#hm... not sure if i should keep uploading here as it's multi chapter but maybe!

[beauregardance]

Ballad of the Sun Prince / Solangelo / PJO x BotW (Zelda) crossover / ao3

i.

The Great Plateau

Shrine of Resurrection, Present Day

  -

He thought he heard a voice.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, wincing when light flood his vision. He closed his eyes again, the glowing blue light illuminating behind his eyelids persistently until he gave in and blinked his eyes open.

And that was when he realized that the strange glow was coming from the bed he was lying on. No, he thought, it wasn’t a bed. It was water. He was slowly being lifted from watery bed by a solid platform underneath him, pushing him up to the surface. It was only when he sat up that he noticed the water had been ice cold, and he found himself shivering.

He looked around for something to help keep him warm and found an open chest to the left with a pair of neatly folded clothes inside along with a waist pouch. He pulled the clothes on quickly, relieved to have something against his skin even if it was a little too small and tight with drab colours. Then he scouted his surroundings, noticing the smooth dark walls that were etched with what looked like glowing constellations. There was a door in front of him, but it was closed off by cement. To the left of the door, there was a podium emitting a gentle light in the dimness. Cautious but curious, he approached the podium, eyes falling on a strange looking rectangular item with a symbol of an eye and a single teardrop pointing downwards. He reached forward and then paused, looking around in case there was someone waiting to intercept him. Though it seemed that he really was the only one in this room besides the glowing blue contraption that was his bed. He reached out again, grabbing the tablet and lifting it out of its slot.

To his surprise, the tablet let out a beeping noise, and the machine flared to life, the eye disappearing showing a screen full of…static.

There it was again – a sound like a voice in his head. But it was indecipherable – a tiny murmur that had tried to worm its way into his ear. He shook his head, and the gentle vibration disappeared.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something glowing. Turning around, he spotted a flat pedestal with the same symbol of the eye carved into the smooth rock. The pupil was the only part glowing, like it was watching him. He looked at the tablet he was holding and back at the pedestal, knowing that there was something to be had here. On whim, he held the tablet up to the eye, placing the screen downwards.

He knew he did something right because the pedestal lit up in a halo of blue, and a gentle rumble shook the floor beneath him. He tensed up and stepped back, eyes darting around the ceiling and hoping that the room wouldn’t collapse on him.

And all at once, the stone wall in front of him began to move. It groaned, rumbling upwards to reveal a straight path out into the sunlight. He flinched, shielding his eyes with his hand against the sudden glare of the sunlight that greeted him.

He took a step down the hallway but then looked back into the cave – or room? – he had been sleeping in. He was confused, unsure of what awaited him outside, and he got a prickling sense down his neck at the thought of going outside unarmed. He frowned at his thought process, unable to understand why arming himself would be the first thing on his mind.

He shook off the feeling and strode down the hallway. He stepped across the lifeless pools of rainwater on the ground, wincing when he felt the half-heard murmur in his ear start up and then disappear. He reached the end, climbing up a stone ledge that was just a couple inches shorter than him led out of the cave-room into the sunlight.

Birds were singing cheerfully, fluttering about in their nests overhead, and he almost scoffed himself for wanting to walk out armed to the teeth. He walked forward past the semi circle of pine trees and tall grass that kept the cave carefully hidden. It appeared that his cave was on a ledge of a grassy cliff, and he stood at the far edge and looked outwards into the distance, soaking in the sunlight and warmth that felt tender on his skin after his swimming excursion in the cave.

Though when he looked below and beyond him, he immediately felt sick to his stomach.

It wasn’t that there was something terribly wrong with everything. The grassy fields were lush and spread past the cliff into the forest below him and the meadows beyond, ending at the mountains that grew taller into shelters of snow to the left. In the far distance to his right, a mountain surrounded by jagged cliffs dared to touch the sky, rivulets of red – lava, he told himself – running down in streaks. But the volcano wasn’t what disturbed him.

In the very centre of the lush green fields, there was a castle. Or what remained of a castle, he thought, because it was surrounded by swirling dark streams of clouds. And the darkness, he thought with a bit of queasiness. It moved.

But there was also something deeply wrong about the sight of it. There was a sickening feeling pooling in his stomach at the sight of the broken castle. It felt like he had failed in every single way, though he wasn’t sure why.

He tore his eyes away from the sorry sight. He wasn’t sure where the feeling had come from, but he needed to do some re-orienting himself first. He needed to find out where he was – and why he had just woken up from a sleeping in a bed filled to the brim with icy water. Turning to his right, he followed the only narrow dirt path down the gentle slope of a cliff.

Even from here, he could see that a solitary figure had set up a small campsite, and he instantly felt relief. He had an irrational fear that he was a sole survivor to whatever events happened at the castle, and to see the presence of someone else – well, it was relieving to say the least. He could only hope that they were friendly.

When he got closer to the figure, he could see that it was a blond hair man with a hood over his head, roasting something over the campfire. The man looked up at him, but otherwise didn’t say a single word.

He cleared his throat and tried to say hello, only to have it come out like a croak. He tried again. “Hello.”

The man looked up at him. “Hey there,” he greeted casually, not at all surprised by his presence. “Nice clothes,” he snickered.

He glanced down at his threadbare clothes and then back at the man, who looked like he was dressed quite comfortably in his clean, well fitting clothes. He decided not to take it to the heart, as his pants didn’t even reach down past his ankles.

“Who are you?” he found himself asking the man.

The man grinned a bit. “That’s a question I should be asking of you. Is that a Sheikah Slate you have there?” He motioned to the tablet that he had strapped on his waist pouch. “I heard that only champions of the old had those. How did you get your hands on that?”

He frowned. Champions of the old? He had no idea what the man was talking about, and yet something about that line sounded so familiar…

The man waved his hand. “Anyway,” he said, waving the matter away. “What’s your name?”

He froze for a moment.

And then it came back to him. “Nico,” he said slowly, testing the name out on his lips. Yes, Nico, that was his name. He forgot it for a moment. How could he have forgotten his own name?

As a matter of fact, now that he was thinking about it, what did he remember?

Before he could start panicking, the man held out his hand. Nico stared blankly until he realized that he was holding a baked apple. “Have one,” he urged. “You look like you’ve been starving. You’re like sticks of bones all over.”

He reached out for the apple hesitantly and nearly dropped it when the man let go too fast. The man grabbed another baked apple and bit into with a groan of satisfaction. “Simple but savoury,” he complimented himself. “I usually prefer fancier meals myself, but an apple always satisfies a craving.”

Nico watched him, unsure of what to say.

“Anyways,” the man said after he was done chewing, “you should be on your way. Big quest and all?” When Nico continued to stare at him, the man pointed at the tablet at his waist. “Come on, you have a Sheikah Slate. Clearly you’re on some sort of mission from Chiron maybe?” He shrugged.

Right on cue, the tablet – Sheikah Slate, Nico reminded himself – started to beep. He turned on the screen and it immediately went to a page labelled Map. There was no map however. Only a black abyss and a flashing yellow dot and red dot. He assumed one was supposed to represent his location and the other to the location he was supposed to go to. He looked out across the vast landscape and wondered if he would run into more people who would make fun of his clothes and offer him a baked apple.

“Well, that’s your sign, isn’t it?” the man said, biting into another apple. “Don’t let me hold you back on your fancy quest!”

He stood there for a second and then muttered a curt, “Thanks.” With an apple in his pouch and his Sheikah slate in his hand, he roughly located the direction he was supposed to walk in. It would probably take about twenty or so minutes to get there, he calculated. When he put the Sheikah Slate away, he noticed something glimmering in the sunlight on an unlit campfire further down the slope. Jogging down, he laid his eyes on a woodcutter’s axe lying in the open for anyone’s hands.

Well, Nico thought, his prayers for a weapon had been answered.

And better sooner than later too, because moments later, he discovered that there were more than just other people nearby.

[linskywords]

criminal-minds-fanfiction wrote a bunch of questions for authors that you’re supposed to let people ask you, buuuut I felt like answering all of them instead of doing my actual job this afternoon. 😄 Here we go:

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction?

Like 25 maybe? I started writing about a year after I started reading it. I had a fanfiction-deprived adolescence, y’all.

2) What fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one?

The hockey boys pulled me in years ago and they haven’t let me go. I do sometimes write other things: I almost always participate in Yuletide, and I’ve actually written a bunch of Animorphs fic under a different name (ask me if you want to see it!). Mostly hockey RPF, though.

3) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

Haha neither. Well, I guess OC’s, if I had to choose -- I don’t read or write reader inserts. But I tend to keep OC’s for original fiction.

4) What is your favourite genre to write for?

I was very confused about fic having genres before I realized this was probably referring to the genre of the canon works. Um...sports. :D

5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why?

Don’t make me choose my favorite child. Um, probably the first wolfverse story -- I don’t know if it’s the best one, but I’m very grateful to it for starting the ‘verse!

6) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

None of them, if that’s an option. If I really had to choose...probably the Kirk/Spock fic I never finished even after uploading it to AO3 and promising to finish it this time. I still want to finish it!! But it would be the first to go.

7) When is your preferred time to write?

I don’t have a strong preference. Afternoon/evening. I like having multi-hour blocks, and I use the Forest app to keep me off my phone while I do it.

8) Where do you take your inspiration from?

Plot bunnies come from all over the place: random thoughts, memes, real-life conversations, suggestions from other fandom people. I tend to have a pretty strong “THIS IS A STORY I WANT TO WRITE” response when something grabs me the right way.

9) In your xxx fic, what’s your favourite scene that you wrote?

Haha this is probably why I’m not supposed to just answer all of these in order. XD I’ll answer for my current WIP: the scene where Geno kisses Sid for the first time. So soft. So angsty. 😈 (My own story has cursed me to love Geno. I am doomed.)

10) In your xxx fic, why did you decide to end it like that? Did you have an alternative ending in mind?

In general: I know how my stories are going to end when they start. Sometimes it does evolve a bit as I write. One thing I’d like to play with is including more of the main characters being together at the end of the story, instead of ending it at the moment when they get together; the latter makes sense from a tension perspective, but I’ve been finding when I read lately that I want more of the happy times at the end, so I’m going to try to move in that direction.

11) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

Only for typos, I think.

12) Who is your favourite character to write for? Why?

Ooooh. Either Patrick Kane or Jonathan Toews. There’s something so compelling to me about Patrick’s fanon voice. And every love interest in every original story I try to write is Jonny.

13) Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why?

I...don’t really write about characters I don’t like? I wish Auston Matthews would shave his mustache.

14) How did you come up with the title for the xxx? - You can ask about multiple stories.

About fifty percent of the titles I come up with are desperate scrambles because I’ve got nothing. The other fifty percent I have a perfect song lyric for from the start.

15) If you write OC’s, how do you decide on their names?

I only write OC’s in original fiction, but: I’ve been phonebanking lately, and I’ve been writing down all the good names I come across. The best so far is someone with the last name Quackenboss.

16) How did you come up with the idea for xxx?

MAGIC.

17) Post a line from a WIP that you’re working on.

Oh...oh no. Um.

“It doesn’t matter what he was thinking about. His knot popped; that’s the important thing.”

Some of you can probably guess what that’s about. :)

18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

Mostly on my computer. I have a lot of beginnings of stories I haven’t finished yet; many of them I’ll probably go back to. I tend not to post things until I’m done or close to done with them. (That one Star Trek fic being an exception. Mea culpa.)

19) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

YES. The 1988 timer one and the 1988 story where Patrick’s a girl who sneaks onto the Blackhawks in disguise. I’d love to do a Bennguin version of both of those.

20) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

Hm. Some of them I think I rushed a little. More Than I Could Ever Promise, I think it needs a good old-fashioned battle scene in the mountains at the end to really round out the plot.

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

Have I mentioned astolat? What, only two or three hundred times? I should mention her again, then. Give me that woman’s ability to plot. Inject it into my veins.

22) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

Haha. I often have slightly cringy moments in my old stories. You Made My Life an Adventure, I definitely didn’t really know what I was doing yet...

23) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

I usually listen to music.

24) How do you feel about writing smutty scenes?

Turned on.

25) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

Yes. The sequel to My Heart Forgets to Beat.

26) Which part of your xxx fic was the hardest to write?

The Sid/Geno wolfverse story I’m working on now is maybe the hardest thing I’ve ever written. The language barrier is such a new challenge for me.

27) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

I don’t formally outline, but I tend to have a sense of the major plot beats. One reason I love writing fic is that the plot and world tend to be straightforward enough for that. I have a lot more trouble doing that with original fiction.

28) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?

This will radically reduce the amount of time I spend writing original fiction.

29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

Like You Have a Secret I think is less read than some of the others because it’s het, but I really love it. Similarly, some of my stories that are inspired by other works (Tangled, Doctor Who, The Giver) tend to be read less because people think they need to know the source material, when really I deviate from the source material so much it’s not important.

30) In contrast to 29 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Huh. Probably not. I’m definitely surprised when some stories take off -- Kinda Narrows It Down I wrote pretty quickly, on a whim, and I was surprised by the extent to which it resonated with people. Turns out lots of people think Tyler was coming out in that tweet. XD

31) Send me a fic recommendation and I’ll post it for my followers to see! (The asker is to send the rec not the answerer)

Ooh. Ignoring the terms of this question, but: I just read this TK/Patty story and loooved it. It’s a different take on werewolves than the one I use in wolfverse, and it’s super compelling:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24029188

32) Are any of your characters based on real people?

Hahahahahaha. (I mean...less so than you might think.)

33) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

I absolutely love it when people write screaming flaily responses to my fic. Also anytime anyone says that they’ve been having a tough time and my story was exactly what they needed. Maybe my favorite was the responses to More Than I Could Ever Promise that told me it read like a novel; that meant a lot to me right then.

34) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

Fandom is amazing; people almost never give me concrit. I did have someone ask once if I randomly chose when to stop writing and just ended my stories there. I was pretty offended, since of course that’s not true at all, but I can see where they were coming from: my stories tend to wrap up after the characters get together, and sometimes there’s a lot of potential story left to tell at that point. But stories have to end sometime.

35) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?

I tend to share them! I find other people’s enthusiasm to be strongly motivating, and sometimes people have awesome suggestions I wouldn’t have thought of.

36) Can you give us a spoiler for one of your WIP’s?

Well, I only have the one. XD Sid...is about to have an important conversation with Mario.

37) What’s the funniest story you’ve written?

Ooh, I’m not sure I’m the write person to answer! No idea, really. My recent TK/Patty is probably pretty funny. Or maybe Quality Time, where Patrick doesn’t understand why he keeps losing track of time when he’s cuddling with Jonny. Anything with a super dumb protagonist, probably.

38) If you could collab with any other writer on here, who would it be? (Perhaps this question will inspire some collabs!) If you’re shy, don’t tag the blog, just name it.

Wow, I have no idea. I’ve never really written a story with someone, so I’m not sure how that would work. I want to say astolat again but honestly I’d be too intimidated.

...no, I’m gonna say astolat. Even if I made a fool of myself I think I would learn a ton.

39) Do you prefer first, second or third person?

Third. For some original stuff I like first person, but third feels right for the hockey boys.

40) Do people know you write fanfiction?

My close friends do. Most of my friends have the vague idea I write fic, but they don’t know my username or anything.

41) What’s you favourite minor character you’ve written?

Patrick Sharp. No question.

42) Song fic - What made you decide to use the song xxx for xxx.

I will legit listen to a new album with a doc open to write down promising lyrics. Titles are HARD, y’all.

43) Has anyone ever guessed the plot twist of one of your fics before you posted it?

I think people guessed where the Tangled fic was going. Though I also liked the guesses that it would be about Patrick’s mullet. XD I don’t really mind when people guess twists -- in the kind of story I write, it’s more about the experience of reading it than about surprise!

44) What is the last line you wrote?

“His parents have always been very respectful of any choices Sid’s wanted to make. They haven’t pried into his private life when he’s tried to set boundaries. But they’re wolves, and they know him a lot better than Jordy does. Sid isn’t going to be able to keep it a secret from them what he’s going through.”

...no guarantee it survives in that form. :D

45) What spurs you on during the writing process?

Getting the story out of my head and into reality! Spoon out that lake, baby.

I also do love the prospect of posting it for people to enjoy and respond to. It’s one of the reasons I find fic so much more rewarding than original fiction, where the timeline to a readership is so much longer.

46) I really loved your xxx fic. If you were ever to do a sequel, what do you think might happen in it?

Things, probably.

47) Here’s a fic title - insert a made up title. What would this story be about?

This exercise might be going off the rails a bit. (If anyone does want to pose this to me, feel free!)

48) What’s your favourite trope to write?

Ooh. Mutual pining. Friends to lovers. Werewolves. :D

49) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

The first fic I ever, ever read was a random Kirk/Spock one I found through google, and I was like “OMG IS THIS WHAT AROUSAL FEELS LIKE”

50) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Oh man. Angst, as long as it can have a happy ending. But it just wouldn’t be the same without the smut.

[fromstraykids]

heaven

characters: you x minho

summary: when being study buddies with bad boy!minho turns into something more

quote: “good boys go to heaven, but bad boys bring heaven to you” 

a/n: i’ve been working on a few fics so hopefully they’ll be done and uploaded soon!

3:29 pm – after school

Staring at the stack of books that sat in front of you, you picked up the top one and scanned it. Sure, reading a book about statistics wasn’t the best thing to do, especially when you’re in a library with plenty of other genres, but at the moment, you wanted to do anything but talk to the boy in front of you.

The sound of a pencil being placed on the desk tells you that he was either done solving the problems or he just outright gave up.

“Lee Minho,” you said, glancing up from your book to look at the boy who sat in front of you with his head in his palm, “if you don’t stop staring at me, I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” He cocks his head to the side as if teasing you.

You sighed heavily, curse Minho and his childish antics. Closing the book, you sat up. “Just do the problems.”

Minho pouts his lips as if contemplating before turning to you with a sly smile. “But what if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll fail,” you say flatly, checking the time on your phone. “and you’ll be wasting my time.”

“But math is so boring, like c’mon who has time to stupid logarithms? Is the world going to end if we abolish math? Nope, so I definitely won’t be sad if we get rid of it,” MInho whines, making you chuckle a bit.

“So what I’m hearing is that you want to end the tutoring session earlier?” You reached for your bag just as Minho wraps a hand around your wrist, thus preventing you from leaving.

“No,” Minho says, dragging out the syllable, “instead of tutoring, how about we go get some food? Hm?”

“Like...a date?” Minho’s face brightened as he nods profusely.

“No.” You watch his face fall as you remove your hand from his hold and swing your backpack around your shoulder. “Try harder, Mr. Lee.”

Minho watches you as you exit the library. The corner of his lips curved up as he, too, packs up his backpack. Perhaps, getting a date out of you was harder than he thought.

3:02 pm – a few days later

“Why don’t you want to go on a date with me?” You two opted to be outside instead of the dreary library and thus chose to sit on a shaded table on campus. Minho pops a piece of gum into his mouth before looking at you again.

“Take a wild guess Minho,” you snorted, closing your textbook.

Minho contemplates for a minute before turning back to you. “Can’t seem to find one.”

“Well, one,” you lean forward to him, closing the distance between the both of you. His eyes flit to your lips before looking back up at you. “I’ll give you a number: five.”

When you pull away, Minho looks at you curiously. “Five? Five what?”

“It’s been five months since I’ve begun to tutor you and that's the number of girls you’ve dated, or so I’ve heard.”

“Oh?” Minho chuckles. “I think the word ‘date’ is a bit too extr–”

“But yet you want to take me on one?” You raise an eyebrow, making Minho become flustered.

“But we’re talking about different contexts here, y/n, I rather take you out to somewhere nice and perhaps, we could continue on from there…?”

“You make me sound like I’m different than your other hookups,” you laughed. “Besides, you’re not really my type.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “Oh boy, lemme guess, I’m your typical bad boy that likes to wear motorcycle jackets even in extreme weathers and likes to get involved in fights?” You nodded, making Minho smirk. “And I guess you go for the typical ‘good boy’? Someone who doesn’t like fighting and probably has way better grades than me?”

You nodded once again. Minho speaks up again, leaning closer this time until his face is inches from you. “What a shame, bad boys do it better.”

You looked at him quizzically. What was he even saying? “Do what better?” you scoffed.

Minho drops his head to your ear, where you could feel his breath vibrate throughout your body, making you shudder out of reflex. “Let me know when you change your type, then we’ll talk.”

You mentally gagged slightly when he winked. Curse Minho and his antics. You rolled your eyes and slid away from him. “If all you’re gonna do today is be flirty, then go to the football fields, there’s plenty of cheerleaders there.”

“But I like being with you,” Minho states. “And plus, I still haven’t understood binomial probability, tutor.”

Sighing, you opened your book again, making Minho lean closer to you. “Alright, chapter 1.” As his eyes began to flutter shut, you flicked his forehead, making his eyes snap open. “And try not to sleep on me again, will you? This is the third time we’re doing this.”

6:56 pm – next week

It was a Thursday, meaning that you would be tutoring Minho, but instead, you found yourself stood up. After waiting an hour for Minho to show up–in which he never did–you found yourself packing up your books and briskly walking your way to the bus station.

It wasn’t like you didn’t text him, no, you sent him a series of texts that turned more and more agitated the later time got. It wasn’t like Minho to bail on you either, in the whole time you’ve tutored him, he’s never left you hanging, at least without a warning. So, what was different about this time?

It wasn’t until later that evening that you received a text from on of Minho’s friends–Jungwoo–to inform you that Minho was involved in a school fight.

“Where are you going?” your mom’s question makes you stop in your tracks. In fact, what were you doing? You slipped on your shoes before standing up again.

“T-to the store,” you stuttered. You weren’t really good at this lying thing–to be honest.

Confusion shifts to understanding on her face. “Alright, be safe and don’t buy too many snacks, they’re not good for you, you know.”

“I know,” you chuckled as you headed out the door.

The cold air bites at your skin as you wonder why in the world there would be cold winds in the middle of April. It wasn’t long until you found your way through the maze of streets to Minho’s house–a place you were too familiar with.

Walking up to the door, you began to knock fervently, eventually shifting to the doorbell. You weren’t afraid of the fact that one of his parents could answer the door–because they weren’t even home most of the time.

“What are you doing here?” Minho asks after you rang the doorbell for the nth time. He held a bag of ice towards his eye as he leaned against the doorframe.

“I heard about the fight,” you explained.

Minho pulls himself up as he reaches for the door. “If you’re here to scold me for getting into more fights because “violence is never the answer”, forget about it because I’ve already received a mouthful from the principal.”

“I’m not,” you said, surprising him. “Plus, you know I wouldn’t do that until you’re fully healed.” You pointed to the open cut that rested on his upper lip. “At least clean it up, or else look ugly and scare away all the girls–not you don’t already, but you know what I mean.”

He scowls, but nonetheless, opens the door wider to let you in. A humble dwelling wasn’t the definition of Minho’s house, with multi-millionaire parents that were never home, Minho lived all alone in his spacious mansion.  

“Any drinks?” Minho asks, leading you to the living room.

“I’m not gonna stay long, so don’t plan anything.”

Minho’s lips form a frown. “I’m doing this as the host, not for my own personal reasons.”

“Whatever, just get a first aid kit so I don’t have to keep looking at your bruised face.”

Minho scowls again, but exits for a few minutes before emerging with a white plastic box. “Do as you wish.”

You began to patch the cuts on his hands before moving onto the one on his lips. “Why’d you even get into a fight?” you asked, attempting to make small talk.

“Some guys can’t shut their mouths,” Minho says gruffly, distaste settled in his mouth as he recalls the fight.

“Then just tell them to fuck off,” you sighed as you leaned closer to clean the cut. Minho winces a little as you apply the rubbing alcohol. You said softly, “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Minho stares at you, awestruck as you began to notice the lack of distance between the two of you. The close proximity of Minho made you gulp a little. No, it’s not like you never found him handsome, of course, there were times where you found yourself in awe of his looks. But this time, it was different. You were seeing him in his raw beauty, no leather jacket, no gelled hair, just him.

Minho, on the other hand, noticed your silence. He, too, took in your beauty. And man, was he starstruck.

His fingers find their way to your face, where they move a piece of stray hair away. You knew that you should turn away soon, but you stayed in place.

Unable to resist the urge, Minho leans forward until you could feel his hot breath on your face as he asks: “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” you say, your voice above a whisper as if to not disrupt the moment.

Before you knew it, Minho gently presses his lips against yours as his hands soon find comfort on your waist. Moving away from your mouth, Minho trails light kisses along your chin to the base of your neck and gently pushes you into the couch.

“Wait.” Minho’s lifts his head up to stare into your eyes, confused.

“I-I told my mom I would be at the store.” Your eyes flit over to the analog clock that sat on the table. “Which was an hour ago.”

Understanding, Minho pulls away to make way for you to stand up. He leads you to the door as you slip on your shoes. “Thanks...for patching me up.”

You smiled slightly. “No problem, just try not to get into another fight ‘cause maybe next time a band-aid and rubbing alcohol might not be enough.”

Minho chuckles as he opens the door for you. “Can’t count on it.” Stepping out, you forgot about the strange cold weather, immediately shivering, in which Minho quickly takes off his leather jacket from the coat rack and wraps it around you before you could protest.

“Can’t have you sick or else I’ll have to miss another day of tutoring,” he chuckles as he zips it up to your neck. He pauses for a moment, as if to say something, but decides not to. “Good night, y/n.”

You smiled. “Good night, Minho.”

10:23 pm

That night, you laid on your bed wide awake after minutes of tossing and turning. The taste of Minho’s lips lingered on yours as you instinctively reached up to touch your lips. Never in your life did you think that you would ever kiss Lee Minho. But now that you did, you couldn’t get the feeling of euphoria out of your head when you kissed him.

HIs taste lingered on your lips–the taste of cherry cola. Although they were light, you could still feel Minho’s lips pressed against your neck as they wandered down. All you could think of was him. Your eyes flitted to his leather jacket that laid on the edge of your bed. You could smell its vanilla scent from where you were.

You wished that you could keep it. Suddenly, the idea of being with Minho didn’t seem so questionable anymore. But then you remembered the Minho everybody knew: a bad boy that liked to flirt with almost everybody. Your heart dropped a little. What if the way he treated you was how he treated everybody? What if you were just another potential fling of his?

With a heavy heart, you erased all the previous thoughts of Minho and tried to fall asleep once again.

12:23 pm – lunch

“Stop ignoring me.” You look up to see Minho in front of you, seemingly out of breath. You ignore his words and return to scrolling on your phone, in which Minho swiftly pockets it.

“Hey–”

“You’re ignoring me,” Minho states.

You reach into your bag and threw his jacket at him. “If you’re just here for your jacket. Take it, I don’t need it anymore.”

Minho drops the jacket back on the table. “I’m not here for the jacket and you know exactly why I’m here, y/n.”

“What happened last night–”

“Tell me the truth, y/n,” Minho says in a quiet voice. “Tell me so I’m not stuck wondering what we are for the rest of the day.”

You sighed. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” Your eyes glanced up to meet Minho’s concerned ones. Or were they confused?

“What?” Minho asks. He runs a hand through his brown locks.

“Don’t act dumb, Minho,” you sighed once again. “Don’t act like you don’t know who you are. You play with hearts for a living, what makes me different than your other one-week flings? Huh?”

You took one last look at him before proceeding to walk away, only to have Minho stop you by holding onto your wrist. “y/n.”

You hated how the way your name rolled off his tongue as if it belonged there. “I know my reputation and it’s not a good one, I know. And I know how fast rumors spread around this school, but I haven’t been without another person ever since you began to tutor me. And even so, I would never hurt you, y/n, never would I ever think of hurting you.”

“Do you know how cliche you are right now?” you scoffed. “You’re acting as if I’ve changed your whole life. How can I know that this isn’t just another ploy to get into my pants, huh? How can I know that you’re different?” You shook off his grip and began to walk away, your heart heavy.

“If you were just another person, I would have never gotten into that fight,” Minho speaks up. You turned around.

“What?” The word barely escaped your lips.

“Yesterday. Two guys from the football team started to mock you, and you know, usually, I would tell those shitheads to fuck off, but because I let my heart control my actions, I got bruised up. But they have broken noses and a lesson learned, and that’s all that mattered.”

“You did that...because of me?” you asked. Minho nods. “You idiot.”

You didn’t hesitate to hit his shoulder lightly, all previous feelings gone. You had trusted Minho, for a long time, but god Minho would never let you hear the end of it if you ever told him.

Minho takes your light hits, glad that you are no longer mad at him. “So, we’re good?”

You nodded. “We’re good.”

2:44 pm – a few days later

“What’s the occasion?” you chuckled as you walked over to Minho, who donned a bright red flannel jacket that contradicted his usual black bomber jacket. He leaned over the hood of his car with his hands behind his back, hiding something from you.

He seemed a bit nervous, but you didn’t want to question it. As you get closer, you see that he pulls out a bouquet shyly from behind him. “For me?” you say as Minho practically shoves the bouquet in your hands. “Really, what’s the occasion? It’s rather odd that you’re being nice to me, what’s the catch?”

“N-no catch,” Minho fumbles over his words. He’s rehearsed a couple hundred times in front of the mirror and few times in front of the boys before he came here, why was he so nervous? He could practically feel his heart beating out of his chest now. He knew that if he looked up into your beautiful eyes, he would melt and wouldn’t be able to form his words, which was why he opted to keep his eyes focused on the black pavement underneath of him.

“I’ve b-been meaning to say something for a while, y-y/n,” Minho starts. To reassure him to keep speaking, your hands find their way to his, interlocking them together, making Minho look up. His breath hitches as words began to clog up at his throat.

“Minho, no need to be nervous,” you smiled, making his heart skip a beat. When was the last time he was so smitten?

He takes a deep breath, staring into your eyes once again. “y/n...Ireallylikeyouwillyougooutwithme.”

You didn’t have to ask him again to decipher what he just said. But you liked to mess with him.

“I’m sorry,” you said, bringing your hand up to cup your ear. “Can you repeat that? Did Mr. Lee Minho get all nervous just to confess to me? Perhaps–”

“y/n,” he whines at your teasing behavior, anxiously waiting to hear an answer. “Answer the question, please.”

You chuckled as your arms encircled Minho’s neck and tiptoed up to meet his lips. Taking him by surprise, Minho’s eyes widen as he soon relaxes, his hands resting on your waist. When you pull away, you see his eyes still closed before they flutter open, his pupils wide.

“Does that answer your question?”

2:56 pm – a few months later

Minho hears rapid on the knocking before going over and opening the door, revealing you mid-knock.

“It’s a Saturday,” Minho dryly says. You push past him, dropping the stack of books on his dining room table.

“Everyday’s the perfect day for studying,” you replied, turning around to face Minho, who was a couple of inches away from you, shocking you with his close proximity.

Before you fall, Minho catches you, his hands finding a place on your lower back as he pulls you up. “But I had other plans in mind.” The corner of his lips curved up and his hands slid lower until they found comfort in your back pockets.

You were tempted to run your hands through his hair and down the side of his body, but as he leans down, you placed a finger on his lips. His eyes flutter open, a sense of desperation filled them, and Minho looks at you curiously.

“Study first,” you said, pulling his hands out of your back pockets before leading him to the dinner table and setting down the book in front of him. “Then we’ll continue this, deal?”