#And his suit keeps changing like the ending scene in sleeping beauty

[goosemagician]

The Failure Duet

[stryshttu]

the scriddler nation doesn't appreciate Riddler 2022 as I do so I'm here to make you love him

He's one of the best interpretations of Riddler and here is WHY.

“he's a desyassified version,” “he doesn't wear expensive suits full of question marks,” “that suit was boring” NO!!!!! IT WAS THE PERFECT SUIT FOR HIM TO START!!! He literally comes from the lowest point, and he talks about how the men in power and corruption keep the low income/poor people at the bottom. Ofc he can't afford those shiny beautiful suits because he doesn't have money for it. Also the military suit was GREAT. He paint it and designed his own symbol which is amazing, a gun sight with a "?" in the center.

Also, he fights againts corruption and classism? 😭 Why would ppl hate that? He fights for the people that were forgotten like him.

“it's not the same story of his father and blah blah blah” ok, they changed his origin story A LOT, and I can get why you get mad at it. I also get mad when I am used to the southern granny Scarecrow story and ppl change it to the story of his father experimenting of him- BUT regarding the Riddler's origin story, it is so so great. Eddie HATES LIES AS WELL, HATES CHEATING, because ppl used to tell him that he could have a better future, and gave him fake hopes. He just wanted an opportunity to be better and when that promise of renewal broke, he broke, too.

He grew wanting to please everyone, be a good boy for the nuns and the other children at the orphanage, even if he didnt agree in somethings or if it was difficult for him to act "normal" (masking his autism- we will talk about that soon), but NOBODY thanked or pleased him. As he got older, he still followed orders from his corrupt boss and the goverment. But what did they do for him? NOTHING. And when he does something for himself ppl tag him as self-centered.

He became the Riddler for the others that also needed help, not only because of him, and ppl still think he's selfish.

He's implied to be autistic (you can notice this more in the comics of Riddler: Year One by Paul Dano), he is non-verbal since kid (canon), as an adult ppl say he doesn't talk and call him weird. He doesn't know how to interact with people in a "normal" way. He also seems to vocally stim with riddles and weird silly noises that you can hear in the movie.

The catholic guilt content? PLEASEEEE. We need to take advantage of that. He even did a catholic reference riddle!!! (That one of the sins of the father)

We can also see that topic of him dont knowing if he's insane or not, (or denying being it). He knows his situation is not good, and HE TRIES to be better, listening to podcast about mindfulness and stay positive- but at the end, everything gets worse to him. He's very smart and is afraid that his biggest and greatest thing about himself (his mind) is also the worst thing and can turn againts himself because of a mental illness. We saw it in the movie when Batman calls him "sick and twisted, etc etc," and he has a mental breakdown. Yes, that scene is DEEPER than you think. His mother died in Arkham when he was in the orphanage as a kid, now imagine that the guy you always admired says to you, “you're gonna die alone at Arkham” just like his mother did and no one cared. He doesn't want that, he wants to be remembered. He doesn't want to end up like his mother- alone and mentally ill.

He makes funny jokes in the movie! He's so goofy!!!!

AND CAN WE TALK ABOUT HIM BEING A BIG BOY?!!!! CHUBBY RIDDLER SUPREMACY!!!!!

And please he has the same bad habits as Arkhamverse Riddler, you cannot hate this version of him if you love Arkham Knight Riddler. He doesn't sleep well because he plays the DETECTIVE role (YES! HE ALSO GOES THERE AND INVESTIGATES- or else how tf would he have evidence of all the corruption and know all that information?) and claims that Einstein only took naps. He doesnt eat well. His lastname is Nashton (a reminder that is canon that Arkhamverse Riddler had the same lastname before changing it to Nygma). And in this page called "nigma. org" is well known and ppl call him a genius, which suggests that we will soon see how he calls himself E. Nygma.

And yes, he is also a little bastard insufferable, and if you dont think so, then I guess we didnt watch the same movie.

THERE'S SO MUCH MORE OF HIM BEING ONE OF THE BEST ONES!!! but i'll end it up here, thank you for your attention.

[xxsycamore]

Can I please have 📜- Cite a love poem to them with Chevalier. Thank you 💖

[📜] 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚎𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚟𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛。。。

Poem is "Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal" by Alfred Tennyson.

CHEVALIER

The morning is serene and glorious with the golden rays seeping through a gap in the heavy curtains. They fall on the bed you share with Chevalier - like the sun kissing the tiny waves on a windless day by the ocean; you follow their shapes around your body, around Chevalier's body. Disrupting the picture would prick your heart with sadness; you'd hate to put an end to the tranquil moment. But the new day awaits you, and so it does Chevalier.

Propping your heavy head on the weight of your arm, face resting in the cradle of your palm, you look at your love. He sleeps so calmly - at first glance one might say he keeps the stern expression on his face even when he sleeps, and that thought makes you chuckle - but you're more observant than that. Must be because you're sensitive to the littlest changes in his demeanor now. The way his eyebrows rest a tad higher, the way his lips are slightly agape... that's a tiger at rest.

One that you'll have to pull out of the slumber... as hard as that might be. But there has to be something to your advantage in the whole ordeal. Being difficult to awaken, Chevalier gives you the opportunity to gaze upon and relish his beauty. He won't wake up even if you were to...

Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;

Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;

The first words leave your lips waveringly, the tingle of nervousness getting to them as you watch cautiously his forms. He doesn't as much as stir, and you gain confidence. The poem comes naturally to you, it's not the first time you remember it in a scene like this one. It's just that you've never recited it directly to him like that. And he is worth a thousand love poems whispered through loving lips.

You reach out with your other hand and tuck that long strand of blond hair behind his ear, as it is in the habit of frequently sneaking out to tickle his face.

Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:

The firefly wakens: waken thou with me.

The last part you mutter quietly as you shorten the distance, planting a kiss on his brow.

"Mmm..."

The tiger awakens with a low grunt. Your wrist is captured, and you're suddenly looking at the ceiling as Chevalier spins your world until he's caging you with his body from above. His breath is warm against the shell of your ear.

"Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost,

And like a ghost she glimmers on to me."

It surprises you. It makes your heart beat faster as if it desperately wants to be heard by the man above you, a proof of how he makes you feel when words betray you.

"I know this poem. I've always thought it suited you better. To think that you would recite it to me..."

You chuckle as if you've gotten in trouble, but it takes nothing from the brilliance of the moment. The way Chevalier disrupted the sea of sun-kissed silk has created lovelier waves. A lot of smaller ones, and a big one that consists of his body on top of yours, the sheets draped over his broad shoulders. You kiss him good morning.

∎ For You, My Valentine‼️ - xxsycamore’s 1000 followers celebration party | 💌 event masterlist

[jerzwriter]

Just a Little Faith: A Christmas Story

Book:                   Open Heart (Post Series)

Pairing:                Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey MacTavish)

Rating:                 General

Category:            Holiday/Fluff

Summary:           Casey and Tobias reflect on how they have changed as they await Christmas day.

Words:                 1081

A/N:                     I have said that Tobias had a strong faith in God, even though his lifestyle in the past wouldn’t lead one to believe that.  That’s by design.  People are complex and can be contradictory. There is no one size fits all.  Tobias grew up with his mother’s family, attending their church in DC.  It’s part of his culture, heritage, and what made him all he is.  He may not be pious, but he has faith.  I’ve also stated that Casey changed her thoughts as a result of her near death and then the love she found with Tobias.  So, I wanted to explore that a little more, and what better time than Christmas? I hope you enjoy this. (More A/N at the end of the fic.) @choicesdecember2022 - Day 22 - Next to you

It was only eleven o’clock at night; normally, nowhere near her bedtime, but the last year had been one of great change for Casey Mac… uh… Casey Carrick… and right now, she was tired. Her new husband hadn’t taken his eyes off her as she began to doze. His heart filled with adoration and perhaps a tinge of guilt. Maybe they should have stayed back at his mother’s house. Yet, he couldn’t deny that the sight of her struggling to keep her eyes open, like a child who defied their parents' order to bed, was more adorable than he could describe.

As more people arrived, the hum of conversations became louder. When the organist began to play, her eyes opened wide, only to find Tobias staring at her.

“What?” she asked, “Is everything OK?”

“Sure is. Did you enjoy your nap, sleeping beauty?”

“Nap!” she gasped. “I didn’t fall asleep, did I?”

“Just a tiny bit,” he smiled, placing his arm around her and pulling her close. “Are you sure you’re OK? We could go back….”

Casey looked over her shoulder; her mother-in-law was holding court, resplendent in a dark green velvet suit and diamond broach. While Casey may have been fading, Vivian was simply aglow. Finally able to wax poetic about her son’s recent wedding and the grandchild she had on the way.

“What, and ruin her night,” Casey smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re here,” he laughed.

“I was only joking. I’m your wife, Tobias, and at your side is where I’m going to be. This is the church where you grew up, we’re in DC for Christmas, and of course, I’m going to midnight mass with you.”

He laced his fingers with hers and gave her hand a squeeze, his smile brightening when he felt the rings he had recently placed on her hand. “I appreciate you coming,” he whispered. “I know this isn’t exactly your scene.”

“Hmmm. And being married with a baby on the way wasn’t your scene once either, was it?”

“No,” he chuckled, “It certainly was not.”

“But you’re happy now?”

“Do I really need to answer that?”

“Nope. I’m just saying life changed for both of us.”

He studied her face, a questioning look in his eyes. A quick glance at his watch told him they still had another ten minutes before the services were to start, so he asked.

“Is it better? For you… When we started out, I know you really didn’t believe in… any of this… and you know I’d never force it on you.”

“You never did,” she insisted. “You know, I feel a little weird. I know I don’t believe exactly the way you do, and I don’t take the Gospel as, well… gospel,” she giggled. “I don’t know exactly what I believe, but I believe in something. It started with that night in the hospital….” Swallowing, she squeezed his hand tighter and took a moment before continuing. “You said you were praying, but more importantly, you were working, and you weren’t going to let me die.”

“And I meant that,” he whispered.

“I remember thinking, I wish I had something to pray to,” she sighed. “The way I was raised, things were so black and white when it came to religion, to God… and it defies logic, and I’m a doctor… I rely on science… and I’ve seen enough to make me repeatedly question, but….”

“But?”

“But I prayed that night. I thought, even if I don’t fully believe, it can’t hurt, right? And it brought me some solace. Then afterward… the love we share,” she lowered her hand and rubbed her tiny bump. “And now we have our baby on the way. I don’t know, something this perfect… it’s just made me believe that there may be something more. But I feel a little guilty because I don’t believe in everything all these people do.”

“Case, see all these people? Every single one of them believes in their own way, I assure you. I mean, look at me. I never stopped believing in God or the basic teachings I learned in this church… but we all know that I far from led a pious life. But I can’t help but believe that there is something greater than us out there. And, while I’m all about science, too, I also know that there are some things science just can’t explain.”

“Like how you became a happily married man and father-to-be,” she chuckled.

“You think that wasn’t divine intervention?” he laughed. “Go ask my Ma or half the people here. They’ve known me my whole life, and they’d have a lot to say about that.”

“Well, I think you always wanted this, Dr. Carrick,” she winked. “But you just had to meet the right person, and… here I am.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” he grinned. “But seriously, I’d appreciate you being here even if you were just tagging along for my benefit. But knowing that you’ve found something to believe in yourself makes me so happy. Not for me, but for you… it’s something that can get you through the worst days and make the best days feel that much better. It can’t be forced, but I think it's wonderful if you’ve found it.”

“Even if I don’t believe in everything.”

“No one says you have to. Heck, I don’t either,” he laughed. “But do me a favor, don’t tell the pastor that, OK?”

“Deal,” she smiled as Vivian slid into the pew and sat on the other side of her.

“The service is about to start,” Vivian smiled. “I can’t believe it’s almost Christmas, and I’m here with my son, his wife, and my grandbaby-to-be.”

“Yeah, Case and I were just discussing how we would scrape you off the ceiling,” he chuckled. 

“Son, let’s not start your nonsense in church. There will be plenty of time for that later.”

“Now that is something I have full faith in,” Casey smiled, taking Vivian’s hand. “I’m glad I’m here.”

“So am I,” her mother-in-law smiled. “My son may have tortured me for decades, but in the end, I’m glad he did because you are just what he needed. There was no one else for him.”

“We needed each other,” Casey said, her eyes no longer sleepy but sparkling with joy. “I’m just glad something out there conspired to bring us together.”

“And that’s why we pray,” Vivian smiled. “At least that’s why I’ve prayed!”

A/N2: This was an unusual fic for me to write.  See, I’m agnostic, and I don’t have good feelings about most organized religions. Yet, I was raised in my family's church, and it was simpler when I had faith of some sort.  For the longest time, I have said I don’t and wasn’t entirely right.  I do have faith, just not in a diety.  I have faith in myself.  I have pulled myself through time and again, and I know I will continue to do so. I have faith in the human spirit and its ability to persevere under the greatest adversity. Most of all, I have faith in love, not the facsimile that most believe it to be, but when it is real – be it romantic, friendship, or familial – there is nothing more divine.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[ka1t0-s]

I've been loving nightbringer so much so far-- I think it's the first time in obey me history I've caught up to the last lesson that's out (which will probably change w due time, I'm terrible at keeping my cards lvled up) and the story has been fun for me so far. I havent played obey me since like early 2022-- so this is quite nostalgic yet fresh for me.

but anyways, the music battles r fine, controls weirded me out at first but I can manage. it was more jarring how the songs used were remixed and nightcored ver. of obey me songs. rlly putting the night in nightbringer I see.

however, speaking on the plot, I find that it had some missed potential? like no one else would care tbh and I can understand why but. THE DOMESTICALITY?? THE BROTHERS SETTLING INTO HOL??? missed opportunity may I say I'd EAT THAT UP!! 

like screw (affectionately, I dont hate this game) the "oh we had it modified to suit our tastes" and now everyone's room looks exactly like how they do in present time. I do understand why they do, and this isnt a case of me being like "grrr they are using the same assets!! they're so lazy boo blah blah blah" as for how rarely weve seen their room in the main story it doesnt matter. its just been a few messily scenes.

but NO. show me asmo fretting over how his room isnt pretty enough. how he needs flowers decorating his room, or vines, or gahh-- anything with some life and freshness and beauty in here because his pink bedsheets are NOT enough.

give lucifer considering his room fine and then instantly stumbling across a cursed item shop, buying some if not most of the stock and then spending a solid hour or two muttering to himself about how this should go here, or how disappointing it is that an item's too big for the spot he pictured it.

let me watch as satan buys up half the bookstore and instead of placing them on his half full shelves, start to slowly pile em up on his floor. LET ME SEE SATAN SLOWLY START THE BOOK PILE PROIR TO HIS ROOM BEING COVERED END TO END IN BOOKS!!!

or mammon. like cmon this man did NOT always have a pooltable or car in his room. show me how he gets a car, or more importantly how it ends up in his room. I'd always assumed his room was connected to a garage of sorts, but seeing as his is on the second floor I doubt that to be the case anymore. fr tho how did he get it in there? magic or smth? have barb teleport it in??

the twins... well I think they have the most believable room of the boys. they're twins, they want to share a room, they have it modified to look both red and purple, compared to whatever colors it was before. overall, they dont do much in that room, beel works out and sleeps there(obv) and bel also just sleeps and naps in there. they dont have it cluttered or stuff. however, I've always wondered what the area above the beds is. a way to the balcony? a balcony in general? or just a small lounge area? I like to imagine it's a small lounge area w a window for bel to look out of, but hey. their room is fine otherwise, unless i missed something.

and leviathan... ah... levi... first of all. NO WAY HE HAD THAT MANY FIGURES. even if he bought them in the castle he did NOT have that many. the collection in present time is after YEARS UPON YEARS of collecting. I feel like they missed Levi's mark the biggest out of the game. I'm rusty, so bear with me, but I'm positive that celestial realm isnt big on technology, hence simeons utter lack of any. Luke's easy to teach as hes young and it sticks, but not simeon. that and, lucifer is the reason he got into it(according to barbatos on the homescreen in OG!bey me!). plus in the angel event or whatever, they went vagely back to how they were as Angel's, or at the very least how they should of been like as Angel's, that parts in the air as I disliked the event and it was how long ago? so all signs point to him not being a shut in until post fall. but otherwise, I firmly belive that levi woudlnt of found anime until they were in devildom, of which lucifer is tired of seeing him mope about and introduces him to something light hearted and childish (only for him to later slightly regret that decision). I wouldve adored that sweet moment between the two, but alas I'll settle for what I got.

however, I'd live for the game to show me HOW and WHY he sleeps in the tub, ik its cause hes comfy but until I find out why he doesnt have a bed I'm going to firmly belive that HoL only had 5 bedrooms plus the guest one downstairs, and that levi was content taking over the "smaller" of the two washrooms, because he didnt want to be close to the kitchen or downstairs, plus fishtank. like that washroom in that romeo and juliet movie. fishtank washroom. if you know what I mean.

[shop-korea]

Mr Thakur - Palestinian Palestine

or - Good - Old - New Delhi - India

Didn't know - all my deliveries have

gossip - Blk Teen Girl - Blk sm sister

Tried 2 steal my Ross Dress 4 Less

2nd red coach - was sitting 1st chair

while I went 2 front - Hub Locker as

6'2 ft - older - young bro with huge

no of luggage - with - Carrier - their

Ground - Level - 1st Lobby - Kitchen

with - Homewood - Suites by Hilton

way far - Apt Bldgs - fr - Corner - its

Novotel - Prime - Real Estate - major

said - Looking 2 my Right - 'Hey that's mine' - went straight at the

2 - imagined - XXXtencation - FL

Stand your Ground Law - 18 and

older - Non-Professionals - for

Jennifer Hudson - Oct b 4 their

Halloween - abducted - Age 7

nephew - inside - Vehicle - Blk

estranged Spouse - of Blk sister

'No Halloween 4 you - Turd' - as

Multiple - Gunshots - given now

our - Limited Edition - Walt Disney

less than tic tac - size - signed yes

Mickey Drawing - 'And it all started

with a mouse' - 1 Bancruptcy - going

for 2nd - but 1st spoke 2 his parents

and younger bro - all 3 had Millions

His start - 1st month - Anaheim $$$

CA - California - Big - Millions - next

month - More - Millions - Debts paid

my mind - 500 bullets - shot - litte

blk girl - then taller girl - poisoned

bullets - they disappear - hipnosis

scent - Young old bro forgot scene

since our bodies - unseen cameras

no nudity scene - pursue changing

birth - he has no sisters all records

Stand your Ground - Kill Person (s)

Amateurs - Got Paris - Ross - Bag

$0.99 - moved 2 the 1st red chair

Leather - No sides saw day before

Lobby - Hidden Camera - when me

put new panty - front of me - while

standing - Got my Small Box - and

another - Hispanic Old Male - read

pointing - 2 - another - as Spanish

Males - 1 hand - all packages from

different - areas - Forgot - exactly

what I said - EBT - Member usted

You and - su esposa - his wife and

la familia - Spanish - $7.05 - Miami

Spanish Nos - 50% - off - Cincuenta

Ebt - Comida - Stamps - Food Stamps - English numbers also

Didn't stop 2 read - My - Thanks

Miami - in a - Hurry

1st Small Box - Overnight - Heavy

Discounted - No 1 - Overall - Color

Hair Nexxus Shampoo Conditioner

Large Box - Front of Me - Superbly

Beautiful - Sleeping Bag - Weekly

No - Notices now - Water Street

Cleaning - Folding - Everything

30 Nov - ends - FL - Deadly yes

Hurricanes - JUST - 75 mph just

don't touch - inside with feet - or

hand - tent - super - fast - super

fast - real strong - Gust of winds

like - whiplast - front door - tent

faces - SW 2 Av - Blue - Camel

each side - by - Camel - Crown

7 ft long - 5 ft wide - 4 - fatties

4 ft wide - is ideal - as usual its

4 ft - hgt - should be - 5 ft - so

L Side - folded - blue japanese

table - overthrow blanket - and

flat twin sheet - incase warmer

I use that - we keep fitted on top

of 5 inch air mat or like marble

takes - soaks cold and colder &

colder - non-puncturable - mats

inside above - 4 - windproof - 80

degrees - former - 5 ft height and

7 ft long - 5 ft wide - inside 90 deg

degree - little tents - 100 degrees

'You get what you paid for" - told

USA - Blk guy - their mats - near

Punching Bags - Same Girl - yes

Arrived - He said its OK - Asians

are - Quarrelsome - Small - Eyes

Highest GPA - Skips Senior year

4 Harvard - college - looked at me

'I'm - Allowed' - 6:30P - like her FL

soft wall - like her vibrator - orgasm

self - masterbation - Stretches and

machines - feels like air penetration

6:40A - another guy - came in as - 2

guys with mats - was dancing 1st to

Lizzie McGuirre - "This is what

Dreams are made of' - dark room

b4 - Classes - 1st guy same as FL

'Yesterday' - then - 2 guys - white

shirts - 2 girls left soon - Super M

'Jopping' - placed tablet on steps

Major Tall - Stretched there - Left

of Punching Bag - Farthest - left is

tall black nice Punching Bag - used

fingerless gloves - Amazon Prime to

dry Sweat - Eckel - L side - of - Exit

Bringing - Cold - Coconut Water in

Future - Back 2 Punching - Bag for

Invisible Weights - Rest Back 2 yes

Align Back - Christa di Paolo - using

YouTube - Tablet - Free - T-Mobile

Cant handle Firefox - her website

LA Fitness - Wireless - Weak - and

Today - Publix - Wireless still weak

6:40A - another Blk Hair - female

came 2 b - near - me - uc - 2 guys

2 mirror - areas - wide - available

Huge - Classroom - both - 2 spy

my app - Smartphone - Tablet as

I arrived at door - at precise 5:30A

Blk male with hat - Hiding at Desk

Only Greeting Males like T-Mobile

Biscayne Blvd / US 1

Stairs 2 LA Fitness - sign R side

1st batch - Equipment - only men

Tomorrow - arriving - 5 min - after

5A est - woke up - 4:09A - watch

alarm - 0400 - 4A - Lesbians - at

Mary Brickell - Signature Club

LA Fitness

Mary Brickell Village

2nd floor - 1st view - L Side

Studio - D

Nail Polish - No Spa Pedicure

Hair - Starting at $45 - franchise

Massage Envy - R side - Member

$50 - 1 hr - Massage - $50

Daily - 9A - 10P

Told him possible farthest right

Locker 76 - Light Pink - Nos yes

Padlock - possible - overnigt told

him - after - 5:40A - now - 8:05 A

Padlock still there - Red - long the

cutters of LA Fitness - over - $16

and smaller - Prime - their lockers

Hub always full because members

always 3 days 2 get refund maybe

Amazon removing Locker per yes

request of Sellers - setting - their

Reputation - Hispanics - Latinas

EBT - Food Stamps - members

Prime - $7.05 - 50% - off - too

10:40A - Pretty Girl - Front Desk

Looks at me - Briefly like my ugly

face - contageous - how I feel

about - fat people as child yes

Moving to Equinox - won't renew

Both - 1 year contract - paying the

Penalty - Shopify - $5,000 - daily

Tik Tok - Non-paid

2 videos - Daily too

Jordan Welch - $6 Million

Try Viral Vault . com

Locker 70 - lower - granite long

seat - front - Read Again - USA

their - loopholes

Red Sticker

'Lockers are for daily use only.

Locks and belongings left over

night may be (not will be)

removed and discarded.'

Last Part - Ilkegal

14th Amendnent

No State can deprive any person

of property - what they bought

Powder Free - Gloves - must yes

return by US Mail - the - padlock

Cut Gently

Fr - LA Fitness

Mary Brickell Signature Club

We've enclosed your padlock

LA Fitness honors the 14th

Amendment - No US State can

deprive any person of property

We did inform our members the

lockers are for daily use only yes

We have the rest of your things

put in storage - Ask at Front Desk

After 90 days - Shipping 2 U - by

US Postal - Free of charge

Thanks for Choosing LA Fitness

PS Equinox on the L of us is yes

over $300 monthly with maybe

a swimming pool indoors

Next Statement

LA Fitness is not responsible for

stolen - discarded - or - lost items.

Illegal Statement

Stolen - Investigated member

Priors - Armed Robberies 7-Eleven

with Deadly Weapons - Shot male

Cashiers - Released early

LA Fitness - kept member

Manager illegally welcomed

Criminal Intrusion - allowed

Criminals near us - I left classroom

6:40A - texting since now is 8:30A

Discarded - Girl reported theft - No

fingerprint gadget - prints of owner

evidence - against thief - again has

Criminal Records - Robberies

Possession of Deadly Weapon

Lost items - Maid just throws

away - No fingerprint gadget

14th - violated - Maid is State

of Florida - employee of LA Fitness

Speaks Spanish - Deprived member

of Property - Items bought at Target

Thus - our gyms - coming - 24/7 at

Brickell - Better Signs - Priors - are

Checked - Kids - Seniors - Military

Free - Buffets - 24/7 - Free - Chefs

Jesus is Lord - 2 Dressing - rooms

They don't turn - lights off - Rude

LA Fitness - Violence - Ambush

Women - Terrible

Men - Awesome - Funny - Quiet

Showering - Hungry - Publix next

$22.49 - Extra - Calling - Claims

Mr Thakur - Palestine - Refunded

Invisible Account with my Samsung

Galaxy S - Old Series - Large - Font

Screenple App - Screen - Capture

Date - 01 Dec 2023 - Transactions

LA Fitness - $76.88 - est

examples - Disney+ - $15.80

No Ads - Lots of Amazon also

Theirs - Recurring - Google $22.49

Last - Wendy"s - $6.41 - from App

Yesterday - 04 Dec 2023 - Refund

'Hey - that's the - Favor of God'

Small Booklet - Dr Jerry Savelle

Shower - Soon - Dressing Room

Make up - Huge Flourescent and

Cushion Square - Electricity - for

Dyson - 1 second dry - over - $400

Amazon - Prime - Publix - 911 - 9 St

After - Sushi - or - Deli Ham - $5.85

Multi - Grain Loaf - Fresh - $2.99

Small - Mayo - outdoor - $3.49

No refrigerator - Hellman's Hai

Happy Holidays - Tumblr - Yes

[waitimcomingtoo]

The Hint

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Synopsis submitted by @jasmine11685: Peter gets jealous when you have to flirt with someone on a mission

Masterlist

“Wow.”

That was the only word Peter could say as you descended the staircase in a form fitting black dress. The slit up the side added an elegant touch, something needed for the ball you were going to.

“You look pretty “wow” yourself.” You smiled shyly as you lifted the hem of your dress to walk towards him. “The suit is a nice change from the flannels, though I do love those.”

Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words formed in his brain. As soon as you put your hands on his collar to tuck it under his suit jacket, his name was lost on his and all he knew was yours.

“So this is what it’s like to be speechless.” He chuckled nervously as you straightened his jacket.

“Shut up.” You giggled as your face flushed. “Your ties a little crooked.”

“Thanks.” Peter whispered as you adjusted his tie. “You look beautiful. Like, the kind of beautiful that makes you want to cry when you look at it.”

“Thank you.” You laughed again, out of habit. You looked at Peter through your eyelashes as your shaking hands slid down his jacket.

“Nervous?” He asked softly when he noticed your unsteady demeanor.

“A little.” You smiled weakly. “It’s uh, it’s a shame I’m gonna have to waste all this beautiful on some douche who won’t appreciate it.”

“Well I appreciate it.” Peter assured you. “All of it. What is your mission exactly?”

“I just have to get some information out of Harry Osborn. Apparently he’s the only one who knows what’s his father has been doing up at Oscorp. We have to find out his plans before he does something dangerous. Could you help me with this?” You asked as you handed him a diamond necklace. You turned around and Peter carefully moved your hair off of your back.

“Oh.” He said in surprise as he clasped the necklace around your neck. “And how are you planing on getting that information?”

“I’m gonna flirt with him like my life depends on it.” You said confidently as you turned back around. “Because who knows? It might.”

Peters face twitched in confusion as his eyebrows knit together. He felt a white hot jealousy run all the way to his scalp when he learned about the plan.

“You have to flirt with that asshole?” Peter laughed nervously and cleared his throat. “He’s a total playboy. He’s probably never done his own laundry a day in his life.”

“I think I can handle him.” You winked at him as you touched your your lipstick. “And his laundry.”

“I have no doubt in your abilities. I just wish you didn’t have to use them on him.” Peter said, mostly to himself.

“It’s fine, Pete.” You assured him. “I’m actually excited to do it.”

“Excited?” Peter began to sweat.

“Yeah.” You grinned in excitement. “This is the biggest role I’ve ever had in a mission. I really want to do a good job so I can impress my dad. That means I’m gonna have to pull out my best flirting.”

“Your best flirting?” Peter was really beginning to panic now.

“Yup. I need this boy to fall in love with me.” You told him. “Watch, by the end of the night, he’ll be putty in my hands.”

“I don’t think you should do this, Y/n.” Peter blurted. “I think we should get Natasha or someone else to do it. You shouldn’t have to be the shiny object we use to distract the enemy.”

“I’m fine with it, Pete. My dad didn’t give me this role because I’m pretty. He gave me this role because I have good communication and manipulation skills. Plus, I’m closest to Harry’s age. It all works out.”

“He could be really dangerous.” Peter protested. “You could get hurt.”

“I’m really dangerous.” You stated. “And he’s definitely gonna get hurt.”

“Just be careful, okay?” Peter sighed, making you look at him. You walked over to him and cupped his face in your hands, making his breath hitch in his throat.

“I got this, Petey.” You said gently. “I know you’re worried about me, but you have no reason to be. I can do this. And you, Sam, and my dad are gonna be listening the whole time. We’re gonna catch this guy. I know it.”

“I just don’t want you getting hurt. If things go wrong-“

“They won’t.” You cut him off. “Go ask my dad. He drew up every possible outcome of this plan and they all end with Harry getting his ass kicked.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded and gave you a smile. “I’ll go talk to Mr. Stark.”

~

“You just had to believe in her.” Peter grouched as he barged into Tony’s office. “You just had to recognize her talent and trust her enough to carry the mission.”

“I’m sorry. Is that anger directed towards moi?” Tony touched a hand to his chest. “Are you mad at me?”

“Yeah, I am.” Peter said. “You know I like Y/n and sent her off to flirt with the richest playboy in New York City?”

“Hey.” Tony said sternly. “Playboy is my thing.”

“Why did you have to make her do this job?” Peter whined. “She’s gonna fall in love with him and forget all about me.”

“He’s a criminal, Peter.” Tony reminded him.

“So? Girls love that!” He protested. “You remember how she acted around Loki.”

“Don’t remind me.” Tony rolled his eyes. Peters face shifted back to his forlorn expression and Tony saw how much this was hurting him.

“Look, kid, don’t sweat this mission.” He said as he put a hand on Peters shoulder. “She’s just gonna get the information she needs from Harry and you’ll never have to worry about him again. You can go right back to your little will-they-won’t-they bullshit or whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I have a plan.” Peter insisted. “And Harry is going to put a serious wrench in my plan, thanks to you.”

“You have a plan?” Tony doubted. “Ive been watching you pine after my daughter for years. When is this plan going into action exactly?”

“I’m just going to think really hard about how I’m in love with her and wait until she realizes.” Peter mumbled as he adverted his eyes.

“Yeah?” Tony cocked his head. “And how’s that going for you?”

“I think she’s just about to get the hint.” Peter said and Tony let out a groan.

“Kid, just ask her out.” He reasoned. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could hear me.” Peter stated. “And then say no.”

“She’s never gonna take the hint unless you actually give her the hint.” Tony reasoned. “Why don’t you try tonight? She’ll be all giddy from successfully completing the mission. Perfect time to confess those bottled up feelings.”

“I don’t know.” Peter sighed. “Maybe.”

~

An hour later, you were making eyes at Harry from the bar. After locking eyes a few times, you signaled for him to come over.

“Hey.” Harry knocked on the bar twice and looked down at you. He sized you up before smiling in approval and sending you a nod.

“Hey.” You gave him a sultry smile as he sat down.

“You all by yourself?” He asked as he drummed his fingers on the bar.

“I was.” You took a sip and looked at him through your lashes. “Until you came along.”

“Mind if I stay?” He raised an eyebrow as he flagged down the bartender. You made a face as he ordered a drink before smiling at him.

“I prefer it.” You flirted.

“Good.” He accepted his drink and took a long sip. “I don’t like being told no.”

“Then you better give me something to say yes to.” You leaned on your hand and leaned towards him. Inside, you were gagging at his arrogance. On the outside, you were eating it up.

And that made two of you.

“Oh God.” Peter gagged as he listened to the banter through his ear piece. “This is torture.”

Sam, who was standing next to him as they both kept an eye on you, gave Peter a look.

“Relax, kid.” He sighed. “She’s just doing her job.”

“You’re a pretty bold girl. I like that.” Harry cupped your chin before releasing it. “Just not as bold as me.”

“Oh yeah?” You raised an eyebrow, grabbed his drink, and downed the rest before slamming the glass down. “How about now?”

“Oh, you are going to get me into trouble.” Harry chuckled and he scooted closer to you. Peter watched in disdain as the jealousy coursed through his veins again.

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” You crawled. “Don’t you like trouble?”

“I love it.” He insisted as he held out his hand. “My names Harry Osborn. You’ve probably heard of me.”

“I have.” You smirked as you shook his hand. “I’m Y/n.”

“Why is she talking like that?” Peter whined upon hearing your flirty tone. “She never talks like that.”

“Because she’s not trying to sleep with you, dummy. Thats why.” Sam snorted as he continued to watch.

“What?” Peter snapped his head towards Sam. “She’s not trying to sleep with that guy. She’s just getting information out of him.”

“Yeah well, guys tend to talk a lot more once you’ve tired them out.” Sam shrugged as he sipped his own drink. Pete’s face fell as he stared Harry down with daggers in his eyes.

“She wouldn’t do that.” Peter mumbled.

“Shhh.” Sam waved his hand. “I’m trying to listen.”

“So,” you took another sip from your drink, “Whats it like being the son of one of the most powerful men in the city? Wasn’t your dad like, 25 when he founded Oscorp.”

“23, but who’s keeping score.” Harry shrugged as he looked around the room. “I’ll probably do something like that soon. Maybe something even bigger. I already have a lot of ideas. Pretty impressive, huh?”

“Totally.” You egged him on but rolled your eyes when he looked away. “Do you ever get to watch his experiments?”

“Baby, I’ve seen just about all of them.” Harry bragged as he played with your dangling earrings. “He’s done things you wouldn’t believe. Things that aren’t even legal.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes widened in excitement and you leaned in closer. “Like what?”

“I can’t tell you here.” Harry pulled away suddenly and sighed. “I don’t want anyone hearing.”

“Alright.” You purposefully took the bait. “Then let’s talk somewhere else.”

“Do you know a place?” He played nonchalant as he put a hand on your knee. Peter watched the scene in front of him and looked away.

“Yeah. My bedroom.” You smirked and stood up. “Let’s go there.”

“Bold.” Harry rubbed his hands together and stood up as well. “You’re dangerous.”

You took his hand and lead him towards the elevator, feeling the gun that was strapped to your thigh brush against your leg as you walked.

“You have no idea.” You mumbled. You passed Sam and Peter and gave them a nod as you lead Harry towards his interrogation. Peter looked like he was ready to fight someone and Sam looked entirely amused. You gave them a thumbs up before leading Harry upstairs.

~

“What’s the craziest thing your dad has done?” You asked as you sat down on the bed. You flicked your leg out and pretended to examine your heels to draw his attention. Harry took the bait and held your ankle in his hands, admiring the fancy shoes Mr. Stark had given you for the mission.

“Why do you want to know?” He asked coyly as he looked up at you.

“Because I like to get a little crazy myself and I want to know how much you can handle.” You shrugged as you shook your hair out. Peter gulped as he listened, feeling his jaw tighten in anger. Tony joined him and Sam at their post and looked around for you and Harry.

“How’s the mission going?” He asked when he didn’t see you anywhere.

“Horrible.” Peter grumbled.

“She didn’t get him to the secondary location?” Tony worried.

“She did.” Sam cut in. “Peters just mad that his girlfriend just found herself a boyfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter snapped. “Maybe she would have been if Mr. Stark wasn’t a destroyer of young love.”

“Parker, quiet.” Sam commanded. “I’m trying to listen.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Harry folded his arms as he looked down on you.

“You can trust me.” You told him as you reached up to grab his tie. You used it to pull yourself up and off the bed before planting a kiss right on his mouth.

“What was that?” Peter touched his fingertips to his ear piece when he heard silence from your end.” Why did she pause?”

“She didn’t pause.” Sam shook his head as he checked his watch.

“Then what-“

“She kissed him.” Tony cut in while giving Peter an apologetic look.

“She kissed him?” All the color drained from Peters face and Tony felt he was to blame.

“You know the Green Goblin?” Harry asked once you pulled away.

“Yeah.”

“That’s my dad.” Harry admitted, and Tony and Sam quickly wrote it down.

“No way.” You pretended to be impressed. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. He was dying so he invented this serum to keep himself alive. It ended up giving him all these crazy abilities.” Harry boasted, incriminating himself further. “And he’s got this glider that he can fly around on. You’d love it. It’s very shiny.”

“Wow. I love shiny.” You gushed, fighting the urge to punch him in the throat then and there. “How much serum did he make?”

“He has one more vile that he said he’d give to me when I’m older.” Harry tweaked his eyebrow as he smirked.

“So you’re gonna be the next Green Goblin? Isnt he a bit of a bad guy?” You continued to draw information out of him as your fingers danced around his collar.

“Maybe I am bad guy.” Harry shrugged. “Like father, like son.”

Harry leaned in to kiss you again but you dodged it and laughed as you moved away.

“Bad, huh?” You composed yourself so you wouldn’t be suspicious. “What else has he done?”

“He gave one of our scientists these metal arms. They can rip a person in half. Ive seen it happen.” Harry continued to brag and you recorded every word of it.

“Dr. Occtavius.” Tony realized. “That’s how he got his weapons.”

“Thats crazy.” You gasped and played with his hair. “What’s your dad gonna do?”

“He’s basically forming a league of bad guys.” Harry shrugged like it was no big deal. “Guys way worse than the Avengers.”

“Does he have a problem with the Avengers?” You wondered.

“My dad hates them. I hate them too.” Harry scoffed and you held back a laugh. “That’s why we’re gonna wipe them out. New York can’t rely on a bunch of guys in dress up, and we’re gonna show them that.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“With an attack on New York City on the 8th.” Harry told you, and Tony immediately wrote it down. “The Avengers won’t know what hit them.”

“That sounds pretty scary. Will you keep me safe?” You batted your eyelashes at him and he ate it up.

“I can’t listen to this.” Peter took out his earpiece and slammed it on the counter. “I’m going in there.”

“Parker! Stay where you are and - you know what? I don’t care.” Sam shrugged it off and continued to listen to your conversation.

“Of course baby.” He cupped your face in his hands. “It’s gonna be a direct hit on the Avengers tower. A pretty thing like you won’t be anywhere near there.”

“Actually”, you took his hands off your face and dropped your smile, “I will.”

“What?” Harry’s face faltered at your sudden mood change.

“Did you get that guys?” You touched your fingers to your ear piece and waited for the confirmation. “Copy that, dad.”

“What?” Harry’s face twisted in anger. “You’re an Avenger?”

“Look at you! So smart. You figured it out.” You said sarcastically.

“No.” Harry shook his head. “I don’t believe you. There’s no way you’re an Avenger. You’re my age and a chick.”

“Not just an Avenger. I’m a Stark too. Want me to prove it to you?” You asked casually.

“How?” Harry raised an eyebrow. You gave him a swift punch to the throat that knocked him on his back.

“Like that.” You blew your hair off your forehead as you checked your nails.

“You bitch.” Harry wheezed from the floor.

“You see, I can’t have you and your father attacking my friends.” You crouched down beside him and shrugged. “I’m gonna have to take you in.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Harry swiped at you but you dodged it.

“I know. But this cute little microphone recorded everything you said and sent it to the police.” You pouted and pointed to your mic. “They should be here soon. You might want to wipe the lipstick off your face before the get here.”

“I’m not going to prison.” Harry grumbled as he sat up.

“Aw, but you are.” You said as you pulled him off the floor and put his hands behind his back. “Daddy can’t bail you out of this one, like how he bailed you out of your 17 parking tickets.”

“How do you know about that?” Harry asked as he looked over his shoulder at you.

“I know everything, bitch.” You leaned into his ear to growl.

“No. I’m not going down for this.” Harry broke out of your hold and swung at you. You dodged the first one, but he got you right in the jaw with the second one. You stood up and got ready to fight him as he put his fists up.

“You’re not even that pretty.” He exclaimed as he swung at you again. Right as his fist collided with your face, Peter burst in the door.

“Yes she is!” Peter shouted as he jumped on Harry’s back. Harry threw Peter onto the bed and lunged for you again. You close-lined him with your arm and dug your heel into his back once he was on the ground.

“Peter? What are you doing here?” You asked as you stepped on Harry’s back harder with your heel. “I got this.”

“There’s something I have to tell you.” Peter panted as he got off the bed.

“You won’t get away with this. I will sue!” Harry writhed around beneath your heel.

“Can it wait?” You asked as you pulled Harry off the ground. “I’m a little busy.”

“It can’t wait.” Peter shook his head as you shoved Harry against the wall. “There’s something I’ve been holding in for a long time and I need to tell you.”

“I wouldn’t even bother dude.” Harry said with his face squished against the wall. “She’s a total bitch.”

“Was I talking to you?” Peter growled before shooting a web at Harry’s wrists to handcuff him.

“Ohhh I see.” Harry laughed humorlessly. “Spiderman is mad that I stole his girlfriend.”

“Can you shut up? I’m trying to have a conversation here.” You barked at Harry. “I’m sorry, Peter. Please continue.”

“I didn’t want you to flirt with Harry tonight because you can do a lot more than just sit still and look pretty.” Peter began.

“I know that, Peter.” You nodded.

“I also didn’t want you to flirt with him because I was jealous.” He confessed.

“Jealous?” You asked as you put Harry in the hotel chair and began to tie him up.

“He likes you, stupid.” Harry grumbled. You shot Harry and angry look, but when you looked back at Peter, he was nodded.

“He’s right.” Peter admitted , taking you by surprise.

“You like me?” You lips twitched into a smile as you tightened Harry’s rope. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared you wouldn’t like me back. You’re my best friend, Y/n.” Peter said softly. “If you didn’t like me back, everything would change. We’d still be friends but it wouldn’t be the same. I didn’t want to risk that.”

“I’m sorry.” You frowned. “I should’ve been more clear then.”

“Do you seriously have to do this here?” Harry whined and you smacked him on the back of the head.

“Clear about what?” Peter wondered.

“That I like you too.” You smiled sheepishly at him. Tony listened to the confession over the ear pierce and smiled to himself.

“There you go kid.” He mumbled to himself. “She got the hint.”

Tag List 🏷

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[knickynoo]

How would Doc deal with the hypothetical gopher that keeps tearing up the garden? It seems like there would be some good comedy potential.

The post in question for anyone who wants context lol. Also, yes, this concept of Doc having a gopher enemy has excellent comedic potential. My response will be chock-full of silliness. Pure, unadulterated nonsense.

Okay, let me set the scene. Doc and Clara have settled into their nice, calm little lives on their beautiful stretch of farmland outside of Hill Valley. The time traveling is done (at least for the time being) and Doc just wants to enjoy being back in his proper time with his wife and sons. He and Clara have a lovely, sprawling garden. They grow all sorts of things. Peas, squash, peppers, tomatoes, carrots, etc. Clara and Doc love their garden, and Doc becomes particularly invested in it. Analyzing the soil to check that it's properly suited to promote healthy growth, watering every day, and so on.

One day, a gopher stumbles upon the garden and decides to treat himself to a buffet. The Browns are not happy, but hey, things happen. Except that it keeps happening. And after several days of this rodent eating up their veggies, Doc begins to lose his mind.

He tries to devise a trap. Stays up late into the night, furiously sketching and calculating. Clara is like, "Emmett, please go to sleep," but he cannot. The trap starts out fairly simple, but continues to change until it's eventually some ridiculous Rube Goldberg contraption. He fails to catch the gopher in it, but does somehow manage to catch Verne inside it.

Doc spends hours outside in the yard, trying to pinpoint the exact layout of the tunnel system the gopher has dug through the garden. Every time he blocks an exit, a different one just pops up. He cannot figure out where the gopher's tunnel even begins. The gopher evades every single one of Doc's traps. Doc begins to unravel.

Clara wakes up one night and Doc isn't in the bedroom. She finds him standing at a window, staring through a pair of binoculars at the garden. Just. Breathing heavily. He's on the verge of truly transforming into a mad scientist. Clara touches his shoulder gently and goes, "Emmett, please. Put the binoculars away." And Doc just whispers, "The gopher, Clara. The gopherrrr..."

Clara ends up calling Marty in desperation, begging him to come and snap Doc out of it. Marty arrives hesitantly at the Brown farm, because he's heard all about the Saga of the Gopher from Clara and even from Doc, who had called him a couple of times in the middle of the night wanting to fill him in on the latest gopher-related catastrophe. He finds Doc in his lab, which is eerily dark despite it being the middle of the day. Doc is disheveled, his hair is even wilder than normal, and he's muttering to himself. There is a huge corkboard on the wall with random dates and pictures and theories, all connected with string.

Without turning around to see him, Doc mumbles, "Can't let the gopher win, Marty..."

To which Marty, like, spins Doc around and shoves him into a chair and is like, "Doc, snap out of it! This is insane."

Doc ignores him. "Marty, I believe I've pinpointed the date and location of the first gopher to ever exist. Let's go to the time train and--"

And then Marty destroys the corkboard and runs screaming out into the backyard wielding a baseball bat or something, and he just runs and yells and shrieks. He has absolutely no intention of hurting the gopher but does succeed in scaring it right out of the backyard and persuading it to take up residence far, far away from the Brown farm. Boom, problem solved.

His sanity restored, Doc goes with Marty to Burger King. No other gophers step foot onto the property ever again.

The end.

Thanks for the ask! 🤪

[wonjaekook]

Residual Starshine

Pairing:  Soccer player!Yuta x fem!reader

Description: You’ve experienced plenty of irritations in your life. For better or for worse, none of them are quite like Nakamoto Yuta.

Word Count: 19.3k

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers ; fluff, smut, touch of angst

Warnings: my first published full blown smut scene (only one towards the end, nothing crazy), sexual references?, swearing, mentions of alcohol

A/N: Mingyu appears as a somewhat bad character in this, but I absolutely don’t think of him that way. As always, this is entirely fictional. If you want one song to vibe to while reading this, I was listening to Everybody Talks by Neon Trees a lot :-) this is the longest fic I’ve ever written and the first one containing smut that I’ve ever published, so please let me know what you thought!

Taglist: @junglewoos​ @insomni-writing​ @neowritingsnet​

This is my contribution to @/leesmrk’s sports collab, but she deactivated (Dee I miss you) so @lucas-wongs​ has compiled the masterlist in her stead! The link to the master post with all other submissions is in my masterlist.

You didn’t expect to be spending your first morning before classes with your face smashed into your pillow, pressing the cotton over your ears. Yesterday morning had been perfectly lovely - you slept a solid eight hours and you only awoke to the beautiful morning sunshine greeting you through your blinds.  All things considered, it was a very natural wake-up. However, the loud J-rock blaring through the floor from the apartment below you is the exact opposite of natural. Perhaps the music isn’t as loud as you perceive it to be, but you happen to take things quite personally when you’re woken up an hour early.

Except, you don’t take it personally enough that you force your body out of bed. Instead, you allow yourself to let out a loud groan of annoyance before you pull your covers over your head. Thankfully, the music shuts off about five minutes later and you drift back off to sleep.

When you awaken again an hour later, the sunlight coming into your room doesn’t seem nearly as friendly as it did yesterday. Still, this time you do force yourself to get up. You go through your usual routine - bathroom, change into your running clothes, and stretch. You hear no sounds of any stirring from your roommates as you get ready. It’s somewhat of a relief to have the apartment to yourself in the morning. You put your headphones in and step out of the apartment, trying to get yourself in the zone with your workout playlist while also doing a quick look around to see if anyone is out. One set of stairs and you’re at the door leading out of the small complex - a building with four apartments, two on the first floor and two on the second floor. Outside on the step leading to the sidewalk and there’s still no one around. Without a second of hesitation more, you’re off at a light jog. Half of the apartments in this area of your campus are dedicated to student athletes and there’s nothing you dread more than running, quite literally, into someone who’s by far your superior at this activity and who would judge you. As you run, the thought of your lower neighbor comes to you. You wake up early to go run - but they woke up earlier. At that thought, a frown subconsciously makes its way to your face. Shooting a quick prayer to the heavens that you don’t run into anyone, you continue on.

Though you hadn’t started running until this summer, you know your campus well enough in the years you’ve been here to find a nice path. That also means that, when you see pairs of runners ahead of you, you can make unexpected turns to avoid passing them. At one point, you veer out of the way of a pack of people who you assume is the running club. About forty five minutes later, you’re sweaty and more physically exhausted than when you had left, but the energy thrumming in your veins leaves you with a deep sense of satisfaction. You had successfully avoided every person you had come across on your run and-

You nearly open the door of your complex into one of your neighbors. Acting on reflex, you step back and dip your head, avoiding looking at him. “Oh, sorry.”

“That’s alright.” His voice is a smooth rumble and you look up, briefly forgetting about your sweaty and near-unpresentable state. He looks freshly showered, his skin smooth and just slightly sunkissed. Based on his physique, you would have guessed that he’s a student athlete, but his hair seems a little too long to match the stereotype. It’s a bit of a mane, a dark mop sitting atop the throne of his handsome face, and you think it suits him. As your eyes drift from his hair to his eyes to his nose and finally to his mouth, which has been set into the crooked angle of a smirk, it dawns on you that you’re checking him out very openly. Your face, already warm from exercise, turns blazing hot. After all of the hard work you went through to avoid embarrassing yourself this morning… “You’re cute, too, don’t worry.”

Several very intrusive thoughts come to you at once. By his very specific phrasing, he thinks you’re attractive. He also knows he’s attractive. The warmth of the complement fades to indignation at his cockiness. You press your mouth into a thin line and lower your head again, not making eye contact with him as you slip past him through the door. You’re not sure if his gaze follows you as you march back up the stairs to your apartment.

“One of our neighbors is a total ass!”

One of your roommates, Sowon, is lounging on your sofa as you sit at the small table in your shared living room, grinding the pen in your hand into your planner in frustration. It’s well into the afternoon now, the sun casting lines of shadows through your blinds, and you’re still hung up on what happened earlier. Sowon is also perfectly aware that you’re exaggerating, but she encourages you to continue. “The soccer neighbors or the volleyball neighbors?”

“Of course it’s one of the soccer neighbors! The volleyball neighbors would never do this to me.” You huff, eying the nearly empty container of cookies on the table.

“You’re aware that Johnny just brought those over so he had an excuse to hit on Yein, right?” Sowon releases a strand of hair that she had just idly wrapped around a finger, watching it twirl in the air. Your second roommate only sighs at the mention of her name, but doesn’t deny it.

“And Doyoung was the one who actually made them. So, by association, I am entitled to an equal share of cookies.” You consider Doyoung a friend - you shared a chemistry class with him once and he seemed to tolerate your presence, even enjoy it at times. He even sends you the occasional text still. “That doesn’t mean Yein isn’t going to be the one to give the container back, though.”

Yein frowns and opens her mouth but Sowon raises a finger to stop her. “Y/N is correct.”

With a shake of her head, Yein turns her attention back to you. “You were talking about the soccer neighbor?”

After you explain the situation as truthfully and dramatically as possible to them, they look at each other once before looking back at you. Sowon speaks first. “He’s definitely flirting.”

“Or he’s just like that naturally.” Yein counters. “Who flirts at eight in the morning?”

“You’d be surprised.” After you say that, her words sink in. You ran into him at eight in the morning, when he was looking refreshed. He’s a member of the soccer team, meaning he probably exercises in the morning. He also has pretty stereotypical rocker hair. “Holy shit, he’s the asshole who was blasting J-rock through the floor this morning!”

“Okay, never mind. He is a jerk.” Sowon wrinkles her nose.

“Was it at least good J-rock?” Yein prods.

You shrug. “It was alright, I guess. But that’s besides the point!” You slam your planner closed. “I’m giving him a piece of my mind the next time I see him.”

For several days, as classes start, you still get in your morning run and, each day, without fail, you’re woken up by the boy’s J-rock about an hour early. You fail to catch him at any time of the day until, finally, you’re on your way out of the apartment one morning. As you pull open the door, you nearly ram into him once again, though the situation is reversed. He’s the one who’s sweaty and warm, headphones firmly in his ears. That changes as he smirks, popping them out at the sight of you in the door. “So, we meet again.”

“Uh-huh.” You take the position of a displeased mother about to lecture a child, your arms crossed over your chest as you block the door. “You know, I have words for you.”

“Wow, already? People usually don’t have words for me until at least the third time we’ve met. Well, at least not more than a few choice ones like-”

You cut him off before he can inflate his own ego more. “Stop playing music so loud at six in the morning.”

He tilts his head like he’s confused, but the way his lips are quirked up tells you that he knows exactly what you’re talking about. “Baseless accusations. Maybe you should take this up with Jaehyun or Kun. I would never do such a thing.”

“Come on. I know it’s you.” The look you give him is entirely unamused, so he relents slightly, the smile falling from his face.

“What are you gonna do, report me to housing?” Before you can reply that, yes, that’s exactly what you’ll do, he continues. “I’ll tell them about the parties you and your roommates have. I’m sure they’d love coming out here at 3 AM one day just to tell you to keep it down. Almost as much as they’d love to come to my door at 6 to do the same.”

He starts walking towards the door and you turn your body inward, allowing him passage while silently fuming. “You-”

“My name is Nakamoto Yuta. You can say that if you need something to scream.” He gifts you a sly wink as he unlocks his door and lets himself in, leaving you so bewildered that you can’t think of a response at all.

“Stop messing with the soccer boys.” Sowon immediately reprimands you after you recount what happened. “You know the school will punish us before they punish them.”

“Yeah, and if this is your way of flirting, you need to think of something better.” Yein adds from the connected kitchen, tossing the stir-fry in her pan. “I’m not risking getting kicked out because you decided to mess with the soccer team’s star player.”

“To be fair, I don’t think he was really upset about the interaction. He seemed amused by my reaction.” You slump down, your forehead resting on the table. “And I didn’t know who he was until he said his name.”

“Well, he doesn’t know who you are-”

“And I don’t want him to.” You cut off Sowon. “I’ll just… deal with it.”

You get one more peaceful morning of running alone before, two days after you had first talked to him, Nakamoto Yuta comes jogging up to you. You don’t hear him at first. Music blares in your earbuds, drowning out most of the background noise of the morning, and your heartbeat in your ears fills out the parts of your internal sound profile that your music doesn’t quite reach. He comes up behind you, nearly making you jump out of your skin when you see the figure of another person jogging in your peripherals. Your pace falters, but you immediately try to right yourself and regain momentum, praying he’ll just pass by you without saying anything. Except he doesn’t leave. With an internal sigh, you turn your head towards him. He offers you a grin and air-taps over his ear. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you pull out your headphones. “What?”

“Great morning, isn’t it?”

You contemplate shutting your eyes so that you can purposefully trip and eject yourself from this conversation. “I guess.”

“It’s soccer season. You know that, right?” You narrow your eyes at him, but nod. “Our first game is coming up soon.” You don’t like where this is going. “You should come.” “You must be hard-pressed for attendees to be randomly asking your neighbor to come to your game.” You reach for your earbuds again.

“Hold on, hold on.” You pause, then immediately wonder why you’re even giving him the time of day. Still, you relent for a moment. “If you come to the game this Saturday, I’ll stop playing music so loud when I wake up.”

“If you were a kind and courteous neighbor, you would just do that without having to threaten me to go to one of your games. And,” you state flatly, “I’ve already been to enough soccer games for the rest of my life, thank you very much.”

As you jog away, he doesn’t try to stop you again, but you could swear that he seems the slightest bit disappointed.

The next morning is more of the same as usual. The same loud J-rock that wakes you up an hour early, your same run, your same shower and breakfast and classes. You consider shifting your sleep schedule so that you wake up at the same time as Yuta, though you dismiss the idea because why should you change your lifestyle to adjust for his? You’d rather suffer the early wakeup.

Except, two days after he asks you to come to one of his games, the music stops. That first morning, you wake up at your usual time. You’re prepared to be upset at Yuta waking you early again, but when your foggy morning brain processes that you had woken up to your own alarm and not his music, you lie there confused. When you go out for your run not long after, you almost hope that you’ll run into him. There’s no way he’s just being nice is there? He has to be sick or something. To your disappointment, you don't run into him and you’re just stuck in your confusion. This goes on for three more days and each day you become more perplexed.

As you’re returning to your apartment after your classes that Friday, someone holds the door for you as you approach. “Thanks-” you start, then see who’s holding it for you. “-oh! Jaehyun!”

“Hey, uh, Y/N, right?” You smile at him, nodding firmly. You’re almost surprised that he remembers your name because you’d only chatted once before, back when you were moving in. He’s perfectly polite, almost shy-seeming, and completely different from his roommate. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I’m just getting back from classes.” Thinking of his roommate… “I was actually wondering, um…” He gives you a confused look, waiting for you to continue. “Is Yuta doing okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Why?” Jaehyun hadn’t been aware that you were at all acquainted with his roommate.

You appear equally as confused as he does. “Oh, I… never mind. If you don’t mind me asking, where’s your next game?”

He brightens up at that. “It’s a home game. Tomorrow at six, don’t miss it!”

You return his smile. “Great, thanks, Jaehyun! I’ll see you around?” He sends you off with a wave before you go your separate ways, entering your respective apartments.

Should you actually go to his game? You don’t owe him anything, you never agreed to his deal, but he did stop playing his music so loud. You’re not really doing anything on Saturday either… maybe you’ll bug Sowon and Yein so that they’ll come with you.

That evening, the apartment below yours is particularly busy. All of the soccer boys are home - Yuta, Jaehyun, Kun - and the volleyball and art boys are also over - Johnny, Doyoung, Jungwoo, Taeyong, Ten, and Sicheng. After all, as Johnny says, Friday nights are for the boys. Conversation flows from school to girls to boys to soccer, upon which Jaehyun shares a very interesting observation with his friends.

“By the way, it seems like you have another admirer, Yuta.” Jaehyun says as he takes a swig of his soju, recently acquired from the nearby Korean market and grossly overpriced.

“Sure,” Yuta responds, rolling his eyes, “who would that be?”

“You know that girl from upstairs? Y/N? She asked about you today and then asked me about our next game.”

“We haven’t even had our first game and you’re already collecting fangirls? Come on, Yuta,” Kun chimes in this time, breaking away from his conversation with Sicheng about their shared organic chemistry class.

“That can’t be right,” Yuta says, leaning back into the couch, “L/N Y/N? I’m pretty sure she hates my guts. I tried to make a deal with her to get her to come to the game and she just brushed me off.”

Doyoung narrows his eyes at his friend. “Y/N doesn’t just hate people for no reason. What did you do?”

Yuta raises his hands defensively and half-glares at him. “I didn’t do anything! I was just being myself and she decided to hate me.”

“The star-player, cocky version of yourself or the normal version of yourself?” Doyoung says, looking entirely unamused.

Yuta thinks back to all of the encounters he’s had with you and cringes slightly. “Listen, she was the one who was checking me out first-”

“Stupid.” Doyoung shakes his head before taking a sip of the water he’s drinking. “Some people take well to forwardness, but not her.”

“Are you sure? Because if she’s asked after me, I think that means she likes it.”

“I am going to spike a ball into your head, you-”

“Guys, calm down,” Sicheng says with a rather flat tone. Instantly, the two bickering boys stop, resorting to glaring at each other. Jaehyun gently shoves his roommate to get his attention and the room quickly returns to normal. Later, Doyoung passes Yuta a new bottle once his has run out, so he knows that the younger was never truly angry at him. The small party doesn’t go long into the night - tomorrow’s the first game of the season, after all - and, surprisingly, there isn’t much noise from their upstairs neighbor either.

That is mostly thanks to you. You had convinced your two party-addicted friends to attend someone else’s get together instead of hosting their own, so you ushered them out of the house at around ten in the evening. You know that they’ll come back fine in a few hours, rumpled and with their makeup half sweated off, buzzing with alcohol and the blaring music of whatever houseparty they were invited to, but you still tell them that your phone will be off of silent in case they need anything. Previous semesters, you might have gone with them, but, now, you just want to sleep so you can wake up early and go on your usual run.

The morning comes with your sleep uninterrupted by your roommates. After you awaken, instead of lying in bed and contemplating life for a while, you drag yourself up and to their rooms, where you find each of them peacefully asleep in their beds. Yein bothered to change out of her party clothes and into pajamas while Sowon didn’t, her dress half off of her shoulder and bunched up under her butt. Both of them are snoring away, hugging pillows and blankets.

The relief of seeing your roommates in good condition adds a spring to your step. A few minutes later, after you’ve stretched on the floor of your bedroom, you’re halfway out the outside door of the complex when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You know who it is even before you turn around.

“Y/N,” Yuta says, grinning much too brightly for how early it is. He doesn’t seem like he’s been out yet, which is strange. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” You lift an eyebrow.

“Perfectly!” As he talks, you begin to move farther out the door. Down one step. Down two steps. On the sidewalk. “Do you want to run together?”

“Shouldn’t you be just coming back from doing that?” You pull out your phone.

He quickly matches his stride to yours. “I decided to start running an hour later on the weekends. You know, sleep in a bit since I have the time.”

“I’m happy for you.” You select a song and put one ear of your headphones in.

“Are you coming tonight?”

“Didn’t I already answer that?” In all honesty, you feel like you should be more irritated with him than you actually are. He’s at least amusing to talk to. Plus, he stopped waking you up an hour early without you even promising to come to his game.

“Yeah, but then you asked Jaehyun about it.”

You stop moving, turning to look at him. He has another one of those infuriating smirks on his face and all of your previous enjoyment flies out the window. “Maybe I’m a huge fan of his.”

“What position does he play?”

“I don’t have to answer that!” Now, your face is already warming and you haven’t even begun your exercise. You turn away from him again and begin to slowly jog. “Bye, Yuta.”

“He’s a midfielder! And I’m a forward! You can see today at the game!” He calls after you as you get farther away, his voice getting more distant. Part of you feels bad for your neighbors - the windows aren’t exactly soundproof. You just wave a hand back at him in dismissal. A minute later, you look behind you. To your great relief, and mild surprise, he isn’t following you. He went the complete opposite direction.

“Will you guys please come with me? I promise some of the guys on the team are hot.” You tug on Sowon’s sleeve like a child does to their mother when they want something.

“I thought you hated college soccer because of your brother.” She flips a page in her textbook, scribbling down something in her notes.

“I don’t think this one will be so bad. Our team is supposed to be really good this year, right?” You look hopefully at her.

“How am I supposed to know? How is anyone supposed to know? Today is their first game.” She stops attempting to study, looking at you. “Also, I’m messing around. I’ll go with you.”

You look at your other roommate, who is in the middle of the very exhaustive task of sitting on your sofa and scrolling through her phone. She gives you a thumbs up. “As long as I can put on face paint!”

A couple hours later, you find yourselves in the bleachers surrounding the soccer field. It’s a modest stadium, not a stadium at all but just a normal soccer field with bleachers on either side and some decently sized flood lights for night usage. Not too far away is a moderately sized building that is a shared locker room space for all of the school’s athletic teams. Your school never invested much of its funds into soccer until recently, largely thanks to Yuta and some of the other members who are in their third or fourth year playing who made a name for your university in the sport. You also suspect that they probably talked the ear off of the provost so that he finally agreed to give them more funding, but that’s just a personal guess.

From your place on the home side of the bleachers, you have total vision of the field. Both teams are running warm-up drills and it’s easy enough to spot the people you know: someone from your physics class named Mingyu, someone you remember from a party named Baekho, and your lower neighbors, Jaehyun, Kun, and, of course, Yuta. His hair is pulled back from his face in a small ponytail at the back of his head and a small version of your university’s lion mascot stands out proudly on his red jersey.

You purposefully make a point to look for him last, only to find that he’s completely focused. Though it’s just shooting drills, he seems like he’s entirely in the zone, his eyes sharp and calculated. From what you can tell. The physical distance between you isn’t huge, but you can’t read his expressions that well from this angle.

The sharp scream of a whistle being blown indicates that there’s five minutes until the start of the game. The teams both do a bit of last minute stretching as they gather around the coach, a man you recognize as a biology professor. Finally, just as the clock hits six, they squeeze closer together, arms slung over each others’ shoulders in a tight circle, and do some sort of indistinct chant that ends in something like “Go Lions!”

After they break away, you can see the shift in atmosphere. Everyone is completely serious. It’s the first game of the season and they aren’t going to destroy the reputation they’ve built up for the last three years. You watch as Jaehyun moves to his position as a midfielder, Kun moves to his position as defense, and Yuta lines up in the position of forward center. A coin flip gives the kick-off to the away team, a school with a hawk mascot. Everyone shifts slightly on their feet and, for a moment, the world seems to be silent. The crowd leans forward in their seats.

Then, the whistle is blown.

The game gets to a roaring start. From how cautiously the other team is playing, they seem to know the reputation of the Lions - a team that shot up out of nowhere and suddenly has one of the best forwards in college soccer. You find yourself grinning as the ball barely makes it past your team’s defensive midfielder Mingyu before it’s in the Lions’ metaphorical hands. Your midfielders carefully juggle the ball between them, passing and passing and passing, before it reaches Jaehyun at center midfield. He does his job quickly and efficiently, making it almost look easy, and the ball meets the half-tip. From there, the ball is stolen by one of the Hawks’ defense at a failed pass to the second striker, Baekho. The ball shoots all the way to midfield.

For a few tense minutes, you watch the players run back and forth across the field, their eyes never leaving the target. The game pauses every so often when the ball gets kicked out of bounds, but it always resumes with just as much vigor. About a quarter of the way through the game, Yuta finally has his breakthrough. Jaehyun lands a kick directly in his direction, giving him the perfect opportunity. The strike is clean and so fast that you would have missed it if your eyes weren’t glued to the movements of the ball. All of the people on your side of the bleachers launch to their feet in roaring cheers as the ball sails past the opponent goalie’s right side and into the net. You’re standing alongside everyone else, your hands cupped around your mouth as you yell in excitement. It’s not often that you see such a well done shot from a college team.

The boil of the crowd’s blood dies down a bit as the game continues, but soars back up whenever something particularly exciting happens. In the third quarter, the Hawks manage to land a goal on your team, but Yuta comes in clutch a few minutes later and scores two easy goals almost one after the other. The final score is deeply satisfying at 3:1.

The opposing team try to be good sports about it, but they’re obviously sulking when they shake your team’s hands. After they break away, they’re all gloriously sweaty, which you’re sure Sowon is excited about. Some of the spectators immediately rush out of the stands and make their way down, friends and significant others of the players, you presume. Part of you wants to go down there and be a part of the excitement. Luckily enough, a distraction comes in the form of some of your other neighbors before you’re forced to make any decisions.

“Hey, Yein, Sowon, Y/N!”

When you turn, you see Johnny and Doyoung approaching. Yein stiffens slightly and you nearly start laughing at your friend’s embarrassed behavior. Sowon greets them first. “Hi, guys.”

“I didn’t know you guys were into soccer?” Johnny asks, his eyes shifting easily from Sowon to you to Yein, where they remain.

“Not really! But Y/N wanted to go today.” In her nervousness, Yein easily exposes you.

“I wasn’t the only one who wanted to go,” you huff, crossing your arms. Doyoung and Johnny exchange a look that makes you want to change the subject. “I guess you guys are here to support some friends?”

“Yup, Yuta, Kun, and Jaehyun,” Doyoung says, looking towards the field, where some of their other friends are already gathered around the star player. “They played really well. It’ll be a good season.”

“I hope so,” Sowon says, also watching.

“Well, we don’t want to keep you guys from them,” you say, wanting to eject yourself from the conversation before it turns in a different direction. To your displeasure, Johnny is a master of knowing exactly what you don’t want and then doing it anyways. You’ve never really talked to him before, but it seems that he’s similar to Yuta in that way.

“Why don’t we all go say hi?” The tall boy says, grinning. “You guys can tell me how those cookies were, too.”

There is no escape. Now, as you follow them down the bleachers, you reflect Yein in a way. She no longer looks quite as nervous, eagerly chatting with Johnny, while you grow increasingly more fidgety. It’s not that you don’t want to talk to Yuta. You just don’t want to give in to whatever game the two of you silently decided you were playing.

Then again, it is much more fun to play along than it is to outright reject him. Plus, today’s actual game was good. You’ll give him that.

Trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, you join the small crowd surrounding Yuta. If you thought he glowed normally, he absolutely shines now. There’s something about him being in his element at the very top of his game that makes you forget your irritation with him for a moment. In that instant, he’s a star. In that instant, he reminds you of your brother. Then, he spots you and opens his mouth.

“Y/N!” As he calls out to you, the girl he was talking to before you arrived seems perturbed, but he ignores her, pushing his way closer to you. “You actually came.”

You turn your nose up at him slightly. “No one ever said it was for you.”

“Of course not. You and I both know the truth, though.” The wink is nowhere near subtle or sly and you scoff at him. He seems unbothered. “This was your first Lions game, right? Did you enjoy it?”

You nod hesitantly. “I heard you guys were good, but I didn’t know how good. You played a near perfect game.”

The self-satisfied smile drops from his face. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“What do you mean?” Tilting your head, you match his somewhat grim face.

“There’s always better plays to make, better places to have been. You know.” He quickly tries to play it off like he’s uninterested rather than deeply bothered. You’re not sure you know what the truth is. You haven’t talked to him nearly enough to know. This is the first hint of something serious that he’s shown you. It almost makes you want to talk to him more to find out.

“Dude, shut up, you’re good.” From the side, Johnny butts in, elbowing his friend. You’re glad for the interruption, as you once again didn’t know what to say. The mood raises, with some of Yuta’s friends reenacting the best parts of the game, joking about his long hair, betting on what next week’s game will look like. A few minutes later, the Lions’ coach shouts for all of the team members to go shower and get changed, so the crowd slowly disperses.

After you’re alone with your roommates, Sowon and Yein can’t help but give you playful shoves as you walk home. Sowon is the first to verbalize her amusement. “I thought you hated him?”

You grumble under your breath, not saying anything in particular.

“You played a near perfect game.” Yein mimics, making your face burn.

“I do not sound like that! Also, I know a good game when I see one and I know when to admit it!” You kick your shoe against the pavement as they giggle at you.

From then on, it seems like you run into Yuta far too often for your own good. Every few days, you bump into him when you’re either about to go run or when you’re coming back from running. When you go with Yein to return Johnny’s cookie container, Yuta is in his apartment, lounging on the sofa and chatting with Jungwoo, your third volleyball neighbor. Once, when you’re studying at the school library because you need a change of scenery from your apartment, he runs into you. That time, you snap at him.

“Are you stalking me or something?”

He places a hand over his heart, pretending to be offended.  “What do you mean? If anything you’re the one stalking me. I come here every Thursday after practice to study.” He huffs. “If you’re talking about when I was in Johnny’s apartment, I was already there before you even arrived. Unless you’re accusing me of being psychic, too.”

Your shoulders slowly lower at the guilt you feel. Cringing slightly, you raise your hands in apology. “I didn’t mean to imply…” You sigh. “Sorry. Can I buy you a coffee or something to apologize?”

Only after Yuta’s mock hurt shifts to a triumphant look do you realize the implications of your words. You’re really on a roll with implications today. He grins. “If you really want to.”

As you pack up your things, Yuta tells the few teammates he had come to study with that he’s going, and you walk out of the library side by side. Luckily, he actually makes for easy conversation and good company. You don’t know why he insists on the flirting and cockiness in your shorter interactions. As you walk to the campus coffee shop, you learn that he’s a studio art major. He learns that you’re a physical therapy major. You learn that he’s taking a statistics class that you had already previously taken - he put it off while you got it done in your first year - and, without thinking, you offer to help him if he needs it. After you order both of your coffees, finding out that he likes a lighter roast, you sit at a table in the shop with him. Silence comes and goes as both of you do some of the studying that you intended to do at the library. Every so often, he asks you a question. Usually, you answer him. You always return with a question of your own. You find out that his favorite of the bands that he used to blast through the floor is One Ok Rock.

“Sorry,” he finally says, appearing genuinely remorseful with the sheepish look on his face, “I didn’t have upstairs neighbors last year. I didn’t know you could hear it through the floor.”

“It’s fine. Sorry I snapped at you back then.”

It’s very strange to be on perfectly good terms with Nakamoto Yuta.

A few days later, when your brother sends you a ticket for the local professional soccer team, the Ravens, you almost feel like you should ask for a second so you can bring Yuta. Figuring it would be too much to ask, you plan to go by yourself, thankful that the game falls on a day the Lions aren’t playing. Plus, you can’t imagine what your roommates would say if you chose to go out of your way to take him with you.

You’ve taken to hanging out with the long-haired center forward, helping him with his math when he needs it and just… generally enjoying his company. That doesn’t mean you’re all sugar and smiles to him - it’s much more fun to mess around a little, make him think that you don’t like him quite as much as you actually do. The only thing you can think of that would personally offend him would be to say you’re going to one of his games and then failing to do so.

On the bus ride over to the stadium where the Ravens are playing, you’re thankful that you don’t recognize anyone from your school. You’re in the team’s colors, silver and forest green, and it would be clear to anyone where you’re going. Only after you get off of the bus do you realize just how many came to watch. The stadium is full, packed to almost capacity. That’s probably why your brother hadn’t gotten you tickets earlier - all of them were taken. He probably gave tickets to the earlier games to your parents. They would have thrown a fit if he had only invited you earlier, even if you are his favorite.

As you make your way to your seat, you remark on how strange it is to see your last name printed on the backs of the shirts of a bunch of strangers. The vibe of the crowd is completely different from that at your school’s field. While college students are excitable and energetic, these spectators are rabid. At any moment, there’s one hundred people yelling, someone trying to start a chant, someone screaming just for the sake of it. The air is buzzing with the anticipation of the crowd.

There’s a moment of sudden thick silence, like the moment before a dam is about to burst, where the crowd is silent. Then, both teams are stepping out onto the field and the stadium explodes. In the middle of the line of the eleven Ravens players, like he’s trying to blend in even though half of the crowd is chanting his name, is your brother. There’s a coin flip and it’s decided that the Ravens will start. He gets into his position, forward center, and the audience takes another breath.

You’re on the edge of your seat. Half of the game you’re standing. There’s a thrill about the experience that makes you so invigorated and proud beyond belief. If it had been strange seeing your last name on the backs of fans’ jerseys, it’s just as weird hearing the announcer say your brother’s name as he scores. If Yuta had been residual starshine, your brother is a shot of pure gold. He has long given up trying to make himself small where he glows the brightest, smiling as the whistle is blown for halftime. His teammates slap each other on the back when they go for water. Just as the game is about to resume, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket once. You figure that whoever is texting you can wait.

The other team makes a comeback in the second half, scoring on the Ravens and tying the score. You feel a bit bad for the goalie, a guy you know as Kim Yongsuk, who your brother had introduced you to in the past. He’s probably beating himself up over it. Still, the team doesn’t falter, doesn’t repeat their mistakes. It’s a hard game - from how close you are, you can almost see everyone breathing hard. Finally, with just a few minutes left to spare, the ball travels smoothly from the Ravens’ defensive line, to the midfielders, to the offense. Once it’s in your brother’s possession, it’s over. He shoots and he scores.

To be fair to the other team, they try to recover, but it’s just not enough. Time is called and it ends 2:1. The Ravens have won. You find yourself clapping and cheering with the other fans, shouting your elation to the huge stadium. As things begin to wind down and the teams shake hands, people begin to trickle out of the stadium. A satisfied hum is in the air, leaving a smile on your face, too. Perhaps soccer games are the reason you like parties, too. The warm, excited atmosphere, the noise, forgetting about the outside world to become absorbed in something else.

Finally, reality calls again after all of the players filter out to their respective locker rooms. You pull out your phone, about to send a text to your brother. However, when your phone comes to life, the first thing you see is a text from Yuta.

NaYu: Are you at the Ravens game??

An instant later, right on cue, you hear his voice. “Y/N!” Upon looking up, he’s bounding down the aisles towards you, also donning forest green and silver. Watching him weave through the rest of the people trying to leave, you wouldn’t be surprised if he would have slid down the railing if there weren’t other people there. Nonetheless, it doesn’t take long for him to reach you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Why not?” You tilt your head, smiling slightly. You’re in too good of a mood to outright lie to him.

He blinks. “I thought you hated watching soccer.”

You hold your hands behind your back, swaying playfully. For once, he’s the confused one. “I don’t know what gave you that impression. I really enjoy seeing the Ravens play.”

“But… you said…” He furrows his eyebrows. “Didn’t you say you’ve seen enough soccer games to last your whole life already, or something?” “I changed my mind.” Your phone buzzes in your hand.

B/N: You still in the stands? I’m coming up.

At that, you freeze. Yuta nudges you. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” You’ve kept the fact that your brother is the Ravens’ star striker away from everyone, besides your roommates, and you can’t even begin to imagine how Yuta would react if he found how. What would he think of you? “You can head out without me, Yuta. I’m waiting for someone.” The concerned expression doesn’t leave his face. “Are you sure? It’s kind of late-”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine, I’m-”

“Y/N!”

You turn just in time to see your brother jumping the gate blocking off the entrance to the field from the stands. Most of the stadium has cleared out by now, ushered out by staff, leaving very few people. Your brother has a hoodie on with his team’s colors, the hood up and partially blocking his face from distant onlookers nonetheless. You cringe internally as he jogs up to you, not seeming tired at all, and you greet him as he engulfs you in a warm hug. “Hi, B/N.”

“I’m glad you could make it. It’s not often that I get to play for my favorite sibling.” You’re looking at your brother, but you’re sure that Yuta has a shocked look on his face as he connects the dots. Now that your brother has directly stated who he is to you, there’s no avoiding it. He looks past you and realizes that you’re not alone. “Who’s this?”

“I…” Now that you’re actually looking at Yuta, you realize he’s entirely starstruck. He looks like he’s stuck in one place, his eyes wider than normal and full of awe.

You take over for him. “This is Yuta. He’s my friend from school and our team’s center forward.”

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m B/N! Since Y/N finally decided to show her face at her own team’s games, I heard you guys are doing well this year. Go Lions!” He raises a fist, giving Yuta a sunny smile.

Yuta blinks hard, looking almost like he might pass out. “Y-yeah. We’re doing alright, I guess. Thank you for your support.” He reflexively dips into a shallow bow, making your brother chuckle.

“You don’t have to be so formal. Any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of mine.” He elbows you not-so-gently. “Y/N! Tell me next time you want to bring him. I’ll throw in a second ticket.”

Yuta unfreezes a bit and looks at you. “You don’t bring Yein or Sowon?”

You shrug. “I don’t like to bring only one of them. It feels unfair to the other.”

“Still, I’m glad to see that you’re not lying about having at least one friend.” Your brother gives you a wicked grin and heat fills your cheeks.

“I have friends!” You insist, clenching your fists at your side.

“Do you?” Yuta teases, making you press your lips together in a look of indignation.

Before you can counter him, your brother interjects. “I hate to part with the two of you, but I have to leave.” He steps back, waving a hand at the two of you. “See you!” “I hope you stub your toe on the way out!” You shout back at him as he retreats.

“Hey, this toe is worth a lot of money! Love you, too!”

There’s a period of silence as you watch your brother disappear. Yuta clears his throat. “Do you want to go back?”

“Yeah.” You follow him wordlessly for a while, making your way out of the stadium. He walks by your side, his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t seem upset, just a bit shocked still. As you approach the bus stop, you finally speak up. “Did you come with anyone else?”

“Some of the guys from the team. I told them to go ahead without me so I could talk to you.” Of all the things he’s ever said, that makes your heart feel strange. A tiny flutter of a butterfly’s wings, if you will.

Then, as you make it to the bus shelter, you turn to him, grabbing onto the edge of his sleeve. “Yuta, promise you won’t be weird after this?”

He blinks, not fighting your grip. “Why would I be weird?”

“Just… I don’t really tell people about my brother. I don’t want you to think any differently about me because of it.” This level of vulnerability isn’t something you usually show and it feels foreign, unfamiliar. When you told Sowon and Yein about it, it didn’t feel this way. Yet, standing under the shelter with Yuta, his deep green sleeve in your hand, his eyes on yours, the light of the city falling faintly on your faces, you feel your heart pound even harder in your chest.

“I already liked you before I ever knew that.” He reaches up oh so slowly. You don’t know what he’s going to do. Touch your cheek, pat your head, kiss you? Before you can find out, the bus pulls up with a loud exhale, spewing exhaust. The doors open and the driver looks at you expectantly as you turn and get in. Yuta follows you, silent. Both of you pay your dues and sit down, side by side, his sleeve brushing yours.

You know exactly what it is about him that drives you insane. At the same time, you have no idea. While you don’t want things to be different with him after tonight, you also desperately wish for the opposite. You’re tempted to slap yourself in the face to try and wake yourself up from whatever strange dream you’re happening, but you don’t know how the boy next to you would react.

The ride passes excruciatingly slowly, as does the short walk back to your complex. Finally, as you’re standing in the stairwell, about to part ways with him, he speaks. “Do you want to study together tomorrow?”

At that, such a normal suggestion, you smile. “Sure.”

He reflects your expression. It’s a familiar look on him, which you’re grateful for. “I’ll text you. Goodnight, Y/N.”

The next day is entirely ordinary. It’s like the previous night never happened. Yuta is perfectly normal, perfectly flirty, perfectly infuriating. In fact, the entire week after is normal. You go to the Lions game, cheer on your neighbors, and pretend to be difficult with Yuta after the game. He’s always so hard on himself after his games, remarking on what he believes are the many things he could have done differently to play a better game, despite scoring all of the team’s goals and securing wins every time. You hope that you talking to him afterwards raises his spirits just as much as you enjoy it.

Then, one Saturday, you’re out running when Yuta jogs up to you. Once again, he scares the shit out of you, making you nearly trip. “Hey, Y/N.”

You tear out your headphones, giving him a look. “Have you tried not jumpscaring me?”

The shrug he gives you looks strange, as he’s jogging slowly next to you when he attempts to emote. “It’s kind of funny.” You grumble under breath about showing him what’s funny, and he continues. “Do you want to run together on the weekends?”

“This again?” You say, frowning.

He rolls his eyes. “Listen, I know you’re lonely. Since you come out to my games, I thought I should do you some sort of favor in return.”

“I also help you with your statistics homework.”

“Anyways, you’re in luck because I also don’t have a running partner. It’s a lot easier to set a pace and keep moving if you have someone with you.”

You know he’s right, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. When you’re running, you’re at your most vulnerable - sweaty, tired, out of your element. There’s plenty of reasons you shouldn’t want him to run with you. “You have to run so much faster than I do. I would just slow you down.”

“Not really,” he says, looking at your feet as you jog next to him, “see? We’re both doing fine right now.”

You realize that he’s right. You keep moving wordlessly for a minute, until you speak quietly. “Would you really not mind?”

You focus on his hair bouncing as he takes each step for a while before you look at his face. In the morning sunlight, he gives you a pure smile. “Not at all.”

On Saturdays and Sundays, he’s waiting for you just outside of the complex at seven in the morning with his hair tied up to keep it out of his eyes. He easily matches his pace to yours. He’s always much more awake at that hour than you are, but the quiet encouragement he whispers whenever you slow down help perk you up. It takes you a little while to realize that he’s doing something very similar for you to what you do for him after his games.

It’s a cloudy Sunday morning. Usually, you don’t talk a ton while you’re running together, but it seems that his curiosity has gotten the best of him. “What made you want to start running?”

“Hm?” You hum, snapped out of the world that was just your feet thudding against the ground and the sound of your breathing in your ears. “Do I have to have a reason?”

“People usually don’t just randomly start doing it. Maybe they want to get stronger or lose weight. Maybe they want to impress someone.”

“It’s not about impressing anyone. I’m doing this for me.” You say it firmly, confidently. His pace stutters and he watches you continue forward. There’s something in your voice that makes him incapable of moving, and all he can do is stare at you for a moment, his heart speeding up in his chest for reasons other than the running you’re doing. When you realize he isn’t following, you turn towards him, jogging in place. The way your face is illuminated by the sunlight being cast upon it makes him sure he’s never met someone as incredible as you before in his life. “Are you coming?”

You don’t know what’s up with him. His expression is something you’ve never seen but can’t quite place. He catches up in a few bounds and you resume your run.

The next Friday, you receive a strange text.

Unknown Number: Hey, is this Y/N?

You contemplate whether or not you should respond, but you get a second text.

Unknown Number: This is Mingyu from physics

Now, that’s strange. You start to type out a reply.

Y/N: Hi! What’s up?

Kim Mingyu: I was wondering if you could help me with the lab report from last Friday? I’m having some trouble

Y/N: Sure, do you want to meet in the library later?

Meeting up with someone who you’ve never really talked to before is strange. Mingyu tries to joke with you, but something about them falls flat. You try your best to laugh and help him anyways, figuring it’s just stiffness from interacting with someone new. Though it’s nice to finally have a physics buddy, you’re almost relieved when you go home.

As you approach your complex, you see a small group formed on the lawn outside. Sicheng and Ten are standing on one leg, holding the other leg up and trying to knock each other down. A small smile comes to your face when you realize that Yuta is in the group, cheering for his friends. Around the same time you see him, he sees you and his eyes light up. He’s quickly getting to his feet and bounding towards you. Taeyong calls after him with a frown. “Yuta, you’re next!”

Still, he sidles up next to you as you walk closer to the circle. “Y/N! Where are you coming from?”

“Just the library. Actually, I was meeting up with one of your teammates, Mingyu. We were working on physics.”

The smile he wears twitches downwards for a moment. “I didn’t know you had a class with him.”

“It wasn’t worth mentioning. I never talked to him before today.” You shrug, shifting the backpack on your shoulders. “What are you guys doing?”

“One-legged fight. You should join.” He suddenly has a sadistic gleam in his eye and you take a tiny step away from him.

“And give you an excuse to push me on the ground? No thanks.”

“Aw, Y/N, I’m hurt. You don’t think I would just push you if I really wanted to?” At his proclamation, you shake your head, trying to force down a smile but failing miserably. “I’m kidding, of course. I would never.”

It’s almost sunset and he looks glorious in the golden light, the sun reflecting off of his dark hair and making his eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheekbones. If you were bolder, you might say something about it. Instead, you let out a snort of laughter, looking away from him. From the circle a few yards away, cheers erupt. Ten is curled on the ground, dramatically bemoaning his loss to Sicheng, who stands proudly over him. Taking that as his cue, Yuta gives you a small wave and rejoins his group.

When you enter your apartment with a small, content smile on your face, Yein looks up from her cooking. “Good day?”

“You could say that.”

The next morning, thankfully, is a Saturday. Yuta is waiting for you, looking just as fine in the morning sun as he did in the evening rays. He’s stretching as you approach him. “It looks like it’ll be good weather for the match today.”

“It better be.” He says it lightheartedly, but you can really imagine him threatening the weather. He’s told you that he hates the rain, partly because it makes it unpleasant to play but also just because it dampens his mood. The team is lucky they’ve gotten good weather for the season so far.

As you’re running, you remember what something you needed to ask Yuta about. “Hey, are you free on Wednesday night? My brother offered me two tickets for his game.”

His eyes light up. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, trying to keep your pace steady. “He said he would pull through, so he did. You made a good impression on him.”

“I am totally free. Completely. Did I tell you how free I am that day?” The child-like excitement in his voice makes you smile in return.

“Wow, with how not free you are, I guess I should invite someone else,” you tease and he lets out an uncharacteristic whine.

“Y/N, I know you’re messing with me, but if you take someone else after asking me, I will never forgive you.”

Now it’s your turn to pretend to be offended. “I see how much our friendship means to you, Mr. Nakamoto.”

He sighs dramatically, bringing a hand to his forehead as he acts like he’s going to faint. “You’re so serious.”

You stick out your tongue at him. “You’re such a fanboy.”

“I can’t help it. Your brother is just so cool. I don’t know how you don’t try to hang out with him literally all the time.”

That gives you pause. You feel your feet connect with the earth repeatedly for a minute, thinking about your brother and your complicated but not complicated relationship. You trust Yuta with so many things, so you may as well tell him. “A few weeks ago, when I said I was only doing this for me, I lied. Just a little.” You say, not looking at him. You’ve never really admitted it out loud before. “I want to get good enough to run with my brother. I almost never see him these days, but if I can start getting up to run with him sometimes… it’ll be like when we were kids. Or something. I don’t know.”

“He’s important enough to you that you want to change something about your life to spend more time with him,” Yuta says quietly, keeping pace with you. “I hope he knows how much you care about him.”

“You don’t always need to change to show you love someone. That’s why it was only partly a lie when I said I’m only doing this for myself.” You flash Yuta a smile, which he returns. Though your lungs burn and your legs ache, the air you breathe in is cool and fresh. “I’ll race you back.”

His eyes flash. “Challenge accepted.”

The next time you see Yuta is later that day, at his game. He’s serious, as usual, in the zone. As the season goes on, the bleachers fill up more and more with students eager to see the Lions throw sparks. The games continually get harder, but they manage to clutch this one out with a final score of 3:2.

Despite the win, Yuta still seems somewhat down. Afterwards, you’re about to go up to him to describe the glorious moment when he slid between two of the opponent defenders and scored, but you’re stopped by a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, Y/N.” To your surprise, Mingyu is the one approaching you. He doesn’t take his hand away.

“Oh! Mingyu, hi.” You try to smile at him, but your eyes wander over to Yuta briefly. “Good game today! You guys played solidly.”

“Ha, thanks. Could’ve been better on my part, I’m always looking to improve, you know.”

“I get it,” you respond, nodding.

“Are you possibly free on Wednesday night? We have a lab due on Friday and I just think it would be easier to do if we can work together, ya know?”

“Oh, um, I’m actually busy then.” You force yourself to not look at Yuta. “Does Thursday night work instead?”

“Sure, whatever. I’ll see you then.” The way he squeezes your shoulder once before stepping away to talk to some of his own friends makes your stomach turn. Why is he being so… weird?

Shaking your head, you turn back to who you had intended to greet in the first place, only to find that he had been looking at you already. What’s with the look in his eyes? Why is everyone being so weird? Ignoring the feeling, you join his circle. Yuta moves closer to your side, his arm looping around your waist as he does so, pulling you in slightly. The touch is brief but intimate, sending a bolt of electricity through your body. You swear that you can almost feel the heat of his skin through your clothes. Then, his arm is back at his side like nothing happened. You want to speak up, say what you were planning on saying before, get your mind back on a normal track, but you find that Johnny, Ten, and Jungwoo are already recreating the scene, making Yuta smile through the veil of whatever emotions he’s experiencing right now.

When the entire team heads over to the locker rooms to clean off the shine of sweat and dirt that had been accumulated through the game, you can’t help watching him. As he goes, you catch flashes of his smile while he congratulates his teammates. Something stirs in your heart.

That night, you dream of healing smiles dressed in a lion’s mane of black hair. That same visage is waiting for you the next morning when you go out to run but, here outside of your head, he’s solid, real, more than heated touches and soft caresses. At the same time, he is those things. Or, so you wish him to be.

When you study with him the next night, he is as he usually is, theoretically. Sometimes it feels like his eyes linger longer than usual, his hand rests a little closer, he smiles a little wider. It’s nothing you can confirm because, to any normal gaze, he seems entirely the same. Perhaps you’re confusing yourself into imagining things. Has his flirtatious nature finally tricked your brain into thinking he likes you?

Sometime that evening, you go to the bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror. You pat your face rather harshly to try and drive some sense back into your brain. You should tell him. This new boy who has become so close to you. Why are you afraid of it going wrong? You emerge from the bathroom with the same feelings that you entered it with and, there he is, looking up at your return.

The next day, Tuesday is a brief reprieve from the torture of trying to figure out his feelings through his actions. Then, your brother’s game comes. Your chatter fills the space between you on the bus ride to the stadium, him telling you about the anime he’s watching, you talking about the drama you’re watching in response. He jokes about culturing you by getting you to watch a show with him.

Watching your brother’s game with Yuta at your side is an entirely different experience. While you think you normally have pretty good commentary on your own, he provides an extra edge, excitedly explaining why some players choose to do some things or making observations about small moves that you ordinarily wouldn’t notice. Both of you absorb the atmosphere of the stadium, bursting into cheers whenever something incredible happens, screaming extra loud when your brother scores.

During halftime, when the roar of the audience is less deafening, you realize that you’ve never asked Yuta about his background with soccer before. You nudge him. “Hey, Yuta? How long have you been playing?”

He taps his chin, trying to think back. “Probably since I was five?”

“No wonder you know so much,” you say, “I’m talking to an expert right now.”

“You know too much for just a casual viewer,” he says back, snorting, “don’t tell me you don’t have some experience.”

“I only played a bit when I was younger, but I wasn’t any good. It was always more fun to watch B/N. I ended up just taking care of him whenever he pulled something or fell and scraped his arm… you know.” A wistful smile forms on your face. “It started off as just kissing bruises like my mom would, but then it turned into intense Googling whenever I couldn’t immediately figure out what was wrong with him.”

“Maybe you can kiss my boo-boos whenever I get hurt, too, then.” He’s smirking, the ever-familiar gleam of mischief in his gaze.

You force yourself to roll your eyes at him, ignoring the feeling of your heart jumping in your chest. “You’d better not get hurt, Nakamoto.”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

A few minutes later, the game resumes. This matchup is considerably more difficult than the game you had attended before. Each time the Ravens seem like they’re close to scoring, the opponent defense sends it back towards your end of the field or the goalie successfully blocks it. All the same, your defense and goalie do their jobs, too, leading to a brutal back and forth. By the time the game is over, the only goal that had been scored was the single one your brother got in the first half.

“Ah, that was tense. They almost took it back there for a second.” You stand, stretching your arms behind your back to loosen them up a bit. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure.” Yuta gets up as well, following you as you begin to climb the stairs. “Is your brother not coming to see you this time?”

“He told me he has some press deal after this.” Once you’re in a more open area, Yuta walks next to you instead of behind. You can now see that he’s frowning.

“Does he keep you a secret on purpose?”

“I asked him to.”

“I can’t imagine keeping someone like you hidden like that.” At that strange comment, you stop, looking at him. He seems to be taking the issue very personally.

“It’s easier this way. No one prying into my life, no one asking me for autographs from him all the time. People know who our parents are. What’s so important about an unknown sister?” Is there something else he wants you to say? The look on his face is something you’ve only seen maybe once or twice. He’s in a strange mood, that’s for sure.

“I get it, it’s just…” He sighs, looking at the ground with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Yuta.” He finally meets your eyes. “It’s important to me that what people think about me is what I show them first. I don’t want to be a reflection of my brother, no matter how much I love him.”

“Is he the reason you didn’t want to talk to me at first?” There’s amusement in Yuta’s voice again, that strange seriousness gone.

You start to walk again and he keeps pace. “No, that was just because you woke me up at six in the morning.”

“I guess both of us have experiences that precede our reputations then, huh?”

The bus comes not much later. The previous reminder of how you met has him offering you one side of his earbuds, saying that this would be a better introduction to J-rock than the one you had before. As you listen, you’re tempted to lean your head against his shoulder or take his hand, which is resting oh so close to yours. Instead, you just sit still and look out the window.

After you get off of the bus, the topic of shows you both like makes a return.

“I will take it upon myself to expose you to great art. Are you free tomorrow? We have to start immediately.” Yuta begins to pester you, practically bouncing as you walk.

“Actually, I’m busy tomorrow. I’m working on physics with Mingyu again.” He doesn’t initially not react to your first statement. However, when his teammate’s name comes out of your mouth, he frowns.

“Of anyone…” The sudden change in his attitude catches you off guard. “Why him?”

“I don’t choose who’s in my classes. What’s wrong with you? I thought you got along with your teammates.” You’re nearing your complex at this point. The lamp posts bordering the sidewalk cast long shadows on the ground as you walk.

“In a team context, they’re fine. Usually. Just, that guy…” He’s scowling now, making you frown deeply in return.

“What about him?”

“I don’t know, Y/N.” He pauses, but then his feet stop moving a moment later. “Fuck it, I do know. He’s not a good person. He’s a manipulator. He’s a good manipulator, but he’s bad at lying when you actually confront him-”

“Yuta, you’re being ridiculous. Even if he is, I’m strong enough to take care of myself.”

“Y/N, he was with me at that first game! The one where I found out about your brother? What if he saw? He’s the type to use information like that to get what he wants. What if he-”

“What if he what, Yuta?” You glare at him, anger muddled with some other hurt now filling you. “He hasn’t done anything. He isn’t going to do anything. Our ‘secret’ isn’t going to get out. I can take care of myself.”

With that, you brush past him, into the complex, into your apartment. Thankfully, your roommates aren’t in the common area, so you safely make it to your room. Once you’re there, you shove your face into your pillow. You consider screaming into it, but you know he’s probably in his own room, where he could hear you. Instead, you just heave breath after frustrated breath.

You don’t know why you snapped at him. Actually, you do. It’s the fear that he’s actually doing what he accused Mingyu of. After every word you’ve exchanged, every conversation, you should be confident that he’s not like that. But, you’ve never been in this situation before. What if he…

It’s a stupid notion and you know it. That’s just the surface. Another layer of your feelings peels away. You hate when people are too protective of you. You want to make your own decisions, to learn for yourself. You hate when your brother is too protective of you and you hate when Yuta is.

That’s not even all of it. Finally, you reach the root of your aggression. What right does Nakamoto Yuta have to try and be protective of you when you aren’t even together? Was that the concern of a friend or the concern of a jealous lover?

You curl in on yourself even more tightly, breathing through the pillow under your face. No one has ever flirted with you as much as he has. You’ve never been so ridiculously on and off with someone before. Still, neither of you are willing to answer the question. You’ve never actually fought like this with him before.

Perhaps he hates you now that you’ve thrown his warnings back in his face.

The next day, after your classes, you force yourself to go to the library to meet Mingyu, Yuta’s words heavy in your mind. As you work, you can tell he’s still trying desperately to get on your good side, even emanating Yuta in a strange, off-balance way. It’s not amusing when he does it.

Finally, the subject you’ve been dreading comes.

“Are you a fan of the Ravens? I think I saw you at one of their games once.”

You swallow back disappointment. Mingyu is the worst fear of your insecure self and you finally have to come face to face with it. “I guess you could say that.”

To your surprise, he doesn’t take it farther than that. If Yuta’s right about him, then it’s probably just one piece of a larger goal. Though you never cared much for Mingyu, it doesn’t feel good to see things begin to unfold.

Not seeing him for two days in a row brings your mood down more than you’d like to admit. At the same time, you’re not ready to apologize yet. You don’t know what exactly is happening on his end, you never know, so when you go outside to run at your normal time on Saturday, you half expect him to be there.

He isn’t. And you don’t run into him on your way back, either. The game it is, then.

As the day progresses, the sky gets increasingly cloudy. In the evening, when the Lions and their opponent team are out on the field running final drills, it’s easy enough to tell that a good number of people had looked at the forecast - the crowd in the bleachers is much thinner than usual. The sky could open up and pour its soul out onto all of you at any moment.

You don’t even bother pretending that you’re not watching Yuta. As he steps off the field for their usual pre-game pep talk and chant, you swear he makes eye contact with you. Normally, he wouldn’t even bother looking, because he’s usually confident that you’re there. You’re not sure what the look in his eyes is now.

The coin toss decides that the other team will start with the ball. That might have been the first omen about the game. Then again, maybe the other team is just… better. Their defense is at least tighter than yours. At halftime, they have a point up on the Lions, 0:1. Yuta seems to take this very, very personally. Within ten minutes of the game restarting, they tie the score back up.

At about three quarters of the way through, it begins to rain. The referee deems that they’ve played far to stop, so the match continues. Almost like they take the poor weather as a sign, the rival team scores nearly immediately after.

You pathetically huddle under a single umbrella with Sowon while Yein shares one with Johnny. The ball slips rather than flies around the field, back and forth, back and forth, until, finally, with barely any time to spare, it’s at Yuta’s feet. The world seems to move in slow motion, then. His right foot moves backwards. It swings forwards. He makes contact.

He misses.

You try not to gasp. Yuta himself seems to be in shock, with how he goes stiff for a moment. Then, he’s back in action, targeting where the goalie had thrown the ball. This time, it’s not enough. A minute later, after another brutal back and forth, the scream of the whistle soars above the sound of the rain. It’s over. The Lions have met their first loss of the season.

The two teams barely wait around to shake hands before they’re rushing off to the locker rooms, away from the rain. Yuta moves slower than the rest, seeming to drag his feet through the muddying grass. Ahead of him, all of his teammates are moving quickly, but moping nonetheless. From your position, you see Mingyu kick the shins of someone you recognize to be one of the younger players. You see Kun’s mouth move as he tells him off, but they’re far enough away and the rain is loud enough that you can’t hear. If you hadn’t been displeased already, you are now.

Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right?

“You guys can go back,” you say, taking a step out from under the umbrella after you’re out of the bleachers with your friends. When Sowon tries to shove her umbrella in your hands, you push it back. “I’ll be fine! It’s only a short distance.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“Don’t worry.” With a sigh, she turns, reluctantly walking back behind Yein and Johnny.

You take off running, trying to outpace the raindrops pelting you. By the time you make it beneath the slight sheltered roof of the locker room building, you’re damp, but not entirely soaked. It’s enough to be an annoyance, your clothes sticking slightly to your skin.

You wait outside for a good few minutes. Small groups of players from either team leave, the opponent players giving you strange looks as you lean against the wall and shiver, Baekho and his group giving you an awkward acknowledgement, and, finally, Mingyu emerges.

“Y/N?” He seems confused, but somewhat excited. As if you’re there to meet him.

“Mingyu. Answer one question for me.” You say it wearily, expressing it like the chore it is.

“What are you acting so weird for?” The excitement you glimpsed before dies.

“Were you going to use me to get in good with my brother?”

The rain is the only sound you hear for a couple solid heartbeats. “Y/N, listen…”

“He was right…” You grumble to yourself. You glare up at him. “You can do your physics labs by yourself. Delete my number.”

He stands before you for a moment more before he realizes that you’re serious. He turns and walks away, into the haze of the downpour. A minute later, Jaehyun and Kun emerge from the building.

“Oh, Y/N,” Jaehyun says, seeming surprised. “Are you waiting for Yuta?”

“Is it that obvious?”

The two of them exchange looks and smile. Kun speaks next. “He’s probably not coming out for a while. He usually gets all depressed when we lose a game, but I’ve never seen it this bad. He’s been standing in the shower for like fifteen minutes.”

You glance at the door. Jaehyun nudges you. “He’s the only one left in there. I wouldn’t tell anyone if you, say, went in right now.”

“A bonafide cupid right here,” Kun says, swinging the bag he has slung over his shoulder around so he can dig through it. He produces something, offering it to you. “Here.”

“What is…” You trail off as you take it from him, your face warming as you realize exactly what it is. “Kun, what is this?!”

“I don’t want any miniature versions of him running around. I’m always prepared.” You stare at Kun incredulously a beat longer before you shove the condom in your damp pocket.

“Good luck!” Jaehyun calls back to you as they begin to walk off, leaving you standing under the overhang. Taking a deep breath, you push open the door and walk inside.

Unsurprisingly, the place has a somewhat sweaty smell to it. The rows of lockers are labeled with names and a little image depicting the sport the owner plays, as all of the school’s teams use the same locker room, and the occasional miscellaneous socks, gloves, and other things are scattered about. A row of sinks is against one wall and past the sinks is an entrance into the shower area. You make your way there.

As you get closer, the distinct sound of one shower running gets louder. The only curtain that’s closed is a middle stall, all of the others open and empty. Parallel to the shower stalls is a long wooden bench. “Yuta?” You call out. He doesn’t respond, so you try again. “Yuta?”

“Go away.” This time, the response is sharp and harsh. He certainly is in a mood.

“Yuta, it’s me.”

“Y/N?” His voice is significantly less negative now. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you.”

You can barely hear him sigh over the sound of the shower running. “You couldn’t wait until after I was done?”

“No.” When you say that, the water shuts off. A hand sneaks out to grab the towel hanging from a hook affixed to the partition between the stalls. You don’t see anything revealing, but you look away anyways. The scraping of the rings being drawn back tells you he has emerged from the stall.

“You can look at me, you know.”

“I didn’t want to be rude.” You look back, greeted with the sight of his gloriously wet hair and bare torso. He emerged quickly enough that he didn’t have time to dry much of the water dripping off of him. The only part of his body that’s covered is his waist and thighs, though the towel still reveals a tantalizing v-line. You forcibly swallow your thirst.

“Blatantly checking me out again? I get it, but would it kill you to be less obvious?” The comment throws you back to a simpler time, when you were just irritated with him for his cockiness and blasting music through the floor.

“Speak for yourself.” You cross your arms. It was obvious enough that he was enjoying the sight of you in a wet t-shirt and shorts.

“Why didn’t you wear something warmer?” He says, frowning. He steps closer, leaving little space between you.

“I didn’t think it would cool down this much.” You look away, not able to face his bare chest quite yet. The room still has a certain steam about it from the hot shower he was taking that makes it a little harder to breathe. Then again, maybe that’s just him being mostly naked in front of you. He reaches out, touching the hem of your shirt.

“You’re soaked,” he says, rubbing your shirt between his thumb and index finger.

“You’re just making me wetter.” Your face burns something fierce as you say it, contrasting the chill that had settled over your skin from standing outside. “You would think you’d dry yourself off more before getting out of the shower.”

“I was just eager to see you, I guess.” You finally have the courage to meet his eyes again.

“I missed you this morning.” You almost pout while saying it, feeling small under his gaze. It’s not an uncomfortable smallness, but one that makes you feel closer to him.

“I figured you didn’t want to see me.” He reaches out, brushing his fingers softly over the side of your face. His touch is blissfully warm. “Or, I think that you did want to see me, but you would only be angrier if I showed up.”

The thought almost makes you laugh. It would be one of the few times he’s been wrong about your feelings. But, if he always knows so much… “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I talked to Mingyu a few minutes ago and you were right. I should have trusted you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you handle it on your own.” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. “You’re strong enough to deal with assholes like him. You don’t need me.”

“I might not need you, but I do want to keep you around.” The small confession has your bottom lip quivering. “Did I mess up your game today?”

“It was mostly the rain.” He sounds so nonchalant, but you can tell he’s still bothered. “Not you. But, if you do feel bad about it, Miss Physical Therapy, there is something you can do for me.”

His eyes have shifted away from their darkness into a different sort of moodiness. You step closer. “What is it?”

He moves back, taking a heavy seat on the bench. “I’m quite tense. Give me a massage.” His eyes bore into yours. “If you so choose.”

You step behind him. The thrill of what you feel like he’s implying thrums in your veins. The muscles of his shoulders and back are hard under your fingers, showing years of training and toning. You’re almost surprised at how well built his upper body is for a soccer player. His skin is beyond perfect too, and the little droplets of water from his steamy shower that settle on his skin glisten temptingly in the low light of the locker room.

“Sorry my hands are cold,” you practically whisper.

“It’s fine. Feels nice.” He wasn’t lying when he said he was tense - you can feel the knots leaving his muscles as you press down on them, dissolving into smooth flesh that’s soft to the touch. As you work along his back, one particularly tough knot has your thumbs pressing harder into him, drawing a low groan and a curse from his throat. “Fuck.”

The sound turns you on more than you’d like to admit. As you finish his back, you become even more hyper aware of the little noises he’s letting out, the space between you becoming noticeably warmer. Slowly, reluctantly, your hands leave his skin and you circle back towards his front, not quite wanting to look him in the eye. “Is that better?”

“Much.” The air feels heavy. “But you’re not done, yet.” Ordinarily, he’d be smirking so hard you’d be able to hear it in his voice, but there’s only a low command to his tone now. He reaches out, guiding your dominant hand forward so that it’s resting on the front of his shoulder. There’s no hiding from his eyes now. You decide then - if you’re going to do this, you might as well go all out. Sliding onto his lap, your knees pressing into the wooden bench on either side of him, makes you feel both powerful and small at the same time. His face is only a breath away from your own. You swear you can see his eyes flicker to your lips. Trying to play innocent, despite the fact that you can basically feel his dick hardening under his thin towel, you shift slightly, putting your focus on his shoulder and pectoral muscles. Every so often, you readjust yourself, purposefully bouncing slightly on his lap, almost grinding down on him. He doesn’t crack, remaining still and keeping his expression flat. The only signs he gives of being aroused are the slight shiver to his breath and the prominent bulge you’re now certain you can feel. That, and the hands he has on your body, one on your hip and one on your thigh, fixing you in place.

The process is slow, arduous, but you eventually finish with his pectoral and shoulder muscles. You pull your hands away, placing them in your lap and then sitting back, unmoving on his lap, reveling in the way you’ve very clearly made him feel. “Is that all?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips again before boring into your own. “You missed one spot.” Wordlessly, he reaches up, tapping his own lips.

You could walk away right now. His hands aren’t so tight on your body that you couldn’t just get up and leave, go back to your apartment and forget this ever happened. But why would you want to? You’ve been dreaming of his lips for weeks. Finally, you’re about to get a taste. Still, there’s an edge of apprehension digging slightly in your gut.

You’ve sat in silence for long enough that he’s opening his mouth, an apology about to leave his lips, when you swoop forward, pressing your lips to his.

Where he had given you the choice to initiate, he’s the one who really leads. He almost instantly deepens the kiss, dragging you even farther up his lap, pressing you hard against his barely-shielded dick. You feel his fingertips against your skin, under the hem of your top.

“Do you want this?”

“Yes, but-” Where his hands had stilled under your shirt they begin to move again. “Yuta, wait.” He freezes once more, looking up at you. If you didn’t know better, you could swear you see a little bit of fear in his eyes. A shaky breath leaves your lips. “I won’t fuck you unless you tell me you actually have feelings for me. Did you mean what you said back then? After the games?”

“Is that a requirement for all the guys you sleep with or am I special?” You can feel his cock throbbing under you and your own insides ache in response. Of course, he’s delaying what both of you want by being coy. The frustration building up in your gut and in your heart makes you feel like you’re going insane.

“Yuta…” You mean it to sound admonishing, but your tone is more akin to a whine as you lightly drag your nails down his chest. His breath stutters slightly in his lungs at the motion, but in that moment, a sort of gentleness you’ve rarely seen takes over his facade.

“You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” he breathes out, eyes locked with yours, “how could I not have feelings for you?”

You kiss him, sweetly, desperately. His hands begin to move once more, his fingertips digging ever so slightly into your skin. When his hands make it to the edge of your shirt, giving you a suggestion, you cover them with your own, guiding him to take it off. As soon as the garment is out of the way, his lips are on your neck, your collar, the soft skin of your chest. He can feel the hum of your voice through your breast as you speak. “I really like you, Yuta. More than I’ve ever liked anyone else.”

His fingers nimbly unclasp your bra and it falls to the ground somewhere. As his touch ghosts over your breasts, you arch into his hand, drawing a warm chuckle from him. “That’s good,” he says, thumbing slow circles over your nipples, “because I feel the same way about you.”

You pull him back to your mouth, pulling him as close as you possibly can, breathing him like he’s air, tasting him like he’s food. His tongue is slick against your bottom lip, against your own tongue. Almost unconsciously, you rock your hips against his bulge as you move. Impatiently, he tugs at your shorts, pulling you out of the kiss.

“These have to come off.”

“It would kill you to go slow for once,” you laugh, getting off of his lap on shaky legs.

“I go slow for you all the time,” he responds, shifting the towel at his waist, which you realize is barely holding onto him from all the grinding you were doing on his lap, “I’ve been going slow for months now. Isn’t it time to speed things up?”

You roll your eyes, but shimmy out of your shorts, leaving you in your panties and him in his towel. From this angle, he can truly appreciate you. Every curve, every beauty mark, every fold and crease on your body. He leans back, his hands bracing him against the bench. Then, he shifts forward abruptly, taking the opportunity to snap the elastic of your underwear against your skin.

“Yuta!” The cry is half an admonition, half a laugh. You move to push his shoulder gently and he catches you by the hand, pulling you on top of him and kissing you once again. Before you realize it, he has a sneaky hand slipping into your panties, touching you where you’re most sensitive, making you jolt against his hand.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs the words against your lips and you nod, trying to focus on kissing him through the pleasure of his fingers. It’s been far too long since anyone has touched you like this and you’re not used to it.

“Mm,” you moan back, “more than okay.”

He had said he wanted to go faster, but it seems like he’s just going so slow, making you fall apart on his hand, first with just a thumb on your clit, then two fingers pushed more deeply inside of you than you could ever reach yourself. At some point, you’re no longer kissing him and your cheek is pressed to his instead. You nip at his ear, which you now realize is pierced, and the damp spikeyness of his hair rests against your temple.

His free hand rests over your breast, rhythmically squeezing it as you ride his fingers. Oddly enough, you feel like he predicts your climax before even you do, working you carefully through the release of pleasure as you shudder against him and clench around his fingers. Before you can fully regain your senses, he’s kissing you again and removing his hand, wiping his sticky digits against the towel slipping from his waist. You figure you’ll finish the job, reaching down to untwist the cloth so that it falls open against the bench.

You continue kissing him as you take his dick in your hand, your thumb sliding over the precum beading at his tip. It’s his turn to shiver, his cock twitching in your hand. Giving it slow, purposeful jerks, you watch him become perfectly uncomposed under you and you grin, leaning closer to press a kiss to the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He’s stiff, but remarkably soft to the touch, veiny and thick enough that your mouth waters. A couple minutes pass before he’s encasing your hand in his own, slowing your movement.

“I don’t want to come in your hand.” You stop, looking at him with faux-innocent eyes. He blinks desperately at you. “Please.”

“Can I suck you off later?” The words leave your mouth unexpectedly. You hadn’t even really been thinking about the later, but you figure you’re safe to assume that there will be one.

“Of course, pretty girl.” He strokes your hair and you can just think about him holding it back in the future as he-

Trying to distract yourself from the later and focus on the now, you slide off of his lap once again. He almost seems confused, made lonelier by the tiniest distance you put between the two of you. It’s almost a funny image, him half pouting at you while his dick is out, standing up against his abdomen and completely exposed. You let out the smallest exhale of a laugh. “You showed me yours, so I figured I would show you mine.” Your panties fall to the ground, where you kick them in the general direction of the rest of your clothes. The sight of your shorts reminds you of another important thing. “Oh! Also!”

You scramble over to them, reaching into the pocket and producing the little foil packet. Yuta stares at you. “You’re… prepared? I didn’t even think this far ahead and half the time my brain is controlled by my-”

“Kun gave it to me before I came in here,” you say, waltzing back over to him. He takes the packet from your hand, tearing it open. You… give him a hand as he rolls it on. “He’s awfully ready for a great many situations, isn’t he?”

“I think he was expecting this to happen a lot earlier than it actually did, honestly,” Yuta responds, pulling you back on top of him for the third time. Once again, your knees rest on the hard wood bench. “Can we not talk about my roommate, please?”

“I can agree to that.” You smile, kissing him. “Can we talk about how much I like you instead?”

“We can always talk about that,” he says, one hand on his dick, one on your hip, “are you ready?”

The mood dips, making your body shiver in anticipation again. “Yes.”

The way he positions his cock and begins to push into you makes both of you let out noises of relief, a groan from him and a sigh from you. You sink down onto him further until he’s fully sheathed inside of you, hard and pulsing and ungodly warm. He gives an experimental buck of his hips, pulling a moan from your lips and shaping his into a cocky smirk. “Already feel that good?”

“Shut up,” the complaint dies in your throat as you lift yourself up on your knees and sink back down again, bouncing on his lap slightly. You focus on the feeling of him inside of you, the sensation of him hitting your G-spot, the touch of his fingers on your clit again. His breath mingles with yours whenever he takes a break from kissing you. Your hands wander the smooth planes of his chest, your thumb briefly ghosting over his nipple, your palms getting sweatier as you hold onto him. It’s not long before you let your head fall back, your thighs tense as you hold onto his shoulders and move up and down on top of his cock.

His lips are hot as he mouths your neck. You’re not usually the type for marking, but, honestly, the thought of wearing his hickey on your skin sounds beyond appealing. He introduces the slightest bit of teeth, grazing them over your pulse as you ride him. The trail of tiny nips goes down past your collarbones to your breast. Your heart beats loudly in your ears and the desperation of chasing your orgasm makes the passage of time feel fuzzy, but in the sweet, bubbly way a soda does rather than the heavy, blurry way a cold would.

“Yuta,” you whine, the knocking of your legs against the bench growing painful, “can you…”

“I got you, baby.” With a grunt, he stands, lifting you by the thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close. A breath later, your back is pressed to the wall and he’s pushing into you once again. The new angle is a change, and it’s a good change. Every one of his thrusts hits exactly right, pushing you further and further until-

“Yuta, you’re gonna make me...” you pant against his mouth, breathing the same air as him. At some point, after he had picked you up, you had reconnected your lips, and he swallows the little noises you let out hungrily. You clench and unclench your fists behind his back, as your arms are slung over his shoulders.

“Mm, good. That’s my girl.”

All you can think as he pounds into you is Yuta, Yuta, Yuta. You come undone with a final swipe of his thumb and a choked cry of his name. Once your own orgasm has stopped burning quite so bright, lowering to a comfortable simmer in your gut, his hips slow with each thrust until he pushes into you and stays there. You can feel him throb inside of you even through the condom.

Your skin feels like it’s glowing in the aftermath of his love, warm like coals after a fire has just ceased to burn. Warm with the promise of more flames in the future. You lean your face in the junction of his shoulder and neck, breathing love onto his skin. His deep, uneven breaths slow over time as he presses gentle kisses to the exposed flesh of your shoulder. The silence between you is only interrupted by the ambient sound of water flowing through pipes hidden in the concrete walls of the shower part of the locker room. That’s enough of a reminder for you to groan, clutching onto him tighter. “I can’t believe we just confessed and fucked in your sweaty locker room.”

“From my perspective, it’s more ‘wow, I can’t believe we finally confessed and fucked, even if it was in my sweaty locker room.’” That, at the very least, makes you smile. Slowly, he begins to pull out, separating from you with a sticky, wet sound. He backs up, turning so that he can place you gently on the towel still lying on the bench. He disposes of the used rubber quickly, throwing it in a trash can at one end of the room.

Now that he’s no longer touching you, it feels so much colder. “I feel bad for whoever has to clean this place. I hope they don’t find that.”

He shrugs. “I’m sure they’ve seen worse.” He makes his way back to you, naked body still on full, glorious display for your eyes only. “Wanna shower while we’re here?”

You groan. “Yuta, I’m tired. No funny business.”

“Who said anything about any ‘funny business?’ I just suggested we clean off the sweat from all that physical exertion.” He’s smirking, not even pretending to be innocent.

“You’re insatiable.” Still you get up, joining him in the shower stall that he holds open for you. If any follow up activity happens while you’re in there, the only way anyone on the outside would be able to tell would be from the quiet sounds that are mostly drowned out by the noise of the shower.

As you finally redress, accepting the hoodie that Yuta had in his locker so that you don’t have to put your wet shirt back on, he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you, like he’s afraid you’ll go away. The environment between you feels different, but the same. After you’re both fully dressed and start walking out the door, you reach out to take his hand. He accepts the action, interlocking his fingers with yours. Both of you stop under the overhang of the building. By now, the sun has set and a few street lights shine along the walkways of the campus through the haze of rain. “Yuta, are you my boyfriend?”

He blinks a couple times. “Wasn’t that implied?”

You turn away, suddenly shy. “I mean… I just… wanted to clarify…”

“You’re too good for me.” He laughs, then kisses your cheek. Both of you stare out of the rain, as if it’s going to suddenly stop just because you’re politely waiting for it. “I meant it. Every time.”

“Hm?”

“Every time I said I liked you, or that you’re amazing. I was just afraid of- I don’t know. That I’m not honest enough or nice enough, or even good enough at soccer. I just-” He seems so tired as he says it, so brutally truthful, so terribly self-doubting.

You squeeze his hand. “Yuta, it’s okay. Honestly, all this time, I thought you’re too good for me. You’re so much more than the things you say you are. You’re a star.”

“I’m not. I can be an asshole, and jealous, and not serious even when I should be-”

“Yuta, if you like me despite all of my ridiculous bad qualities, I’m pretty sure I can deal with a little jealousy. You’ve shown me who you are and I still like you. You’re loyal and funny and romantic and so many other things. I like you.”

He sighs sweetly, like he was holding in a breath for so long and is finally letting it out. He’s holding your hand so tightly, it feels like he might never let go. Right now, you think you might be okay with that. “Sorry. I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”

You peer into others’ eyes for a long time, content to just look. Then, the cold finally gets to your legs and you shiver, scooching slightly closer to him. You look out. The rain isn’t getting any better. “Do you want to run? To make up for us not going together this morning?”

He doesn’t even respond. He just glances at you, winks, and tugs at your hand, starting to go. The rain pelts you as you go, utterly soaking you, getting in your shoes, darkening your borrowed hoodie. His hair sticks to his forehead, making him look a bit like a wet kitten. Maybe a lion, more accurately. Still, in the passing lights and the sheen of the rain, he glows.

“Yuta?” You say between shallow breaths.

“Yeah?” He keeps going, keeps tugging you along. You have to work to keep up with him, pumping your legs hard.

“Do you want to go professional?”

He looks back at you quickly, but then turns forward. “I would.”

“I really think you could do it!”

Then he’s laughing, truly, mirthfully. “That’s the second best thing you’ve said to me today!”

At that, you’re laughing too, though it slows your pace, though it makes your lungs burn, though it helps rain water run into your mouth. When you make it to your complex, soaked through, looking like you just took a swim in your clothes, you don’t want to let go. Reluctantly, both of you part ways to change clothes in your respective apartments with the promise to meet soon and start Yuta’s effort to culture you with anime.

Sowon and Yein tease you relentlessly, both when you enter your apartment leaving puddles on the ground and when you leave again ten minutes later completely dry. They tease you for the next week whenever they catch you leaving if they know you don’t have classes. The next Friday, you end up staying up far too late watching one of Yuta’s shows, which you admit are at the very least fun, and you fall asleep in his bed. You’re sure you’ll never hear the end of it from your roommates, even if Yein has been staying in the volleyball boys’ apartment every other day for the last month.

In the morning, a mere three hours after you and Yuta went to sleep, you wake up in his arms to a strange blaring of J-rock. He reaches over you to slap his phone and shut it off. You stay awake just long enough to comment on how strange it is hearing the music next to you and not through the floor.

When you wake up around noon to Yuta staring at you, his bangs half covering his eyes, you flip over, checking the time so that he can’t see the absolutely embarrassed look on your face. “You’re so weird.” “Why are you being all shy? I’ve seen you naked. There’s nothing more to see.”

“There’s plenty more of me to see, thank you very much, Nakamoto Yuta.”

“I know there is, darling.” His arm is still slung over your torso like it was when the alarm went off and he tries to wrestle you back around to face him. You squirm in his hold.

“Darling? You’re so weird. Why are you so weird?”

“Weird? I thought I was romantic and funny and-”

“And weird!” You wiggle more until he flips you onto your back, straddles you, and pins your hands to the bed. It’s quite an incredible sight, him pinning you down with his raven hair a complete mess and no shirt, where you can faintly see marks that you may or may not have left on his chest earlier in the week. “No fair. Home ground advantage.”

He leans in, looking ever so charming despite his disheveled appearance. “You know what makes for great morning exercise?”

“You’re weird and a horndog and-”

“Running! Let’s go.” He suddenly rises up, taking one of your hands with him and pulling you into a sitting position.

“Yuta, it’s noon! There are going to be people out everywhere.” He tugs on your hand and you move so that you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. “And it’s Saturday, so there’s going to be even more people…”

“You don’t need to worry about people judging you. If anyone gives you any funny looks, I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Punt a soccer ball at their heads?” You’re standing now, looking at him uncertainly.

He shrugs. “Sure. But, seriously. I promise that you have nothing to be self conscious about. You also have me. That part most importantly.” You would smack him if the smile he gives you doesn’t have you reluctantly agreeing.

He’s right, of course. The run is completely fine. At least, you’re distracted enough by your boyfriend for it to be fine. When you return, you split off to take showers in your apartments. After you emerge from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around your body, you find him waiting in your room. You register him saying something about the tables turning and “great afternoon exercise” before he practically pounces on you.

Afterwards, through your sex-high haze, you hear a loud knocking on your front door. Groaning, you move only so much as to press your face into Yuta’s shoulder. “Don’t wanna get up…”

“Did I make you feel that good?” His voice is a warm rumble, teasing, though full of the same tiredness that yours has. You’re about to jab him lightly in the side when his hand shifts down, two of his fingers running through your folds. Shivering at the suggestion, you wiggle closer to him, hiding your face even more.

“Let me rest, you sex-fiend.” Before he can reply, there’s a few more insistent knocks at your door. “Ugh…”

“Were you expecting someone?” You shake your head against him. He reaches over and grabs your phone. “I heard this going off earlier while we were busy.” You make no move to take it from him, so he turns it on, his eyes scanning the recent chain of texts you’d just received. “It’s your brother.”

You immediately bolt straight up. “What?” Your mind ticks back to the previous day before you’re scrambling out of bed. “Shit, shit, shit, I forgot he was coming today!” As quickly as you can, you try to throw on the various items of clothing that had gotten scattered around the room in your - Yuta’s, more accurately - haste to move them off of the bed, where you had laid them out for after your shower.

Yuta stretches lazily. “Glad I could remind you.”

“Asshole, get clothes on! He’ll kill you if he figures out what we did!”

“Ah, to be killed by L/N B/N. You say ‘what we did’ like it’s a bad thing.”

“He’s my older brother, for God’s sake!” You throw a shirt at him, smacking him in the face. “He will murder you! If he doesn’t murder me for forgetting our plans first…”

“And your plans are?” He slips his arms through the sleeves of his shirt, slipping it on.

“I’m taking him to see your game. Maybe meet the team. Who knows? You won’t be able to see it if you don’t move your ass.” You finish putting your jeans on.

“I’ve never escaped through a window before, but it sounds fun.” He’s still smirking, clearly amused. You’re certain he would actually do that if you let him.

“On second thought, just stay here. I won’t let him into my room.” Your phone lights up with your brother’s face and number and starts to buzz. You pick it up. “Sorry, I’m coming! I was napping.” You hang up. “Please, Yuta?”

He steps into his own jeans. “That’s what I was planning on. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to incapacitate myself before the game.”

With that reassurance, you close the door to your room and head for the apartment door. Your brother, clad in a hat, hoodie, and jeans, weirdly normal for him, is standing in front of your door, his phone in his hand. He narrows his eyes. “Hi, Y/N. For a second there, I really thought you forgot about our plans. Who takes a nap on a Saturday afternoon?”

You step aside, letting him in. “I was just tired today for some reason. Sorry.” “You’re lucky you’re my favorite.” He walks in, sliding off his shoes next to yours. “Are your roommates home? It’s been a while since I’ve seen them.”

“No, but they’ll be at the game later. You won’t miss them.” You stand there, swaying somewhat awkwardly. You’re sure that he’s noticed that you’re acting strangely. “Who let you into the lower doors?”

Your brother steps inside casually. “Your neighbor Jaehyun. Nice kid.”

“Y-Yeah. He’s one of our midfielders.”

“I guess I’ll get to see him in action soon, then. Where near here is good for something quick? We only have an hour and a half until the game.”

You’re thankful for a change in subject. “Depends what you want to eat! Think about it while I run to the bathroom?”

As you head there, you glance at your closed door. You feel kind of bad for leaving him in there, but it’s for his own protection. When you get back to the door, your brother is in the same place, staring at the shoes around the entry. He points at a pair of men’s shoes, which you realize with dawning horror are Yuta’s.

“Y/N? Whose shoes are these?”

“Oh! Those are, um, Johnny’s. Yein’s boyfriend.”

He deadpans. “Johnny. Your neighbor. The one who lives right across from you. Who is dating your roommate who isn’t here right now.” When you don’t respond, he sighs. “Y/N, it would be a lot easier to lie to me if you didn’t tell me so much in the first place. Who’s in your room? I know you hate closing your door if you’re not sleeping.”

Reluctantly, you walk to your room, cursing observant soccer players. Yuta looks mildly surprised to see you, and you walk over to where he’s sitting on your bed, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him over to your brother. If he’s afraid of your brother, he doesn’t show it.

“Yuta, was it?” He’s still expressionless. “I’ll have you know that there’s a few rules.” Before Yuta can even ask about the rules, he’s launching into a detailed explanation about consequences, saying something about maiming and making it look like an accident.

“B/N, you’re a professional now. You should really try not to say such scary stuff. Also,” you say, frowning, “I can handle myself. You know that by now.”

Yuta breaks his silence. “She really can. She’s strong enough to deal with anything.”

“You really believe that?” Your brother’s gaze is unyielding.

“I do.”

“Well, then.” He suddenly lightens up, smiling at the two of you. “Want to join us for dinner? I’m thinking noodles.”

“I actually have to get to warm-ups soon…” Yuta says regretfully.

“That’s a good boy. See, Y/N, I trust your judgement. We best be off, then.” Abruptly, your brother turns, putting his shoes back on. You scramble to join him, grabbing your things and putting your own shoes on.

“I’ll see you later?” You say to Yuta, who’s simply staring, somewhat shell shocked that he survived the encounter.

He blinks, then gives you a sort of smirk. “How about a kiss for-”

“Don’t push it.” Your brother cuts him off, standing in the doorway. He starts down the stairs. When he’s not looking, you lean over, pressing your lips to Yuta’s cheek. Before you can turn around, he sneaks one of his own onto your lips. You run after your brother.

He thoroughly grills you about Yuta during dinner, but you don’t mind. You keep out the parts about sex and the specifics of the relationship coming to fruition and he seems satisfied. You barely make it to the game in time because of your brother’s interrogation, but you still get there early enough to see some of the drills. In work mode, he crosses his arms, making approving comments about Yuta’s footwork. Your boyfriend is in a similar mood, already focused in.

Then, the game starts. The other team starts with the ball, but it makes no difference. The Lions take it back, sending it back and forth across the field, gaining and losing it, until Yuta, as usual, scores, redeeming himself from the previous week. Your brother says something under his breath about potential and skill. Through the game, the Lions make great plays and you find yourself cheering for all of them, even Mingyu. The rival team stands no chance - not for lack of skill, but simply because your team is determined. By the end of the game, the score is a solid 3:0.

You’re one of the first onto the field after the teams break away from shaking hands. You meet Yuta in the middle, jumping on him in a hug when you reach him. You can’t stop the outpouring of praise, telling him how well he played, how brilliant he was. He just laughs, telling you he did his best. It’s the most positive thing you’ve heard from him after a game.

When you let go of him, willing to let the rest of his friends surround him now, you step away in search of your brother. To your surprise, he’s chatting up the Lions’ coach, who seems somewhat flustered by the Ravens’ striker speaking to him. Before you can get close, the coach blows the whistle he has around his neck, getting the attention of everyone around him, but particularly the team.

“Boys! Gather round, we have someone here with something to say to you.”

It doesn’t take long for them to recognize who your brother is.

It’s funny seeing the team rush to your brother, some pretending to be cool, some openly fawning over him. But, there’s one person who isn’t looking at him. From across the mob forming around your brother, you make eye contact with Yuta. And, in the midst of the stars shining in the form of the Raven, the Lion’s light falls on you.

[vrishchikawrites]

Hello, this is the prompt I wanted to send you.

WangXian fic set during the sunshot compaign after one of their famous fights. They stumble upon an array that shows the future and It activated when WWX touched it. The array started showing glimpses of married and in love WX going on dates (yunmeng date), night hunting together, kissing, pillowtalks and aftercare, adopting children, teaching at the CR... YLLZ! WWX feeling jealous and bitter and not understanding why. The reveal that LWJ's husband is WWX, his falling out with the Jiang sect and JC's role in his death. Basically a fic where YLLZ! WWX finds out that after all these hardships he is finally going to be happy, have his own family and be with the love of his life where he is loved, cared for, respected and appreciated. And longing to have that future with LWj.

It can be a fix it fic with a happy ending please.

Posted on Ao3 here

Alternating POV - Wei Wuxian - Lan Wangji - Wangxian - A bit angsty with happy ending - Mature. Betaed by Moonyju.

I hear your heart beating in your chest

Wei Wuxian isn't the one to dwell on the past or look towards the future. He lives every day as it comes and faces every challenge without carrying burdens forward.

He has never planned for his future, not really. Some vague dreams here and there, but nothing real. Wei Wuxian learned at the tender age of four that the future is unpredictable. One day you wake up to your mother's warm smile and your father's gentle words. The next day, you have lost those things forever. Life has proven this to him repeatedly.

Future is uncertain, present is the only certainty Wei Wuxian believes in.

So, when he and the illustrious Second Jade of Lan stumble into an array while rescuing a few civilians. An illusion of sorts surrounds him, obscuring the real world outside the array. He doesn’t pay much attention to what it reveals. Instead, he focuses his attention on the array itself, carefully examining its intricacies. A single glance is enough to tell it is some sort of temporal array, a shade of what cultivators use for preservation purposes. But it also seems to have some form of an illusionary element to it. He tilts his head to the side and crouches down to study it.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan calls, almost in warning but Wei Wuxian is content to ignore him for once. Lan Zhan has always drawn too much of his attention and it rankles now more than ever.

Another quarrel, another needless argument about Wei Wuxian not understanding the depth and implications of his actions. Sometimes he wonders if Lan Zhan intends to sound as dismissive or haughty as he does when he confronts him about Mo Dao. He likes to believe Lan Wangji is above such petty things, but the man’s dogged refusal to accept Wei Wuxian’s path and his relentless quest to fix something that can’t be fixed is getting on his last nerve.

“Wei Ying,” He looks up at the sharp tone, meeting a pair of golden eyes in question only to be arrested by something akin to embarrassment tinting Lan Zhan’s stoic features. He glances towards the illusion and stills, somewhat stunned by the scene before him.

It is Lan Zhan. Or a version of him. He’s broader, with more mature features and a much sharper gaze. But that’s not the most astonishing thing, no.

Lan Zhan is… kissing someone.

It is someone shorter than him, with long hair tied up and away from a fairly pretty face. Wei Wuxian eyes the way Lan Zhan cradles the face and guides it towards his kisses, gentle and full of affection.

It entrances him for a moment. He can’t help but stare at the scene, taking in how Lan Zhan seems to lean in again and again, to press closer like he can’t get enough. His heart races and he doesn’t really understand why it is suddenly so…

“Wei Ying!” He drags his eyes away from the illusion and looks at his Lan Zhan, who seems increasingly flustered despite the relatively calm expression on his face. His ears are bright red and he’s pointedly not looking in the illusion’s direction.

He smiles teasingly, “Aiya, Lan Zhan, it looks like the older version of you is more relaxed.”

“It is a trick.” Lan Zhan protests immediately but Wei Ying dips his eyes down to scan the array again and shakes his head. There are several clues that highlight the array’s purpose clearly. Lan Zhan is no less knowledgeable than he is so he must see it too.

The denial is already fading from the Second Jade’s features and Wei Wuxian stands up, brushing his knees absently. He glances at the illusion and feels something strange pool in his stomach, something like dread, when he sees the pair again. Lan Zhan is pressing the strange person to the tree behind them, pinning her- no-

He peers closer, swallowing when Lan Zhan’s hand disappears into the person’s robes. Lan Zhan’s… companion is clearly not a woman, that much was apparent at first glance. But it is even more apparent when those robes fall open under Lan Zhan’s questing fingers.

Somehow, that feels worse.

He struggles to maintain his composure and fixes a grin on his face, “Well-” The scene shifts abruptly and Wei Wuxian barely withholds a gasp, his eyes immediately drawn to the older Lan Zhan’s peaceful face. He’s sleeping, his arms wrapped loosely around the same companion from before. The room around them seems like it is in Cloud Recesses, perhaps Lan Wangji’s home?

His eyes turn back towards Lan Wangji and he takes a careful breath, heart aching for some reason. He pointedly doesn’t look at the man’s companion and silently turns to look at the array again. The time element is solid, undisturbed and clean. More than a simple illusion, a clear glimpse of the future.

But…

He looks up and the scene has changed again. Lan Wangji is with that man again. They stand side by side and the man is leaning against the Second Jade brazenly but Lan Wangji doesn’t seem to mind. He has his hand low on the man’s back, a gesture that reads distinctly possessive. The scene wouldn’t be out of place in any family. There’s a husband, there’s a wife, there’s a child clinging to the wife’s robes, and there’s a young man standing before them with a smile that speaks of affection.

The array seeks to show people a glimpse of their future. Lan Zhan is seeing his life as a settled man of a good family.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t exist.

He takes a careful breath as that thought settles in his mind. He has always known his path is treacherous but something in him burns to see life move on so peacefully without him.

The world has never had much space for him. When he was a child, no one had space to let him rest. As a youth, his place at the Lotus Pier was small, surrounded by thorns. The space keeps shrinking and shrinking ever since he stepped out of the Burial Mounds. He imagines at some point it will vanish altogether and Wei Wuxian will be forced to vanish with it.

Melancholy doesn’t suit him but the ache of it strikes him powerfully now.

The sight of Lan Zhan moving on – they’re not even friends, what does he need to move on from? – shatters something in him.

He can’t summon a smile.

Wei Wuxian locks his jaw and ignores his racing heart as the scene goes on. The young boy saying something to Lan Wangji’s partner and the partner grinning in response.

Lan Wangji’s expression is soaked in affection, despite how stoic it appears. The corners of his mouth are softer and there’s a fond light in those golden eyes. Wei Wuxian has never seen something so beautiful.

He watches as the young man leans down and plucks the child off the ground and carries him away, both of them waving to Lan Wangji and his partner until they’re out of sight.

Wei Wuxian’s heart shudders when Lan Wangji discreetly pulls his partner closer and buries his nose in his hair, expression content.

Suddenly, it is unbearable.

He brings his thumb to his mouth, ready to tear into his flesh and disrupt the seal with his blood. It would take very little to get them out of here safely. Lan Zhan has seen enough good things about his life, there’s no need to linger.

No need for him to find out that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t exist during this peaceful time. He knows the man cares about him enough to be upset if he is lost.

Just as he’s about to bite into his thumb, fingers wrap around his wrist tightly.

Wei Wuxian looks up to see Lan Zhan gazing at him with wide, stunned eyes.

```

Wangji accepts what is happening almost immediately after Wei Ying shakes his head. He has always had a more intuitive understanding of spells and talismans. It is rare for Wei Ying to be mistaken in such matters.

So, this is his future. A glimpse of things that will happen a few decades down the line. Wangji is uncertain what to make of it. His ears feel warm as he witnesses the intimacy between partners. There’s enough affection written on his older self’s face to know the relationship is real.

He looks at his… companion. He doesn’t lack beauty. A delicate countenance, inky black hair, and a pleasing form. He looks almost alarmingly similar to Wei Ying, with only small differences. There’s an echo of Wei Ying in his smile and even the way he tosses his head back and laughs reminds Wangji strongly of the man beside him.

Only Wei Ying has never looked at him like that. This man’s face is flushed with passion, lips bitten red by his partner’s kisses. There’s a teasing sparkle in his eyes that makes his breath still in his chest for a moment. It reminds him of the expression Wei Ying wore all those years ago when they ran across the rooftops in Cloud Recesses.

How… is it possible for this man to be so similar?

He glances down at the array, trying to decipher what it seeks to accomplish. Wangji has never seen anything like it but there are enough familiar elements in it to deduce its purpose. It is clearly designed to show them their future, to create a sort of mirror that reflects images of their future life into the past.

Wangji tears his eyes away and turns to Wei Ying, a few questions already forming in his mind.

Wei Ying’s expression arrests him.

Wangji stills, unable to move his gaze away from Wei Ying’s face. There’s something bitter about his grimace and flinty in his eyes. He watches the scene with an almost animal expression, lips pursed in displeasure – furious – Wangji realizes with an indrawn breath.

For a short, heartbreaking moment, he fears it is disapproval, disgust for a cutsleeve relationship.

That impression doesn’t last.

Wei Ying’s hand goes briefly to his chest and something very much like open, raw pain crosses his face, wiping away the anger. The expression… is nothing close to disgust.

It is a short, unguarded moment and it ensnares Wangji completely. His heart races in his chest as several realizations happen in an instant.

Wei Ying is an ever-smiling sprite, mischievous as they come. He rarely shows any true sorrow and Wangji has only seen him show true anger three times over their acquaintance. It is easy to become convinced that nothing can touch the formidable Wei Wuxian. But standing there, looking at Wangji’s future with a bitter expression, Wei Ying seems shattered.

The expression is devastatingly open. In that instant, Wangji has no problem understanding Wei Ying better than he has ever before.

Wei Ying’s expression twists before every inch of vulnerability is gone from his face. It is wiped clean and almost cold, colder than he has ever seen Wei Ying be. He locks his jaw and brings his hand to his mouth, his movements stiff and sharp.

Wangji shoots forward, wrapping his fingers around Wei Ying’s wrist. He feels the pulse hammering under his fingers and his own heart races in an echo of it. Wei Ying’s eyes are sharp and defensive, hiding the pain that Wangji had glimpsed clearly before.

In contrast, Wangji feels almost breathless with elation, “Don’t,” he says, pulling Wei Ying’s hand away from his mouth. His hand doesn’t shake but he feels shaken. Wei Ying scowls at him, which is also something he has never done, “Don’t.”

“Lan Wangji,” Wei Ying says curtly, “This isn’t for me to see and we have seen enough. Let go.”

Wangji tightens his fingers, unwilling to let go. He studies Wei Ying’s face carefully, finding it unreadable once again. In fact, Wei Ying is uncharacteristically quiet, not teasing him about his future partner, not commenting on the cutsleeve relationship, not even mentioning his older self’s appearance.

The silence speaks loudly.

'Don't nurture foolish hope,' Wangji thinks to himself but it grows in him anyways. It is strange that a single glimpse of an unguarded emotion is enough to alter Wangji’s perspective so much, but it does and now he isn’t inclined to let the matter go.

“Don’t destroy the array,” He requests, “Something isn’t right.” Wei Ying should be present. The array shouldn’t focus on Wangji’s future only. He doesn’t know who the strange man is but he can’t imagine being with anyone but Wei Ying.

Is his heart so fickle? Can it stray from Wei Ying that easily?

It is unsettling to consider it.

“We can figure it out once we’re away from this illusion,” Wei Ying says, making a visible effort to muster his usual nonchallance but Wangji sees they way his eyes flicker away, looking at the couple in the illusion briefly before glancing down at the array like he can’t stand the sight of it.

“Wei Ying-”

“Aiya, er-gege, what are you doing to your poor Wei Ying?”

Wangji glances sharply at the illusion as Wei Ying stills, his arm going tense in his grasp.

The pair in the illusion are now closer and somehow their conversation is audible. The voice is strange but the cadence and rhythm is entirely Wei Ying, teasing, playful, pleasant.

Wangji’s grip tightens as he sees his future self pull his companion onto his lap, a spare Lan forehead ribbon in his grasp. It has the clan markings, it belongs to a clan member but Wangji’s ribbon is already on his forehead.

He swallows and feels the pulse beating against his fingers speed up as his future self wraps the ribbon around his partner’s forehead.

“Wei Ying must wear it for today’s ceremony,” His older self says and his Wei Ying sucks in a sharp breath, his hand going lax in surprise, “Xiongzhang has requested it.”

“Well, if Xichen-ge has requested it, this one must obey,” Wei Ying sounds… happy. And it is Wei Ying. The face is different but the smile, full of mischief and life, is the same.

“What… is this?” His Wei Ying asks, baffled. He looks down to study the array more keenly, trying to determine why the illusion looks different.

Wangji is hearted to see the stiffness of his features melt into curiosity, “Lan Zhan, why would the array alter my appearance and not yours?” He asks, no longer attempting to pull away from Wangji.

The illusion is still playing in the background, showing what will happen several years down the line. But Wangji isn’t curious now. The present is so much more interesting.

Wei Ying is looking at the array, the conversation in the background is cheerful, full of intimacy and affection, the pulse against his fingers is still beating rapidly.

There’s a flush crawling up Wei Ying’s neck.

Wangji observes. He sees the blush crawl further and settle on Wei Ying’s cheeks. He sees teeth digging into soft lips, anxious. He sees eyes flicker towards him, towards the illusion, before moving away.

‘How can I bear it,’ He asks himself and gives in. He pulls the hand in his grasp to his mouth, pressing his lips against the center of Wei Ying’s palm and closing his eyes.

---

Wei Ying fears his heart will fail if this continues. The lively chatter of a couple in love surrounds them and his Lan Zhan is pressing his precious face against Wei Ying’s hand, cool but utterly content. The feel of his petal-soft lips against the rough skin of his palm is enough to drive him to distraction.

He doesn’t know how to react or what to say. He doesn’t want to pull his hand away but there’s a strange, almost unsettling sensation low in his stomach, not unpleasant, but very unfamiliar. Wei Ying has flirted with people before but he has never felt any true attraction towards them.

But the longer he remains inside this array, the more he learns about himself.

Lan Zhan moves, taking a step closer, dipping his lips lower to brush against Wei Ying’s exposed wrist.

His breath trembles as he gasps. The sensation is almost sharp, knife-like. He feels his entire body change and respond to it. He feels his fingers curl, his hair stand on end, and his body lean forward.

There’s a flash of teeth.

“Lan Zhan,” His voice is shamefully raw, everything he feels is written in the tone of it. Lan Zhan reacts immediately and Wei Ying goes, helpless against him. Lips slide over his and a warm, strong body presses close. The kiss is harsh, full of tongue and teeth. Desperate like Lan Zhan has been holding himself back and has finally been granted permission.

Wei Ying sways in place, lightheaded as a tongue slides over his and licks the roof of his mouth. ‘What is this,’ he wonders dazedly. There are strong fingers around his wrist and neck, showing no indication of every letting go. There’s a slight popping sound in his ears and he absently notes that the illusion has dispersed but Lan Zhan doesn’t give him time to think.

He yelps when Lan Zhan moves a hand down his back and grabs him under his thighs, lifting him up in a smooth movement. Next thing he knows, he’s pressed against a rough surface and his lips are captive again. His skin burns wherever Lan Zhan has touched it. His mouth feels raw and hot when they pull apart.

He stares when bright golden eyes look at him, edged with heat that he didn’t think Lan Zhan was capable of feeling.

It takes a moment for him to collect his thoughts under that direct gaze but he manages, his bruised lips curling into a teasing smile, “Er-gege, how shocking!” He leans forward, confident that Lan Zhan won’t drop him, “Look at what you’ve done to your poor Wei Ying!” He lifts the hand Lan Zhan had kept captive, showing off the redness he can feel around his wrist.

Lan Zhan glances at it but there’s no remorse in his expression, not even a hint of apology.

Wei Ying feels a delighted laughter bubble in his chest at this new revelation. The reserved and taciturn Hangjuang-jun is capable of such passion! “My, my, who would have thought you’d take advantage of me like this?” He drapes his hands around Lan Zhan’s neck, bringing his lips close to a flushed red ear, “You didn’t even ask, just held me tight and took what you wanted. How bold! How shameless!”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s voice is lined with warning but Wei Ying doesn’t care. He feels utterly safe, utterly content, for the first time in years. What can touch him when he is in Lan Wangji’s arms?

“Is it always going to be like this?” He teases, “Now that you know I am to be yours, probably your husband or will it be wife? Will you kiss me… maybe even fuck me, whenever you wish?”

“Be silent.”

“Aiya, Lan Zhan, how can I be silent now? You have awakened my curio-” Another fierce, biting kiss interrupts him and Wei Ying laughs, delighting in Lan Zhan’s eagerness. Everything fades, all serious and practical considerations hold no meaning. Later, when he is alone in his tent, he will think about how unreachable this dream is, but now he is happy to submit to Lan Zhan.

---

War progresses as it must. Wei Ying continues to remain on his cultivation path but his touch is a bit gentler now. He isn’t as ruthless as he used to be.

It takes effort and patience. It takes many bitten back reprimands and angry words. It takes months and months of careful questioning before Lan Wangji understands the incredible, breathtaking sacrifices his beloved has made. Not even Wei Ying can stop him from seeking out Wen Qing and asking for her assistance. Not even his brother can stop him from offering shelter to her family in exchange. Not even Jiang Wanyin’s bitterness can stop Wangji from protecting Wei Ying.

He does what he must because he understands. That Wei Wuxian, the one from the array, had endured terrible strife. More strife than Wangji can ever allow his Wei Ying to suffer.

Wei Ying will survive and thrive.

Wangji will make sure of it.

[ransprang]

PLEASE give my lonely ass a valentines date :)) So...i recently saw your final fantasy fanfics and i absolutely LOVED them. Keep up the good work. So.....here is my request

character: Aymeric de borel (Lord commander)

3 personality traits: simp, friendly, talkative

Relationship trope: Fake relationship (forced to be together for Ishgards political state)

Ideal date setting: Yacht for 2 in Blackshroud (4 days 3nights)

Love language(s): Gifts and Quality time

Please feel free to add NSFW in this! My favourite body parts are his chest, blue eyes and broad shoulders.

PS; maybe you can add Lucia's jealousy towards the entire situation in.

enjoy nyaaa

Valentine's Yacht date with Aymeric

600 followers event

You and Aymeric had recently gotten married, although it was a marriage only in name. It was purely political and neither of you had spoken to each other before you got married. It had been a few months since the wedding and you both had done your best at keeping up the pretenses of being a happily married couple. However, recently rumors had begun about how no one had ever seen the Lord Commander and his wife sleep in the same bed or spend time together like normal couples. So it was decided that the two of you would go on a yacht for 4 days and 3 nights and hopefully that would put an end to the rumors.

You met him on the rooftop deck of the yacht a few hours later. You had chosen blue sundress to complement his eyes. You found Aymeric standing at the table in a 3 piece pristine, white suit. "Ser Aymeric, you look absolutely stunning," you gush as you walk up to him. You had always admired the man's talent and work ethic but now you found that his physical appearance was unmatched as well. The wind was sweeping away the bangs which usually covered his face allowing you to truly appreciate his dazzling blue eyes and sharp nose. Even his ears seemed longer and more graceful than usual.

"Thank you, you look beautiful today as well, Lady y/n." "We can drop the honorifics now don't you think?" you replied, settling into your seat. Aymeric smiled at that, "Of course." As you two ate, you filled the silence by talking about your day and Aymeric responding politely but not sharing anything of his own. Once you were done with the meal you tried to keep the conversation going while Aymeric got increasingly fidgety in his seat. You didn't want him to leave yet so every time he offered to get up you would bring up something else. You began to notice he was turning an interesting shade of green, especially his ears. "Are you alrigh-" you asked but Aymeric leaned over the side of his table and proceeded to vomit his guts out.

You sat awestruck at the scene of a beautiful Elezen man, projectile vomiting in front of you. Ever the simp, you couldn't help but admire his form as he did too. You got up and patted his back comfortingly as he puked. "There, there." "I'm so-bleuuurghhh. I'm so sorry y/n. I didn't mean bleeurgh," he wiped his mouth with a napkin. Such a gentleman you thought to yourself. "I didn't mean to ruin our day. I get seasick easily." "Oh! It's perfectly alright, Aymeric. I'm your wife in sickness and in health," you gave him a thumbs up sign encouragingly. "Hang on, let me help you clean this up."

Aymeric tried to protest but you pushed the 6 foot 7 inch man back onto his chair, making sure to grab a good handful of his pectorals in the process. "You should rest and here," you passed him a glass of water. "Drink that, and if you need to vomit again throw up in that too." You smile brightly at him and go to fetch a mop.

Once the puke is cleaned up, you guide Aymeric to his bed and lay him down although he insists on changing his clothes himself, much to your displeasure. You leave him with a glass of water, a bucket and some anti-nausea medication, deciding to check up on him later.

When you enter his room again, you find all the curtains drawn and the lord commander sweating and panting on the bed. You assume you walked in on a private moment with Aymeric and his "sword" and promptly exit. You wait outside the door for a few moments before it strikes you that both his hands were outside the bedcovers. You slam open the door and rush to his side. His eyes are closed but you touch his forehead and find that its burning up. You suspect food poisoning and immediately go into nurse mode and begin taking care of him, fetching him more medication and wet cloths to wipe his sweat.

As you sit by his bedside keeping an eye on him, Aymeric recovers enough to start talking. He's a bit fever addled and exhausted but he says talking to you makes him feel better so you let him continue. He speaks of his time as young teen spending hours trying master archery as well as his rocky relationship with his father. He talks about his hopes for Ishgard, of ending classism. He even begins to talk about you, how he thought you were kind and dutiful since you agreed to this arranged marriage for the good of Ishgard. "You know, Lucia didn't like you at first. Said you would be a spoilt brat, a noble trying to improve her status, I knew she was wrong though. I've never seen a noble wield a mop like that before," he chuckled weakly. "Lucia's just jealous," you huff, causing Aymeric to chuckle more.

You and Aymeric thus shared short snatches of honest conversations as you take care of him and slowly nurse him back to health. On the second night, in the wee hours of twilight Aymeric grabs your hand and whispers, "Join me." You smile softly and oblige nestling your body against his broad frame on the bed. You make sure to stop things at that though. Even you wouldn't take advantage of a sick person like that.

The next morning you wake up to a healthier looking Aymeric. The sunlight streams in through the window but it doesn't compare to his dazzling smile. "Good morning." "Mornin'," you greet him back, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes. "Still got any morning sickness?" you ask as you stretch. Aymeric looks at you, a bit perplexed before bursting into laughter. "Oops," you grin sheepishly. "No, I think I've recovered more or less." "That's good to hear," you reply getting up.

You both spend the rest of the day together, the initial awkwardness having dissipated. At night, Aymeric invites you to his chambers saying he has a gift for you and that you can reject it if you'd like to.

Curious once night falls, you make your way to his room. You find him lying on the bed shirtless, the porcelain skin of his sculpted chest bathed in the candlelight of the room. Your swallow thickly unable to let your gaze wander lower and lower down the Lord Commander's body.

"Here to receive your present?" Aymeric asks teasingly, as he stalks towards you like a predator. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak for once in your life. He grabs you by the hand and takes you to his bed. Standing before you he unzips his pants and pulls out his cock and you get to learn how skilled Aymeric really is with his sword.

your swords,

admins san & sar

[shadowsinger11]

John Wayne

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Christmas lights and stunning dresses are enough to spark a desire for a winter romance. But could you have possibly gotten the wrong idea?

Word Count: 2.5k

Genre: fluff, angst

A/N: I might've listened too much to Cigarettes After Sex while writing and this is totally not a song inspired fic, born purely as a result of my procrastination with other projects

Tag list: @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @theweasleysredhair @harrysweasleys @loony-loopy-lupinn @whiz-bangs78 @slytherinsunrise @starlightweasley @ickle-ronniekins @gcdric @vivianweasley @aprilsrant @idont-knowrn @thisismynerdyself @wonderful-writer @feetoffthetablee @minty-malfoy @vogueweasley @elf-punk @oh-for-merlins-sake @heart-of-tempered-steel @spilled-prose @itseatyourdamnapples @aaannabbanana @l0ttadreamz @potter-redheads @pastanest | message me to be added/removed! (if you're in bold, I couldn't tag you)

You were staring at the crowded dance floor.

Beautiful ladies were being spun around by their partners, gorgeous gowns twirling and swooshing with their every elegant move. Everything was perfect about them; from their smile which lit up the Great hall more than the sparkling white Christmas trees, to the way their wrist gracefully twisted around their lover's neck, eyes piercing into theirs. The music was playing, slow and melancholic, exactly as it had been playing for the last few hours, luring lovers and encouraging them to bare their souls in front of each other.

And so they danced, connected by fearful desire, united by hope and bonded by love.

It was a kind of magic no one could truly understand, mysterious and private as though you weren't meant to witness it that night. So when among the sea of couples lips met in a silent oath, your heart began to ache, pleading you to leave.

It should have been you. It should have been you the receiver of those loving glances, of those kisses which made your head dizzy and caused your knees to buckle, but it would've been no problem as you would've had the arms of your lover to keep you secure. Then, as you'd dare to look up through your lashes, gorgeous eyes would be already on you, their obscure flame consoling you and pulling you in. And you'd simply fall, letting the warm, velvety darkness envelope you.

You flinched from the slight chill, rethinking your choice of a sleeveless dress. The enthusiasm with which you had picked it months ago now seemed utterly ridiculous and foolish as you were sitting a good distance away from where you believed you'd have been dancing your heart out. But, as you took one last look at your surroundings, only to spot your lovestruck friends indulging in the presence of their partners, the comfort of your pajamas seemed far more tempting than the unreasonably expensive piece of fabric which didn't even matter to you anymore.

It was pitifully funny how things could change in the blink of an eye, in a single breath; how fast you had gone from blooming with excitement to wondering how you were foolish enough to contribute to your own heartbreak.

"How come I'm just finding out about this?" Fred exclaimed, chasing after you down the stairs of the Astronomy tower. "I bet I wouldn't have known if it wasn't for those Ravenclaws chatting back in class."

"You were gonna know eventually, what's the deal?"

"My point is, why didn't you tell me and I had to hear from someone else?"

A group Hufflepuffs gave you questioning looks as you practically ran past them, nearly tripping over your own feet in the process, "You're making a fuss about nothing, stop acting entitled to every piece of information in my life!"

"McLaggen? That git?" Fred yelled in frustration and disbelief; he didn't at all acknowledge the small crowd which had gathered to observe the scene, nor did he care in the first place. He stopped in his tracks, gripping the wooden railing tight, knuckles turning white and jaw tense. "You cannot be serious."

Shocked faces now turned to you, and you desperately wished you could use reducio on yourself. Instead, opposite to what your consciousness was screaming at you, you dug your feet into the floor and shot Fred a stern look over your shoulder, "We're not discussing this right now. Besides, what's in it for you anyway? You're going with Angelina."

Had you kept walking, you would have missed the way Fred's chest was heaving with shallow, rapid breaths, and his face was more maroon than you had ever seen. And you? You couldn't quite breathe yourself.

A week ago your untamed happiness brightened every room and hallway; classes seemed to fly by, exams were over and the Yule ball was right around the corner. Your heart was ringing with joy as you were so looking forward to forgetting your troubles for just one night. 

In the midst of shining Christmas decorations and beautiful dresses a dreamy, yet pretty bold idea had begun to form in your head, an idea which Ginny and Hermione encouraged with their support and affirmations. Deep down you had started to believe Fred Weasley took an interest in you, harboured feelings for you even, and your ever-present goofy banter which contained far more flirting than what would be acceptable between two best friends, only fed your imagination and raised your hopes up.

You were aware you were the only one on the receiving end of Fred's teasing jokes, cheesy pickup lines and lingering stares which had you staying up an extra hour in your bed at night. Even his siblings shared the same opinion - there was no way on Godric's sword that a person who clearly wanted to be around you as often as possible and got his hands on you every chance he could, wouldn't be at least a little bit interested in you.

That's why you nearly broke down when exactly a week ago in the hallway Ron casually mentioned his older brother had just asked out Angelina.

The ground was pulled beneath your feet, vanishing along with your oblivious hopes. The news stung sharply, leaving a sour taste in your mouth; never had you believed you’d spend the few days before the ball stitching up your heart, and you were willing to do just about anything to forget about your humiliation. So when McLaggen invited you with an obnoxiously flirty note in Charms class, you didn’t hesitate much.

You could feel a wave of tears burning your eyes as you looked up to where Fred was standing. His face and ears were still as red as they could get, and his chest was vibrating with every shaky breath he took. Fury had disappeared from his eyes long ago, replaced with concern, regret and hurt which you couldn't quite place.

He climbed down the few remaining stairs.

"He's obnoxious! And beyond what's good for you!" Fred stated, though his voice now lacked power and slightly trembled, loud enough just for you to hear. "You're setting yourself up for a pretty bad night."

You swallowed down the dry lump in your throat and finally turned around to fully face him, looking him up and down.

"Seems like I have a terrible taste in men then."

A second glass of firewhiskey did nothing to burn down the growing turmoil in your stomach. You tapped the edge of the empty glass with your fingers and smiled at your friends who were visibly exhausted from dancing to upbeat songs for quite awhile now, but enjoying their time far too much to take a break. You admired their spirit - just because you weren't feeling your best, it didn't mean your friends didn't have the right to have fun.

However, the inevitable sense of regret lingered in your bones, and you found it hard to not focus on how the ball had gone wrong for you, in more ways than you had originally thought.

Even without Fred as your date, there was still a chance you'd have a good time. McLaggen could undoubtedly make it awkward to be around, and with the fact that your heart had recently been sliced open, you weren't sure how much of his ridiculous antics you could take. But at least he was trying; if you put aside his overbearing ego, you could see genuine effort into creating something romantic for both of you. It was going to be okay. Not necessarily what you desired, but somehow okay.

And that last bit of hope vanished the second you caught your former date snogging your crush's date in an empty classroom merely an hour ago.

You didn't know whether to cry or laugh at the universe's bitter joke, but the tears on your face as you ran down the hallway in your beautiful dress were eloquent.

A bitter, bitter joke.

You couldn't take it anymore. The charming smiles, sultry glances and stolen kisses you had been observing for the past hour were too much. And when another slow song made an appearance, you rose to your feet and headed towards the tall doors of the exit. Perhaps sleep would be a decent ending to your horrendous night.

You had barely made it out of the Great hall when loud footsteps echoed on your right.

"Bloody hell, I've been looking for you!" Fred said through heavy breaths, having run all the way to you as it seemed. His ginger hair had escaped its slicked look long ago, now too messy to fix despite his numerous attempts to smooth it back. His suit was no better, slightly wrinkled and shirt open to the third button.

"Why have you?" you asked and folded your arms, feeling a bit chilly in the hallway.

"McLaggen. About him," Fred sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry for having to say it, but I just saw him-"

"I know."

Fred frowned in confusion.

"You do?"

It was your turn to let out an exasperated sigh as you looked down at your feet, "Yes. A while ago."

Fred's features softened.

"I'm sorry."

You barely found it in you to respond with a weak smile, "It's alright. I guess I was right. I do have a terrible taste in men." Then you gave Fred a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry for Angelina too, it's horrible she did this to you."

Your friend allowed the ghost of a smirk to appear on his lips and he shoved hands into his pockets, "I'm not really affected by it in all honesty," he shrugged. "I'm rather angry about the fact that the prat thought he could pull off something like this and get away with it."

Fred's heart ached at the sight of your slumped figure and glossy eyes; he hated himself for having contributed to the failure of the event you were expecting with so much hope. He tilted his head to the side, attempting to meet your gaze.

"I'd gladly prank the crap outta the git until he doesn't even dare to show up to classes… But for now is there a way for me to make your night any less terrible, love?"

You couldn't help but giggle at the thought of McLaggen skipping classes out of sheer fear of Fred. But then your thoughts wandered to the way Angelina was practically straddling his lap, and you wondered if Fred had been doing the same all this time unbeknownst to you; if right after a flirty joke sent your way he'd go to an empty classroom and kiss Angelina with the passion you had just witnessed.

The image of Angelina's lips on Fred's caused you to become nauseous and you attempted to swallow down that lump again.

"No," you replied. "But please, tell me one thing. What was that entire tantrum for?"

Fred didn't really seem taken aback by your question, realizing you'd eventually bring it up. He furrowed a brow, carefully thinking of an answer, and wettened his lips.

“Perhaps it would be inappropriate of me to say it- selfish even, but the mere thought of you being in the embrace of someone, especially with that someone being a foul git, caused me to get unreasonably angry.” Guilt was seeping into his every word and he bitterly chuckled to himself. “Ironic, isn’t it? Attempting to spare you heartbreak by being the reason for it.”

He gently took your hand and looked into your eyes, remorse swimming in his own, "I had no right to treat you the way I did. I'm terribly sorry for being controlling and you absolutely do not have to forgive me. Just know that I truly regret my actions; I never intended to hurt you."

His words were a feather-light caress to your wounded heart and you shuddered. You couldn't stay mad at him. Reciprocated feelings or not, he was still your best friend and you wouldn't let that go.

"Apology accepted," you gave his hand a light squeeze and Fred beamed, the entire hallway lighting up with him. Dread released your chest of its merciless grasp and you could finally breathe. However, one question never ceased to haunt you. "But I just need to know…” you began, absentmindedly playing with his fingers, “...why were you so upset to begin with?"

Fred's shoulders immediately stiffened and he averted his gaze from you in an attempt to come up with a reasonable reply. His jaw was clenched, and his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "I didn't want you to go with him." He stated simply. "Not when you could've easily gone with me instead."

You froze.

"What do you mean?” you asked timidly, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “What about Angelina?"

Fred only shook his head, fighting back a grin.

"Darling, Angelina was never the catch."

The air was knocked out of your lungs.

You could only stare at Fred wide-eyed, and though his expression was unreadable, maroon had begun to crawl its way up to his ears and cheeks again.

"I'm sorry for putting you through all this," Fred spoke softly as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, a kiss that awakened the butterflies within you. "I was really too much of a wuss to confess to you and settled for this instead."

"I guess that makes us two," you smiled sincerely, perhaps for the first time that night. Fred returned your smile with a grin, and asked.

"How can I make up to you for this oh-so-awful mess?"

"Dance with me," you said without skipping a beat. "That's what you owe me at least. Let's finally do what we both wanted."

Fred's expression became serious as he intertwined his fingers with yours, and led you into the direction of the Great hall, from which music could still faintly be heard.

"With the greatest of pleasure, my love."

Most people had already gone to bed, leaving just a few couples and you to drench in enchanted serenity. Fred's arms around you felt like home as you both swayed to the soft rhythm of the song, one of the many to follow, but his racing heartbeat under your palm caused your own pulse to speed up as well. 

You looked up at your lover through your lashes, gorgeous eyes already on you, their obscure flame consoling you and pulling you in. There was an odd, enigmatic allure that Fred possessed, and even after years of knowing this man, it only caused you to fall further into the velvety hell you didn't wish to escape from. 

And when his lips collided with yours, they tasted sweeter than the forbidden fruit.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

[hangovercurse]

Masterpiece

You and Colson have always had an unspoken agreement about what your relationship is, but one night might change everything.

Request: Hi, thank you for your imagines, love, they're incredible! I had an idea. Maybe when him and reader are getting close he gives a tour of his tattoos to them, cause the reader is very curious?

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of sex (nothing explicit but it’s there), a lot of touching

A/N: I had to do so much research for this, I’ve spent the last 48 hours staring at pictures of his chest. I know I didn’t include all of his tattoos, but he hasn’t talked about some of them or even shown them all that much.

Word Count: 3744

The only sounds in the room were your heavy breaths, mixing with his. You took a moment to compose yourself, the adrenaline still running through your body, before sitting up, bringing the comforter with you to cover your bare chest.

You scanned the room, looking for where your clothes had ended up in Colson’s mad rush to undress you. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Colson asked, his eyes wandering your body.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. You turned to look at him, a small smile playing on your face. “Careful there, someone’ll think you have feelings.”

He chuckled, reaching out to grab your waist and pulling you back down to the bed. You laid in his arms, head resting against his chest. “You should stay tonight.” He mumbled, fingers running up and down your arm.

You hummed, “Are you asking me to stay?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, and he swore he almost fell in love right then and there.

You had never stayed the night before, you always just went to his house, fucked, and then left. Staying the night seemed too personal for what you were doing, two lonely souls finding solace in the dark but too afraid to face each other in the light.

“Will you stay the night?” He asked, fighting the urge to press a small kiss to your nose. You nodded, shifting so you were cuddled further into him, your left hand tracing the 1990 tattoo that spread across the left side of his chest.

His skin felt like it was on fire underneath your touch. “If you keep doing that, we’re not gonna be sleeping anytime soon.” He looked down at you, a smirk on his face. You let out a small laugh through your nose, dropping your hand to lay on his chest.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, “I just think they’re really pretty.”

“I think you’re really pretty.” You rolled your eyes, but a smile found its way to your lips. “Lemme show you all of them.” He sat up, pulling you with him. He reached over and flipped on the lamp beside his bed before pointing to the Est. 1990 tattoo that you had been tracing. “This one is pretty self-explanatory.” You giggled lightly.

“The raven I got done to cover up an older tattoo a while ago. I wanted something that would change the way everything looked.” You reached up, about to trace the dagger that went through the raven, before pulling your hand away. Colson smiled, grabbing your hand gently and pulling it up to his chest, silently asking you to trace the ink.

“Why the dagger?” Your voice was soft, but sincere.

He chuckled; you felt his chest move under your hand. “Thought it looked cool. I don’t know, the whole point of the raven was to be a change, so I guess it kinda represents killing an older version of me.”

You nodded, your hand moving down to the hourglass that rested below the claws. “That one just kind of looked cool. And it’s a reminder that we’re all living on limited time, so we should make the most of it.” You bit your lip, smiling at the thoughtfulness he put into all of them.

“And the spider?” You giggled, tracing his nipple and making him flinch.

He grabbed your hand, a tight-lipped smile on his face. “It goes with the bus.” He moved your hand to the red double decker bus beside the spider web. “Have I ever told you about the time I got hit by a bus in Manchester?”

Your eyes went wide, looking up at him with concern. He laughed, “It was like, 8 years ago. Don’t worry.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes dramatically, “I wasn’t worried.”

He laughed before continuing, “I got hit by this bus while crossing the street looking for weed at like 7 am. The windshield shattered like a fucking spiderweb; it was crazy. And then I just got back up.” You traced the stick figure that was flying off the bus.

“Sometimes I wonder how you’re still alive.” You joked, your voice still quiet.

He watched you intently, taking in the movement of your fingers around his rib cage. “I do too.”

“I mean, I’m happy you’re still alive, its just a little crazy.”

“Careful there, someone’ll think you have feelings.” He echoed a joke you made earlier. You pushed on his chest lightly, smiling. “This one,” he moved your hand to sit just under his armpit, “is the final scene from The Giving Tree."

“That was my favorite book as a kid.” You mumbled; your attention fully focused on the tattoo that you missed Colson’s adoring smile. “Why’d you get it?”

He was quiet for a moment, and you looked up to catch his pale blue eyes. “At one point in my life, it felt like I was giving away every part of me. I felt like the tree, I still do sometimes.”

You nodded, still holding his gaze. You leaned down and pressed a small kiss to the tattoo. This was the most intimate thing you and Colson have ever done, even more so than sex. He was opening up parts of himself to you, something you both had tried to avoid until now.

You looked back at the ink, smiling as your eye caught the tattoo on the underside of his right arm. “Jessica Rabbit, really?” You giggled.

He chuckled, raising his arm to show you the full tattoo. “She’s hot, what can I say?” You rolled your eyes. “You’ve never seen a cartoon character and thought, “damn, he’s sexy as hell”?”

You shook your head, holding back a laugh. “I wouldn’t get him tattooed on me.” He pulled you into his chest, arms wrapping around you. “I wanna keep talking about your tattoos.” You whined, looking up at him.

“I was trying to enjoy the moment, but okay.” He made a face at you and you giggled, leaning into his chest and resting there for a few moments, basking in his presence. You had been scared of moments like these with Colson, and you knew he was too. After Megan, he’d had issues trusting anyone, not that you blame him. But then he’d found you, and you had trust issues of your own, so naturally you two attracted each other while simultaneously keeping each other at arm’s length. But now the distance was closing ever so slightly.

You leaned off Colson, suddenly aware of the change occurring. “I gotta pee.” You mumbled, climbing off the bed, and walking to the en suite bathroom.

“Your ass looks cute.” He called after you, and you blushed when you remembered you were still nude. You took your time in the bathroom, sorting through your thoughts and reminding yourself that you and Colson only existed after 9pm.

When you walked back into the room, you grabbed your panties and pulled them up your legs, then threw Colson’s shirt over your bare chest. He groaned, “you just wanna cover everything up, don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes and climbed back into his bed. He was leaning against the headboard, so you moved to do the same, but he grabbed you and pulled you so you were straddling his lap, facing his chest. His left hand grasped your right, pressing a soft kiss to its top before moving it to his right arm.

“This one reminds me how to get home, literally.” He rested your hand on his 71 North tattoo, “but it’s also a reminder to stay grounded. Always remember where I come from, you know?”

You nodded, tracing each letter and number. “Same thing for the 216 East.”

“What about the compass star?” You whispered, hand moving down to his elbow to trace the seven-pointed star.

“I was gonna get there, don’t rush me.” He joked, pulling his right arm across his chest so you could see the ink better. “It has an E at all the points, because all roads lead back to Cleveland, which is East.”

“That was really cheesy.” You giggled, looking up to his face. He rolled his eyes, his right hand grabbing your free hand and intertwining your fingers. He pulled both your hands up and out, forcing you closer to him. Your faces were close, too close. You were worried he was going to kiss you, and more worried that you were gonna let him. He seemed to realize what he was about to do moments before your lips touched and pulled away, letting your hands go.

You looked down, both of you pretending that didn’t just almost happen. “What does this one say?” You whispered, pointing to the text on his right forearm.

He looked where you were pointing, and smiled sadly. “RIP B. Arnold. I got it after my grandma died. She was probably one of the best people I’ve ever known. She was so open and unjudgmental. She was really special.”

You frowned, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea…” You trailed off, still running your eyes over the letters.

“It’s okay, I got this done a long time ago.” His voice was soft, his eyes watching your face as you studied his painted skin. “But thank you.”

You were quiet for a long time, eyes moving over the other tattoos on his right arm before wandering back to his chest. Your pointer finger ran over the Locals Only tattoo and the Anarchy symbol on his stomach, before moving lower to the “Almost Famous” letters. “If you go any lower I’m gonna get way too distracted to tell you about the rest.” He joked, but you knew he was a little serious.

“That’s the second time you’ve threatened to have sex with me and not followed through. It’s almost like you don’t even want to anymore.” You teased, hands running back up to his chest and resting on his shoulders.

He raised an eyebrow at you, as if you challenged him. “Do you want a tour of my tattoos or not?” You nodded, a laugh falling from your lips. Colson shook his head lightly, looking down at your body in his shirt. “You are something else.” He mumbled under his breath. You were pretty sure you weren’t supposed to hear it, so you pretended you didn’t. You also pretended your heart didn’t flutter at the words.

You moved back from him, eyes scanning his rib cage. “What about this one?” You asked, pointing at the portrait of a man holding a sign that read “Keep your coins, I want change.” You traced it, smiling, “I like it.”

“That’s one of Banksy’s works. The political street artist?” You nodded your head, letting Colson know that you had heard of them. “I thought it was really smart and I like what it means a lot.”

You smiled up at him, admiring the way he lit up when he talked about issues that are important to him. “I like it, too.” Your hand moved up, finding the cursive name a few inches above. You were hesitant to trace it, knowing it bordered on the line of too personal.

“That one’s got a pretty obvious meaning.” He chuckled, seeing where your attention was focused. You smiled, nodding. “You should meet her one day.” He said without thinking.

Your eyes snapped up to his, and you could see the wheels turning in his brain as he realized what he said, “or not, if you don’t- I mean, you don’t have- never mind. Forget I said anything.”

You found his stuttering endearing. “If we ever get to that point, I’d love to meet her.” You whispered, trying to hide the smile that nipped at your lips. Stop it. The voice in your head screamed. This would never work out. You’re just going to get hurt.

Your hand rested on his upper arm, where he had an image of a building with an eye above it. “1984, huh?” You asked, the smile breaking through.

Colson couldn’t help the way he looked at you, stars in his eyes. “You’re one of the only people to ever get it without me telling them.”

“I didn’t expect you to be an Orwell kind of guy.” You chuckled, tracing the eye with your thumb. “It’s really good. I love the cracks in the building and all the shading. It’s beautiful.” Your voice held so much awe, Colson had to stop himself from grabbing your face and kissing you until your lips bled.

He hadn’t felt like this since, well since Megan. And that scared him like hell considering how messed up he was after she left. He’d been afraid to let anyone else in after that, which is why he was so grateful he found you. You were in the same position, you wanted someone to fill the space in your bed but nothing more. But as he spent more time with you, Colson realized he was starting to want more than that.

“I really liked the idea of the people versus this big overbearing power. Like I wanna believe that people still have a say in their lives, that I still have control over my life. Even when it feels like I don’t.” Despite all the stupid shit he did, Colson was incredibly intelligent, and it showed in moments like this.

“That’s amazing.” You breathed, still tracing the cracks in the bricks. A small blush made its way to his cheeks, and he turned his head away from you to hid it.

You flipped his arm to look at the inside, finding the words “Kiss the sky” in black ink. You leaned down, pressing a light kiss to the words. Colson’s head snapped towards you at the sensation, a small chuckle leaving his lips when he realized what tattoo you were kissing. “Cute.” He commented.

You smiled, lips traveling down his arm to the black heart. “Let me guess, you got this one to represent your cold, black heart.” You chuckled, rolling your eyes as he frowned, playfully.

“You’re so mean.” He whispered, biting his lip. “I did, actually, but you make it sound lame. I wanted to say something about the industry with it, how cold it made me.”

You nodded, smiling. “That’s not lame.” You paused, considering your next words. “Do you really feel like that? Like your soul is so dark and cold that there’s no more color inside?”

He studied you, the way you slowly traced the outline of the anatomical heart. “Sometimes, but then I look at Casie or Slim, or any of the people who I love, and who love me, and it gets a little easier.”

“You’re lucky,” you whispered, “to have so many people who love you. People that can pull you out of your head.”

You sighed, moving your attention from the tattoo, and shaking yourself out of your thoughts. His hand reached for your jaw, trying to hold your face but you moved away, looking at his rose tattoo. “This one’s pretty cool.”

He had to lean forward to see which one you were focused on. “I got that one after Bloom. It’s all about becoming a flower from a bud.”

“Yeah, it’s really good.” You sighed, moving your hand up to a red line near his heart, a tattoo of a cut. “What’s this one?”

He threw his head backwards, a laugh leaving his lips. “It’s so stupid now. I got it because I felt like someone ripped my heart out a few years ago. I thought it was really smart at the time but I ended up getting over it and now I’m left with this stupid tattoo.”

You giggled, “I don’t think its that stupid.” Emphasizing the word “that.”

“Here,” he sat up, moving you off his lap and leaning forward so you could see his back, “this is a cool one.”

You had seen the tattoos on his back a few times, but you’d never really gotten to study it. “This is beautiful.” You murmured, reaching out to touch it gently. He flinched under your soft touch, goosebumps forming on his skin. “Sorry.” You whispered, removing your hand.

“It’s okay, your hand’s just cold.” He chuckled. “It’s Dali’s Temptation of Saint Anthony.” He started, and your hand went back to wandering his back. “A lot of people interpret it differently, but I like the idea that the man with the cross is repenting for his sins. Reminds me that we always have a chance to become better people. We can always repent.”

You took in his words, not saying anything. You traced the cross in the figure’s hand, a small smile on your face. “And then, the MGK, of course.”

You rolled your eyes, “Only you would get your own initials tattooed across your back.” You chuckled, jokingly. “It’s really well done.” You reached up and rubbed his shoulders, squeezing gently. “Someone’s tense.” You whispered, feeling the stiffness of his shoulders.

He groaned as you gently massaged his shoulders, moving to sit behind him with your knees on either side of his waist. He leaned his head back onto your shoulders, looking up at you. “You are too good to me.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your neck.

You chuckled, leaning down to graze his lips, “I’m not doing this for free.” You mumbled, connecting your lips in a hot, needy kiss. He shifted so that he could twist his upper body to face you, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. You moaned into his mouth, hands moving up to his neck and pulling him closer to you.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “I thought you wanted to see the rest of my tattoos?” He asked, a smirk on his face.

You rolled your eyes pushing him away from you and moving back to his left side, sitting with your legs tucked under you. “I do, but I can’t help that I’m in your bed and you look fuckable right now.” You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his neck, just below his ear.

“Let me finish the tour and then maybe I can help you with that.” He rubbed your bare thigh as you sucked on his neck, leaving a mark.

You whined when your lips left his skin, a pout on your face. “What’s this one, then?” You asked, hand tracing the two X’s on his ear.

“It’s part of the MGK brand. C’mon, you should know this.” He laughed, obviously messing with you. “I don’t know it just kind of became our symbol after 19XX was created. It’s the family.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to the black ink. “Cute.”

He blew air out of his nose, hands moving to the sheets that were covering his lower half. You raised an eyebrow at him, tilting your head. “I have two more that I wanna show you on my legs, get your mind out of the gutter.” You giggled as he pushed the fabric to the side, exposing his right leg.

You noticed the obvious tattoo, the marijuana leaf on his right knee. “That one’s really creative.” You said sarcastically. He chuckled, watching you trace the words around it. “Into the woods I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.” You read the tattoo out loud, biting your lip to hide the grin on your face.

“John Muir. I thought it was really meaningful. I keep digging my own holes in order to crawl out of the ones I’m already in. But I think it’s made me know myself better.” You looked up at him, your eyes shining bright. His eyes met yours briefly, and then flittered away, cheeks turning pink.

“Okay, last one. It’s not nearly as cool as some of the other ones, but I think you’ll appreciate it.” He pulled his knee towards his chest, angling the limb so you could see the tattoo on the inside of his ankle. It was two stick figures, one with a mohawk.

You smiled, “Radiohead but make it Colson Baker.” You mumbled, shaking your head with a giggle.

He nodded, “I was fucked up when I got this one.” He laughed, “But it’s kinda grown on me.”

“I was expecting some big lead up to like, the final tattoo that was gonna be so special. Instead, you give me two stick figures and the word punk on your ankle.” You chuckled, seeing the small pout on his face. “I’m kidding.” You laughed, moving to sit on his lap again, your hand resting on his chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered, hands running over his chest, “for showing me all these.”

“I’ve never really explained all of them to anyone before. Like people can see them and I’ve talked about some of them in interviews, but nothing like this before.” His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

You looked down, biting your lip. “Why’d you show me?”

He bent his head down to catch your eyes, nose rubbing against yours. “Cause I wanted you to know.” You smiled, meeting his gaze. Your hand reached to the back of his neck, pulling him enough that his lips crashed into yours.

You were expecting the kiss to be sloppy, hungry, but instead it was unlike any kiss you’d ever shared with him. It was sweet, soft, and oddly personal. It said all the things Colson was too scared to speak.

You pulled away, confusion lingering behind your eyes. What does he mean? What do I mean? What are we doing?

His eyes seemed to hold all the answers. I’m terrified to want you, but I can’t stop myself.

You leaned back into him, kissing him softly. His hands hesitantly ran up your sides before moving to your cheeks, cradling your face in his hands. “Let’s get to sleep.” You whispered after separating, a smile on our face. You gave his lips a quick peck before climbing off of him.

He turned the lamp beside him off, encasing you in darkness. You laid down on the bed, facing away from him. Moments later he settled down, facing your back. He reached out and pulled your hip so that you were facing him. You got the hint and flipped over fully, a grin on your lips. Silently, he pulled you closer to him, holding you tightly as you drifted off to sleep for the first time together.

[free-pancakes]

Dreams and Nightmares

Summary: LeviHan Canon-Divergence fic

Hange barely survives the final fight against Eren, and is saved by inheriting the Beast Titan from Zeke Yeager in the end. However, the Scouts soon find that this would come with a heavy price--particularly at Levi's expense.

Chapter 8/? Chapter 7 Chapter 6 Chapter 5 Chapter 4 Chapter 3 Chapter 2 Chapter 1

crossposted to ao3 here: link

notes: sorry for such a late update. this also turned out much longer than expected. it's real fluffy though, and quite self-indulgent, but hope you all like it!

CHAPTER 8:

“Was he really that important to her?”

The words echoed in Zeke’s mind as he continued to watch the memory unfold before him.

Hange returned to the room with a steaming hot mug in her hand, and carefully handed it to Levi. She watched in anticipation as he took a quick sniff and sipped on the tea.

“Not bad,” he whispered. And at that, Hange’s face lit up, and it took all her might not to let out a loud “Yahoo!” in her excitement—she heard Levi was quite particular with his tea, and she was feeling absolutely ecstatic that he didn’t spit it right out.

Levi soon fell quiet, satisfied with the drink. Hange sat down at the desk right next to him, keeping him company as she scribbled away in one of her notebooks where she kept notes on her titan research, often speaking her thoughts out loud. While listening, Levi’s eyelids began to droop. To Zeke, he seemed... almost as though he was fighting sleep just to listen to her for a little longer.

The memory soon dissipated, Zeke finding himself standing in a new setting—a gigantic ballroom lay before him, the massive chandeliers glowing dimly above him, hundreds of people wearing ornate, traditional-looking suits and gowns. A sign by his side read, “Annual Sina Military Ball”.

Zeke walked around, trying to find Hange but instead found Levi standing alone, a small cloth bag in his hands.

“The previous commander?” Zeke said under his breath as Erwin and two others approached Levi, clearly teasing him.

“Guys, please. And Mike, shut the fuck up.”

“I’m just sayin, if she turns you down, you can join me. Open bar this year yknow?”

“Mike, stop stressing him out!” Nanaba replied, swatting Mike on the shoulder as he laughed.

Erwin stood behind Levi, grabbed him by the shoulders and gently pushed him into the crowd.

“Just go already, she’ll love it.”

As Levi walked into the crowd, the three huddled together.

“He’s hopeless isn’t he?” Nanaba sighed.

“Yup. Erwin and I will wait at the bar,” Mike answered.

Zeke walked behind Levi into the crowd of people, until he saw him hesitate before tapping the shoulder of someone in a long navy blue gown shimmering with gold. Big, beautiful brown curls turned to reveal... Hange?

Zeke’s jaw dropped—he barely even recognized her.

“Oh! Levi! Aw I’m sorry—“ She itched at the fabric on her side. “I wish they’d let me wear a suit or something to one of these things, all this traditional wear or whatever is too much, but I mean your suit doesn’t even look comfortable either! Man, I just—“

Hange paused as soon as she noticed the small cloth bag in Levi’s hands.

“Oh? What’s that! What do you got there?”

His heart was thumping so loud, he was sure Hange could hear it. He reached into the bag, to pull out a yellow hair clip—it was his mother’s.

Hange’s eyes grew wide and nearly sparkled in the low light, and she smiled as Levi pulled the strands of hair from her face, and held it up to the side of her head with the clip.

“Not bad,” Levi said under his breath, his heart almost stopping at how stunning she really was. Hange gave him a quick hug hiding the blush suddenly reaching her cheeks, and the hug sent Levi’s head spinning. She then reached out her hand—

“Levi, the orchestra’s playing my favorite! Let’s show them all what a proper slow dance looks like!”

Levi rolled his eyes, but took Hange’s hand, accompanying her to the dance floor.

Sand began to fall like a curtain in front of Zeke, wiping the scene away to the open sky, sun setting peacefully in the horizon above the water. The smell of salt tickled at his nose, and he stood ankle deep in ocean water. Young voices sounded from behind him.

“We probably should get going soon, right? The sun’s already setting.”

“Aw Jean, just let them have a moment. I haven’t seen them this happy in such a long time.”

“Sasha, Captain Levi never looks happy!”

“Connie shush! You can tell he’s happy underneath! Come on, just look!”

Hange and Levi stood knee deep in the water, and Hange held up a small, cream-colored conch shell. Levi’s face scrunched up in disgust as she held it towards him, but she pulled him close by the shoulder while trying to reassure him, and held up the shell next to his ear. Zeke waded in a bit closer to hear what they were saying.

“You can hear the ocean inside the shell! It’s something I read about once.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Come on, Levi! Just listen.” And when he finally did, his eyes lit up ever so slightly, his mouth just partially agape.

“So you’ll always remember our first trip to the sea,” Hange said. And before she could hand the shell to Levi, she dipped it into the water letting it fill up, and splashed him with what collected inside.

“What the hell, Hange!” Levi grumbled, kicking water back at her. Splashes back and forth escalated so much that they had gotten absolutely soaked—Hange laughed as she tackled Levi into the sea, the two coughing and giggling stupidly as the rest of the kids ran back into the water to join them.

Once again, sand whisked away the scene and Zeke was now standing in a balcony, overlooking a courtyard. He looked back to see what was going on inside—another ball? He then looked down to see Hange and Levi standing together out in the venue’s garden. They looked a bit more mature, older. And Hange was wearing an eyepatch—it must have been a different memory from before.

Zeke heard footsteps coming from the hallway behind him.

“I’m telling you, Mikasa, smelling someone’s hair during a hug means they love them!”

“I guess now that you say it, I suppose that could be true…”

The two walked out past Zeke, and leaned their elbows on the balcony together, looking down at the courtyard and garden. They gasped and crouched when they saw who was standing down there.

“I’ve never seen Sasha so nervous! She wanted to dance with Niccolo, so I took the hair clip off and put it on her—yknow for the confidence boost. I hope that’s okay, Levi?”

Levi looked at Hange, and tucked her loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I like it better on you, but I suppose Sasha needs it tonight, then.”

A new song echoed from the orchestra inside—Zeke recognized it to be the same from the earlier military ball memory.

Levi reached out his hand, just how Hange did before.

Hange giggled and grabbed his hand, pulling Levi close, practically in a hug as they swayed together. She leaned into him, her cheek pressed against his forehead.

“New shampoo, huh? Lavender—you know that’s my favorite, right?”

Jean and Mikasa heads snapped towards each other, their eyes locked and faces red in realization.

“Hange-san smelled his hair—“

Mikasa slapped a hand over Jean’s mouth.

“Shush, they’ll hear. Let’s go before they notice us—“

The scene quickly changed, and it was quite jarring for Zeke this time around.

He found himself staring into the face of his past self, sitting miles above Liberio inside the war balloon the Scouts had taken control of. This time, he could see the room where Hange and Levi walked off to after hearing about a fallen soldier named Sasha, or something like that.

Levi stared at Hange, in his eyes a mix of worry and anger stirring inside him.

“Stop looking at me like that, Levi,” she said curtly, clearly trying to hold herself together.

“Hange…” Levi urged.

He watched her hands shake as she reached into a first aid kit from her bag, pulling out a half used tube of wound ointment—the same one she had always used on him.

“C’mere,” she beckoned, and Levi obliged begrudgingly, letting Hange pull down his shirt slightly to apply the ointment to the lacerations on his shoulder. He watched Hange biting her lip—he knew she was holding back the tears, trying to “look strong” for everyone else, but he thought that was utterly stupid. She was allowed to have feelings… Commander or not.

“Hange…”

“I’m fine, Levi, would you stop pestering me already??” She barked back, though still maintaining her gentle touch as she tended to his wounds. She continued in silence until they landed.

Hange and Levi left the back room, standing together outside the door as the Scouts filed out with Zeke and Eren. Oyankopon nodded at them both, and left. Lastly, Jean, Mikasa, Armin, and Connie, holding Sasha’s body, all of them a tear-ridden mess. Both Levi and Hange saluted them as they walked past.

Hange started to follow behind them but Levi took hold of her hand. She didn’t look back.

“I’m okay, Levi. Really. I have to—“

Levi pulled her and ushered back into the room, now that everyone was gone.

“Go be okay in there for awhile. I’ll stand outside.”

Before she could protest, he gently closed the door behind him, and stood guard outside of it. He knew it was exactly what Hange needed.

From behind the door, there were muffled sounds of glass breaking, boxes thrown, and anguished wailing.

Zeke watched as Levi stood unmoving from the door his head down, biting his lip as a few tears ran down his face.

The memory faded and Zeke was now in a small office. Levi sat before him, holding a familiar cream-colored conch shell. He lifted it up to his ear, listening, and maybe, just maybe, a smile began to form on his lips.

A quick, loud knock on the door startled him, and he hastily shoved the shell into a drawer, slamming it shut.

“Levi, quick!”

He stood up frazzled.

“What’s wrong??”

“A camera, Onyankopon got us a session with a camera!”

“Hange… what the hell is a camera? And you know I don’t trust all these Marley things…”

Hange gave him a big pout. “Aww, Levi! Come on, it takes photographs! Like the one in Eren’s father’s notebook! The one of his old family?”

��My family photo…” Zeke thought, his own past memories now aching at his chest.

The memory dissolved, but the same scenery returned, unchanged. Yet this time, Levi was holding a framed photograph in his hand—a picture of him standing next to Hange seated, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. He looked tired, a light shade of purple hugging the skin under his eyes. But when Levi laid his eyes on the photo, his face lit up with a genuine smile as he stared.

Then once again, a quick, loud knock on the door startled him, and he quickly stuffed the photo into the backpack sitting at his feet.

“Hey, Levi! You busy?”

Levi stared back at Hange, both need and sadness swimming in his eyes.

“I know Levi… but I brought you a surprise!”

She pulled from behind her a white, spherical object, and held it out for Levi to see.

“A… baseball?” Zeke said under his breath, emotions tugging at his chest.

“Hange… this is the last afternoon we spend together just us—God knows long I’ll have to watch Zeke in the forest before I get to see you again…” He said, avoiding eye contact with Hange.

“Don’t you trust me, Levi?”

Levi continued to look down towards his backpack, fiddling at it with his foot, only stopping when he felt Hange’s hands on his cheeks, and a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Do you really have to ask me that, Hange?”

She laughed, the sound of it bringing Levi comfort. She backed up and held her hand out towards him, a smile on her face, her eyes beckoning him to come with her. And of course, Levi sighed, and took her hand.

They walked outside, a clearing in the patch of trees next to the barracks.

“Here take this, they’re called mitts! Helps soften the blow when you catch, since the baseball is pretty hard.” Levi took one and wore it.

“So I read a bunch of different Marley novels, and for some reason, playing catch is such a common kind of bonding time? Between a parent and child, or between friends? A symbolic kind of theme, maybe? I thought it was fascinating!”

Levi looked at the baseball—“So what… we just, throw the thing back and forth? And what? We’ll magically become friends??”

Hange threw her head back and laughed. “Good one, Levi! We’re already friends! So, hm, how about we just throw it back and forth for now? If it gets too boring well, we could always just drop it. Sounds like a plan?”

As soon as Levi nodded, Hange grinned and ran a distance away. She waved to make sure Levi was ready, and lobbed the ball over to him, landing with a satisfying thump as it hit Levi’s mitt. He picked it up and ran his fingers over the red laces, and soon pitched it back to Hange a bit too far, so she ran and dove for it, catching it just before it hit the grass.

“Hange be careful!”

She laughed in excitement, and got up to throw it back.

Before long, they were throwing for hours, talking about anything and everything. Sharing memories that hadn’t been touched in years, laughing over inside jokes, the 104th kids, and their past, beloved friends.

Their voices began to fade, and Zeke strained to listen, calmed by how comfortable their conversation felt, comforted by the sound of the baseball hitting their mitts, back and forth.

Soon, the memory went black, a burst of light, and he was back.

Paths.

And there was Hange, laying down in front of him with her back towards him, the sand no longer black surrounding her.

“H-Hange?” Zeke asked.

Hange didnt’ turn around to face him.

“So, you saw all that then too, huh?”

“I… did. Sorry, they seemed like private memories,” he answered cautiously, careful to guard himself if Hange decided to fight him again.

“No harm, Zeke. Not like that was your fault.” She finally sat up, sniffling and wiping away residual tears.

“But we do have to thank Levi—he got us out of a potential mess.” She ran her hands through the sand, now colored a bright white. “Susceptible to our emotions huh. Could have been a disaster.”

Hange caught on quick, Zeke thought. But something she said bothered him a bit—

“What do you mean, thank Levi, though?” Zeke asked, genuinely confused as to how she thought he played any part in getting her out of the black sand ordeal just now.

Hange smiled, knowing exactly what Levi must have done. The box of things she had him pick up—he probably opened it.

“Not bad, Shorty,” she whispered to herself.

She laughed to herself again, but soon stopped as she saw Zeke holding out his hand in front of her.

“Are you… are you deciding to help me?”

Zeke’s chest tightened as he thought about all the memories he had just seen. He was angry at how much it moved him, both personally, and objectively—Hange and Levi had a history he never imagined existed between them, based on what he knew about them prior.

With his free hand, he pinched at the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He hated that he wanted to help. But he couldn’t deny it—he felt for Hange.

“Yeah,” Zeke replied. “Let’s figure this out, together.”

Hange grinned excitedly, and grabbed Zeke’s hand.

[trulycertain]

I love that in the show, they kept the comics thing of how much Matt buttons himself up around others. Comics Matt has relaxed a lot over the years and accepted that he is occasionally allowed to have fun outside the DD suit, but show Matt is newer to this.

For instance, while I guess it could be overdone, I really like the difference in how Cox portrays Matt tracking movement and sound - The Headtilt(TM) - when he’s in the suit vs out of it. He’s much, much more obvious about it when he’s in the mask. And I suppose it’s partly because he rarely has to focus his senses quite as much in his civilian persona, but it’s also significant that the few times he needs to listen closely and track someone as Matt Murdock, he makes excuses to be alone or disappear into a crowd or wear hoodies or scramble up to rooftops, so he won’t have to focus on keeping up appearances. He’s much less restrained about it when he’s in the suit, and it’s a much more visible process to others - but he’ll also pull it back in when he’s intimidating or reassuring people. I kind of hate the fact he has to keep such an important part of himself tucked away, but it’s also very in-character. And it’s just a nice little piece of attention to detail in the performance. I like how consistent it is.

And then there’s Matt’s shades being another mask motif, which I grew up reading in the comics and will always feel like, “yup, that’s my guy” characterisation to me. Sure, he likes them and knows he carries them off well (red lenses are a statement, and he’s clearly chosen to stick with them, which makes me happy), but the shades are mainly something Matt does to be around other people. As with a lot of real-world visually-impaired and NLP people, he probably got fed up of people being weird about a lack of eye contact, and whenever there's a scene where he's at his most relaxed or emotionally honest, he's usually out of them. They're a very solid, "Right, back to business" boundary for him. (In Mark Waid’s run in the comics, the only time I can think of when Matt went round without them in public, it was because he’d consciously decided to tell the world he was Daredevil, and was trying to make a point of being open and telling his villains, “Come at me.” And it did end up being too much stress, after a while. It was another persona he was putting on, something very out-there for him.)

There's one sort of sweet-but-sad, to my mind, scene where Matt's running over case precedent with Foggy and they're knackered and about to order takeout, and pretty much the minute Karen, who's a new hire they like but don't know well yet, comes in, Matt's sliding the glasses back on and changing his body language. It's just such a blatant example of "friends for ten years" easy intimacy vs. "not quite there yet," and Deborah Ann Woll's acting is lovely; you can tell Karen picks up on it and her brightness dulls a bit, but she's just glad to have friends at all. Heck, before that, there's the scene where she meets them the first time and Matt tells her to come back to his if she's afraid of sleeping at her apartment, he can take the couch and he'll look after her. And it's blatant. She asks him if he's always been blind, and in order to try and get her to level with them and make a connection, he lets her see his eyes and talks about his trauma - and then, "Now, can I ask you a question?" right back on.

He even dials down his humour and his anger - always, always his anger - round others, and plays mild-mannered. He may be dry, professional and thoughtful, but he isn’t mild. As mentioned, it’s interesting seeing how he is around Karen at the start of s1 vs at the end. And the guy who sort of raises an eyebrow but says nothing when a detective threatens to “beat the shit out of him”, or gently deflects with jokes about Foggy playing baseball when asked about the Devil, is not the same guy who attacks punching bags like they’ve hurt him personally and crosses a room in five flips instead of ten steps for the fun of it. Except he kind of really is. That dichotomy is part of why I’m so fond of him.

But while this can be useful, it has its costs. Aside from the casual ableism and dismissal he has to put up with on the regular, it also affects people closer to him. There’s basically everything with Karen in s2, but even earlier than that... When Matt beats down Fisk and talks about loving Hell’s Kitchen and what it deserves, he mentions “my family.” And sure, you can argue he means the people of the Kitchen, and/or Jack, those interpretations are both legit - but an episode or two before, Karen was hugging him and telling him, “You’re not alone. You’ve never been alone” and he and Foggy were agreeing to move forward. You’ve been shown him with his immediate family. (Heck, even Karen uses the words “my family” about Nelson & Murdock.) And he does that in the suit, so it’s a beautiful moment - but it also means that Karen and Foggy don’t see just how much he returns the sentiment. I’m going to assume they know, though. He does express it as himself, in those moments where he gets out of his own way and he’s truly stopped pretending he's someone else. And as this is Matt, those moments are rare gems.

[fairyoftbz]

amour inscouciant | m. kevin

pairing: kevin x fem!reader word count: 1.8k genre: mostly fluff, attempts at making jokes, suggestive, mention of sex synopsis: you’re watching a movie with your boyfriend, but a special scene fires things up... a/n: Happy Valentine’s day to everyone!! 💐💕 I really tried my best for this one, even though I’m not really proud of it! Special thanks to @violethhj​ for requesting it, I hope it’ll be good enough!! 🙃 (the title means ‘carefree love’ if you are curious, i thought it’d suit Kev’ well!)

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” you heard the familiar voice of your boyfriend entering the room, stirring you awake. You groaned as you kept your eyes closed, not exactly ready to wake up yet. A louder grunt escaped your mouth when Kevin started playing with the curtains, drawing only one to let the sunlight hit you in the face. He laughed, proud of his little joke as you turned around to face the wall, trying to desperately go back to sleep.

Your stomach said otherwise when your man balanced a plate of pancakes under your nostrils, the sweet aroma forcing your eyes to flutter open. 

“There we go, I knew I could get you to wake up with food,” he proudly said as he rested the plate on the bedside table, giving you a glass of orange juice instead. Half-hoisted on your elbow, you downed the drink in a few seconds, Kevin smiling at your enthusiasm. “Yes, love, the oranges were freshly pressed, by me,” he said when you frowned, getting a few seeds out of your mouth.  “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice still laced with sleep. You slightly rolled your eyes as your phone screen lit up, the digits showing 07:49.

“Why would you wake me up so early, though?” you asked with a pout, and Kevin laughed. “So we get to spend the entire day together!” he answered, gently slapping your hand when it was about to take the blueberry pancakes, looking delicious and appetising. “Give me a number between 1 and 5, quick!” he said, snapping his fingers while he waited for your answer. “Uh, I don’t know? 3?” you said, caught unawares. Kevin opened Netflix on his phone and sighed, showing you the film you randomly chose.

“Oh, nice! Starting the day by watching Top Gun, I couldn’t have asked for a better morning!” you said as you grabbed your boyfriend, forcing him to fall back in bed with you. He sighed but still managed to grab the remote before collapsing next to you, an arm wrapping around your shoulders.  “The things I’d go through for you,” he sighed before laughing as you playfully nudged him in the ribs. “But you love me, right?” you asked, eyes glued to the screen as Tom Cruise appeared in your field of vision. “Of course I do,” he smiled, seeing you already deep in the movie when it had barely started. Your love for this film was unconditional, Kevin was willing to get through it, just to see a smile on your face.

You cuddled further into his chest as he radiated a comforting warmth, only to have him kiss the crown of your head. You smiled as you felt at peace, arm wrapped around his middle with your legs tangled together. Kevin slightly grimaced when your cold hand went under his t-shirt to innocently caress his abs, fingers lingering on his warm skin. He paid no mind to your actions since it was your way to show affection, but he couldn’t deny that your touch didn’t leave him unbothered. 

You let out an excited gasp and giggled when your favourite scene appeared on the screen, laughing as Pete Mitchell was purposefully making his motor roar to block Charlie’s words. You clutched your boyfriend’s shirt, excited to see that scene, despite having seen it a thousand times already. It just gave you butterflies every single damn time, and you loved the feeling of your heart hammering in your chest, pulsating adrenaline in your entire body. 

Kevin smirked as he noticed your hand grasping his top even tighter, eyes rising to the TV. His hand started caressing your thigh, your body subconsciously snuggling up closer to him.

“I didn’t remember that-“ “Shut up, Kev,” you interrupted him, and his mouth fell open at your words, feeling him laugh as you increased the volume of the television. You squealed like a schoolgirl when Charlie confessed, Mitchell kissing her in the following seconds. Biting your lips as they started making out on the slow song that you cherished so much, you felt your boyfriend’s chest moving at your foolish behaviour.

“You wish that were you, uh?” he whispered in your ear and you slapped his chest. “For the love of God, Kevin, keep it quiet,” you mumbled without even looking at him, eyes detailing every single scene. 

Your boyfriend had to admit that this part was pretty hot, his heart beating faster as he started imagining you two making out, just like the actors.  He grabbed your hand that was resting on his stomach and brought it to his mouth, laying soft kisses on your wrist. He progressively got lower, soon arriving at your elbow, following your limb up to kiss your upper arm. His head sank in your neck and kept on operating there, his caresses disturbing your attention from the film.  

“Kevin, I’m trying to watch the film,” you uttered as you held the hand that was about to lift the bottom of your top. “And I want you. Right now,” he whispered against your neck, feeling goosebumps rising on your skin at his words. Your hand slowly went up and met the back of his head, slowly pulling on his dark locks. You earned a low grunt from the man, knowing that it was one of his favourite things for you to do.

He patted the covers and grabbed the remote, pausing the TV right here. You were kind of frustrated, but he changed positions so quickly that you didn’t even have time to protest. He was hovering above you, hands finding your hips, slowly caressing the soft, warm flesh of your sides. You tugged on the edge of his t-shirt, a smile decorating his face as he pulled away from your mouth. Taking it off, he gently threw it at your face, softly giggling together before capturing your lips, hand wrapping around your throat to keep you from moving too much. That new sensation of light choking triggered a wave of warmth rushing south. You forced yourself to bit your inner cheek to stifle a moan, knowing that Kevin would be too content to have you wrapped around his fingers so quickly.  

Hands travelling down to his stomach, you caressed his toned abs and happy trail, feeling all excited and giddy at the sensation. Kevin slightly moved the two of you around, sitting up on his side of the bed, head and back resting against the frame. You were straddling him, one of his favourite positions, tongues dancing together it was his turn to tug on your top. 

"You're so beautiful," he said in a husky voice, some warmth of happiness travelling in your body. Your naked torsos touched the other as you were trying to take your time, but Kevin had another plan in mind. He never missed the opportunity to display hickeys all over your neck, earning beautiful moans as he licked and gently sucked on the sensitive skin. Mouth lingering on your collarbone, you softly gasped as his teeth grazed against your bone, grabbing the back of his head to push him further into your chest. He teased the skin right above your breasts, feeling your heart pounding against his mouth as things were spicing up. 

Sorry, no smut part because a) I don’t know how to write that and b) I’m already a blushing mess because of the make-out scene, I’m limiting the damage.

Kevin collapsed next to you, forehead pearling with sweat, the plate that was once filled with pancake now empty. You caught your breath back for a short instant and looked for your t-shirt, only to lazily rest your head back on the pillow as you noticed it magically hanging off the television. 

“You’re something when you want to,” your boyfriend said as he pushed his front pieces of hair back, hand then falling on his stomach while looking at you. You smirked as you noticed the hickeys in between his abs, shaking your head at his words. “You can talk! I don’t even have to see my neck to know how it looks like. The amount of time you spent down there, I probably look like I got into a fight,” you curled up to the side and stared at your boyfriend in the eyes, his touch lingering on your mind. 

“But you look so pretty like that,” he replied, and you shook your head with an amused smile on your face. “Proud of your art?” you teased, and he nodded, suddenly becoming all serious. “Of course I am. Out of all my artworks, this one is the prettiest. The canvas was already so gorgeous, I just added a personal touch,” he sat up and put on his sweatpants back on before getting up. He hissed when you delicately touched the scratches you had left in his upper back, feeling kind of proud yet guilty. You watched him get up, grabbing his wrist so he could kiss you. He obliged, gently pushing a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“I’m coming back in a minute, love. Just rest for a while,” he kissed your cheek before walking out of the bedroom while you grabbed the remote and turned the TV back on, continuing the film where Kevin had paused it. Noticing your boyfriend's t-shirt lying around at the far end of the bed, you wiggled under the covers to get to it and wore it, feeling all pretty and loved when his body and laundry scent invaded your nose. 

Your lover came back a few minutes later, a warm cup of tea in one hand for the aftercare, and a bouquet of roses in the other. You cooed at his reddened cheeks, taking the flowers from him after kissing his lips.

“I wanted to give them to you when you would have gotten up, but it got delayed for some reason,” you giggled at his words and sniffled the roses, a rush of warmness invading your heart, making you fall for your lover even more.  “They smelled amazing, thank you so much, Kev’,” you said, and he smiled, sitting down next to you. “Happy Valentine’s day, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear as he caught your earlobe between his teeth, gently tugging on it. Grabbing his chin to make him look at you, you stared at him in the eyes for a moment before kissing him, again.

“I love you,” you said, and he caressed your cheek.  “I love you too, baby, a lot.” You lost yourself in his eyes for a quick minute, your mouths stretched into smiles, blissfully happy to be with the other on this special day.