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Hello! Can you write one about Nanami where the reader is oblivious and they're really close to Gojo so he gets jealous often. Sometimes Gojo does things purposely to annoy him and one day he just lost his composure and accidentally admitted his feelings for you.

I hope u accept if you're not too busy. Thank you!!!

— a little push

— sometimes all nanami needs is a little push.

nanami kento x fem! reader

thank you for the request anon! i’m not sure if reader is oblivious enough but i hope you like it! there’s some thick pining here hur hur, i hope you like it! i never knew i needed an easily flustered and awkward nanami in my life also this is unedited as usual

check my bio for masterlist and my milestone event! (◕ᴗ◕✿)

“Do you mind?”

Nanami sighs, silently praying to the heavens you wouldn’t hear the way his heart is absolutely panicking and beating wildly right now. You’d randomly pushed him inside the teachers’ office the moment he got back to the institute at work, and now he’s doomed to hide his feelings while you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes, a shaky yet excited grin painted on your face.

“Sorry, sorry,” you wave your hands in front of you, although he can tell you’re not apologetic at all. Nanami clears his throat when you step backwards to give him space, unsure if he’s happy or sad about the distance. “I was just really excited to see you back.”

Your carefree, lighthearted voice, along with that little jump in your toes combined with your statement – you’re basically asking Nanami to shrivel up already.

The stoic man remains composed, though, only shifting to adjust his tie while he stares down at you. You’re still somewhat bouncing on your feet, teeth biting your lip – a habit you had when you want to say something but contemplating whether you should. Tilting away to hide the slight flush in his cheeks, Nanami sighs again, pretending to be tired.

The last thing he wants to admit that even though he is exhausted from work, is that you’d never bother him. In fact, having you bombard him like this makes him feel like he didn’t deal with special grade curse by himself all alone just an hour ago.

“If there’s something you want to say, I suggest you get it over with. I don’t want to stay overtime and wait until the blindfolded creep comes around.”

You giggle at his insult, hiding behind your cupped palms. Crap, Nanami looks away and focuses on the birds outside instead, suddenly finding them so interesting despite never paying attention to them before. Maybe that was the curse of crushes – it had people acting differently and in complete contrast with their behavior.

“About that,” you begin almost shyly now, and Nanami practically bursts when he sees you tapping both of your pointer fingers together, gaze tilted away from him.

It makes him wonder you’re nearly on the same skill to Gojo, yet still somehow look like a small, innocent being that makes him want to protect you from everything – even if you were more than capable of handling things yourself. Well, Nanami concludes to himself, maybe you’re really just that paradoxical that it makes sense why he can never think straight around you. Maybe he’s really not supposed to understand the complexity of his feelings when you were a phenomena to begin with already.

“You see…Satoru asked me out.”

Nanami stiffens at your statement for a split second before his head whips to you so fast. You’re observant – of course you are, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer – and you easily pick up in his sudden change of demeanor. Your brow raises at his abrupt reaction, to which Nanami conceals by flexing his neck and rolling his shoulders back.

“I am simply tired from work,” he haf-lies, “So, Satoru asked you out? Will you say yes?”

His words and tone are monotonous, almost bored even, but deep inside he’s so close to beating the crap out of his co-worker. Well, not really, Nanami isn’t a man of violence, but he’s jealous. Of course he is – he’s liked you ever since Principal Yaga hired you.

He’s never told Satoru about his little crush on you. He would be stupid to do such; Satoru would tease him to no end and maybe even be as childish to go as far as pushing him to you. Typical elementary shit, Nanami cringes to himself, watching as you look down at your feet with a pout. Now that confused him. He isn’t sure what your body language means at all, but patient as ever, Nanami only waits.

“Well,” you scratch your forehead, “I’m really flattered. I want to say yes because Satoru is a nice guy—”

“He is not. I do not respect him.”

You roll your eyes at the way his eyes darkens, “—but also I’m not sure if I should. I mean, Satoru doesn’t really date, you know? He’ll be with like one girl and be with another the next week. I just don’t want to…like, fall for that, I guess. Not that I won’t, because he’s totally not my type—”

“It’s just a yes or no,” Nanami cuts you off, his words coming out a lot harsher than he intends it to be. It’s not that he’s annoyed at your rambling, he actually finds it so adorable when you get so lost in your train of thoughts that your mind just travels from one place to another, and seeing how your eyes just leave farther from reality is something he’s always find such an attractive quirk, but not now – not when his infuriating co-worker is intending to mess with your feelings. “Do you want to go or not? Yes or no? It’s as simple as that.”

You blink back at him in surprise, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that Nanami was a no-bullshit man who hit things right on the head, a huge contrast to your happy-go-lucky self, but he’s right.

It is that simple – and you’re complicating things all over again.

When you give him an answer, Nanami has to muster all his energy to not deflate. He’s tired – but now his exhaustion and even the heartbreak comes crashing down all over him that he’s immediately weighed down and overwhelmed – so much so that all he wants is to go home.

“Yes, I want to go.”

It’s his day off.

Like everything else in his life, Nanami plans everything down to the last minute of his day. His day off consisted of him having the privilege to sleep in until 8am, then breakfast with coffee from that great café a five minute walk away from his apartment, then he’ll be reading books in his study for two hours. Comes after that is lunch, and he’ll brows through some TV shows, pick up his clothes from the dry cleaning, get that special limited edition dinner of his favorite sushi, read books again and call it a day.

Simple, peaceful, no hassle – it’s the perfect day to relax.

Except it isn’t.

Because it’s your day off too, and you’re out on a date with Satoru. He still remembers how happy you looked then upon accepting the white haired man’s invitation, your nimble fingers wrapped around his sleeve as you shyly asked him to come with you.

He doesn’t know why you had to bring him, but he doesn’t question it, nonetheless. Nanami wants to see how Satoru would react, if there could be any indication from the man behind his blindfold that he had ill intentions. Oddly enough, there didn’t seem to be any. Satoru only beamed and deflated into a chibi, enthusiastically nodding along with you while you planned your date together.

Nanami took it upon himself to leave.

With a silent scoff, Nanami placed his dinner down on the counter. Because it’s his day off – and mostly because he doesn’t feel like himself – Nanami went out to buy the limited edition sushi wearing a white shirt and some gray sweatpants, too forlorn and a little jealous to even bother dressing up.

It’s stupid, really. He’s been looking forward for this sushi for a long, long time, but now that he’s had it, he can’t even enjoy the taste. His mind keeps going back to you.

Were you having fun with Satoru? Were you enjoying your time? Was Satoru treating you well? What was Satoru’s intentions when it came with you? The last time Nanami checked, you and him got along really well and you’re mostly the one who whacks the taller man in the head upside down when he’s being stupid, almost like two peas in a pod, except you were the smarter one. He’d been so sure you’re nothing but friends and yet…it all lead to this.

Nanami pushes his sushi away. They no longer taste like anything, the texture like dried paper on his mouth. He wipes his lips with a napkin, staring longingly at well…nothing. His walls were plain and empty, and suddenly, Nanami can’t help but compare himself to Gojo.

You both planned to go to the local carnival. There’d be lots of foods and even parlor shops, ferris wheel rides and photo booths to create memories. Of course you and Satoru would go there; both of you enjoyed loud, bustling crowds, claiming there was something amazing about basking in the “lives of humans when ignorant of curses” while Nanami prefers his peace and silence.

Had you gone out on a date with him instead, Nanami can’t guarantee he’ll be any fun. He most definitely wouldn’t ask you to go to a carnival with him either. It was loud, cramped, crowded, and it’s too chaotic for him to ever enjoy your presence and enjoy it alone.

Nanami closes the sushi box, turns on the TV and lets is play on the background, a wet towel above his eyes to relax his tired eyes.

He hopes you’re having fun. He hopes Satoru is treating you well. Nanami just ignores the slight pain in his chest when he thinks of you, laughing and touching anyone but him, and he could picture it already. You’ve always been so open and welcoming to everyone, he knows you’ll have fun today, too.

That’s one of the things he finds most endearing about you – that your smile never fades and you never forget about the simple, little things in life to focus on to keep your sanity after facing curse after curse.

He’s fine, he tells himself. Satoru may be annoying, but he knows you could have fun with him, and you deserved to be happy more than anyone else.

Nanami is about to fall asleep on his couch when his phone vibrates on the coffee tables. Groaning, he flicks off the towel to his shoulders, grumbling about how Principal Yaga better be respecting his day off, but the last thing he expects to see is your contact name flashing on the screen. In the contact photo, you’re winking with a peace sign held above your head.

You look so utterly adorable Nanami just wants to kiss you. He remembers this photo was taken when Yuuji got bored and asked to play games on his phone. Upon finding that there was none – of course there was none – the strawberry-haired student opted for taking pictures of everyone instead. There’s one with Nobara growling, Megumi sipping his boba-tea with dead eyes as if he’s so done with the world, more than twenty pictures of Satoru flexing his muscles and posing like an idiot, and then there’s yours.

Nanami remembers staring at his phone for a solid minute, his gallery actually blessed with your face in it. The sun shines behind you on that photo and you’re absolutely shining. He thinks that’s when he truly fell in love.

And it just so happened the love of his life is calling, making his heart skip a beat because shouldn’t you be with Gojo? Why were you calling him? Did something wrong happen?

Nanami doesn’t waste another second before swiping the green icon, already standing up from the couch as he grabs his jacket. He had this weird inkling something is wrong, why else would you call him?

His theories are proven true when your voice comes out shaky. “H-hello?”

“Good evening,” he greets stiffly, brows furrowed as he listens in on the way you seem to be shuffling around. “Is there something wrong?”

“I, uhm,” he hears you sniffle through the other line, “Yeah, I guess there is…Satoru just texted he can’t come because Principal Yaga suddenly sent him to a mission overseas…and then I just realized that Satoru’s been summoned by the elders and he’s just refusing to show up, so now they cornered him, I guess… anyways, I’m talking too much and I don’t want to be a bother, but would you maybe…like to hang out with me?”

Nanami’s hand freezes on the doorknob. “Hang out…professionally?”

He immediately wants to smack himself in the forehead for that. Out of all things he could’ve said, he just had to utter something unintelligent. He hears you snicker in the background and Nanami’s ears redden. 

He quickly regains his composure with a clear of his throat, suddenly remembering that Satoru’s ditched you, so now you’re asking him instead. It kind of feels like he’s just a replacement, but Nanami buries this feeling down before it consumes him, wondering if he’s already regretting changing into better clothes because he actually agreed to go to a carnival with you.

Upon hearing your happy, “Okay! I’ll wait for you then!”, Nanami realizes that he doesn’t actually mind. Especially not with you.

The carnival is loud.

Nanami dreads the moment he steps out of his car, his body swallowed by the bustling crowd and defeaning music of banging drums and clashing instruments. There’s a hundred scents everywhere – smoke, fish, glazed apples – he doesn’t know where to begin or how to focus.

He nearly turns back to his hair, about to shoot you a text that maybe this is beyond him after all. His head begins to spin when he’s only pushed deeper into the crowd, people bumping into him with every single second and it’s so suffocating. It doesn’t make sense to him how anyone could possibly go on a date like this and enjoy it. He knows for sure this chaos won’t let him enjoy his date’s presence because he’s too busy trying to get away from it all.

Nanami staggers for a bit when a strong hand tugs him to the side. Soon, he finds himself pressed flush against you in a tight corner, your hips warm on his. “Hi,” you breathe out airily, lashes fanning and fluttering in that same manner that always made his heart do complete flips.

“Hello,” he greets back with a small bow out of faux respect, but really, he’s just keeping his head down because you look so beautiful in that moment he doesn’t even know where to look. You’re warm and soft next to his hard and stiff muscles, the scent of roses and vanilla mixing in with the street smoke and Nanami’s head grows dizzy, his hand around yours tightening for comfort. “Y/N…I do not prefer this crowd. Can I take you back home instead? You must be tired – I’ll prepare dinner for you.”

Nanami blinks back in surprise when he sees you nod, a slight grimace on your face, and you practically bury your face in his bicep as you groan, “It’s too noisy for me too. Let’s just hang out at your place.”

So you end up in his immaculately clean apartment, admiring and staring at the boring furniture. Nanami changes into more comfortable clothes and whips out something to cook, not wanting to feed you measly take out when you’re probably famished. He watches with side glances as you pick up a photo of him with his parents when he was younger, cooing and giggling at the baby version of him.

“Nanamin, you’re so cute!”

Nanami scoffs and turns back to the heated water in the bowl, arms hard as they cross against his chest covered with an apron. “Please do not call me cute. I am anything but.”

“No, you’re really cute,” you insist, but after seeing Nanami’s flustered frown, you eventually give up and give the poor man a break. Later, you wobble next to him, watching with curious eyes and a small smile as he adds the vegetables into the soup, moving expertly as he diced up the onions to the side. The sheer focus and attention on his daily tasks makes him falter, and he suddenly finds it so hard to function now.

“Why are you staring at me? Is there something so interesting about slicing up onions?”

“No, not really,” you say absentmindedly, the slight plop of the ingredients echoing. “It’s just – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this way. Domestic, I mean, but it looks good on you,” you nod to yourself, and Nanami finds himself struggling to act as if your presence wasn’t making him go crazy while he proceeds to cook. “In fact, everything looks good on you, and I find you really interesting!”

“Y-you do?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, assisting him silently with mixing the bowl even when he didn’t ask you to. Unaware that he’s now focused on you, watching you cook with him with you pressed up against his side, almost as if it’s right where you belong, Nanami feels the same with you. You also look good being this domestic with him, and he suddenly blurts out, “Would you like to stay with me? Like this?”

Your eyes slide over his in a slow fashion, slow enough that his brain hotwires at the fear maybe he’s said something wrong. But Nanami immediately swallows it down, huffing and turning away from you with that stoic expression again. “Forgive me. That was weird—”

“Why would it be weird?” you laughed to yourself before bumping your hips with his, “You’re the one who invited me here. Of course I want to stay.”

That’s…that’s not what he means.

Nanami is left staring openly at you while you help him set the table and you proceed to talk about how you didn’t really want to go to the carnival but Satoru insisted you’d have fun, so you went anyway even if you’d much prefer to be somewhere else. He’s barely listening, too distracted by the way your lips move and how you swing the house slippers on your big toe, your legs crossed on top of another and your figure slightly hunched across from him.

You look so comfortable and welcomed in his home that it puts him at ease too, not worried that he has to impress you anything because it’s you, and Nanami could actually be vulnerable enough to laugh with you over a bowl of vegetable soup.

It’s fine, he lies to himself again, it’s fine that you don’t know he likes you even if he tends to slip and be obvious sometimes. Because at least you’re with him in that moment, and he lies to himself again that it’s fine, that maybe next time he’ll tell you, but he doesn’t worry about. How could he worry about it when you’re snorting so loud over a lame joke he said that rice nearly came out your nose, and he’s so drunk over the sound of your bubbly laughter that something flutters deep within his belly?

When you help him wash the dishes and bask in the silence instead, comfortable over the lack of words and nothing but the sound of his faucet running and the slight rubbing of towels against dishes heard in the background, Nanami is unsure whether he’s glad that Satoru ditched you on your first date.

It doesn’t stop there.

Nanami only keeps falling in love with you more. He’s been doing a good job of keeping his feelings to himself because the last thing he wants is to have you stay away from him, but Satoru was really getting on his nerves.

He’s just come back from exorcising a curse when he sees you and Satoru play-wrestling in the field with the other students. Megumi is grumbling to himself in the corner, Yuuji is laughing and cheering on you to tackle down his sensei who’s currently going down in high-pitched laughter, Toge pumping his fists and screaming, “Salmon, salmon!”

It’s a chaotic sight – one that he usually doesn’t mind – until you finally pin Satoru down on the ground, your ass above his crotch. Satoru’s hands then come up to squeeze your ass and hips under the false pretense he’s struggling to push you off him, but Nanami knows better.

“Give up already!” you tease the other sorcerer who’s still wriggling underneath you, and Nanami sees it before it happens.

Satoru’s legs bend beneath you and he tries to pin you under him in quick movements, but Nanami is faster, his reflexes taking over. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Nanami tugs you and pulls you forward until you collide on his chest. He’s breathing hard, eyes narrowed at the arrogant smirk painted on Satoru’s features. Meanwhile, you’ve softened in Nanami’s grip, hands fisting his shirt that has him hardening up out of sheer protectiveness.

“Oh, Nanamin!” Satoru beams while wiping the dirt on his hands across his uniform, “Glad to see you here. You wanna join training too?”

“This is hardly training,” he retorts with a clenched jaw, “You’re harassing and disrespecting your fellow sorcerer because you can never keep your dirty hands to yourself,” before Satoru could defend himself, he’s already all over you, his hand tilting your chin side to side to check for any injuries. “Are you hurt anywhere? Did this bastard do anything else?”

“No, not really—”

“Why do you care so much, Nanamin?” Satoru teases, and the students all huddle to watch the commotion. Everyone can feel the tension rising, and Nanami only stiffens up further when he feels you lean closer to his warmth almost absentmindedly. “She and I were just playing around, no hard feelings, no foul play. We’re just having fun, right, Y/N?”

“She is not someone you can just have fun with, Satoru. You’ve already crossed the line when you ditched her on your first date, and you didn’t even bother texting or calling back when I drove her home. It’s disrespectful, and she deserves better than that.”

“Nanami—”

“I was busy,” Satoru sighs dramatically, “And if she deserves better than me, then who would it be? I can take care her of her, you know, she and I have been besties for like what, a year now? I’ll be good to her,” he smirks, and Nanami wants nothing more than to punch him square in the jaw. “Besides, it’s not like she’s dating anyone else. She’s single and ready to mingle—”

“Maybe she is, but I’m not,” Nanami deadpans, his harsh tone shocking everyone.

“Wh-what do you mean?” you squeak under him, and Nanami falls silent. He’s never thought of confessing to you, especially not this way, and Nobara is biting Yuuji’s jacket behind them to muffle her squeals. Panda is clapping his hands and whispers oh, here we go, followed by Toge’s salmon salmon.

It dawns on him now that everyone knows he likes you after all, and now that he’s confronted with the situation, he can’t run away from it. Not that Nanami plans on running away, for he is a man and his pride doesn’t allow him to evade situations like this.

He just wishes it could’ve gone out better.

“Forgive me if this makes you uncomfortable,” Nanami releases his grip on you, loosening his tie that makes him feel like he’s choking both on air and his words. Through his cool stature, he’s actually sweating inside his clothes, and it doesn’t help you’re patient with him too, head tilted to the side curiously and so horribly cutely he might combust. “But I have always been, and I still am, utterly in love with you.”

Nobara and Yuuji no longer hold back as they scream to themselves, the former slapping the latter in his back while Megumi only shakes his head, muttering “about time,” under his breath. Maki snickers to herself and Satoru is stunned, but it’s nothing compared to the way you shrink under his gaze for a moment.

He believes you’re going to run away from him because of his blatant confession; it wasn’t romantic at all, and the kids are still screaming too loudly for him to form coherent thoughts.

Nanami begins to form a deep bow, ready to apologize wholeheartedly and to politely ask you to forget this if you wish – he would respect your decision. But just as his gaze met the ground, he’s thrown off balance as you jump on him, soft glossy lips crashing into his.

The screams and cheers of everyone are suddenly drowned out when he feels your lips molding onto his, and he can feel you smiling happily, giggling while his hands tentatively run down your hips to hold you close. It’s unprofessional, displeasing, and downright horrendous to be kissing someone during work hours while the students are watching, especially because his clothes are crumpled from your eager touch and you’re on top of his chest, but Nanami absolutely doesn’t give a single fuck because he’s kissing you back fervently.

It’s what he’s always wanted – you’re the one he’s always wanted, and now that he has you in his hold, he’s not easily letting you go.

“See? I told you guys,” Satoru proudly puffs his chest up in the background, “All Nanamin needs is a little push.”

[NCT] Doppelganger?

Hello hello hello! It’s me, Froggi, back at it again with the requests I should have gotten to a million years ago. This is like the best thing I’ve written since I made my blog though so hopefully that’ll make up for me being late. 

Genre: idk fluff i guess  Word count: 1,000+  Feedback is always appreciated, thank u and goodnight  Cozy, inviting, and seemingly set in past decades, there’s something indiscernible that draws you to the cafe that lies on the busiest street corner in Chicago. It’s a place you’ve visited countless times; the employees now know you by name and vice versa. On a particularly rainy day, you find yourself padding into the building, the warmth inside soothing your chilled skin. It’s rather empty, which is out of the ordinary given its reputation, but it’s not at all surprising to see the lack of patrons. It is only Tuesday, and with the downpour outside, it’s no wonder you can count the number of guests on one hand. The chime that sounds throughout the cafe alerts one of the waiters, and he bounds out from the kitchen to offer you a greeting. He’s tall, with chocolatey brown eyes and lips that curve up at the corners naturally, perpetuating an enticingly cat like expression. A few strands of soft dark hair fall into his eyes, and he lazily blows them aside with a harsh puff of air before throwing a welcoming smile in your direction. “Hey, sexy,” says the waiter, poking fun at your perhaps overly casual attire. “Do you not have an umbrella? You’re soaked.” You breathe out a sigh, climbing onto one of the large and rustic mahogany barstools that line the counter. “No, I lent mine to a friend.” Is your response. Johnny looks you up and down, pursing his lips in thought, before scurrying away. Out of sight, you can hear the whirring of machines and the clinking of glass and it’s not long before he returns, a drink in hand. It’s a tradition, so to speak, for you to leave your order up to Johnny every time you visit. He’s good at what he does, and he’s always thinking of new combinations of ingredients to put together just the right beverage to suit your mood. On days like this, your drinks are usually served hot, varying between overly sweet flavors with heaps of cream or something more simple, usually a hot tea with only a dash of sugar. Today, you guess the drink is going to be on the sugary side, judging by the mountain of whipped cream and chocolate shavings that dust the top. When you take a sip, though, you’re pleasantly surprised. It’s sweet, but not overbearing and there’s a faint hint of citrus. Your eyes widen, and you throw an excited thumbs up to Johnny as you gulp it down, the liquid heating your throat and warming you down to your toes. “It’s my newest concoction.” Johnny muses, bowing as if he’s in front of a relentlessly cheering audience. “I’m impressed. I’d say this is your best work to date.” You say, “What’s in it?” “That, my friend, is top secret information. I’m afraid I can’t tell you, though you know I hate to turn down a pretty face.” You haul your bag into your lap, pull out your laptop and boot it up. “That’s fine; I’ll just ask Nathan.” You counter, and Johnny’s eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t dare.” “Try me.” You taunt, taking another sip of the drink. Johnny, one of your 3 roommates, works and makes a living as a waiter and residential pretty face. There’s a handful of people that attribute the cafe’s popularity to Johnny’s devilishly good looks, and you can’t say you blame them; the days Johnny works are usually the cafe’s busiest. Girls practically line up to see him, no matter where he goes. Of course, it’s an unspoken rule that absolutely no one, under any circumstance, is allowed to flirt with him, unless they enjoy being gently but brutally rejected.To most, it’s painfully obvious that he already has eyes for only one girl. ‘Most’ meaning everyone except for you, the girl in question. It’s routine for Johnny to constantly be flirtatiously throwing quips in your general direction, which you reflect back at him with ease. Everything about him, from the way he dresses to the way he acts, screams “ladies man”, so you suppose you’ve sort of embedded that idea into your brain, projecting his flirty behavior onto everyone he interacts with. “Just ask her out already.” Is a phrase that’s commonplace among Johnny and your two other roommates. Among the four of you, it seems that the only one out of the loop is you. Of course, Johnny isn’t one to push. While it kills him to be so close to you without actually being able to call you his, he’ll take what he can get. He’s a man who’s all about subtlety; he’d rather drop hints for decades before he finally grabs you by the shoulders and scream to the heavens that he wants to go out with you. Which, unfortunately for him, is something he probably needs to do. You don’t consider yourself ditzy and clueless by any means; in fact, you’re at the top of your class in the university’s art program, but that’s another story. Point being, you can’t exactly take a hint, no matter how obvious Johnny might make it. Presently, Johnny’s leaning against the bar, asking you, “What brings you here, by the way? The weather outside is total shits; I didn’t expect to see you walking through it.” You’re in the middle of gulping down more of your drink when he continues. “Don’t tell me it’s because you wanted to come see me? I’m flattered, Y/N, I really am.” You click your tongue. “Wow, you’ve got me figured out,” you deadpan, “I actually just came to study, since it’s so loud back at the apartment.” “You couldn’t study at the library?” He asks. “Nope. Power went out, so the school’s got it closed off.” Is your response. Taking one last sip of your drink, you beckon him over, “Come help me.” He shoots you a, “I’m going to get in trouble for slacking off.” though he doesn’t make any move to decline your request. “No, you won’t. Everyone here loves you.” You say as he climbs into the seat beside you. He scoots closer, brazenly leaning against you with his chin propped on your shoulder. You don’t question the action, but rather the sensation is sends shooting down your spine. It’s not uncommon for him to have his hands on you; often times he’d have you in his lap or an arm slung securely around your shoulder, and it was never considered more than a mindless action between friends. After all, that’s the dynamic your friendship is built on. So why, you ask yourself, does it send your heart into overdrive? Of course. It’s because you’ve got a hopeless crush on the boy. It’s an idea you’ve only nurtured a small number of times, afraid that the blossoming adoration you have for the waiter would cause you to do something stupid, like telling him how you feel, should you entertain the notion that yes, you do like Johnny.His eyes are trained on the brightness of your laptop, and he’s silent as you pull up a number of windows, ranging from PDF files to a random playlist you found on Youtube. Johnny does wonders in helping you study. Physics, your weakest and his strongest subject, is the monster that you try to tackle as you sit tucked away into your own little world inside the cafe. Occasionally, he’ll reach a hand up and point to something you might have missed in your equations, and he’ll murmur answers to your questions. It’s when a sudden change in your playlist has you switching over to Youtube that Johnny lifts his head from your shoulder, prompted by a man seemingly in his 40s entering the cafe. The music that plays through your headphones isn’t something you could see yourself listening to, but when paired with the bright colors of the accompanying music video on screen, it serves to almost hypnotize you. Nine men dance with powerful movements on screen, and the song fluidly moves from hook to bridge to chorus, and it’s during the second verse of the song that something catches your eye. One of the boys, dressed in a candy red jacket with gold chains and auburn colored hair, moves to the front of the group, and your jaw drops. That guy looks just like Johnny! When he moves back to your side, you point to the screen in astonishment. “Check this out. That dude looks exactly like you!” Johnny’s eyes widen a slight bit, and he furrows his brows in confusion before his features relax and he cocks a goofy smirk. “Dude, maybe he’s your long lost twin. You know like that movie The Parent Trap!” You joke. A breathless laugh pulls its way from Johnny’s lips, and he slaps a hand to your back, between your shoulder blades. “Pretty sure I’d know if I had a twin, Y/N. That dude in the video? That’s me.” He casually throws out. “Eat it, Johnny. I don’t believe you.” You say, but upon giving it more though you realize that the idea is entirely plausible. Plus, it doesn’t take much convincing on Johnny’s part to have your jaw dropping in disbelief. “Wait, so you’re telling me that you, Johnny, the Johnny that works making just above minimum wage as a barista, the Johnny that does a shitty impersonation of parrots 24/7, are the same Johnny who’s a famous Korean pop star?” Johnny nods, as if it’s something as simple as 1,2,3. You blink a few times, and it only takes you a few moments to fully come to terms with the knowledge. After all, it doesn’t seem far fetched for Johnny to do something so... Extra. “Is that why you have so many girls up your ass?” You question, jokingly. Johnny leans back in his chair. “Maybe. It didn’t work on the girl I want, though, so what’s it really matter?” As he speaks, he fixes you with a gaze that’s perhaps a bit too serious given the lighthearted nature of the situation, but it nonetheless has your throat going dry. “Bummer.” Is all you manage to mumble out. “Yeah. I guess she didn’t really know about it until just now. I bet if she knew I was so famous, she’d already be falling at my feet.” Muses Johnny, casually despite the rapid beating of his heart. “Maybe now that she knows I can use that as leverage to get her to go on a date with me.” “Why don’t you ask her, then?” You counter. At this, Johnny leans forward, face entirely way too close to yours as he searches your expression for anything that could hint at deception, to give away the idea that you’re playing him like a fiddle, serving as a warning for him to back away because he doesn’t want to deal with the embarrassment of being rejected by the one girl he’s head over heels for. Finding nothing, he takes the opportunity to speak, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he asks, tentatively, “Will you go out with me?” Your lips quirk up in a little grin, and you can see the tension leaving Johnny’s frame when you nonchalantly reply with, “I’d love to.” The waiter has a smile stretching from ear to ear throughout the rest of his work day. On Saturday, when he texts you, telling you that he’ll be picking you up once he gets off of work, you find yourself smiling stupidly at your phone. You shoot a quick ok text, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth before typing out another message. “Oh and by the way, you don’t have to be famous to take me on a date.” Followed by another text, “I’d have said yes any day.”