𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 (𝐧.𝐲𝐭)

High School!Haechan

1131 words

When Haechan strutted into Chinese class with his hands in his pockets, earbuds shoved in, and backpack hanging off one shoulder, you had a terrible urge to smack him. Mina, one of the most popular girls in the class, immediately stood up and flocked around him with her friends. 

A chorus of “Here I’ll help you!” and “I can do it, I’m good at it!” flooded the previously quiet room as the girls made grabs at Haechan, who calmly and politely refused their offers. He glided to the window where you were, swinging his backpack onto the ground and plopped into the desk beside you. You groaned in (half) mock disgust. 

“Are you kidding me right now?” 

Haechan only smiled goofily at you, and you knew he was trying his best not to start laughing. He popped his earbuds out and draped them across the back of his neck, the buds dangling from his shoulder.

“As much as I hate AirPods, I swear to god they’re meant for you.” 

He merely shrugged “You wanna buy them for me? You know I don’t have the money for them.”

“You know I don’t have money for them either! If I had money, do you think I would still have my LG phone? Do you know how hard it is to find a cute phone case? I have to spend a solid hour browsing through shady eBay listings!” As you rambled, Haechan scooted his desk so that his bumped against yours, returning his gaze back to you when he felt settled. Completely disregarding your mini-rant, he whined. “Fix it for me, please.”

You crossed your arms against your chest and huffed. What kind of game was he playing? “No. So many people offered and you turned them down, I’m not about to fix it for you.”

“Ah Y/N! Come on, please~” He continued to make baby noises at you and pout profusely. You quickly scanned the room and saw a significant portion of your classmates either glaring at you or gaping at Haechan. When he wouldn’t let up, you snatched his earbuds from where they laid and set them on your desk. 

He always did this. Mostly because he wanted your attention, and also because he liked it when you helped him. It made him feel like you cared about him. So every few months, he would knot the wires of his earbuds so messily that it reduced the length of them by half, and then proceed to beg you to untie them for him. And here you were, once again, hunched over the tangled mass trying to carefully dissect the clump. 

“Literally anyone else could’ve done this and it would’ve produced the same result,” you complained. 

“That’s not true. You’re the only person who won’t break them when you untangle.”

Haechan watched you work, your fingers moving skillfully due to all the previous times he came to you with the same task. He liked how your hair would fall from your ear and brush against your nose, and how you would then let out a huff of air to push it away. He liked how you would start with your head bent over the desk and then slowly straighten, bringing the earbuds to your face rather than your face to the earbuds. And he liked how every time you finish untangling it, you would grab his phone and plug them in to make sure the wiring was still intact in each ear. 

You put the buds into your own ears and hit play, not caring what was on. Although you were kind of curious today since Haechan was sporting his resting bitch face as he came in today. Expecting some kind of badass rap, you were surprised to hear jazzy piano and a male voice. 

You’re just too good to be true

Can’t take my eyes off you

You’d be like heaven to touch

I want to hold you so much

“What is this?” you asked, popping one earbud out so that you could hear his reply. He raised an eyebrow and frowned, trying to remember. The music continued to stream into your ear, and you were a little surprised by the lyrics.

I love you baby

And if it’s quite alright

I need you baby

Through all the lonely nights

“Haechan this song is so unlike you,” you mused. The lyrics came to you in fragments, as you were only paying attention half of the time. You opened his Spotify and read the title out loud. “Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You, Max Von Essen.”

Oh pretty baby

Haechan’s eyes widened in alarm. The tips of his ears started burning and he opened his mouth to explain, but couldn’t. How could he tell you that he was listening to it, with you on his mind? Sure, he was planning on confessing his feelings at some point but not now. It was too soon, too rushed, too spontaneous. He wasn’t ready. He doubted you were either. 

And let me love you

“Do you like it?” he asked instead. Your head started to sway to the song, fingers tapping the surface of the desk rhythmically. “Yeah, I do. Not my usual vibe, but it’s very sweet.”

You’re just too good to be true

Haechan picked up the other earbud, his fingers grasping the white plastic and bringing it to his ear. Maybe now was the time. It didn’t have to be a grandiose, fantastical promposal under the stars. As he listened to the lyrics with you, he made up his mind. 

Oh pretty baby

Now that I’ve found you stay

“You know,” he started, when the music faded away. “When I listen to this song I think of you.”

You cocked your head, confused. “Because of the sound? You know I don’t really listen to old music or jazzy stuff.” 

He shook his head, feeling flustered. Forcing himself to swallow his nerves, he looked straight into your eyes and smiled warmly. You’d never seen him so genuine before and felt butterflies stir in your stomach. “What then?”

“The lyrics. You’re too good to be true, I can’t take my eyes off of you.”

The corners of your lips twitched upwards. Was he saying what you think he’s saying?

He inhaled and started singing to you sweetly, serenading you. In awe, you pulled out the other earbud to give him your full attention. He slowed the song down as he sang, gracing you with his voice that you heard so rarely. Your heart bloomed and you felt an urge to kiss him but you knew that if you kissed him now, he would stop singing. His voice pulled you in and made you forget about the little trivialities, instead encouraging you to focus on only him. 

“I love you baby, and if it’s quite alright. I need you baby, through all the lonely nights”

my baby say she wanna dance with a ghost, she wants to leave me yuh

anyone who needs nct fic recs, go check out my followings, theyre all the best nct fic writers in tumblr hihi

i didnt even realize that was eren like damn, he be glowing up like fine wine

hobo savage eren

requested - jaemin messy layouts

who gives a fuck about your pretty face when your heart is so fucking ugly

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for @tokyosdawn

Share. Please. In honor or this nameless hero whom because of this letter he or she sent me, could save a life tonight. 

again, my box is always open.

[1:27ρм]

genre(s): high school, fluff, competitive swimming, swimmer!winwin x gn!reader

warning(s): none :) (okay maybe if you’re scared of water?? but like it’s a pool...)

word count: 1k

The whistle delivers a sharp rip through the atmosphere in the natatorium.

The piercing tone alludes to the athletes standing in their separated lanes the prompt. They stretch, preparing their boost into the water. And the buzzer sounds.

Pushing off their individual stands, bodies fly forward, past the blocks that solidify as their start positions.

The once conviviality of the cheers in the arena fade and there’s an antsy wave of noise that crashes full force.

Who’s going to win?

The several men, each from a different school, dolphin kick for about 15 metres. Swiftly, they emerge and beginning their strokes in the aqua. The splashing in the lanes are markers of how far each person is.

As the race continues, there’s an evident gap forming. It separates the leader and the other competitors.

Tearing your eyes from the race, you glance down at the sheet with all your interview questions.

For the past two months or so, you’ve been able to get a daily glimpse into the swim team’s preparations. You’ve learned how much effort it took and how many sacrifices were made to be able to present proud today.

NCT United High School is certainly home to some of the best athletes in the entire region. Dare you say country.

Competitive swimming is no different.

Before you know it, the rowdy applause of the crowd erupts. It bursts your eardrums but your curious eyes trail to the competition.

The victor floats ebulliently in lane 7. His red cap enamours the exuberant assemblage of students and staff in the venue.

Roars of cheers and delirium congregate and boys from NCT United HS flock to the successor’s side. They drag him out of the water and celebrate by basically wringing their arms around him.

Mind you, he’s still dripping wet from his race just mere moments prior.

They could care less, and they start chanting. Something about being in the lover group.

Grazing past the rows of seats for viewing, you amble your way forward. Though, you make sure to take your time as to not burst into the team’s celebration.

Yuta cheerfully passes him a towel, never missing the chance to show his bromance affection with an “I love you” slipping past his lips.

Plodding closer, you nudge Yuta a little to the side. He sends you a punctual wink of his eye before the Japanese man struts off to the side with the rest of the group. A sly man Yuta is.

“Y/n, it’s a pleasure to see you here.”

Grinning, you incite your own greeting. “Congratulations, Winwin. You worked hard and it paid off.”

He shyly reaches his arm over, scratching the nape of his neck in his usual embarrassment. “Thank you. So, uh, are you here to interview me again?”

“Are you free?”

He hums in accord. “I have all the time in the world.”

You can’t help but smile as you diverge your irises once more to the paper in your hand. With a notebook in your other hand, you begin the interview.

“After all your effort, you just won the regionals. Besides the extensive aspects of the sport, what would you say to be your favourite parts of swimming?”

Blinking attentively, you watch him adjust his swimming cap, pulling it off with the least amount of energy. His dark hair is released from its cage and dribbles with droplets of water. His googles dangle cautiously around his neck. The warmth of a towel embraces him, over his shoulders, covering his slim torso.

“I like the silence that contrasts the cheers. When I put my head down, it’s silent. It feels like I’m in my own world. But then, when I take a breath, I can hear the bursts of spectators. I feel a balance of tranquillity as well as encouragement. It pushes me further—and I really like the thrill of it.”

His pupils shimmer with an immense adoration for his passion. It’s kind of cute in your humble opinion.

“I’ve never really thought of it that way,” you inquire, letting his words sink in deeper. “Is there something you dislike or find the most challenging in the sport?”

Your gummy, warm smile promotes him to respond. “Practices. I would rather watch some YouTube or lay in bed and sleep. It’s too much work. I know it is a bad way to think, but everything requires energy.”

A laugh crusades from your lips all because you’ve definitely experienced the application of his struggle.

“Then what would keep you motivated when you were feeling down? Especially since there’s no crowd when you’re practicing and you dislike practices.”

Winwin diverts his eyes, analyzing everyone except for you. Your hand is anxious and ready to move and jot down everything he is about to say.

“I did want to quit once,” he admits, bopping his head as he recalls the low he reached in the sport. “I didn’t want to continue driving myself forward for something that felt like a chore. Practices became dull and the routine became boring. There was nothing worth looking forward to, you know?”

“Absolutely. That’s a hard place to rebound from.”

“Yes, so I spent my time moping alone. Until,” he pauses, perhaps contemplating his following sentences.

“I met this person. They changed the game for me.”

“They were there at every practice, watching, learning, and documenting. I witnessed the love they had for their passion and the willingness they possessed to continue into the future.”

“They reminded me that improvement is wasting energy for the right things. Instead of being so caught up in what I didn’t want to do, that person showed me that I should focus the energy I would waste into advancement.”

The eyebrows on your face rise upwards. You did not expect that answer. It’s clear as day on your countenance that the answer was unanticipated. Yet, Winwin doesn’t seem to be too concerned.

“And may I ask who that may be?”

Your inquisitive gaze is met with a bashful grin. His eyes are urging you to give it a guess.

“Your coach?”

He shakes his head no.

“Your teammates?”

He shakes his head once more.

“Your girlfriend?”

Winwin frowns but still shakes his head, mumbling something along the lines of “I don’t even have one.”

“Then who?”

Winwin reluctantly tosses you a diffident, gentle smile.

“Who else? You.”

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