjoy being with each other. Mateo had even let it accidentally slip that Isa had bought herself a new dress when she had been out with Elena, a red dress.

But, he had gotten an urgent message from his mother this morning saying that their new apprentice had called off 'sick' and they were way behind in getting their special Valentine treats ready for what was well known as one of their busiest days of the year.

While Gabe was more than happy to always lend his parents a hand when they were in a bind, he couldn't help but feel annoyed at the apprentice's flimsy excuse, especially when Gabe actually had plans tonight.

Thankfully Isabel, or as now he would be thinking of her as, his wonderful Isa, had been more than understanding when he had rushed into her lab to break the news that he wasn't sure if he could promise about tonight. To take a step further, she even offered to help out as well.

"I already helped Abeula and her staff out yesterday with some specialty chocolate orders," Isa said rather proudly. "So I know my way around a kitchen and have no problem lending an extra hand if your parents need it."

Not only did they not have a problem with it, they were ecstatic to have the extra help, especially from Gabe's girlfriend who they of course knew about, but had never actually been properly introduced to. A horrifying fact Gabe realized later.

The day had been insanely busy as they had expected. And while they had done a bit of baking together in the past, Gabe had been really impressed with how well Isa really knew her stuff and how she was able to keep a calm head and beautiful smile through those stressful couple of hours.

Her performance had even impressed his father so much, that he had asked the two of them if they could stay a little longer to help prepare some of the usual baked goods for tomorrow. And this was from a man where you either did it his way or he would just do it himself.

It ended up being an unexpectedly fun evening, as they all worked on mixing different fillings, taking the time to get to know each other as they munched on a combination of the leftover treats and some meat and cheeses.

Gabe was now though in the empty main kitchen wiping off some chocolate filling off his face that Isa had smeared on him in retaliation when his parent's back were turned. A dirty move on her part, considering that she already had flour on her face when he decided she looked too cute not to have some more flicked onto her.

"Really Gabriel," His mother said as she came into the kitchen with a large bowl of freshly risen dough. "I thought we taught you better than to get your face all messy."

Gabe just rolled his eyes as he easily threw the dirty rag into the laundry basket that was across the room. He already knew he couldn't convince her or really anyone when Isa was the more troublesome one because of her innocent looking face, especially when she did her puppy dog eyes.

His father's boisterous laugh then echoed from the other room.

"You think Papa really likes Isabel?"

"What could he possibly not like about her?" His mother said with an amused look on her face as she began flouring down one of the counter tops. "She's a sweet girl. Not to mention the Crown Princess."

"Well, you know Papa," Gabe sighed as he grabbed some bowls off the high shelf he knew she would need for Pan dulces. "I think he likes to get into a fight with me just because."

His mother just laughed as she took the bowls from him. "And I always tell you, that you and your father are too similar, and that is why you always butt heads."

Gabe smiled as he leaned against the counter, knowing she was right, but also not wanting to fully admit it.

"I just know that both of you complain about how much time I spend at the Castle because of my work and really pushed me meeting a lot of local girls a few years ago," Gabe said. "And if I marry Isa, then I will be living at the Castle full time and will become a Royal as well."

His mother ended up dropping the bag of flour had been holding. Luckily she dropped it onto the counter upright and therefore only created a small white dust cloud.

"You're already thinking of marrying her!?"

Gabe flinched and quickly looked over his shoulder into the other room, "Mama! Please can you keep it--"

"Oh I really thought this day would never come!" She interrupted and hugged him tightly.

"I'm trying to be serious," Gabe groaned as he managed to at least pull his arms out of her iron grip. "Part of the reason Papa, and even you a little Mama, didn't want me to become a guard was because you wanted me to take over the business, and get married, and start a having the big family you never could and we could all be together."

"It's true that your father and I always talked about wanting to have a big family mijo." His mother finally released him from her grasp as a slightly more somber look came over her. "But, with the heavy taxes and toxic oppression, we weren't even sure if we wanted to even bring a child into the world."

His mother pulled out a spare rag from her apron and began wiping his cheek, no doubt getting a spot he missed. "But you were our little blessing, and we just wanted to make sure that you grew up safe and secure as possible."

"Sorry I made you worry," Gabe said automatically. While he knew deep down at his core that he lived his life with no regrets, it pained him to make his parents worried or disappointed, especially his mom.

"No Gabriel," his mother said as she shook her head. "You turned out to be exactly who you were supposed to be. And your father and I are so proud of you."

His mother then turned back to the counter and moved the bag of flour to the ground, clearly now over her initial shock.

"And to let you know, the reason I wanted to push you to start dating more is because I just didn't want you to forget about making time for love, especially since I know things ended up playing out a little differently for you and Naomi."

She gestured back to the dining room.

"But again, looks like I had nothing to worry about."

It was Gabe's turn now to pull her into a quick and strong hug, feeling so much more at ease.

"So you and Papa are really okay with her becoming part of the family?"

"All we wanted was for you to meet a nice girl, who is hardworking, has strong morals and highly values family," His mother said as she listed the long, but not wholly unreasonable qualities off. "And I say that the generous Princess with a College education that has transformed this Kingdom to be safer place and loves her family above all else, exceeds all our criteria."

His father's voice then cut loudly through the air. "And then the olaball is passed to Rico as he punches it for a GOAL!"

"Oh no, if your father is bringing up Olaball, it means he's getting nervous and can't think of anything else to talk about." His mother gave Gabe's hand one more pat before she released it. "We better go save him."

Gabe agreed with his mother wholeheartedly and followed behind her.

"Let me know when you are thinking about proposing to her." His mother said over her shoulder, thankfully this time in a whisper. "I have a great eye when it comes to rings."

Gabe appreciated his mother's sentiment and knew he would call on her help when the time was right, but he and even Mateo both knew how fast the local neighborhood gossip could travel if so much as a peep was mentioned, and he didn't want it blown out of proportion, not just yet.

"I only said that I was thinking of marrying her," He replied, hoping to dissuade her slightly.

However, that was to no avail.

"And I can see in a man's eyes when he's deeply in love," His mother replied matter-of-factly before giving him a small smile as they reached the door frame of the dining room. "After all, it's the same look your father gives me."

#gabe nunez #Isabel Castillo Flores #gababel #older!gababel #Elena of Avalor #Disney #disney jr #ship appreciation week #valentine's day

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mintymiknow · 5 years

Text

Serendipity [Minho/Lee Know]

Summary: [Best-Friends-to-Lovers AU; College setting] Serendipity meant “finding something good or beautiful without looking for it” - and perhaps that was how things turned out with your best friend [WC: approx. 3.6k words]

Genre: Fluff

GIF credit here!

The music kept playing through the speakers as you and Minho practiced and practiced. You were both dance majors, and as usual, your final examinations were to be done in the form of a dance performance. Everything was going smoothly until Minho, being the cheeky male that he is, sticks his leg out a bit too far, causing you to clumsily trip. You manage to balance yourself, squealing at the near-accident, “Yah, Lee Minho, you prick!”

Minho giggles and feigns innocence, “What now, y/n? How could you call me a prick?”

“Keep your legs to yourself.” you pout.

“Keep your legs to yourself.” Minho mocks you, making his voice all pouty and annoying.

You both resumed the choreography from where the song was playing, but mischief ran in your head as you extended your arms a bit to enthusiastically, effectively hitting Minho’s cheek. The male exclaims in surprise before holding his cheek, “You did that on purpose!”

“I did not!” you fake gasp, “How could you accuse me, your best friend, of doing such a thing?”

Minho playfully rolls his eyes, “Mhmm, that’s exactly why I’d accuse you.”

“Meanie.” you slap his arm.

You both continued to practice and ran through the choreography a few more times. Of course, almost every minute, you were both causing “accidents” towards each other. Minho would “accidentally” trip you several times, and you would “accidentally slap his face”. Maybe you’d bump into each other forcefully on purpose. On most cases, you’d push each other during a complex part of the dance. But that was the nature of your friendship. He was your best friend, and you were his. You were comfortable with each other, confident and secure in the friendship you had, thus constantly messing with each other as such. It had become a normal thing for him to tease you and vice versa – it was second nature for you both. Nonetheless, you both knew you enjoyed each other’s company, cherishing every moment, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

After a few more hours of practice, Minho dropped to floor, leaning his back against the wall. You stood next to him, hands on your hips. “What, you’re tired already?” you coo as if he was a baby.

Minho momentarily glares at you, but you were used to his stares. He then grabs your wrist and pulls you to sit beside him, to which you happily comply. “It’s hard to keep up with someone like you.” he teases while putting his arm around your shoulders.

You lean into him, head resting on his shoulder, “That’s why we’re best friends, dumbass.”

“Says the other dumbass.” Minho laughs loudly.

You laugh, “Face it. You’re lucky the professor made us partners for this final exam. You’re going to do great thanks to me.”

Minho shakes his head, “More like, you’re lucky to have me on this ride. What would you do without me?”

“We’ll see about that real soon.” you challenge, and he simply chuckles softly before rubbing your arm soothingly.

That was another normal thing in your friendship. After all the teasing, bantering, and arguing, you’d end up in a situation like this, slightly soft and perhaps a little intimate. It confused people sometimes, how you two would banter like rivals and end up all touchy with each other; they would also assume you were a couple, but your closer friends would know that it was just how you and Minho were. Well, maybe except for the occasional teasing from Woojin and Seungmin.

And at some point, their teasing did get to you. While you didn’t let it affect you too much, your mind sometimes wandered and daydreamed. You asked yourself what it would be like to date someone like Minho, what it would be like to hold hands and hug him as more than a friend, maybe even kiss him. But that’s all they were – thoughts. You never considered them or gave importance, preferring to maintain the friendship.

Minho, on the other hand, knew some time ago that he harbored deeper feelings for you. He didn’t have to search for any “love of his life” because somehow, he knew it was bound to be you. Of course, he was good at hiding this, with only Jisung and Chan officially knowing about his crush on you. He was more than content to keep his feelings to himself and stay friends as long as you remained by his side.

A few minutes had passed, and the practice room fell silent. You and Minho still sat next to each other on the floor with your head resting on his shoulder. Somehow, your fingers managed to intertwine with his, yet another aspect of your friendship. Nothing new – Minho was a touchy person after all. Minho was asleep, so you kept your gaze on your interlocked hands. Yours fit perfectly in his, and there was a delicateness to the sight. Minho absentmindedly brushed his thumb across the skin of your hand, causing your heart beat to accelerate. As you kept your gaze on your hands, Chan’s words from not too long ago echoed in your head.

“Sooner or later, you’re going to realize that you love him.” he smiled cheerfully.

You shrugged, “Of course I do, Chan. He’s my best friend.”

Chan shook his head and ruffled your hair, “Y/n, you know what I mean. I can see it. I think all of us but the two of you can.”

You looked Chan in the eye, but when your gaze faltered and you blinked too rapidly, you knew deep down that Chan was most probably right.

You break away from your thoughts and squeeze Minho’s hand a little tighter. Lifting your head from his shoulder, you whisper, “Minho, I need to go back to the dorms. It’s getting dark.”

Minho stirs awake and yawns in the most carefree manner you’ve ever seen before he smiles at you, “Wanna drop by my place? Jisung and the cats won’t mind.”

Unlike you who resided in the campus dorm, Minho and his 8 other friends had rooms in an apartment just across the university. You chuckle at the thought of Jisung and the cats happily welcoming you to their room. “I’d like to, but I have to finish a paper for one of my subjects.”

Minho stretches like a cat before getting up, taking your hand and pulling you up on your feet as well, “Let’s go.”

You notice that he doesn’t let go of your hand until you both exit the practice room.

Later that night, you sit on your bed and type away on your laptop, eager to finish the paper you were working so hard on. You munch on a bag of chips and sip on your iced coffee every now and then as you feel the circles under your eyes getting darker every second. You check the time – 12 AM – and decide that perhaps Minho is still awake. You grab your phone and dial his number. Seconds later, Minho groggily answers your call, “Hello, what do you want now?”

You sheepishly grin and chuckle, “Did I wake you?”

“Not really, no.” Minho yawns, “I was just about to sleep. Is something wrong?”

You smile, “Not really…I’m nearly done with my paper. I just wanted to share what I wrote with you. Give me your thoughts.”

“I can’t give you my thoughts, y/n, but you can listen to me talk about them.” Minho sasses you, and you can picture the smirk on his face.

You smirk to yourself, “Fine then. You listen to me, I listen to you. Deal?”

“Yes, yes. By the way, I bet you look like a zombie panda right now.” Minho laughs.

You groan and pout, “Leave my eyebags out of this, Minho!”

Minho chuckles once more before prompting you to share what you’ve written on your paper. While you ramble on about your writings and whatnot, Minho gives a comment or two from time to time, though a vast majority of them are jokes or sassy remarks, as usual. Thankfully, it makes you laugh and forget about your weariness.

“And I was thinking of ending it with a really nice, deep quote so it could leave a good impact. What do you think?” you ask through your phone.

You’re met with silence on the other end. “Hello? Minho?” you repeat.

Silence. “Ah, he must have fallen asleep.” you mutter with pouted lips. Can’t be helped. You knew that Minho made most of the choreo for your final exam performance, and he did practice really hard the past few days. You sigh and softly smile, “Good night, Minho. Get your rest, please. Thank you for listening to me as always. You make everything so much better, silly.”

Your last statement jolts Minho awake, his eyes wide open, but before he can respond, you’ve ended the call. Minho stares at his phone screen, a small smile forming on his lips. “Why are you smiling like an idiot?”

Minho looks up to see Jisung and Chan, who is dropping by from his shared place with Woojin and Changbin, with cheeky grins on their faces. Minho glares at them before breaking out in a smile. “She’s really the best.”

Jisung pretends to clutch at his heart, fake-crying tears of joy while Chan suppresses his squeals. It doesn’t take long for Minho to throw his pillow at the duo who run away laughing.

The next day, you meet up with Minho at the practice room again, but you get there ahead so you decide to start practicing without him. After a while, you hear a voice talk to you, “I see you just keep getting better.”

You look at the figure through the mirror and smile when you notice that it’s Minho. “I learn from the best, I guess.” you shrug nonchalantly.

Minho walks closer to you, offering you a smile. “Shall we start?”

“I already started, idiot.” you tease, causing Minho to chuckle.

“You’re a pain in the ass.” Minho teases back, and you simply giggle.

Without another word, Minho plays the music, and you both break into the choreo with ease. There is no teasing, messing around, pushing or hitting each other this time – it’s all seriousness, and you can feel the vibe. Minho was serious. While he definitely had a more serious or occasional quiet side when he was moody, it was rare for you to see him both too serious AND too quiet at the same time. After three runs of the dance, Minho called for a break and went to get a paper cup, filling it with water from the dispenser. He stood in place, cup in one hand as he stared blankly at the floor. This was weird behavior, you admit to yourself. You’ve never seen Minho like that in all your years of being best friends.

You cautiously approach him and tilt your head in question. You smile gently, “Are you ok, Minho? You seem…out of it.”

Minho’s gaze quickly falls on you. “Ah, yeah, yeah. Sorry. I was just thinking about something.” the male laughs, flashing you with a bright smile.

“You sure?” you prod with a wider grin.

Minho returns to being his cocky and mischievous self, raising an eyebrow at you and smirks, “Why? Worried about me all of a sudden?”

You blush but decide to play it cool, “Duh. What kind of friend wouldn’t worry about their best friend?”

Minho chuckles at you, before pouring the water from his cup unto your head. You squeal at the coldness of the liquid and proceed to grab a cup of your own. Without second-thought, you fill it up with water, but Minho sees your actions. He runs away from you, though you simply chase him and throw at his direction. The male exclaims in surprise as you laugh in victory. “I didn’t pour that much on you!” he protests.

You stick your tongue out and back away from the male, “You started it, Lee.”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be?” Minho wiggles his eyebrows.

He refills his cup with water and runs after you. Of course, you try to run around the practice room as fast as you can, but Minho is quicker. He grabs your wrist, pulls you closer and mercilessly douses your hair with cold water. You squeal loudly before tackling Minho without much thought. You rub your head against his chest, desperate to dry your hair from his random antics. Minho stands, giggling as he softly grips your arms, holding you in place. You eventually look up at the male and sigh, “You’re a pain in the ass.”

“I said that first, copycat.” Minho smirks, and you playfully scoff.

Neither of you realize the proximity between your bodies, with your faces inches away from each other. Your arms are still around Minho’s torso as his hands somehow end up on your waist. He leans closer with the tip of his nose touching yours, and for a second, you think he’s going to kiss you. The male, however, grins cheekily before whispering, “I can see your pores, y/n.”

You push Minho away, cheeks all pink. “What the heck, Minho.” you still manage to flash him a smile, “Should we get back to practicing?”

“Oh, right,” he starts, “I forgot to tell you that I can’t stay today. I need to help Hyunjin and Felix with something.”

“Oh?” you tilt your head. “Can I still practice without you? Like my parts of the dance.”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.” Minho grasps both your hands in his as if pleading.

You chuckle at your friend, “It’s fine, Minho. I’ll see you tomorrow anyway.”

He grins at you before ruffling your hair. He soon packs his things up and makes his leave, leaving you alone in the room. You sigh and stretch your back – without much choice, you start to practice alone.

After hours or practice, a little cellphone break, a short lunch break, maybe a few selfies, and more practice, you collapse to the floor, exhausted and sweaty. You grab a towel from your bag and wipe your face. You check your phone – 9 PM – and scoot close to the wall, leaning against it. You put your earphones in and listen to your music on shuffle. When a particular song plays, a small smile makes its way to your lips. It was the first song you ever danced to with Minho. The song that somehow initiated your friendship with the sarcastic, flirty, and somewhat weird male. It was the song Minho loved to dance to the most, and every time he danced to it, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Your eyes were filled with admiration, love, and appreciation for him.

Listening to the song right now and thinking back to those times caused something to stir in you. And that’s when the realization hit you hard. You realized that it was the song that planted the seeds for your blossoming feelings for him. Was there a point in lying to yourself? Maybe not. Who were you kidding? Yes, you did love your best friend. Your dorky best friend Minho. You didn’t ask for these feelings. Heck, you weren’t even looking for anyone to love. But maybe love had its way of finding you.

You don’t notice, but time flies as you overthink. You go over your thoughts about Minho again and again, scenarios and whatnot filling your head. What if this? What if that? You’re too absorbed in your thoughts until it gets later, and you end up falling asleep in the practice room.

At this time, none other than Minho comes back to the practice room from helping Hyunjin and Felix. He had forgotten his jacket and came to get it, but he was surprised to see you asleep on the floor, earphones in and music still playing. “What an idiot.” he mumbles to himself with a soft smile.

He walks over to you and pauses your music. He debates whether he should wake you up or just carry you back to the dorms. He chooses the latter and gently picks up your sleeping form, carrying you in his arms. As he exits the room, he realizes that he can’t go to your dorm as you stay at the female dorm. Sighing he carries you back to his apartment. Thankfully, Jisung is over at Chan’s, working on something with the Aussie and Changbin.

Soonie and Doongie purr against Minho’s legs when he enters his apartment carrying you. The two follow him as he goes inside his room. When he gently places you on his bed, Dori leaps up and cuddles next to you, and Minho’s heart melts at the sight, a hushed chuckle escaping his lips. “Come on, you two.” he whispers, and Soonie and Doongie follow him out the room.

Minho gets showered and changes into a shirt and sweatpants, and you’re still sleeping soundly with Dori. He opts to hang around the living room, sitting on the floor to play with his cats. Soonie licks his hand playfully as Minho gently strokes Doongie’s fur. “She’s such a pain in the ass, but I guess she’s my pain in the ass.” Minho says to no one but his cats.

As if conversing with him, both cats look up at him and meow. Minho chuckles softly, “I like her so much, it hurts. I don’t know what to say or do with these feelings.”

He picks both cats up into his arms, nuzzling his face against their soft fur. “It’s not like I can just grab her and kiss her like this.” He kisses each cat before continuing to nuzzle them. “Who knows what she’ll say? What if I lose her as a friend?”

“What are you guys talking about there?”

Minho tenses up, and Soonie leaps out of his arms to walk over to you, purring against your leg. Minho slowly turns behind him to see you awake with Dori in your arms. You sleepily smile at the male, and Minho tries to hide his blush by grinning and teasing your bed hair, “You look like you were hit by a hurricane.”

“Hahaha,” you mock, “I slept well, thank you.”

You let Dori down while Minho does the same with Doongie, and the three cats make their way to Minho’s room. You both stare at each other in silence until you tilt your head, feigning cluelessness, “What were you talking about with Soonie and Doongie? Dori and I feel left out.”

Minho approaches you so that he stood right in front of you. “Your expression tells me you already know.” Minho raises an eyebrow.

You shrug coolly, “I didn’t hear anything except for ‘what if I lose her as a friend?’.” you giggle, “I was asleep, Minho. I’m not dead yet, you won’t lose me.”

Minho sighs, his expression deadpan as he shakes his head, “That’s not what I meant, dumbass.”

“Well, if you’re so smart,” you challenge, “what exactly did you mean, dumbass?”

Minho rolls his eyes in exasperation, but he finds it in himself to smirk at you. “If I told you I liked you, would I lose you?”

“That depends. Do you?” you whisper, looking at the ground, cheeks pink.

Minho has a boost of confidence as he lifts your chin with his finger, making you look directly at him, “Yes, I do. I really do like you, y/n. More than you can imagine. It didn’t take long for me to realize that it would be you, and I couldn’t be happier.”

You giggle, a large smile slapping itself on your face, “I don’t think I’d ever see myself liking anyone but you, Minho. Even if you’re a dork who makes sarcastic comments 24/7, I still like you.”

Minho’s smirk is replaced by a wider, dorkier grin. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. You wrap your arms around his neck and gently sway as if waltz music was playing in the background. You peer into Minho’s starry eyes – were they always that dazzling? You smile, “You know how people say that you need to search for your own happiness? That in order for something good to happen, you need to search for it?”

“Mhmm.” Minho mumbles, leaning his forehead against yours.

You continue, “Well, I don’t think that was applicable to me. I found something good – something beautiful – without having to look. He was right there the whole time. You were right there, beside me, the whole time. They call that ‘serendipity’, you know?”

Minho chuckles at your little speech and hugs you tighter and closer to him, “Like a happy accident? A pleasant surprise? Because I’ll admit, as much as you are annoying, you are my pleasant surprise.”

You feel the butterflies in your stomach and giggle once more. Minho laughs before his hands cup your cheeks in the softest way. He tilts his head, and soon, his lips are on your own. It’s a delicate kiss – very soft and chaste, but still so captivating and magical nonetheless. When you both pull away, you smirk, “That was also a pleasant surprise.”

“Yeah?” Minho raises a brow and smirks back, “Get used to it, baby.”

He kisses you again, this time deeper. Everything felt so natural as if Minho’s and your instincts knew all along that all the years of friendship would lead to this very moment and were just waiting for you both to realize it. His arms snake around your waist again, pulling you against him as your fingers play with the hair at the back of his neck, lips passionately and harmoniously dancing with each other into the night.

“Meow.” the three cats purr before lazily hopping onto the couch to watch you and Minho kiss each other silly.

348 notes · View notes

kim-seungmine · 5 years

Text

a thousand chapters

title: a thousand chapters

characters: bang chan of stray kids

genres: romance (it’s cheesy sometimes so beware), angst, best friends to lovers au, idol au, idol!chan, so i attempted to write song lyrics (spoiler: maybe i suck)

warnings: language

word count: 7138 words

synopsis: bang chan writes only 3 love songs throughout his life, and all of them are for you.

a/n: this is a little bit non-linear so please pay attention whether it’s present or past! i used different types of dividers, i hope you guys understand. i have so much feelz for chan and im not sorry

Call it an exaggeration, but sitting on your couch while watching TV and munching snacks before 9PM was truly a miracle. Nothing could ever make you leave work at 5PM, but today was an exception. You made an exception. An annual prestigious music awards was held today, and while you never really paid attention to awards, you made sure you told your manager that you had to leave as soon as the sun went down.

Now the winner of the most anticipated award, Daesang, was about to be announced. Interestingly, the two groups that had the biggest potential to win—Stray Kids and ITZY—both belonged to JYP Entertainment.

“I’m sure everyone has been waiting for this category,” the male MC trailed off, causing you to bite your bottom lip in impatience. Just as the female MC opened the envelope, your door bell rang. You clicked your tongue, making time to raise the TV volume first before running to your door. A delivery man was standing there, holding a small clear case. A CD? Without at least a bubble wrap to protect it?

“Are you Y/N?” the man asked, and you nodded absent-mindedly as you took it and closed the door without saying thank you. It was rude, but you could care less since both MCs were now smiling at the camera to tease the audience.

You quickly went back to your favorite spot—on the right side of the couch—and flipped the case. A clumsily-written tracklist was taped on it, and you frowned when you noticed a short note at the bottom.

“Chan hyung will kill me for doing this but you need to know. It’s been long overdue. -Seo Changbin”

A little panicked, you opened the case to see if there was anything else, but that was it. You read the tracklist, and the title of the first song sounded painfully familiar.

“Congratulations to… Stray Kids!”

You looked up, a relieved smile plastered on your lips. The whole audience cheered and clapped as the said nine guys stood up from their seats, dumbstruck look on their faces. They walked up the stage, took the trophy, spent the first 3 minutes sobbing and hugging each other before actually delivering their speech.

Leader Bang Chan grabbed the mic, causing you to shift closer to the television. “I was just a boy who loved music. I still do, and words can’t explain how thankful I am for all of you,” he said, half-sobbing. “Winning a Daesang has always been our dream, and now that it came true, we promise we’ll become even better.”

He went on thanking a bunch of people, from his family and friends in Sydney to fellow celebrities. And then he paused, staring at the camera for a while before blinking his tears away. “And to everyone who’s supported us and made us stronger, I love you. I hope your heart is where I’ll always stay.”

You glanced down, trying to fight back your own tears.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

(I Hope) Your Heart Is Where I Stay

“You really should go to sleep at normal hour, Chris,” you protested, sighing at the sight of Chan copying your Math homework in the speed of light. “And please do your homework before you start training.”

Chan dropped his pen as he wrote down the last number, pouting at you. “We finish school at 3. I go to the company right away. I have lessons until 10. I have dinner at 11. Then I practice until 5 in the morning. I shower, get ready, then meet you at the bus stop at 6. Tell me where I should squish in ‘working on homeworks.’ “

“Why do you go to school, then? You don’t even bother to make time to do school stuffs,” you fired back, not wanting to admit that Chan did have a packed schedule. Your best friend said nothing, only sliding your notebook back to you.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

You poked at his dimples when he didn’t respond, scooting closer to examine his face. “You’re such a baby, Bang Chan,” you commented before walking back to your seat. Chan shifted his gaze to you before breaking into a satisfied smirk. “I am, yet you’re still here.”

You had to stop yourself from blushing, but he was right.

“Catch a movie with me?” Chan is standing in front of you, slinging his backpack over one shoulder while you were zipping yours. “Don’t you have to be at the company soon?” you questioned, eyeing him from head to toe. After your “fight” this morning, Chan was even more smiley and energetic than usual. And more touchy. He was touchy to begin with, but never this much. Whether you hated it or not, you actually weren’t sure.

“I can call in sick,” he sing-sang, waving at several of your classmates. “You live in the dorm, for Christ sake,” you pointed out, but he only raised his eyebrows at you. “I have my ways, don’t worry. Jisung will cover for me.”

You met Jisung once. And Changbin. The three of them trained together and planned to release mixtapes under the name of 3RACHA, like the sauce. You kept laughing at Chan after you first heard the name, but after listening to their songs you decided that it was a suitable name for them.

Chan took your hand in his and led you out, not bothering to wait for your answer. He didn’t let go even after you got to the bus stop; he smiled at you instead as he caressed your fingers with his thumb. You didn’t have the heart to pull your hand away, but you knew you were secretly enjoying this. To be honest, nothing stressed you out more than your “friendship” with Chan thesedays. All you needed was one chance to ask if he was doing this on purpose or you were the one reading it wrong.

But, should you even try? Chan had been training for years—this year would be his seventh year—and the company loved him. They would definitely debut him and soon he would forget you. He would find you holding him back, and you didn’t want that.

You wanted to be Chan’s sweetest high school memory. Just a memory was enough, as long as he would smile when he thought of you.

The bus had arrived, and you let Chan pulled you inside. He tapped his metro card twice before you could stop him, chuckling as you let out a surprised “Yah!”

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked the second you sat down.

“Chan, we haven’t even chosen the movie we’re gonna watch yet.”

“I know. I’m just excited.”

You wanted to ask why, but then Chan was laughing and it was one of the most contagious things in the whole world. His hold on your hand grew tighter, to the point that it was impossible to move your hand, but you felt content. Whenever Chan was around, you always felt content and loved (you would never tell him this part, but that was the fact.)

You wondered if he ever felt the same.

“Are you still crying?”

Chan wiped your tears with his hand as you pouted at the blank screen. Both of you chose to watch La La Land and while the movie was wonderful, it was also realistically painful that you were unable to stop your tears.

“I feel so betrayed,” you croaked, letting Chan pull you up. “But you love movies with realistic endings. You love to suffer,” he said.

You did. You would rather weep than watch the main characters be “forced” into a happy ending. This time, though, you actually rooted for the main characters; you felt their longing for each other, you felt their love and respect for each other, and you felt their connected dreams although those ended up being the reason why they didn’t work out.

“You’re adorable,” Chan commented, the words rolled out of his mouth so naturally as if he said that everyday. You rolled your eyes at him, pretending that it didn’t make you feel giddy inside. He kept humming to City of Stars on the way home, casually linking your pinkies together.

“Christopher Bang Chan.”

“What?”

“You just missed your bus stop.”

“I’m walking you home.”

“Why?”

“Are you really asking that question?”

“You skipped practice today. What’s wrong?”

Chan stopped on his tracks, sighing as you released your pinky from his. “I’ve been meaning to ask you the same thing,” he confessed. “You seem… distracted. And so distant from me. Did I do something wrong?”

Uh-oh. You definitely didn’t expect that.

“Nothing. It’s just—”

The two of you had been friends since Chan moved back to Seoul from Sydney a few years back. At first, it was purely because you spoke English well, but Chan never left your side even after he got used to living in Korea on his own.

Things were chill until recently, when you noticed that Chan started treating you differently. He would smile at every silly thing you said, held your hand in front of everybody, or called you at night only because he wanted you to keep him company.

“What are we, Chan? I can’t help but feeling confused because you’re being like… this.”

Chan furrowed his eyebrows, cupping your face so he could look into your eyes. “Like what?”

You eyed his hands that were on your cheeks before removing them. “Like this. I don’t want to misinterpret any signal, Chan,” you mumbled. “If there’s any signal at all.”

“My goodness,” he gasped, pulling you into a bear hug you always enjoyed. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You’re doing it now, Chris.”

He chuckled, squishing you into his chest. “I didn’t intend to send signals, but I guess I’ve been like this because I,” he takes a deep breath, “like you. Like, like you. As more than a friend.”

Chan tried to pull away to see your response, but you circled your arms around his torso instead, not wanting him to see your reddening cheeks. “You could’ve just said so, dummy. I thought you were just playing with me.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he answered, placing his chin on top of your head. “I really didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t want you to feel awkward around me.”

“Too late for that. I don’t think I can ever look at you again now,” you groaned, your heart swelling with happiness when his laugh rumbled through his chest.

Chan gripped your arms, pulling away to grin at you and now you realized why you were being unusually sad over a movie’s ending.

Bang Chan was Mia, someone so endearing and inspiring and strong and talented and it was only a matter of time before the world knew what he was worth of. You, meanwhile, had a simple dream like Sebastian’s and just wanted to do your own thing, slowly realizing that you and Chan were living on a borrowed time.

But your best friend was looking at you like you were the only one who could make him happy and it was hard to resist. Chan could ask you to marry him right here, right now, and you would say yes. He might not be your first crush, but you were pretty sure that he was your first love. You wanted him—every inch of his heart—and he was offering exactly that to you.

“You’re not just gonna pretend that this never happens tomorrow, right?” you whispered as Chan cupped your face once again. He smiled when he felt that you were anticipating his next move, before brushing his lips against your temple. It was sweet and soft, but it ended too quickly and you wanted more.

You tried not to pout; the disappointment in your eyes was so obvious it made Chan chuckle. “You’re so whipped for me, how am I supposed to pretend that this never happens?” he teased, placing another kiss on your cheek.

“Wow I hate you.”

“Hate you more, babe.”

One of Chan’s trainee friends, Yang Jeongin, celebrated his birthday today. Jeongin had invited you over for dinner with the rest of the boys. You almost said no, but he sounded so convincing on the phone, saying that everyone was dying to meet you. Chan had also been begging you to finally come over and meet the other boys.

“I don’t know, Chan. I’m not even a trainee, and you’re not even supposed to be dating. How can I just show up?”

“Everybody dates, Y/N. Don’t be so naïve,” he replied, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you were nearing the building. You sighed, glancing at Chan who was now humming a song you never heard before. When your eyes landed on his lips, you were forced to remember the fact that Chan hadn’t kissed you yet. Well, he kissed your cheeks, your nose, your temple, your forehead, your jaw… pretty much everywhere but your lips.

You felt ashamed at yourself for even thinking about wanting to be kissed. It was beyond stupid, and you knew you couldn’t possibly measure Chan’s love for you with something as insignificant as a kiss, but you were starting to question his sincerity. Was he really serious with you? Or were you just someone he kept because he was lonely or something?

“We’re here!” your boyfriend exclaimed, entering the password quickly. He pushed the door open, and soon eight pairs of eyes fixated their gazes on you. “Hi.” You waved at them, trying not to frown at the burning smell that greeted you the moment you stepped inside.

However, Chan beat you to it. “What did you guys burn?” he panicked, patting your head before running to the kitchen. The boys then proceeded to attack with you with questions (and thankfully, compliments), which you tried your best to answer.

You recognized Jeongin standing at the back, yelling at his hyungs to “stop harassing Y/N they’re my guest!”

Kim Woojin, whom Chan always ate fried chicken with every week, gave you an apologetic smile as the birthday boy walked past him. “Jeongin really wants to meet you,” he noted as Jeongin shook your hand with absolute excitement. “Christopher Bang is all giggles everytime he talks about you. Of course I have to meet you!”

“Is that a compliment?” you asked, liking him already. Changbin laughed, gesturing at you to sit on the couch while Chan was screaming in the background (“WHY DID YOU GUYS EVEN BOTHER MAKING BOILED EGGS IF YOU’RE JUST GONNA LEAVE THEM LIKE THIS!”).

Chan returned to the living room with a pot of burned boiled eggs and a pan of seemingly undercooked spaghetti. “Ah, sorry!” Seungmin yelled as soon as he spotted the eggs. “I was the one boiling them but then Y/N arrived and I got distracted.”

“Don’t use my Y/N as an excuse!” the older boy warned, causing everyone—including you—to cringe. Jisung passed you a plate for the spaghetti, which you politely declined. “Hyung, have you told them about our debut plans?”

You widened your eyes at Chan who looked as if he got caught red handed. It was such an incredible news, you didn’t understand why he was trying to hide it from you. Before anyone could throw in some awkward jokes to lessen the tension, Felix and Minho brought a huge cake into the living room, singing the Happy Birthday song. The others followed suit, showering Jeongin with bear hugs (Changbin tried to kiss him) tickles.

You watched the adorable chaos upon you, trying to memorize every little detail because everything would change soon. Chan seemed to notice the look in your eyes as he sprinted to you and dragged you out of the living room. He stopped in front of his room, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Today is Jeongin’s birthday, but I also have something for you,” he whispered. He pushed you inside the room, trying to make you sit on his bed but you became too excited to listen to him.

“I think you need a new pop filter, Chan. I’m going to buy it for you,” you said, chuckling at his Dragon Ball figurines on the shelf. You noticed a jewelry box on his desk, a framed photo of you smiling at the camera was placed on top of it.

You opened it, and found all of the things you had given him inside. Most of them were things he needed at that time: a box of band aids, a phone strap, your Sharpie, and a pair of Snoopy earrings (which he had to wear for a week after losing a bet).

“Y/N, please sit down,” Chan whined, blushing when you poked his cheek. “You made a shrine for me, I don’t know whether I should feel honored or scared.”

“I also made a song for you.”

That got your attention, so you sat down on his bed, watching Chan browsing through his phone. He kneeled down, grabbing your hands as a soft instrumental started playing. “I wanted to tell you about our debut plan, but everything still seems too good to be real and I don’t want you to be disappointed if it… you know… doesn’t happen.”

You laced your fingers with his, bending down to kiss his nose. “I’ll always be proud of you, Chan. You’re talented and the company knows it, that’s a fact,” you assured him. You remembered the time when he told you that he was going to debut years ago. It never happened, and he had to watch his close friends debuted one by one. At this point—after 7 years of training, you knew Chan was scared to even voice out his excitement to himself.

“Another reason that I planned to wait before telling you is because… I don’t want you to break up with me.”

Chan lifted his hand to caress your cheekbone, a gesture that always made your heart flutter in a hundred different ways. “That’s absurd, Chan,” you told him.

“Even now I’ve canceled many of our dates because of lessons or late night recordings with Changbin and Jisung. You don’t get enough sleep because you’re always waiting for me to finish practicing. Sometimes we barely talk at school since I always fall asleep,” he recounted. “I’m not good for you, Y/N. And I’m afraid that you’ll eventually realize how lacking I am and how you deserve to be loved by a man who can love you properly.”

You shook your head, throwing your arms around his neck. “You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had, Bang Chan.”

“I think that’s because I’m the only boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“Please don’t ruin the mood.”

“Sorry.”

“My point is, we’re both trying our best and I never feel that you’re lacking. You’ve been nothing but perfect.” You pulled away, threading your hand through his curly locks. “Now where’s that song you wrote for me?”

Chan took a deep breath, reaching for his phone to replay the instrumental. “I wanted to take you somewhere nice and sing to you there. But here you are, being your beautiful, loving, witty self and I just can’t wait anymore.”

“I don’t know how to write love songs

Or if I can even call this a love song

All I know is I’m writing this for you

Pouring out feelings that feel surreal.”

You giggled, pulling Chan up so that he was lying on top of you. You heard someone knocking on the door, but neither of you moved from your position.

“But I wake up everyday and you’re still here

Walking down this dark tunnel with me

Showering me with warmth and joy like no one else

And I wonder if you feel the same

So I hope

Your heart is where I’ll always stay.”

He stopped although the music was still playing, and you didn’t know if it was because he forgot his lyrics or because that was all he could manage to say. Chan pecked your forehead softly, keeping his hand on your cheek as he pulled away.

“God I love you so much,” he whispered, his lips quivering as you let his words sink in. “Can I kiss you?”

Chan’s lips touched yours and all you could see and feel was Bang Chan and his love for you. He parted your lips with his tongue, sighing in contentment when you tugged at his hair. You pulled him closer although he was practically lying on you, trailing his hand along your spine. “Chan,” you gasped, almost forgetting what you wanted to say when he continued tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Channie,” you tried again, and this time he pulled away, chuckling at your disoriented state.

“Yeah?”

“I love you too. A lot.”

“And Chan?”

He hummed, giving you pecks all over your face as you struggled to stop giggling. “Why did you only kiss me now?”

You expected Chan to smirk at you and tease you to no end, but he only stared at you before dropping another smooch on your lips. “I didn’t want you to think that I only wanted you that way. You’re so gorgeous and precious and you chose me, I don’t want to lose you.”

“Chan hyung!” Changbin banged on the door, causing Chan to grumble. “Is my phone inside?”

“Fuck off, Changbin!” Chan yelled.

“I will! But please don’t do anything weird in there! Y/N you’re still alive, right?”

“Safe and sound, Changbin!”

“Seo Changbin, I swear to God—”

You didn’t let Chan finish as you crashed your lips on his once again, and for now you didn’t want to think about how you were running out of time, how Chan would eventually slip away from you despite saying all of those sweet words that were already engraved in your heart.

He wanted to stay in your heart, so you let him.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

If there was any other day you hated more than Monday, it would be Thursday. On Thursdays, it started to feel like the weekend, but then it wasn’t even Friday yet and everything just felt a bit more mundane and tiring. And empty.

At least on Friday you could meet up with your friends after work or drink with your co-workers. And then you could spend (at least) half of Saturday lazing around in bed before getting up to clean up your place and then binge-watch shows you missed until Sunday night.

But tonight was different.

You were lying in bed, looking at unread messages from an unknown number that you assumed to be Changbin’s. The boys had changed their phone numbers several times after debut due to some obsessive fans spamming them, but somehow all of them managed to keep yours. You always received birthday wishes from them, except for Chan who opted to send a box of dark chocolate (72% chocolate, your favorite) to your place every year. He never left any cards, and you could only guess who told him your address (if it wasn’t your brother, then you would be afraid), but you knew it was him.

Besides the annual birthday gift, you never had any contact with your ex-boyfriend for the past four years. You saw him a lot, of course. Stray Kids had their breakthrough year 1.5 years after their debut, and Chan became one of the most popular singer-songwriters in the country.

The songs in the CD, however, sounded like nothing he would ever write. You decided to take it slow, listening to one song each night.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

The Candle I Blow Out

It was already past midnight when you opened the door for Chan, who looked like he ran the whole way to your house (he did). “You don’t have to do this,” you sighed, wiping his sweat with your hand. “We just finished filming. I’m sorry.”

“How’s Felix?” you asked, closing the door before leaning on it. It had been awhile since you last saw him and the boys; the company created a survival show for them, and you could see how it took a toll on everyone, mainly Chan. It felt weird seeing your boyfriend on television, and it felt even weirder to see people talking about him, admiring him, even hating on him. But you told yourself to get used to it, to accept the fact that nobody ever belonged to just one person. In this case, though, you had to share Chan with the whole world. Which definitely wasn’t easy at all.

“He’s doing pretty well. I think they’re considering to take both him and Minho back,” he said, and you immediately wrapped him in your arms. “I’m tired,” he added, burying his face on the crook of your neck. “I know,” you replied. “But it will end soon, and greater things are just about to start.”

Chan let out a frustrated sigh, mumbling things you were unable to hear. “Hmm?” you hummed, pulling away to see him tearing up. “Don’t cry on me, Bang Chan. You’re the leader of 8 boys and you’re doing great.”

He chuckled. “You pretending to be so tough on me. That’s hot.”

Deep down, you knew you weren’t just pretending to be tough on him. You were pretending to be tough on yourself too, trying to convince yourself that you wouldn’t be a burden for him and he would stay.

The melody of District 9 was still playing in your head although the boys had said goodbye and disappeared into the backstage. You stared at the empty stage in awe, reading the words “Stray Kids Unveil (Op. 01: I Am Not)” almost in disbelief. The fans around you were still busy gushing over the members, and it made you happy.

“Bang Chan is really crazy.”

“I know right? How does he do what he does?”

Hours of recording, barely sleeping, whining to you over the phone, and being so in love with what he’s doing.

“I don’t know about you guys, but he’s super hot.”

“He is! And did you pay attention to his body? It’s crazy.”

You knew you were probably supposed to leave, but you stayed, listening to them talking (sometimes screaming) about your boyfriend in a way that made you feel proud and weird. However, when they started talking about Cheongdam high school, the school you and Chan went to, you took it as a sign to leave.

“Do you have friends from Cheongdam High? Like the ones from his batch? I want to know how he was at school…”

channie: how is it that i arrived at your house before you did?

y/n: are you aware of how many fans you have and how hard was it to even get out of the venue

channie: oops. didnt think of that babe

y/n: you couldve asked me to drop by at your dorm, its fine

channie: you know i can’t risk that right :(

channie: pls come home soon

channie: i cant take another hour of your brother laughing at my makeup

y/n: lol deal with it

Laughters and giggles were heard as soon as you stepped inside your living room. Your parents and brother were chatting with Chan, who was still wearing his stage outfit. Now that you were looking at him up close, you realized how magical he was. “Hi,” he grinned, immediately lacing his fingers with yours.

“You should’ve seen how he tried to act cool on stage,” you told your brother as you put down a bucket of fried chicken on the table. “I heard you skipped the party with the boys?”

“Yeah, I did,” he answered distractedly, typing on his phone before dialing a number.

“Ah hyung,” he said. “Y/N just arrived and we—okay then.”

He ended the call, giving you a sad smile before standing up. “They want me back ASAP, I’m sorry. My manager is already outside.”

“It’s okay Channie, you must be tired too. Thank you for visiting us,” your mother assured him.

“Here, share with the boys. I’m sure you still have space for chicken,” you said. Chan took the bucket from you, making his way to the door.

“You did amazing today. I’m proud of you,” you whispered, ruffling his head as he chuckled. You could see fatigue and guilt in his eyes and you started to feel bad. “You’re not mad at me, are you?” he muttered.

“You just debuted. You’ve finally achieved your dream. Why would I be mad? I’m happy for you. My boyfriend is going to be a famous artist soon.”

Chan eventually left with a relieved smile on his face, but you figured it wouldn’t last long.

“You asked Soo to do what?”

You were walking down the street with a beanie covering half of your eyes. Chan had finished recording for a reality show, and he asked to meet you at the small coffee shop you used to go to during high school days (you were the only one who ordered though).

“I asked him to give him the spare key so I could close the shop for him.”

“Did he really agree to do this or did you—”

“He didn’t mind, Y/N. Why are you making this complicated?”

“I’m not. I just don’t want us to make other people uncomfortable.”

“We’ve known Soo since high school. He’s happy to help.”

He was right about that, so you told him you were arriving soon. You and Chan had had countless dates at Soo’s, even before you started dating officially. You made a mental note to pay visit later and thank him for trusting both of you this much. Meeting Chan had been a real challenge since the start of Stray Kids’ recent comeback. Their fandom continued to grow, and now some people started to follow the boys around during their schedule. It was only two or three people, but everyone was aware of it, especially Chan who became extremely careful (or paranoid, according to Minho).

You noticed how Chan had shut down the curtains when you got there. You slowly opened the door, and Chan’s eyes lit up when he saw you.

“Hi gorgeous.”

You scoffed at his cheesiness, but circled your arms around his neck as he pulled you close. “Dates at Soo’s, huh? Some things never change indeed.”

Chan giggled, peppering small kisses on your face. “Missed you, babe,” he sighed, tightening his hold on your waist.

“Don’t you wanna sit down?” you joked.

He shook his head. “No. I want to hold you,” he whined, pressing a more intense kiss on your lips.

“Is there any reason why you’re being this clingy?”

“Aren’t I clingy in general?”

“Chan.”

He rubbed circles on your waist. “We’ll be going on tour soon.”

You squealed and booped his nose. “That’s great! If the company gives you guys a tour then it means you’re doing well, right?”

“I guess so. The boys are excited about this, and we’ll be going to Australia soon. But Y/N—”

He paused, causing you to cup his face in worry. “What is it?”

“We’ll release the next album soon, practice for awards and year-end shows, and then practice for the tour while preparing the next album. It’ll be even harder for us to meet,” he lamented.

You tried to keep the smile on your face, but you knew he noticed the slight fear in your eyes. No matter how much you had prepared yourself for this, you weren’t ready.

But the last thing Chan needed was you being a nuisance, so you told him that it didn’t matter and spent the rest of the night catching up.

“Can I take you home?”

“You asked Soo to give you his key so we could have a private space and now you want to take me home.”

“Can I at least take you to the bus stop?”

Chan was begging with his eyes, and you instantly melted. “Okay,” you said, opening the door. He followed you, locking the door carefully before wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Have you bought birthday presents for the babies?”

“You meant Jisung, Felix, and Seungmin?”

“Yeah, they’re—”

Both of you stopped walking as you heard the sound of shutter. Chan looked around, gripping your shoulder so tightly you nearly brushed him away. But before you could say anything, he had let you go and walked slightly in front of you.

channie: i think you have to go by yourself this time

channie: I’ll make it up to you i promise

You watched him making a turn at the corner of the street, his black hoodie becoming one with the dark sky as he quickened his pace. You glanced at your phone, hot tears falling onto the screen. What Chan did was understandable, it was a reflex. But it hurt, and you remembered the time when you thought that you and Chan were living on a borrowed time.

y/n: its okay. be safe.

Maybe your time together was up.

When Chan appeared at your doorstep with barely opened eyes, you just let him in without any protest. He only became more and more busy, and no matter how cheerful he appeared on cameras, days like this happened often.

“Is your brother home?” he asked, putting down a few shopping bags on your couch. You recently got a job in the central city, and you moved into your brother’s apartment so you could commute more comfortably.

“Bought him some fruits. And chocolate for you.”

You smiled, pulling out a box of dark chocolate from one of the bags. “You love me so much.”

He didn’t reply, causing you to dart your eyes to him. “What happened?”

Chan sat you down on the couch, biting his lips as you patted his biceps. “I think we should break up.”

It would be a lie if you didn’t see that coming. After both of you were supposedly photographed together two months ago, Chan changed. He was still the cheerful (but tired) and sweet Chan, but his eyes said otherwise and although he thought he hid it well from you, he didn’t.

“Alright,” was all you said.

“Babe, please don’t be like this—”

“It’s fine, Chan. I understand,” you cut him off. “I don’t want to hold you back. I don’t want to cause you more stress. If being together doesn’t make us happy anymore then there’s no point in forcing this.”

What you wanted to tell him was that you knew he was scared of losing his fans if he ever got caught dating you, but you couldn’t trust yourself to say that out loud without crying.

You loved Bang Chan, and this was the best thing you could do for him.

“You’re not holding me back. It’s just-”

“I get it. You’re too busy and everything is too risky.”

Your phone beeped, showing a message from your brother who was coming home soon. You stood up and walked to your door, Chan trailing behind you. “You should go. My brother is coming soon and God knows how many hours he’ll make you stay,” you attempted to joke. He smiled, taking your hand in his before placing a kiss on the back of your hand. He stared at you, long and intense, like he wanted to say something.

“I’m sorry.”

That was all he said.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

“Is my toothbrush there?” your brother asked over the phone. You peeked into the bathroom, spotting a toothbrush that he used.

“Yeah it’s here. Why?”

“I’m staying over at Jiyeon’s place.”

“I don’t want to sound like Mom but just… don’t get her pregnant.”

“We’re getting married, dumbass.”

“But still.”

Silence.

“I called Chan,” he confessed. “I know I probably shouldn’t have done that though. Sorry.”

You faked a laugh. “Just because we broke up doesn’t mean you two can’t talk.”

“But still.”

“It’s been four years,” you said. “It’s old story. And he won Daesang, of course you wanted to congratulate him.”

“I didn’t congratulate him,” he corrected, voice unusually calm. “I cursed him out for dating that person from Sparkle. Who was it? Kim Jiho?”

You sighed, spinning the CD in your hand. “Come on, we moved on. Plus that was like… 2 years ago?”

“Maybe he did, but you didn’t. I don’t care how many people you dated after Chan, Y/N. We know the truth.”

“Let’s talk tomorrow, I’m tired,” you sternly said, hitting the end button before your brother attacked you more.

You decided to finally open Changbin’s message, which said how sorry he was for intruding your and Chan’s privacy and for you to “please please please” let him explain. You wondered what the rest 2 songs be about for Changbin to have second thoughts.

“Fuck it,” you muttered, sliding the CD into your laptop.

The song gave off a different vibe from the first one. The first song was light and sweet, and this one felt like all of things at once, but mostly regret.

“The sun shines bright

The stars twinkle

The world welcomes me

But what am I supposed to do?

I feel colder than ever

The warm candle I lit

Is now just a memory

I wonder if it’s my fault.”

You reached for your phone on the side table, asking Changbin for Chan’s number.

“Harsh wind? Hurricane?

My warmth, my light, my hope

Is gone

You’re gone

You’re the candle I blow out

And it’s all my fault.”

The song slowly came to an end, but then you heard a familiar sobbing sound. It took you a good minute to realize that it was Chan’s. He kept crying and crying until someone rushed into the recording room.

“Hyung!” you heard Changbin’s voice before the audio was cut short.

You pressed stop, and for the first time since your breakup, you cried. For Chan, for yourself, for all the time you spent trying to convince yourself that you would be okay without him.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

(Not an) Epilogue

“C-Chan?”

“Y/N?”

The moment he called your name, your defense crumbled. You started crying again, causing him to yell at the boys to shut up.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“Yes,” you answered. “It hurts, Chan-ah.”

“Where are you? Are you home?”

You didn’t answer, but you could feel him nodding. “I’ll be there soon, okay? Have you called your brother?”

“Chan,” you sobbed. “Please.”

“I’m coming. Don’t hang up.”

So you didn’t. You heard him fumbling with his car keys before starting the engine. He didn’t ask anything throughout the journey, only occasionally telling you to wait for him. When he knocked on your door, you hesitated.

Would things really turn out the way you wanted it to be?

“What happened?” he asked as soon you opened your door. Chan ushered you inside, taking your face in his hands to press soft kisses on your eyes as if he never left. “Hey, why are you crying?”

You pointed at the CD case, which he took immediately. He read Changbin’s note before pulling you into his arms. He whispered strings of apology in your ear as you cried even harder. “I let you go, Chan. Why aren’t you happy?” you asked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied. “I just didn’t want to ruin your life Y/N. I don’t want you to get hate, to have people talking shit about you. I thought it’d be better if you hated me instead of suffering because of me.”

You sighed, your tears started to subside. “I didn’t want you to lose everything you tried so hard to achieve because of me. I just want to be your sweetest memory, Chan. I—”

“I love you,” he said. “I thought I could forget you. People move on, right, so why can’t I?”

Chan rested his forehead on your shoulder, breathing you in as you put your arms around his waist. “But it’s been 4 years and at this point I can’t keep lying to you or myself.”

“If you still want me around, if you’re okay with what I’m doing, will you let me stay?” he asked, pulling away to see your reaction. You looked at him, and you saw the Bang Chan you knew. The one who loved to mess around with you but was also the one who would protect you. The one who wrote you songs he never revealed to anyone else. The one who broke your heart into pieces but willing to pierce the pieces back together.

“Why do you even bother asking?” you answered, saying every word slowly to tease him. “You never left, Chan. I guess you really stayed in my heart after all.”

He burst into a loud laugh, pressing his lips against yours. He took everything slow, like he wanted to remember how it felt when your lips molded together, how you pulled him closer when his tongue grazed your teeth, how the touch of his lips left wonderful burning sensation on your skin.

You pulled away when his phone rang, watching Chan glance at the caller before switching his phone off. “Okay. I have to be a responsible artist and a responsible, loving boyfriend. What should I do?”

You only wiggled your eyebrows at him, causing him to groan. He took a deep breath and gripped your shoulders. “If I go back to practice then return here at 3AM, will that count?” he suggested. “Oh no, I’ll be back at 6AM. You need sleep.”

“Now that’s responsible,” you agreed, pecking his lips. “And if you want to be a loving boyfriend as well, please bring me breakfast.”

Chan sighed in relief, eyes twinkling with excitement that you never wanted to trade with anything. “Does kaya toast sound good? Seungmin is into making toasts thesedays, I can steal some.”

“Also, have you listened to all the tracks yet?”

“I still have the last track to listen to.”

“Good. Don’t listen to that. I can make you thousands other songs but please, don’t listen to that one.”

Chan gave you one last look before reaching for the doorknob. “I’ll be back.”

And it was a promise he fulfilled.

“I only have one more chapter to write

I don’t want this story to be over

Holding your hand, listening to your silly jokes

Lulling you to sleep, waking up to you

I still want to do all of those.

Y/N we don’t have to end like Sebastian and Mia

Can I write one more chapter?

Can I write a thousand more?

Because Channie loves you so much”

This time you didn’t press stop. You repeated the song over and over again.

a/n: wow this turned out to be longer than i expected. if you get to this part, then thank you for reading! mayhaps the chan’s room series inspired this although there’s nothing about that in the story.

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