mixtape127

[mixtape127]

オンラインラブ ☆ (online love)

genre : non!idol bang chan x gn reader, college au, cliché nerd!chan, and bf!chan

summary : Because loving Chan is an easy task.

warnings : none, except tooth rotting fluff...

words : 2.1k

notes : GUYS i've been gone for so long omg, got busy with uni and life as a whole so i was kinda inactive for idk how long??? but im starting to write again so here i am <3 and btw, english isn't my native language, so i really do hope i actually wrote well and if i made dumb mistakes, i'm sooooooo sorry :((

Loving Chan has always been an easy task. Not that you’d fall into a routine and get bored on the second week into dating. No. It’s just easy, and it’s meant to work out. You knew loving him was right the first time you two went out for a drink in matching shirts (with the ghosts from Pacman on it, yours was green and his was blue). Or the first time you went to IKEA because he needed a new shelf (his broke and Chan is a serial organiser, if things aren’t right and in their right place he’ll go mad) and you hid in beds and closets. Or the first time he let you stick glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, holding your ankles so you won’t fall. Or when you complained about him always straightening his hair and he ended up stopping and bought a rose-scented shampoo to help his curls come back again. 

You love a lot of things about this man. His mouth, when it sometimes goes sideways when he speaks, and how his plump lips look in the morning when he’s been pouting all night. He hates certain fabrics, and hates wearing rings because they irritate his skin. Chan likes the scent of honey and milk, and collects wolf plushies. He’s cute when he’s thinking, when he doesn’t figure things out. You secretly hope he never figures anything out.

In movies, everyone says that dating a nerd is lame, that they look dumb with their big glasses and would rather stay in front of a laptop than touch a human. But they’re wrong. Oh, they’re so wrong. Because Chan is a nerd: he loves video games, spending his nights playing Genshin Impact and even got banned from League Of Legends because he was cursing people out in Australian slang (you witnessed everything– it looked like the end of the world). He produces music and barely sleeps, stays seated in his desk chair with glasses on and hair sticking out in every goddamn direction. How can a man this hot and built like a fridge turned out to be the sweetest and selfless man on earth? Every time you were feeling down, just the sight of his smile could heal whatever wound that refused to close. The way he would tell you that he’s proud of you even if you just managed to fix the sink in the kitchen. The way his apartment became your second home, because your first was right in his arms. 

Oh god, you felt so lucky. Like ‘lucky-enough-to-bet-a-million-wons-tonight’ or ‘which-god-blessed-me-with-this-gift’ lucky. 

You were stepping out of class when your phone buzzed. The day hasn’t been rougher than others, but it had been kind of tiring. The kind where you would check the time every now and then and pray that the minutes would pass by faster. And it did, at some point. You fish out your phone from your coat’s pocket– because Autumn has been colder than usual– and unlock it. Of course, it was Chan. Or more like ‘do-not-respond (except he’s cute)’ like you had renamed him in your contacts. And has always, no matter how much he claimed he was ‘wolf-like’, when he texts you this way, he sounds like a golden retriever wagging its tail, waiting for his favorite human to get home and cuddle.

do-not-respond (except he’s cute): hey

do-not-respond (except he’s cute): i skipped my last lecture

do-not-respond (except he’s cute): come over

do-not-respond (except he’s cute): got this new update on genshin

do-not-respond (except he’s cute): skirk is hot but not as hot as you….

Of course. Those stupid pick up lines. Of course.

And as always, like a routine, you roll your eyes and head right to the subway, determined to get to your boyfriend’s apartment more than anything. Loving Chan is an easy task, and it’s been an easy task for 9 months already. He joked a week ago about it, something like “Well, we survived long enough for pregnancy!” and you had hit him in the shoulder with the palm of your hand and he pouted for exactly 0.325 seconds before cupping your face and kissing you. You knew that already, but Chan could ruin the whole city down if it meant keeping you safe. He’s just like that. He loves you the sweetest way ever, the purest way ever. Like bright mornings in Spring, birds chirping and soft leaves already showing up through the canopies. Or the first snow in December and the way it paints the streets so beautifully. Or the first drop of water after a long draining day. Or the sweet pastries he always buys you at the corner store when he heads back from University on Mondays.

When you step out of the subway station and after a little 3 minute walk to Chan’s place, it was colder outside. Not the type to freeze down your bones but enough to make them feel a bit breakable. But again, it was something Chan could fix pretty quickly. Like everything else.

Before you even registered it, just like your feet knew where to guide you, you’re in front of his door. You don’t need to knock, you know the password. 031401, a weird combination of your birthdays mixed together in addition. He tried to explain it once, but you never really got it, and stopped questioning it– as long as it made sense in his head, that’s all that mattered. You push open the door, step inside, toss your shoes, placing them neatly and straight, before padding to his bedroom. It smelled like rose, honey, milk, and cedarwood. And it meant that: he took a shower, made himself a hot milk and honey drink, then put on cologne for whatever reasons. Simple.

You push open the door to his bedroom and step inside, putting your bag, coat and scarf down near his bed. His room is always plunged in purple LEDs, a few pictures and posters on one side of the wall, a neatly-made bed, a rug, a closet with mostly dark clothes and a huge desk with everything to play and produce music. And wolf plushies on the shelves above his headboard. 

And then you approach from behind: he’s seated in his desk chair, on his PC, literally smashing the keyboard and mumbling under his breath. He’s in a big hoodie, black– as always– and big baggy sweatpants. No socks, because he never really wears some at home. His hair is messy, curly, and still damp at the ends. His headphones are perched on his ears, and he’s doing that thing he always does: munching on his bottom lip. 

You put both your hands on his shoulders from behind, maybe surprising him a little, because he jolts slightly and his headphones slip. He makes that little yelp, before yanking his head back, looking up at you upside down. And there it is.

That smile. That dimpled smile, the one that silently says that you’re his whole world. You always felt out of place in your own life, not really fitting, not nearly enough. But finding him was like putting a period in the last sentence of a book. A finality. You went through the whole book, and you finally understood. Loving him was an easy task.

“You’re late,” he simply states, smiling with that crooked tilt. 

“3 minutes, Chan,” you simply say back, leaning down to press a slight peck on the tip of his nose. He scrunches it right after.

“3 minutes is too long,” he responds, stretching with his arms up, just an excuse to turn his chair around and face you, hands on your hips while you stand between his legs. “I missed you today.”

“You saw me this morning,” you roll your eyes.

“Yes, and the whole day passed by and I didn’t get to see you,” he states.

“You’re corny.”

“You love me.”

“Sadly.”

That gets you a nudge of his foot in your calf, and you playfully act like he just stabbed you thoroughly. And then silence. Just looking at each other like the other holds the universe in their eyes.

“Come here.” 

He finally says, voice soft, and tinged with that neverending awe he has for you. And you do, you take a step forward as he guides you to sit down on his thighs, straddling his lap and facing him. His hands rest on your hips as he gazes up at you.

“How was your amazing day as a psychology majoring student?”  he asks sarcastically, tilting his head on the side, his fingers drawing patterns on the small of your back above your shirt.

“Prof Lee graded my thesis a meaningful ‘49.37/100’ because it missed some ‘key points’.” you pout, playfully, half joking and half fulminating because gosh, he could have graded more so you’d get the full points.

“What a bitch… Stab him. I’ll bail you out of jail.” Chan answers, pinching your hip slightly.

You yelp, before nudging his shoulder with your hand, and he laughs. That squeaky laugh that makes you think that he’s suffocating sometimes. You shake your head, before scoffing.

“Shut up,” you say.

“Make me.” 

“I won’t.”

“You sure about that, love?” 

And there it is again. That pet name, that endearment. “Love”. Gosh, you usually hate those surnames, but this one? Lethal. You don’t have time to answer before he leans in, his hand coming up to rest on the space under your jaw, fingers half on your cheek and your hair, guiding you to meet him halfway. Every time he kisses you, it feels like the first. You feel a bit nervous, your fingertips become all tingly and trembling for the first few seconds, and your stomach turns and constricts but in the right way. His lips are soft against yours, fitting like two puzzle pieces, like they were written to be joined together. His hand slides on your nape, tangling in your hair to tilt your head to the side, deepening the kiss. It’s not rushed. It’s never rushed. It’s always soft and sweet, always not-too-much, always waiting and asking, always meaning. He kisses you like you’re meant to disappear and it’s the last time he’ll get the chance to do it. He touches you like you’re made of some sort of porcelain that could break under too much pressure. And he holds your hand like he would hold your heart if you gave it to him in a glass jar. Because Chan is like that.

He hums in the kiss, lips moving against yours, and you forget where you are for a moment. He tastes like honey, a mix of sugar and sweetness. Obviously he does. His tongue teases the seam of your bottom lip before you grant him access. The kiss deepens even more, and your hands come up to curl in the collar of his hoodie. He’s so warm, and you’re still a bit cold from outside. But he’s here, so you won’t stay this way forever.

He breaks the kiss only for a moment, and your eyes flutter open. Chan simply reaches up to grab his glasses, taking them off and putting them on his desk behind before crashing– not leaning, crashing– his lips against yours. You gasp a bit in the exchange, but quickly melt into it. Because that’s how Chan is. He’s the sweetest, but gosh he is hot. And when he does things like that, it’s a reminder that he is just a man indeed– but such a hot man. He’s the perfect combination of everything, like he was baked with a recipe with the right amount of everything and not too less or too much. Perfectly balanced. How could he exist?

You move your lips against his, your tongues meeting, your breaths catching perfectly like chords in a melody, your hands holding a bit tighter, brows furrowed in some sort of focus. It feels great, like he’s breathing air back in your lungs while taking it away from you. And when he pulls away, he’s smiling. His lips are kiss-swollen, pinkish and smeared with a bit of saliva. But in a good way again, because everything he does and everything he is is in a good way.

He opens his eyes, heavy lidded but still looking right at you, a grin on his face like the cat that got the cream, and he kinda did. His hand comes up, thumb brushing your bottom lip in a slight left and right motion.

“So, where were we?” he asks, voice sultry, like sugar on cinnamon rolls.

“You’re infuriating.” you mumble.

And he laughs. Because loving Chan is like that.

It has always been an easy task.

[mixtape127]

if i do finish my uni homeworks tmrw i might open requests and rearrange my acc with a pinned post tbh ITS ALREADY MESSY.. but thanks a lot for the likes and reblogs knowing that it's a brand new acc and that i'm starting over completely ♡

[mixtape127]

worlds colliding ☆ pt.1

genre : non!idol mark lee x male reader, college au, ennemies to lovers ?

summary : what if you - kinda - had to save the world and Mark was your sidekick ? or — you need to give out fliers for a class, and Mark doesn't care about "global warming."

warnings : strong language, mark is kind of a douchebag but i swear he's sweet, not proofread yet

words : 1.6k

notes : i love this story sm, it's been in my drafts for so long and it was supposed to be about p1harmony, but i like it with mark too ! might make it in more than just 2 parts if you guys enjoy it as much as i do ! and btw, english isn't my native language, so i really do hope i actually wrote well and if i made dumb mistakes, i'm sorry :((

currently listening to :

"thank you, please look forward to it !" y/n says, bowing multiple times, a smile enlightening his face, watching the group of students walk away with fliers in his hands. "i hope to see you there tomorrow !"

it must have been around 9:40 a.m., a chilly morning for a spring day. the sun was shining, the clouds were absent. the green leaves were showing, some still falling on the grass of the campus park. the students in short sleeves were out again, and the jocks were taking advantage of the cooler weather to work out outside. y/n looked up, his eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. he felt cold, his bones shaking. his poor denim jacket did not cover his bare arms, and his jeans with holes in them did not provide any warmth either. he smiled to himself, seeing some birds migrating elsewhere, formed into a triangle.

he blinked a few times, returning to his emotionless face, before continuing to approach some of the students in groups to give them the rest of his fliers. but none of them seemed interested, and y/n began to lose hope. his business professor had made it clear that if he couldn't get at least 20 students to donate, his semester was over. this was his last chance, and he wasn't about to let it go. his displeasure gradually began to show, the creases in his face deepening. the more people walked around him, the more his hands tightened around his fliers. it's one thing for them not to be interested, but for them to ignore him like this is another.

for a moment there was a flutter, no one was coming out or going in. he took the opportunity to catch his breath, closing his eyes.

"one... two... three..." he whispered to himself, focusing on the soft whistle of the wind.

when he opened them again, he saw a figure facing him approaching the doors of the art building behind him. y/n thought to himself that this was fate, that this boy was almost arriving with a glittering halo of light behind him, signifying y/n's last chance. he took this opportunity and approached the guy, feeling confident.

"hey, how's it going? i'm handing out fliers about globa-..."

a brief gust of wind caressed the skin of his face. again, no response. the boy stalked his way, his headphones screwed to his ears, only giving y/n a small glance. he stood there, watching the boy's back as he walked away. he finally admitted to himself that this time, his pride had been shattered into a thousand pieces, and someone had come to trample it right after. he noted in a corner of his head that he didn't like the idea at all. but it was without realizing it that his legs responded alone, quickly approaching the young black-haired student. he patted him on the shoulder vigorously and handed him the previously crumpled paper in his hands when the latter turned around.

Mark, on his side, put on a bewildered face, one eyebrow raised. he was sure that he had deliberately ignored this boy just a few seconds ago. his day was not starting very well. his dog had chewed on his last pair of freshly bought shoes, his roommate — Donghyuck — had finished his favourite cereal and the hot water had been turned off on his floor. then finally his bus... never came, so he set out to walk to the university, realizing halfway there that his wireless headphones were out of battery. he'd wasted about ten minutes buying wired ones just to survive the rest of the day. and it was also at that very moment, coming out of the convenience store, that he promised himself he'd keep a spare pair of headphones in the bottom of his bag, just in case.

he took out one of his headphones, and uttered an extremely nonchalant "what? i'm late." he didn't mean to sound mean or disapproving, but the day was already taking its toll on him. he almost wondered what kind of people were picking on him so much, and for what reason? had he been too mean to the salesman last night, when he asked him to get out of the store because Mark was singing EXO's music at the top of his lungs? was he too dismissive of his singing teacher when she told him to stop doing 'too much'? and then, what do you mean 'too much'? Mark really didn't like that word, even less when it described his singing.

y/n, on the other hand, waved the paper in front of his nose. he was frustrated with his morning, especially with the way people responded to him. and especially the way Mark said 'what'. he wondered why people were in such a bad mood in the morning. he let out a breath to regain his composure before starting.

"before you cut me off, i think taking this won't hurt you. i'm really passionate about this cause, so i will give you this flier. and if i have to shove it down your throat, i'll do it." he pressed the piece of paper against the boy's chest in front of him. "thank you, and have a great day."

y/n bowed before rotating drastically, turning his back on Mark. he put his hand on his heart, which was now pounding in his chest. not because the black-haired boy was a living god, but because he felt he was getting carried away and tangled up in his words. how people see him matters a lot to him, even if he doesn't talk about it much. and he knew that this interaction was going to play over and over in his head tonight and keep him awake.

"what a fucking weirdo..." Mark muttered once y/n was far enough away.

he clutched the flier in his hands before resuming his journey to his class, which was really about to start. what do you mean 'i'll shove it down your throat'? he shook his head from left to right, pushed open the door and quickly dashed down the left corridor, hitting someone in the shoulder on his way.

Mark hardly turned around, just to give a weak look to the brown man who was bending while getting lost in excuses, and he took a quick walk to room 208. once in front of it, he opened the door and quickly sneaked to his place, at the back left of the room, managing to pass out of the radar of his teacher, who hadn't even noticed his absence until then.

once seated, he took out some of his things, not forgetting his bottle of fresh orange juice, something he bought every Tuesday morning to give himself luck during that long day. Tuesdays were never really his days, always bad and gloomy. he wasn't superstitious, but if Tuesdays could disappear completely, his world would be much better.

as he took his notebook out of his backpack, the flier given to him by y/n slid silently to the ground. Mark bent down to pick it up, not failing to roll his eyes as he placed it back on the table. but his eyes were drawn to a large headline.

"THE WORLD IS SLOWLY ENDING, BUT YOU'RE THE HERO, RIGHT?"

he chuckled silently, before turning the paper over to see the back, finding that there was nothing written on it, and crumpled it up in his hand before tossing it into his backpack. saving the world was not in his plans. not today. 

maybe tomorrow... who knows? and he did. he saved y/n's world, in some sort of way the day right after.

"it will serve you better than me."

y/n blinked a few times, frowning in front of his phone, which was playing a summer song, although outside, it was raining damn heavily. he wondered if the voice came from someone talking to a friend behind him, or from his headphones. but the whistle sound in his right ear brought him back to reality. he let out a faint "i'm not a fucking dog-" before looking at the umbrella someone was holding upon his head, then at a guy with brown hair. it takes some time for y/n to connect the dots — maybe because of some sort of poor eyesight — but when he does, his mouth opens up wide.

"you're the guy from yesterday that said "what" so nonchalantly it made my day way worse than it was already !"

Mark rolled his eyes. "i'm trying to save the world, being a hero, i'm landing you my umbrella." with a devilish grin, he removes the umbrella from above y/n's head. "but if you want, i can leave too."

"i'm surprised you read that flier you hated so much." he mutters.

y/n did not know if he should accept, but after all, it won't kill him and it will keep him from getting sick. even though he loved hanging out in bed instead of going to class, getting sick was one of the things he hated the most.

"thanks a lot... um... what's your name?"

"Mark."

he took the umbrella and put it over his head while nodding, repeating Mark's name quietly like he was getting used to it. their eyes met again before Mark got swept away by Donghyuck's reminder that the bus was there and it wouldn't wait for them. he let himself be swept away, and a minute later, y/n's silhouette evaporated in the distance, through the mist on the bus windows.

Mark was lost in thought. and he noticed that his name sounded pretty coming out of y/n's mouth.

[mixtape127]

ZEROBASEONE : when you ask them to bring you food !

text story

pairing : zb1 x gn reader

tags : comedy

warnings : strong language, lame jokes and running gags IM SORRY I HAD TO

notes : hope you enjoy as well and that it makes you laugh... (please) remember english isn't my native language so, bear with me please ♡

[mixtape127]

i dream about you and i ☆

taeyong x gn reader

genre : fluff, non idol au, college kinda au

summary : confessing your feelings is one thing, but the feeling in your stomach is another.

warnings : strong language, mention of panic and anxiety but really slightly because reader is confessing, cuteness overload, no caps, reader smokes and is def simping on sleepy taeyong, not really proofread but i hope there are no errors tho

words : 1k

notes : sorry english isn't my native language so i did my best !! taeyong is leaving for military soon and i can't handle it, so i'm coping with cute content. hope you enjoy ♡ lmk if a part 2 is needed !

the weight of my emotions had been suffocating me for too long, i couldn't bear the burden any longer and finally decided to do it; to confess my feelings. the mere thought of it sent shivers down my spine. my stomach was in knots, and i couldn't tell if the sensation was caused by a swarm of butterflies or my organs colliding against each other. it's a nerve-wracking experience, but i hoped that it would be worth it in the end.

my feet led me to his building. hopefully, his roommate won't be there. i can't imagine the scene and i'm almost sure i would run away if Doyoung opened the door.

i have already smoked three cigarettes in the last 15 minutes.

my heart was pounding so hard that i could feel it in my throat as I looked up at the darkened building in front of me. the streetlights cast a golden glow, painting the surrounding area in a sickly yellow hue. i squinted, trying to make out any signs of life or activity in his apartment, but all i could see was darkness. i know it's 9pm, but come on, don't tell me he's sleeping.

hoping that he is not asleep, i throw away my cigarette and head towards the main entrance. i climb the stairs one by one, my brain emptying little by little with each step. i thought of using the elevator, but i'm almost convinced it would fill the emptiness in my head since there was no music playing in there.

as i walked down the hallway, only hearing the sound of my footsteps echoing on the walls, the nerves in my stomach churned. before i knew it, i was standing in front of his door. my hand trembled slightly as it rose to knock, but i managed to keep it steady. come on y/n.

i knocked my knuckles against the wood apprehensively, but there was no answer. after a few moments of hesitation, i decided to ring the doorbell, hoping that he would hear it and come to the door. i pressed the button lightly, waiting anxiously for a response. and then i realised. he's probably going to open the door, and after that, there is no going back.

i feel like time is dragging on and minutes feel like hours. i even consider turning back, he's probably sleeping or just not there.

as i breathe out and adjust my jacket, the door cracks open, and the apartment is engulfed in darkness. the light from the corridor reveals a slightly disheveled Taeyong, with swollen eyes, indicating that he was probably sleeping. i can't help but think how beautiful he looks.

"y/n? what are you doing here at this hour?" he said in a voice slightly broken by tiredness.

my heart accelerates. "come on, it's not that late, were you sleeping? did i wake you up?"

he shrugged his shoulders. "i was just taking a nap" his fingers fidget with the door he's holding. "but you're making me worried, what's the matter? a problem with Doyoung ?"

no Taeyong, your roommate is not the problem...

i swallow hard, my own thoughts getting stuck in my throat. i feel like a thousand waves of feelings are overflowing my brain. “i have something to tell you but it can wait until tomorrow if you're sleep-..”

what am i even saying? i got up from my comfortable bed, walked over here, and woke him up to tell him that it could wait until tomorrow? love is making me act up for real.

"you've already woken me up, so come in." he smiles. that cute smile. that damn smile.

i come in and put my jacket next to the sofa. Taeyong turns on the little light next to the tv, scratching his head right after, not hiding the loud yawn that escapes from his lips. his t-shirt and shorts whose colours are matched as usual, his lips pouting slightly, his small eyes. i'm down bad.

“tell me everything, do you want something to drink?”

i nod. "it'll be fine ! it won't last long... i..."

all of a sudden, i feel like my saliva is stuck, and i almost choke. Taeyong shoots me a concerned look. "hey, y/n, are you okay? i'm really worried. i feel like you're about to confess to me that you've committed a crime, and i have to help you cover it up." he chuckles.

i take a deep breath and shake my head. my hands are folded together and i'm playing with my thumb anxiously. i stare at my socks as if they could magically give me courage. the reason why i want to confess my feelings to him is because i've grown tired of constantly doubting myself. since this summer - and now that we're in winter - i've been thinking about him non-stop. his smile, his voice, the way he could talk about his fishes all day, or his new shoes and hats, and the way he laughs - everything about him makes me madly in love.

because if he rejects me, i can finally move on.

"Taeyong, i'll get straight to the point. i like you. i have had feelings for you since this summer. i fell in love with you, even though the word seems strong to me and i almost never use it. but that's the case. i know that coming to your place at this hour to tell you this is crazy, but i didn't really think about it that much and just followed my gut. gosh, it sounds so lame..." i smack my forehead, closing my eyes.

all my limbs begin to tremble.

a long silence settles in.

and my breathing jerks.

i keep my eyes closed anxiously.

"so, you... like me?"

his voice echoes softly in the room. i nod slowly, still unable to look him in the eyes.

all i hear is a scoff, followed by his cute laugh. i can't tell if he's genuinely laughing so hard that air gets stuck in his throat or if he's suffocating.

"i was planning on telling you on tuesday after class that i like you." he said with an amused voice.

my eyes widen this time.

"you what ?..."

"i like you."

he smiles.

holy shit.