#i literally went on a jog yesterday for the first time in like a year bc i felt that good. WHAT THE HELL. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wonjaekook · 3 years

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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.

#yuta smut #yuta fluff #nct smut #nct fluff #neowritingsnet #nct angst #yuta angst #nct one shot #yuta one shot #nct fanfic #nct fanfiction #yuta imagine #nct imagine #yuta fanfiction #yuta fanfic #sports collab #i hope everyone enjoys this :)#apologies for lateness #wonjaekook

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spideyobsessed · 3 years

Text

Before It’s Too Late Ch. 2

peter parker x avenger!reader

Synopsis: With all the life changing events taking place, will you ever get to overcome some of your biggest fears?

Might wanna read Ch. 1

You run and run and run until your legs nearly go numb. Bumping into people, tripping over your feet, the sounds of your heavy breathing getting louder and louder. There’s only one thought etching itself into your mind: Tony’s words.

If you got your powers from that thing, then I’m positive you can do a lot more.

A lot more.

Why now? After years of having these abilities, why now? It’s almost like the words he spoke yesterday were a trigger and now they’ve awaken something that’s been dormant inside of you.

I heal and that’s it. I heal and that’s it. This can’t be happening right now.

You finally take a right down an alleyway and slow down to a stop. No words can be strung together to perfectly describe the sensation you’re feeling. It isn’t painful, but you ache. Energy is surging through your veins, but you feel like you need to lay down and rest. You feel anxious, but if the circumstances were different, you can find this quite enjoyable. It’s confusing.

You sit down right next to a dumpster and bring your knees up to your chest, fighting the urge to let out a gut wrenching scream. You can feel something inside of you bubbling up and growing stronger. It’s a tight feeling, like your body is a champagne bottle and the cork is going to skyrocket any minute now. For a brief moment, you come to the conclusion that you are literally going to explode and accept your fate.

...you can do a lot more.

Your hands cover your ears, your thoughts ultimately becoming too loud for you to endure. It’s like all of your senses are heightening, yet numbing all at once. You can’t pull it together. Your face scrunches up as you unintentionally hold your breath. Useless.

Involuntarily, you let out a cry that you’re sure can be heard throughout all of Queens. You feel your body jerk harshly three times before, all at once, everything stops.

A breath of relief escapes your lips as you finally relax your tense body, but the anxiety remains. Nothing new. Your entire physique feels tingly. Too fatigue to immediately spring into action, you remain sitting in your spot.

After a few moments, you take in your surroundings. The alley, although it was noticeably trashed when you entered, looks horrendous. The dumpster is about three feet away from you now. The windows in surrounding buildings are shattered. Several car alarms are blaring.

“What just happened to me?”

- - - - -

“You better keep your little girlfriend in check, Parker.” Flash threatens Peter before purposely bumping into him.

Unfazed by him, Peter turns his attention to Gwen. “Uh, is she..” He trails off.

“Yeah, she’s fine! I should still go check on her though. Best friend duties, ya know?” Gwen chuckles awkwardly.

Ned speaks up, “I totally get that. Being the superior friend comes with a lot of responsibilities.”

Peter furrows his eyebrows before shooting a look at his best friend, who is supposedly superior to him. “Don’t act like you didn’t know.” Ned says simply, earning a laugh from Peter.

“Exactly! So I gotta go.” Gwen says as she tries to walk away from the dorky pair.

“Can I come with you? I’d like to check on her, if that’s okay.” Peter asks.

If this were any other time, Gwen would’ve agreed before he even finished his sentence. She’s been rooting for you and Peter from the start, along with several other people, considering you two have made your feelings for each other extremely obvious to every except each other. It warms her heart to see your crush of four years finally getting the courage to get to know you.

However, having seen your hands radiating that familiar glow with her own eyes, she has to lie.

“You actually can’t b-because she’s just...on her period?” She lies horribly, but it’s perfect enough to fool two young men.

Peter immediately backs off, understanding that it’s not really his department of expertise. “Yeah I think you got this. Tell her I’ll text her later please?”

“Gotcha. Bye guys!” She waves at them before fast walking in the direction you went.

The two boys stay in place, as quiet as they’ve ever been. Both of them are obviously thinking the exact same thing. They don’t even have to say it out loud, but of course, they do anyway.

“Dude.”

“I know.”

“DUDE!”

“I KNOW!!”

They giggle together happily as they do their signature handshake before sharing a celebratory hug.

“She’s so into you!” Ned cheers when he pulls apart from his best friend.

“Do you really think so?” Peter questions, “That could’ve been strictly platonic.”

“Trust me, man. It wasn’t! She’s practically in love with you!” Ned over exaggerates, but he wasn’t wrong.

Peter doesn’t respond to his comment, but instead looks down at the ground and smiles to himself. “

‘Does she actually like me?’ He thinks.

The short events of today made him even more excited for the party tomorrow. Although he’s nervous and still very doubtful about your feelings for him, he planned on confessing his feelings for you at the party.

Ned continues to ramble on about “the birds and the bees”, (Peter doesn’t even know how he got to that topic), when suddenly chills plaster Peter’s body. He lifts up his arm and sees that every single hair is reaching straight up.

“Spidey sense. So cool.” Ned chuckles.

“Not cool. That means something is wrong, Ned.” Peter states as he begins to let his legs carry him to wherever feels right. Coincidentally, it’s in the direction Gwen just went.

As he rounds the corner, just as you and Gwen did minutes before, he spots the blonde girl standing in the doorway of the girls’ restroom. Before he can even get halfway to her, he watches as you make a beeline for the nearest exit of the school.

“I thought you said she was fine.” Peter says, strolling up next to Gwen.

“I thought you said I got this.” She quickly retorts, hoping he didn’t see your hands or eyes.

“Yeah, well look how that went.” He responds back.

He takes a few steps to walk after you, but comes to an instant halt. Peter turns on his heels and walks back up to Gwen.

“I’m sorry, that was sort of rude.” He apologizes sincerely. He looks back at the door you stormed out of and back at Gwen once more, “I’m just worried about her. Something is telling me to go check on her.”

He lightly jogs to the exit before Gwen can spit out another lie to protect you. Peter pushes the door open with determination, the cool wind breezing against his face. His head snaps left and right, looking for any sign of you.

A group of girls chatting.

Someone rushing through their homework.

A guy skating across campus.

“There she is.” Peter mumbles when he finally spots you.

He’s able to take one step before being yanked backwards by his backpack.

“Leaving so soon, Mr. Parker? It’s not even lunch yet.” He hears the voice of his principal.

“Uhh I have gym class next. I was just going to get a head start on my mile.” Peter lies through his teeth with a sheepish grin.

He might be good at fighting crime and protecting his neighborhood, but if there’s one thing Peter can’t do to save his life, it’s lie.

The principal obviously saw right through him and chuckled dryly. With a firm grip still on his backpack, Peter gets walked back into the hallways of his school. His principal even takes it upon himself to watch the young boy walk into his next class, earning laughs and taunts from Mj.

- - - - -

It was only a few minutes into physics whenever Peter’s senses started sounding off alarms in his head again. His eyes scan the classroom, every student with their heads down and focused on their work. He glances at the teacher, who is steadily typing away at her laptop.

“Psst. Ned!”

Ned, who is sitting directly in front of him, turns around, surely prepared to make some outlandish comment. However, upon seeing the worry on his friend’s face, he decides against it.

“Spidey sense?” Ned asks simply.

Peter frantically nods his head, “I’m almost positive it’s Y/n. It feels different. It feels the same way it did whenever I thought she was being followed.”

He takes one more anxious glance around the classroom to make sure none of his classmates were eavesdropping.

“I need you to create a distraction.”

Ned gives him a single nod before swiveling his seat back to its prior position. He obnoxiously clears his throat, “Uh ma’am, I think there’s a mistake on this paper. Here let me show you.” He rises from his seat and as soon as he does, everyone hears a mysterious low rumble.

Peter and Ned make eye contact, knowing that it’s already too late. Whatever Peter was being warned about is already happening. Without a single notice, the entire school is shook by a harsh vibration.

Boom

The students begin to talk amongst themselves worriedly before another vibration strikes. Panicked yelps scattering all around the classroom.

Boom

“Everyone stay calm. There’s no need to get worked up.” The teacher attempts to calm the students, despite sounding panicked herself.

If every fiber in Peter wasn’t going haywire already, there’s no doubt that they are now. It’s almost like he can felt the movements before they happen. He flies out of his chair and peers out the window.

He’s not sure if what he’s witnessing can be seen by everyone or if it’s just his heightened senses. “What the hell is that?” He mumbles to himself.

Peter watches as a violent ray of purple aura heads straight for them, everything in its way viciously convulsing. His heart rate quickens as he turns to face his classmates.

“Everybody get down!” He shouts, the people surrounding him do not waste a second to fling themselves onto the floor.

Peter grabs a hold of Ned and together they hit the deck just in time.

Boom!

A purple wave is washed over them, shattering the large windows in the process. Glass flies everywhere as the terrified shrieks of each individual fills the air.

The wave left just as quick as it came. Peter and Ned are the firsts to pop up from the ground, breathing heavily with shaky limbs. They look out of the broken window and are absolutely astonished by the amount of destruction that was caused in such little time.

“Still think it’s Y/n?” Ned chuckles in amazement.

Peter doesn’t answer because at this point he doesn’t know what to think. He definitely doesn’t want to rule it out. Whether it was you or not, he can only hope that you’re okay...wherever you are.

“Okay ladies and gentlemen, we need to evacuate now! Get on your feet and start calling your parents, we need to move!” The teacher instructs.

Everyone hurriedly follows in pursuit.

- - - - -

You let out a groan as you slowly pick yourself up from the floor of the dirty alleyway. Aside from being a little lightheaded and having a slight sharp pain on your side, you’re feeling 100 times better.

You dust yourself off, taking another look around as you do so.

Okay. Maybe that stone isn’t amethyst after all. You admit to yourself.

A dry cough erupts from your throat as you begin to walk to... well you don’t know where you’re going. You don’t want to go home yet, just in case an episode like this happens again. You wouldn’t want to put Alice in danger.

Just as you exit the dimly lit backstreet, an old man with thinning white hair and a white mustache to match it speed walks over to you.

“It’s the damn aliens!” He shouts as he whips out a tinfoil hat.

Where did he get that from??

“It’s the aliens, I say! They’ve finally arrived!” The man continues to yell as he carries on.

He wasn’t the only one in a frenzy. Everyone roamed the streets talking to one another. Theorizing what great threat they think has struck New York now, complaining about their vehicles, using some pretty strong language.

The pit of anxiety residing in your stomach quickly turns to guilt. You’re fully aware that you couldn’t control your actions, but it doesn’t change the fact that you still caused all of this damage. The further you walk, the guiltier you begin to feel.

How far did it reach?

You thought you only affected a block or two at most, but now you are starting to believe you victimized the entire city.

“Kid!” You hear a familiar voice.

You snap your head to the left and see a black vehicle with tinted windows. In the backseat sits none other than Tony Stark.

“You are in huge trouble. Amethyst crystal my ass.” He scolds.

The door pops open, “Get in.”

Not having the energy to argue back, you slide yourself into the car.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” you clarify.

“Well I sure hope not. Happy, to the tower.”

The drive wasn’t long, only about 20 minutes, but the silence made it feel like hours. You’ve tried apologizing multiple times, but every single time you were dismissed by the lift of a hand.

Once in the tower, you didn’t even have time to look around in wonder at all the high tech features of the place. You were put in a room with Tony sitting directly in front of you. His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes focused on you, and his leg is bouncing so fast he could drill a hole in the ground. He still has yet to speak a single word.

You open your mouth to say something, but your phone begins to vibrate. Instead of answering, you freeze, not wanting to make Stark even more upset, if that’s possible. You also don’t want to see all the angry texts from Aunt Alice.

“You gonna get that?” Tony questions.

“Oh, he speaks.” You attempt to make a joke, but you’re the only one laughing.

Your smile falters as you take your phone out of your pocket to see who’s calling. Peter.

The smile returns once you lay eyes on the goofy contact picture he took on your phone. As much as you want to answer, you figured it would be better to wait for another time. It would be sort of hard to explain everything. Especially while Tony is shooting daggers into your head.

You take a swift scroll through your texts.

Gwen: That was so cool and kinda scary at the same time! Was that you??

Peter: Hey! Don’t mean to bother, I just wanna check up on you. Sorry I say that a lot haha.

Peter: Text me back when you’re feeling better. I hope you’re okay!

Alice: Y/n, you NEED to call me back. NOW!

Alice: You’re not in trouble, I just need to know if you’re safe.

Peter: I also want to say thank you for standing up to Flash for me. Even though I totally could’ve taken him myself! Okay okay, sorry for triple texting!

You send Alice a simple message back just to ease her nerves and not ground you before locking your phone.

You look up to see Tony still staring at you quite intensely. If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn he hasn’t blinked yet. You clear your throat.

“Look, Mr. Stark, I really didn’t mean for-“

He cuts you off, “No no no, it doesn’t matter if you meant it or not. That’s not going to reverse what you just did!”

His tone of voice makes your heart shudder, the guilt you were feeling from earlier returning. You decide not to talk again unless he tells you to.

Stark runs a hand through his hair in frustration before cradling his left hand as he pushes himself out of his seat.

“I know you couldn’t control it.” His tone is softer now. “It’s not fair for me to take my anger out on you, I’m sorry.”

You still don’t dare to say another word. He sighs and walks over to the window that has a perfect view of the city.

“I’m not really angry. I’m just...scared.” Tony admits.

This is not the man you’ve been seeing all over the news for years. Tony Stark has never been one to be so vulnerable and open about his feelings. Or anything for that matter. You sure as hell didn’t expect a superhero to ever get scared, much less admit it to someone he barely met yesterday.

“Scared of what?” You ask quietly.

He turns and makes eye contact with you once again, but this time you don’t feel like he’s ready to attack. There’s a beat of contemplation coming from him before he says, “The little outburst you had might’ve sent a signal to a really bad guy. A really bad, really powerful guy. His intentions aren’t the best, and it won’t be long until he comes here.”

You blink a couple of times trying to process what he’s telling you. If an avenger is this scared of some “guy”, then you really have a situation on your hands.

“He’s coming for me?” You squeak.

Tony returns to his seat in front of you, “Not technically. But he will be coming for the stone that you have locked away in a desk drawer.”

“So if I’m in the way...”

“He won’t be afraid to move you.” Stark affirms.

You sink down in your chair, taking it all in. How has your life completely flipped upside in just two days. Two days! Just as you might finally get a chance with Peter after crushing on him for so long, you possibly just devastated the entire city. Maybe the entire country. Maybe the planet. You don’t really know how bad it is, but you feel too sick to your stomach to bother asking.

“How long until this dude gets here.” You ask.

Tony snorts at your usage of the word “dude” when describing someone who has destroyed multiple planets, but of course, you don’t know that yet.

“Our very own time telling wizard gives us about a week. A week and a half, if we’re lucky.” He answers.

“Great.” You sigh as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

You take a look at Tony, who sends you a sympathetic smile. You return a defeated one, tears burning at the corner of your eyes.

“We’re not going down without a fight, kid. That’s the one thing I can promise you.” He says sincerely, trying to make you feel better.

Although you appreciate the sentiment, you don’t respond in fear that the lump in your throat will make your voice crack. Instead you change the subject.

“Why do you keep nursing your arm like it’s a defenseless baby goat?” You ask, earning a hearty laugh from the man in front of you.

“Well after 10 years of being one of earth’s mightiest heroes, you’re gonna walk away with some battle scars.” Tony explains.

You let out a light chuckle, almost forgetting exactly who you’re talking to. With a smirk on your face, you stand on your feet and walk towards him, “May I?”

He scoffs and gives you a strange look, but nonetheless, offers his hand. You take it with both of yours and close your eyes. It isn’t long until you feel the warmth of your energy flowing through your veins and to your palms. Tony watches in amazement as his hand is engulfed by the same sensation that shook the city just hours ago.

You finally let go and open your eyes just in time to see the dumbfounded look on his face. He closes his hand into a fist, and then opens it as he wiggles his fingers around.

“Who’s the happy fingers now?” You tease. “I can’t heal 10 years of injury after injury in one sitting, but it should feel a little better now.”

Tony is still shocked beyond belief. All he can do is let out small breathy chuckles and stare at this hand that’s nearly good as new.

“Y/n.” He manages to say.

You’re shocked to hear him say your actual name. Weirded out even.

Stark finally puts down his hand and gives you a look of astonishment.

“How would you like to be an avenger?”

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops. Tony Stark, aka IRONMAN, wants you to be an avenger. After you’ve wrecked miles and miles of property, he’s asking you to be an avenger?!

“What? I mean...w-what?!” You let out an incredulous laugh. “You want me to- even after every- I can’t..I-I..” All you can do is stammer.

“Well don’t say yes too quick” Stark rolls his eyes.

“Sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just that I didn’t even know the avengers were a thing anymore. I also don’t know the first thing about being a superhero. All I do is heal tiny animals and cure hangovers.” You ramble.

Tony stands whiles still wiggling his hand around, enjoying the extra mobility it suddenly has. “And if you can do what you did today in a more controlled manner, you’ll be unstoppable. A bit of combat training wouldn’t hurt either.”

You think it over in your head. What he’s saying makes a lot of sense. You still don’t know what happened to you today, and you’d love nothing more than to figure it out. Tony is the perfect person to help with that.

Being an avenger is a lot of pressure though. Only a week and a half to train and fight some “really bad, really powerful guy”? It’s impossible. You’d be way over your head. You would get yourself killed.

“I know it’s a lot to take in.” Stark saying, practically reading your mind. “But I believe you can do it, and I’m never wrong. Scratch Saturday, you’re coming in tomorrow for immediate testing and training. Expect to be here all day.” He orders, returning back to his assertive persona.

All day tomorrow?

“I actually can’t tomorrow, Mr. Stark sir.” You say a little under your breath.

“You what now?” Tony stops in his tracks.

“I-I can’t come tomorrow. I’m going to a party, I sorta have a date.” You explain, getting quieter and quieter after hearing how pathetic you sound.

It’s his turn to laugh incredulously, “Yeah, sweet cheeks, and the world is sorta in immortal danger. I’ll let Happy know he needs to take you home and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You don’t bother trying to protest or be a smart ass because he makes a very valid point. “See you tomorrow.” you say, mostly to yourself.

- - - - -

Three knocks echo from your bedroom door as you sit at your desk doing some chemistry homework.

“Hey hun! I brought oranges slices.” Your Aunt Alice shuffles past the doorframe. As she comes closer, the brightest smile on her face, You notice she made a smiley face on the plate full of poorly cut oranges.

You let out a giggle and set down your pencil, “Thank you Ali, they look great!” You begin to eat the juicy treat while Alice takes in the atmosphere of your room.

“Those weird earthquakes were crazy today, huh?” She absentmindedly makes conversation.

“Earthquakes. Right. Yeah it was crazy. They really shook me at the core.” You say sarcastically, soaking in the irony.

Alice only hums in response. You watch her eyes dart from your trophies and then to the chair with clothes piled on it and then to the plants perched on your window until they finally land on the picture of her, your mom, and yourself.

It was your 11th birthday and you had cake smeared all across your face. The memory is so vivid, you can still hear the beautiful melody of your mother’s laugh dancing through the air. It’s the last picture you have of her.

“I miss her too.” You speak quietly, fearing if you spoke too loudly, the memory would go away.

Her gaze returns to you, tears brimming her eyes and her smile a little less bright. “You remind me of her so much, Y/n.” All you can offer her is a warm smile.

You’ve already cried all the tears you had left. You clear your throat, “Thanks again for the oranges, Ali.”

She wipes the tears that manage to break free before placing a quick kiss on the top of your head.

“Take out will be here soon.” She informs as she exits the room, her cheerful tone returning.

“Sounds good.” You respond.

You take one more glance at the picture of the three of you before getting back to work. However, like most things here lately, you didn’t get very far.

“Shoo, shoo! Stupid bird. I hate you!” You hear a muffled voice coming from outside. You wouldn’t have found this odd, if you weren’t on the fourth floor of an apartment complex.

You rush over to your window and peek outside, and much to your surprise you see just the person you needed to see. You snicker before unlocking your window and pushing it up.

“Peter, what are you doing up here?” You whisper.

“Oh, ya know, just...fighting some birds.” He chuckles weakly at being caught.

You smile wildly at the sound of his voice and the sight of him covered in feathers. You’re feeling too giddy to even question how he got up here. “Get in!” You move out of the way so he can crawl into your room.

Oh my god. Peter Parker is in my bedroom!

You hurry to shut the door, so Alice doesn’t see a boy in your room. You turn back around to see Peter stealthily make his way past your potted plants. He hops in with a soft grunt.

“Hi.” He says shyly once he finally looks at you.

“Hi.” You say back in the same tone.

Peter looks down at his hands, causing you to just notice he’s holding a plastic bag. “Um this is for you. You never answered my texts so I thought I should just...sneak by.”

You take the bag from him and sit on your bed, Peter copying your actions. Your breath hitches as your shoulders touch.

OH MY GOD!

You pull yourself together enough to take a look in the bag.

There are several things inside. Two chocolate bars, your favorite ice cream, a large bottle of water, a box of tissues, and a dvd of your favorite movie.

You look towards Peter with the softest smile to ever lie upon your lips.

“What’s all this for?” You nearly whisper, your heart aching at the gesture.

“Gwen mentioned that it was that time of the month for you, so I brought you some things. I asked her for your favorite snacks and stuff.” He explains as his face burns with a rosy tint.

You’re not on your period, so you just assume that Gwen covered for you earlier today. She could’ve come up with literally anything else because her lie is kind of embarrassing, but you’re not complaining at the moment.

After you don’t saying anything in response, Peter starts to ramble nervously. “I’ve seen this movie once, it’s pretty good! I don’t know if it’s Star Wars level good, but I’d recommend it to someone. Now that I think about it, I don’t know why I brought you a copy. If it’s your favorite movie, you probably already have it so that’s kinda stupid of me I guess. Did you know that-“

You could listen to this boy talk for hours and hours, but for now, you interrupt him with a tight hug. It takes him a second to process, his mind and his heart going just as crazy as yours. He recoups soon, wrapping his arms tightly around your lower back.

“Thank you, Peter. You really didn’t have to do this.”

“I just wanted to make your rough day a little better.”

And that, he did. More than he even knows. The two of you hug for a little while longer before pulling apart, your faces only inches away from each other.

You gulp as you look into his brown eyes. You’ve never seen them this close before. Chills are sent down Peter’s spine, but for a different reason this time. A better reason.

His eyes begin to flutter shut as he leans in and you mirror his movements.

It’s finally happening, and so fast too! Peter Parker is now literally in the palm of your hands. You try your best to maintain your excitement. Another uncontrollable episode is not what you need right now.

You can basically feel his lips on yours already. Your first kiss with Peter...

“Y/n! The food is here!”

...was too good to be true. Of course.

The sound of Alice’s voice makes you and Peter jolt to opposite ends of the bed. You run your hands over your face and let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah Alice, I’ll be right there!”

The air becomes still as you and Peter look at everything in the room except for each other. He’s the first to speak up, “Well uh, I should let you go eat.” He rubs his hands on his legs.

“Yeah I probably shouldn’t keep my aunt waiting. She’s scary when she’s hangry.” You joke to lighten the mood.

You both share a small laugh before you walk Peter over to the window he’d just entered through.

“Thank you again for everything. You’re a really good friend.”

He doesn’t show it, but that word just stabbed him in the heart. Friend.

“Anything for you, Y/n/n. You should go, I don’t want you to see me climbing these walls.” Peter says truthfully, but plays it off as a joke.

You laugh along with him, “Call me if you hurt yourself. I have ways to fix ya up.” You say truthfully as well.

Neither of you catch on to the other’s honesty.

You give each other an endearing smile before parting way.

Once your back is turned, you whisper to yourself, “Friend? Why did I say that?”

Here’s one more thing to beat yourself up about all night long.

“Y/n, The food!” Alice yells, the hunger taking over.

“I’m coming!” You should in an equally frustrated tone, but because of a different type of hunger.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Sorry it took a while to post this chapter!! I tried making it longer than the others to make up for it :)

Omgg my Tom fic, The “Friendship” Test is currently sitting at 800+ notes, that’s insane!! Thank you guys so much, I know I say that a lot but I truly mean it!

((excuse any typos, i write at night))

tag list 🏷 (lmk if i missed you or if you want to be added!)

@jackiehollanderr @crazylittlereader2474

@phantomhrt @sassystay-bunny @sltwins

@bigassnocash @pignolithecookie

@big-galaxy-chaos @lilyblackx @jjjmaybank

@peterandtom @meilikki

@the-avengers-assembling @voldyphobia

@lumiees @frostay

@lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker

@mikaofasgard @empath-bunny

@neoneun-nananeun-neo @themoonlightofari

#peter parker x reader #avengers x reader #peter parker x avengers!reader #bucky barnes #peter parker x stark!reader #bucky barnes x reader #tom holland x reader #peter parker #tom holland #sebastian stan #peter parker fic

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leejungchans · 3 years

Text

— wifey.

word count: 1.7k

warning(s): none!!

genre: fluff, humour

notes: obviously i don’t know what went on backstage at the sma/award shows in general, especially with the special arrangements of award shows in the past two years due to you-know-what, so this is mainly based on my own interpretation/imagination!!

set during january 31, 2021

summary: juliet tells one of her closest friends her secret backstage at the seoul music awards.

juliet’s masterlist | ask game

ryujinnie 🙄💖 [19:16] do you wanna stop by and chat? 🥺

juliet 🤍 [19:17] didn’t we just talk on the phone yesterday? i didn’t know you wanted to see me this much 😼

ryujinnie 🙄💖 [19:17] ...never mind 🚪🚶🏻‍♀️

juliet 🤍 [19:17] no wait i’m joking come back wifey 🥺🥺🥺🥺 what number is your dressing room?

“Unnie,” Juliet calls out to her manager, “can I go see Ryujin at ITZY’s dressing room? I won’t be long.”

Despite wearing a mask, Juliet can tell that the older woman is smiling from the way her eyes curve up into crescents. “Sure, I don’t think you guys have to be on stage for a while. I’ll text you if something comes up and you need to be back here.”

“Okay! Thanks, unnie!” Juliet says before grabbing her phone and putting on her mask. She passes by San on her way to the door and takes the opportunity to pat him on the head.

He looks up from his phone to find the maknae grinning down at him. “Who are you off to bother now?” he jokes.

She gasps, feigning offence as she places a hand over her heart. “Excuse you! It’s not my fault people want to see me!”

San rolls his eyes. “Okay, Miss Popular, I’m not going to hold you back any longer then. Be careful!”

“Careful is my middle name.”

“Says the person who almost tripped on the red carpet earlier.”

“...Definitely Wooyoungie-oppa’s fault.”

An indignant squawk comes from somewhere else in the room. “No, it wasn’t and you know it!”

San groans playfully. “I hate our family.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.”

Giggling at their banter, Juliet heads out into the hallway of the venue, bowing to the various passing staff members as she looks for ITZY’s dressing room.

She doesn’t miss the screens located on the walls showing SEVENTEEN receiving their bonsang, and she stops momentarily to watch their speech while smiling to herself, heart swelling at how happy she is for them (and specifically, her boyfriend).

When Juliet finally finds her friend in an empty hallway, leaning against the wall next to a door which she assumes leads to ITZY’s room, she immediately runs to tackle the rapper in a back hug.

“Guess who?”

“My worst nightmare.”

Juliet pouts even though Ryujin isn’t able to see it. “You’re no fun, Jinnie.”

“And you’re very cute.”

“Damn, and I’m going to forgive you just like that,” Juliet laughs. “Nice outfit, by the way.” She takes Ryujin’s hand to spin her around as she admires the ITZY member’s all-white suit. “Very fitting for the boss that you are.”

“I knew you were in love with me!” Ryujin teases, which immediately earns her a light smack on the arm. “So, how’ve you been?”

Juliet gives her a flat stare. “We literally talked yesterday.”

“Something could’ve happened since then!” Ryujin defends. “Plus, I just like hearing from you.”

Despite feeling warm and fuzzy from her friend’s sweet words, Juliet plays along by faking a cough. “Whipped. But to answer your question, not much has happened, unless you count almost falling asleep when getting my makeup done at the shop something exciting.”

That was partly a lie. Admittedly, she had been texting Chan nonstop during the day knowing they’d be seeing each other here, but she doesn’t know how to approach the topic with Ryujin. They’re as close as can be, but how do you break the news?

“‘Hey, I’m dating someone. I don’t know if you’ve heard of his group though, it’s not like his group is a million-seller or anything!’ Like this?” she wonders aloud that morning in the dorm.

“Uh, yeah, that’s exactly how you tell someone,” Jongho deadpans from where he’s making coffee in the kitchen. “Well, maybe except the last part. Just say, ‘Hi, insert friend’s name, just wanted to share with you that I’m dating Dino from SEVENTEEN.’ Why are you being weird about this?”

“Did you seriously say ‘insert friend’s name’?”

“Yes, now answer my question.”

Juliet sluggishly rolls off the sofa to lie on the floor in a starfish position. “I don’t know...do people in our industry even tell their friends that they’re dating someone? Or do they, like, let their friends find out along with the rest of the world? Is it pretentious to tell someone just like that? Am I not being careful enough if I do that?”

Jongho frowns, sliding a mug of coffee across the counter for her to drink later before padding over to her. “I think mornings make you overthink more,” he says softly as he crouches next to the starfi—the maknae.

“Of course it wouldn’t be wise to grab a megaphone and run down the street broadcasting it, even though that wouldn’t be the stupidest thing you’ve done.” Juliet raises a leg to kick him lightly as he cackles. “But if you know that person can be trusted—wait, who exactly are you planning to tell?”

“Ryujinnie if I see her later at the award show,” Juliet replies, flailing her limbs around. “Maybe Felix? If I happen to also run into him.”

Jongho moves to sit on the floor. “Why didn’t you tell Ryujin-ssi yesterday over the phone then?”

“I don’t know...” she admits, “the topic never came up, and this doesn’t feel like news to tell over the phone.”

He flicks her head playfully. “You’re acting like you’re getting married or something.”

“Shut up, Jongho,” Juliet mutters, a faint tinge of pink forming on her cheeks.

“Anyways, both of them are people you trust, so I think it’s okay to tell them. They probably saw it coming like us and will likely be just as supportive, you don’t have to be weird about it, though that can be hard for someone like you,” he jokes.

“I will strangle you.” There’s no way he’s taking her seriously, not with one of her cheeks squished adorably against the floor.

“You can’t even crush an apple with your hands, but sure.”

At that moment, Seonghwa walks into the living room to find the two youngest members sprawled on the cold tiles. “What are you two doing down there?” he scolds, “you’re going to catch a cold!”

“Earth to Juliet!”

Juliet snaps out of her daze quick enough to register Ryujin waving a hand in front of her face. “Oh, sorry, I spaced out,” she says sheepishly.

Ryujin giggles. “I figured that, is everything okay?”

Juliet is about to respond when there is a commotion at the end of the hallway. Then she hears a familiar voice, more specifically, one belonging to a certain Boo Seungkwan.

Both girls turn their necks to find the members of SEVENTEEN walking in their direction, likely returning to their own dressing room. Before Juliet can think of a way to dig a hole to hide in, the members recognise her instantly, promptly exchanging knowing glances and letting out aye’s.

Ryujin blinks confusedly. Why are her seniors chuckling amongst themselves at the sight of the two girls chatting in the hallway? And why is her friend suddenly acting so strangely and avoiding eye contact with everyone and everything but the ground?

Her bewilderment increases tenfold as SEVENTEEN draws closer, with Juliet still looking down even when they bow to their seniors and murmur quiet greetings.

What is going on?

The answer to her question comes when the group quickens their pace and walks past the girls, laughing and sneaking glances over their shoulders as they disappear around the corner. All of them, but one.

Ryujin shuffles, awkwardly bowing to the youngest SEVENTEEN member which he returns along with a quiet “hello”. She watches in part shock and part amusement as Chan turns to her friend.

“Hi.”

Despite their masks, anyone could tell they were both smiling widely, and judging from her friend’s sparkly eyes and pink ears, Ryujin had no doubt that their relationship goes beyond a simple friendship.

“Congratulations,” Juliet tells him shyly, “I’ll be looking out for your performance later.”

The corners of Chan’s eyes crinkle even more. “Thanks, I’ll be cheering ATEEZ on too, of course. Stop by later if you have time? Seungkwannie-hyung said he misses you and Wooyoung,” he says the last part with a playful roll of his eyes.

Juliet laughs. “Okay, I’ll bring him with me later,” she promises.

Ryujin and Juliet watch Chan jog down the hallway, presumably to catch up with his members, before the former turns to her friend and clears her throat dramatically.

“Miss Juliet, is there something you want to tell me?” Ryujin asks with a wriggle of her eyebrows. “I’ve heard you mention that you’re friends with Dino-sunbaenim, but I didn’t know you two were this close?”

Juliet bites the inside of her cheek. “Promise you won’t tell?”

Sensing the serious tone in her voice, Ryujin nods solemnly. “Promise.”

Juliet leans down to whisper in the shorter girl’s ear. “We’re dating,” she says quickly before pulling away.

“Oh my God, really?”

“Shh! Not that loud! But yeah... we are.”

“I mean, that kinda crossed my mind when I witnessed your exchange just now,” Ryujin says upon looking down both ends of the hallway to ensure no one else is there. “But I thought maybe you just had a crush on him. Since when?”

“The beginning of this month.”

Ryujin nods again. “Did you tell your company?”

“Yeah. So far, only our families, members and companies know, you’re the first person I’ve told.”

The rapper’s eyes soften as she pulls Juliet into a hug. “Thank you trusting me. You two are really cute together, but I will only support this relationship on one condition.”

Juliet giggles, knowing her friend is simply joking. “Shoot.”

“Please don’t make me third-wheel you guys ever again,” Ryujin pleads. “I felt so awkward standing there while you two flirted with each other.”

“Okay, okay, I promise!”

“Now, I’d tell you to tell me everything, but it seems like there’s somewhere else you need to be,” Ryujin hints cheekily. “So you will call me tonight instead.”

Juliet beams, feeling very lucky to have such an incredible friend. “You know I will.”

“One more question—are you still my wifey, or did Dino-sunbaenim already steal you away from me?”

Juliet can’t help but laugh at how wronged Ryujin sounded before taking her friend’s hand in hers. “Don’t worry, Jinnie, you’ll always be my wifey.”

“Good to know. Now, give me your phone. There’s something I need to do.”

— bonus!!

Chan reaches the door to SEVENTEEN’s dressing room, already bracing himself for his members’ teasing that will no doubt ensue the moment he steps foot into the room.

As he reaches for the door handle, his phone lights up with a notification.

minnie 🐭❤️ [19:43] hello sunbaenim, i just wanted to let you know that she’s still my wifey 😺 please take good care of her! she can be a huge mess sometimes but you probably already knew that 😔 congratulations on the bonsang! - shin ryujin

minnie 🐭❤️ [19:43] aHa anyways 🤡 see you later!! i may be a mess but i’m your mess right 🥺🥺 also please tell seungkwannie-oppa i miss him too!!

a/n: we stan two besties 🥺🥺 please consider leaving feedback whether it’s a reblog, a reply or an ask, it would mean the absolute world to me as feedback really motivates and supports creators 🥺 and feel free to chat with me about juliet or anything else through my asks!! thank you for reading, remember i’m here for you and have a good day 💕

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multifandom-girlie · 4 years

Text

𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

Imagine requested by @theshyprincess: Your his girlfriend and he is trying to train you to be a hunter but the sexual tension becomes too much

Pairings: Jeremy x Reader

Warnings: Smut

Do you know what it's like to have a undeniably good looking, incredibly strong vampire Hunter boyfriend ? No. Well let me explain it. It's like that sweet boy you date in highschool that's had sex alot but still asks if your okay continously all through out having sex with him. Yes it's sweet but it get's a little annoying after a while. That is what me and Jeremy are like. He's the sweetest guy on the earth but he's so overprotective. I mentioned the fact it was a little irritating him being so protective all the time and luckily it went well for me.

4 Months Ago-

“Jer ?”

“Yes baby ?”

“I just wanted to talk.”

“Okay..?”

“It's nothing bad, don't worry.”

“Okay. Stopped worrying, what's up ?”

“You know we promised when we first started dating how we would always be honest with each other about how we felt ? Even if it's how we make eachother feel ?”

“Yes..? Y/N, have I upset you or something ? I'm starting to worry again.”

“Jer, stop..it’s nothing bad. It's just that your really overprotective.”

“Well yeah, I know I'm a little protective over you but that's just cause I love you and I would do anything for you.”

“No Jer, you don't understand. Your too protective, sometimes yes it's very cute. You know when you get protective in front of other men but when you stop me going out the house after certain hours or how I always have too be around you. You literally stand outside the door when I'm peeing. I'm not saying I don't appreciate, I do. It's nice to know someone cares so much, but sometimes it's too much. I need my own space. You know I love being around you but I'm going crazy Jer.”

“That was alot to hear. I'm sorry Y/N but I didn't know I was so bad. It's just I care about you alot and you know why I'm so worried all the time. I'm a Hunter you know I can protect myself, you can't.”

“Well how about we make a deal ?”

“It depends.”

“If you let me have my own space, you know let me hang with people who aren't you all the time and dump my curfew....I will train with you, like you wanted me to months ago. I will activate my Hunter gene.”

“You promise you'll actually train ? Your won't just say this, so you can go for girls night or hang with Stefan ? You will actually train, if I back off a little ?”

“Yes, of course not and yes.”

“Okay. Deal.”

“Deal, I love you Jer !”

Present Time-

So here we were in the woods, getting ready for another session. We’ve been having 4 hour sessions with 3 five minute breaks...everyday for the last 4 months. I'm glad we are sticking to the deal. You know he has backed off, I've been for a year's worth of girl's nights already and me and Stefan even went on a road trip and couple times, without Jeremy.

The only down side to sticking to the deal though was we weren't really as lovey dovey as usual. We haven't had many dates or movie nights. All our conversations are either us arguing-which although is very rare, it still happens-or it's talking about our sessions or what he's going to train me to do next. Also I think I'm going crazy. I love him for doing all this but god I'm so frustrated. We haven't had sex in 4 months and it's bloody killing me.

I'm just glad that our anniversary is approaching because I'm hoping he will halt for one day. I guess we'll see.

Anyway so last session there was a bit of a problem when we got home yesterday my pants ripped as I was putting them on...so I had to wear an old pair of joggers, let me tell you now it was scorching. It was not good, so after our session I showered and headed to the mall with Caroline. Who helped me find some new gym wear that wouldn't rip because my ass and hips were to big to fit into my bloody pants. I also decided to get a new sports bra aswell because my other ones too tight anyway.

Yesterday-

“How are you and Jeremy then ? Are the sessions going well ?”

“Yeah they are actually but that's the only thing that is.”

“What are you talking about ? Oh sweetie, no, I can smell the frustration all over you.”

“I haven't had sex in 4 months Care.”

“Omg sweetie. Oooo, I know what we can do. Get the sexiest gym wear we can find. See if that will make him lose concentration. If he doesn't even flinch, you need to tell him. There's no way he can look at you and not want to shag you.”

“Shag ? Care I think you've been hanging out at the Mikaelsons too much.”

“Shut up.”

15 minutes later-

“This is perfect !”

Present time-

I changed into my new outfit I got. I'm going to be so pissed if he doesn't take the fucking hint.

I went outside to the car and we drove off. Jeremy didn't even spare me a glance. God he's lucky if I don't “accidently” punch him today. We got out the car and he immediately go into position. I jogged over. Nothing.

Obviously I'm not going to make the cut for Baywatch anytime soon.

We walked towards eachother and I threw a punch only for it to be dodged. He grabbed my wrist and span me around so my back was to his chest, I elbowed him and jumped on his back surprising him. He fell on his stomach but lifted himself up, even with me straddled on his back. He flipped so I was on my back and held me down. At this point I knew he was distracted, he could taste the tension just as much as I could but I was determined to win this. So whilst he was admiring how submissive I most likely looked under him.

With my knees bent, I flattened my feet on the ground. My hand gripped his hips and I thrusted my hips upwards. He flew forward and caught himself by propping his hands up above my head. I still had a tight hold of his hips and I twisted my own, so I could thread my knees in-between his legs. I wrapped my legs around him and rolled us over, so I was now on top.

Now I couldn't hide the smirk on my face, showing I was proud of myself. He had a proud grin on his face, that was the first time getting out from under him-minus in bed-and it wasn’t using a technique he taught me. I just thought it was a logical solution.

His eyes projecting his admiration and mass of lust into mine. His hands reached up to cup my face and pulled me down into a loving kiss. As I pulled away, he caught sight of my breasts peeping out my bra. I felt one of his hand loosen on my hips and trail up my body. I grabbed his wrist pushed it away and walked to the car. As soon as I was about the open my door, I was grabbed and pushed against the back door behind mine.

My breath caught in my throat, a little surprised at the action. He leaned down and kissed me on the lips ravenously. I wrapped my arms around his neck whilst one of his were raising my legs from the ground. I clenched them around his waist and tangled my feet together. Now above him a little, I continued to kiss him whilst tugging on the short locks of his mousy hair.

He still had a strong hold of me as he stepped back and felt around the door for the handle. When he found it he jerked the handle and opened the door with ease. He gently laid me down in the back seats and got in closing the door.

I hoisted myself up and perched on his lap. He leaned in but instead of kissing my swollen lips again he bombarded my neck with sloppy kisses. He directed his mouth to my collar bone and starting sucking slightly aswell as kissing. I threw my head back in pleasure and huffed quietly. He then moved to my boobs and started to kiss the tops of them and down my cleavage before peeling my bra off and circling my nipples with the tip of his younger and gradually enveloping them with his mouth.

I felt that he wasn't undressed enough for my liking so I lifted his shirt off his body over his head and threw it beside us. I will never get enough of this man's body. Damn. He placed his hands on my ass but a couple seconds later pulled away from my boobs.

“When di-how is it th-woah.”

I giggled a little and started blushing a little.

“It’s thanks to your workouts.”

He grinned and tugged the waistband of my pants but struggled to slip them off my ass. I pulled them off myself, since I knew he didn't want to break them. He saw my white thong and groaned whilst throwing his head back. I giggled and pulled down the elastic waist shorts he had on. I palmed him through his boxers, earning a slight puff. I smirked and pulled down his boxers, down to his ankles.

I kissed up his thigh closer to his thick cock. A slight breath brushing his member. My lips hovering around the tip of cock and gradually wrapping around them, gently tightening the grip.

The moisture of my lips making it easier to inhale is big member. The nib of my tongue orbiting the head of his penis and whilst doing so gathering the pre cum, he'd let discharged. I continued this action for a couple of minutes before driving his whole cock down my throat. I did this repeatedly for a minute or so. The head hitting my throat with every jolt.

He was getting closer and closer, I could tell because of the giddy pulsation his cock was performing in my mouth. He couldn't help but nudge his hips in my mouth a little more so I could finish him off. After he started that process my little hand began to pump the base of his cock whilst my tongue was toying with the tip. Instantaneously, a smooth white liquid shot down my throat.

I lifted myself up a bit and let him taste himself on my lips. He ripped the white thong I had on but apologised straight after. I giggled and kissed him lovingly again. I raised myself a little and positioned myself comfortably on top of him. His pink tip stroking my clit in upwards motions before seeking my entrance and slipping himself in.

I bit my lip and threw my head back in pleasure. Whereas his head fell into my chest and groaned. I started to raise myself and rapidly force myself back down again. Once he was fully encased in side of me, I hoisted myself up and forced myself back down getting faster and faster with every movement.

Steam painting the windows. The heat compelling us to break a sweat. The moans, groans and slapping of skin the single things to be heard for miles. My own pace was becoming moderate, I didn't know how long I could keep going for especially since the work out we did not 15 minutes before. He could undoubtedly sense that I was lacking energy, most likely because of the early start each morning too. So to murder the sense of guilt he was feeling, he grabbed a tighter hold on my hips and rammed his hips in an upwards motion. Pounding into me relentlessly.

“I’m so close Jer !”

“Go on baby.”

I promptly delivered my juices at a rapid speed. They drizzled down his dense cock and chased his second orgasm down. It didn't take long before he unleashed his orgasm. We sat there for a minute or two.

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you Jer.”

Nothing could be more perfect in that moment.

Except that was truly wrong.

No protection.

He didn't pull out.

We are both human.

Shit.

MASTERLIST

#Jeremy Gilbert #jeremy gilbert smut #jeremy gilbert imagine #tvd imagine #to imagine #imagines #caroline forbes #Stefan Salvatore #jeremy x reader #the vampire diaries

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myelocin · 4 years

Text

strangers: but sort of like home. | kuroo tetsurou

synopsis: in which you’ve been neighbors with kuroo tetsurou for over eighteen years, and this goodbye is sort of feeling like the music video to taylor swift’s you belong with me.

characters: kuroo tetsurou, you

genre/warnings: fluff, no warnings!, adolescence

wc: ~1.2k

a/n: this is @ciels-the-limit req #15 to stories in passing, and was supposed to be a drabble but i am booboo the clown and wrote too much. i really liked the bit ab waking up and beating the sun ;w;

“I’d ask you why you’re awake for some ungodly reason but at this point the things you do don’t even surprise me anymore,” Kuroo deadpans as soon as you cracked your window open.

“Funny,” you scoff but open your window fully anyway to see him better.

“It’s four am why are you up?” you ask and lean against your folded arms on the windowsill.

Kuroo’s been your next door neighbor for your whole life. And your relationship was weird— or at least you think it is. The window in his room was ironically right across yours and from the day you moved in, and catching glimpses of one another has just become a part of your day.

You rolled your eyes every time your friend made a reference to Taylor Swift’s You Belong With Me music video. Kuroo didn’t seem to mind though. He laughed every time he heard the joke.

But at least he was nice about it.

He could have easily told the class about the time he caught you half sobbing into your pillow, snot faced and hair sticking out everywhere because of a new book you’ve just finished—but he didn’t. He just awkwardly waved and shut his blinds before you could even think of an excuse. A text with a funny picture would always be waiting in your inbox ten minutes later though. You appreciated it.

Then again, you’re sure he appreciated the tin of cookies you baked indirectly for him when your dad would pop by their house and share some of the steak he was grilling. He didn’t say much, but the text about how your recipe’s improving would always be at the top of your inbox as soon as your dad came back in the house.

Outside of the conversations you shared over the window during hours like these—neither of you really talked much outside of it. A nod of acknowledgement in the hallway maybe, and a polite hello when your parents would invite his over dinner, but other than the fleeting conversations between windows at four am, you only knew him as Kuroo Tetsurou.

Kuroo Tetsurou, the neighbor who lived next to your house for more than eighteen years and always left his blinds open in the hours he knew you’d wake up before your alarm.

Like now.

Like any other day.

Except this time, the conversation lasted a little longer.

“Aren’t you going to jog?” you ask him. Kuroo lets your voice ring in the makeshift silence before he sits back down on his bed—the side facing you, and shakes his head.

“In a bit, but aren’t you leaving today? Heard my dad talking to yours yesterday.”

You nod; a little sleepy, but attentive. He looks like he just rolled out of bed, you muse. Eighteen years later and the bedhead was still there.

“Osaka, huh?” Kuroo says and this time you let his voice ring out before you prop your head up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and nodding at him.

“Yeah. Heard my dad say that you’re staying in Tokyo,” you say and he grins, almost softly, and nods back at you.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been a good neighbor,” you tease, and Kuroo looks at you, the look in his eyes gentle. Maybe because it’s the magic of four am, or the fact that this is sort of your last four am with Kuroo—you feel something akin to sadness.

“You’re saying that like I’m gonna die,” he snorts, one hand running through his hair. If it was already messy before—it looks even messier now. Then again, his hair has always been one of his charms, you think, so you don’t comment.

“Are we supposed to cry and say goodbye?” Kuroo quips across you and you hum in contemplation before shaking your head no.

“For the most part of our lives we were sort of strangers. Why, do you feel like crying Kuroo?” you laugh and he feigns his hurt by throwing one hand over his heart.

“We shared eighteen years worth of memories, (y/n)!” he gasps, which you easily laugh at.

Across you, Kuroo smiles at your laughter. He’s always thought happiness was a good look on you.

“I feel like every time I’ll come home, I’ll think of you, though,” you confess. “Your voice is literally the first thing I hear every morning. Kinda sad that your blinds would probably be closed by then.”

“It’s because you’re racing your alarm clock. It’s supposed to wake you up, not the other way around!” he laughs.

You wave off his comment and laugh with him. The clock beside you ticks to 5AM and this time, it’s his alarm blaring from his phone. You raise your eyebrows, confused. He always got up before you?

Picking up on your puzzled expression, Kuroo speaks, “I have two alarm clocks. I usually used to jog at five, but ever since I discovered how fucked up your sleep is, I guess I started waking up around your schedule too.”

You laugh, a little confused, but a little touched too. The mini conversations you shared with him were always a good way to start your day.

“Now you’re making me sentimental,” you groan. The world is still a little quiet, save for the ticking of the clock and Kuroo’s chuckle floating from his window into yours—but it’s nice. Familiar.

It feels as familiar and in place as the literature books on your bookshelf, swimming trophies above a framed wall of achievements alike, and the framed photo of you from your childhood. Kuroo laughs again and says another comment that in turn has you laughing along with him and you can’t help but feel like home.

In many ways he was still a stranger to you—but in the subtle ways, he’s felt like home too.

You’re staring at each other, still a little sleepy, and share a smile.

“I guess I’ll see you out in the real world,” Kuroo says as he stands up and stretches. The sun’s peaking now and you notice that the light hits him beautifully.

A packed suitcase and a travel bag sits at the foot of your bed along with a map of Osaka’s station as the lockscreen on your phone. You think about Kuroo as you watch him stretch and smile at you, nostalgia clawing up your throat.

“See you,” you smile and wave at him as he leaves.

You think of how he said see you, instead and goodbye and how it sounds like what you’d say to your friends when you went home from the pool or library.

Like you were just leaving and coming home in time to see him the next four am.

It’s like a promise, you think.

You smile and settle on the thought that the sentiment’s nice.

It’s seven hours later when you’re sitting in the window seat of a bullet train when your phone lights up with a text.

Kuroo Tetsurou: when u wake up at four like the lunatic you are, you can still call me. i’ll be up :) goodluck in the real world.

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insufferablelust · 4 years

Text

The dying and Its blossoming.

The one where Y/N love Spencer Reid, but soon find out that he might or might not have found someone else.

OKAY HELLO, this is the angst i talked about yesterday, it’s sad.. but has a happy ending so don’t cry just yet! anyway the reason why i write this is because i’ve been numb for few days and i want to cry bad so i just decided to write. And this is what i came up with, it made my soft ass cried so hopefully.. it can get through to you too, happy reading! oh and TAAHM is also uploading soon!

MASTERLIST OF ALL MY WORKS.

WARNINGS : ANGST, heartbreak stuff, fluff at the end, thats it i think!!

————🍃————

It was the little things he did that caught your eyes since you joined the team. The way he first introduced himself to you, shaking your hands with the brightest smile beaming on his face. The way he always put a coffee on your desk before you arrived. The way he would review all the case with you, going over the files together and staying late to work on paperworks together. The way he called you a week after Maeve’s death and asked you to stay on the phone. So on and so forth.

Falling for Spencer Reid is inevitable, how can it not be inevitable? when you and him practically do all things together, Dr Who marathons, Drive to Rossi’s, even accompanying him to Vegas one time to visit his Diana.

The first time you felt it, felt the spark— you shook away your thoughts and scoffed at yourself, it’s just a stupid crush. You tried, tried so hard to believe that it was just a stupid crush. Yet the more time you spent together, the more your heart take over your brain, convinced you to love him, and convinced you to think that he’s in love with you. Truth and confession aside, you could’ve sworn he’s in love with you, these are facts right? all these moments? surely it has to mean something to him, like it meant something to you.

Confuses and frustrated, the next person you called was Emily, your closest friend besides Spencer. She knows how head over heels you are for him, and how much you’re willing to do anything for him. So that night you spilled all your confusions and worries as you sipped on your wine, your teeth constantly biting your nails— if Spencer was here, he would’ve told you that “Y/N, do you know that biting your nails—“ and you would listen to him contently even if you already knew what he was about to say.

“It’s just— i’m not crazy to think he loves me back right? or at least like me?” You stresses, chugging down the last bit of your drink as you hear Prentiss chuckled on the other side.

“What? No Y/n, look i’ve practically grown up with you guys, and all i can say is that you both really need to realize how much you actually need each other, so stop worrying, go get your man.”

Now when Emily said that, she didn’t mean it as literally going over to Spencer’s house like what you were doing right now. Only wearing an oversize sweater and pair of jeans, you looked so comfy inside those sweater paws that you let out an annoyed huffed, ‘now he’ll think i’m a child’ then an idea popped inside your head, causing a big cute smile to appear on your cheeks. Your hand reached to the backseat, sighing when you find what you were looking for; Spencer’s purple sweater.

Now you didn’t stole it, he gave it to you, because you’ve mentioned one morning that “They are all sold out Spence! you’re one of the lucky ones” The annoyed look on your face must be so embarrassing that he gave his godforsaken lilac sweater to you the next day, with the Spencer reid’s famous smile “Here, you can keep it, i already washed it but it’ll probably smells like me still cause i smell like my clothes and i used my—“

“Lavender, you always use lavender for your clothes, i remember Spencer! oh my heavens! Thank you.” You can’t forget how seemingly happy he looked, cheeks flushed, as flushed as yours.

You sighed contently at the thought, as you exited your car, clutching his sweater on your chest as you head up to his apartment. Now you see, if the plan does work you’ll just say that you need for him to wear it again because the smell starting to wear off, which made you giggle. So you jog upstairs quickly to his apartment door before knocking, “Spencer?”

You frowned, usually he always opened his door right after you knock, why’s he taking so long? so out of worry you knock few times “Hello? Spencer?” this time you were met by voices of two people, giggling and hushing each other, as they got closer, you giggled in thought ‘maybe you’ll find garcia there who knows?”

But the moment someone opened Spencer’s door your eyes went wide, and your brain tries to make a sense out of what you’re seeing. Here standing in front of you is a girl, a stunning woman you’ve neither met or recognized but one thing you recognized is how well Spencer’s sweater clung on her body, and how happy she looked while she’s standing on his door wearing his clothes with his mug in hand.

“May i help you?” She asked with a smile, you could see the blue colored scrub bottom on her, A surgeon, judging by her uncharacteristically warm welcome, you guessed pediatrics. Damn it Y/N no time for profiling.

“Is spencer he—“

“Who is it, love?”

Oh... so this is why he canceled your usual movie night two days ago, this is why he’s been saying he’s busy when you asked him to drive you to your usual hangout library, this is why he’s been so happy recently.. this is the reason. a mid 20 possibly 30 years old gorgeous Surgeon with a warm smile and impossibly sweet attitude.

“Uh i think she’s your friend from work, Y/N right?”

You concluded then and there that you don’t like how she said your name, it was selfish but you hated how kind it sounds whilst you’re here standing in front of her, eyes glassy and lips trembling. Then when you thought you’ve seen it all, your eyes locked with Spencer, he— looked so content and comfortable, happy. He looked so happy with his...

“Y/N, hi what are you doing here so late? oh and Y/N meets (G/N) and (G/N) meets Y/N, she’s my best friend from work”

So thats what you were, Best friends who acts like a couple, best friends who hold hands, best friends who shared a drunken kiss, best friends who poured everything to each other, best friends who— you can go on and on yet you can feel how tight your chest is becoming, Anxiety— fuck you have to get out of here.

“Y/N?”

“I-i, uh here’s your um sweater, i— figured you might want uh it back, alright i gotta go now.” Spencer didn’t missed how your hand trembles so bad when you handed him the sweater, or how glassy your eyes looked, or how your face looked like it was drained of color, and how you struggled to breathe, her anxiety attacks.

“Y/N wait!” Before he could mention anything, she went down quickly and running towards her car.

“What was that all about?” His girlfriend asked him, which he shook his head in reply, and muttered “no idea, let me check” So he went down, to no surprise, her car was speeding away.

What Spencer didn’t know was that Y/N came home wishing she could’ve been smart enough to noticed the damn signs, or smart enough to never let her heart fooled her into thinking a genius, a guy like him would ever have any feelings for her.

She went to the bathroom, not bothering to wash her face instead she sat down near the sink and then she cried, she hugged her knees and Y/N cried that night, cried so hard that she tire herself out, falling asleep on the floor of her bathroom.

——————

The next morning, she woke up with a headache that’s practically yelling at her to take some meds and drink, her eyes opened slowly as she found herself laying on the cold bathroom floor. Slowly she tried to get up, holding onto the nearest wall as she feel her knees buckled and her head pounding, she let out string of curses before managing to stand fully, leaning over the sink to see herself in the mirror.

The sight is terrifying, her eyes bloodshot red, her face looks dull drained of color, her lips dry, her hair is a mess and her nose is runny. She continue to stare at her misery some more until her phone rang, flaring up the headaches. Great.. Must be a fucking case.

“Hello?” She mentally cringed hearing herself, she doesn’t sound like herself, she sounded like she just drank 30 bottles of alcohol then managed to broke her vocal cords.

“Hi... Y/N are you okay?” Emily’s voice was soothing at least, she sighed as she gulped down an aspirin and took some clothes out of her closet.

“Yeah, We have a case?” She knew that Emily would dig up the conversation more if she didn’t jumped straight to the point, and Y/N is in no mood to talk.

“Yes, wheels up in 40 but if you cant—“

“I’ll be there in 10.”

—————

Y/N took a quick shower, before putting on your work pants, a simple V-neck t-shirt and top it with a blazer, quickly gulping the rest of her water before combing her hair and then head out the door. When she parked her car, her memory drove back to last night, causing her to groan in mental and physical pain— tears welling in her eyes as she violently hitting the steering wheel.

“Not now, Not fucking now.” She closed her eyes before leaning back against the headrest and take a deep breath, calming herself down. She prayed to herself that she won’t break down if she sees Spencer.

She won’t break down.

She keep chanting that inside her pounding head as she walked out of the elevator, entering the bullpen, quickly grabbing her go bag and place it on top of her desk before heading upstairs to the meeting room.

She knew where he usually sit, so when she entered the room, she tried her best to look at Garcia, presenting the case. “Sorry i’m late, traffic is a damn bitch, Double homicide Garcia?” She asked, as she sit down between Emily and JJ, looking down at her files, noticed how stupid she was to use files instead of the tablet which she refused so she could review the cases with Spencer on the plane, Now look who’s laughing. What she didn’t realized realized is that all eyes were on her disheveled looking state, no amount of make up could cover the misery, i suppose.

“Yes, we’re thinking surrogates for a blond woman with wealthy family. Y/N are you okay?” She visibly tensed, hearing his voice is like opening up a fresh wound and pour some acid on top. She wished he could just shut up and not talk to her anymore, not now or in few days at least.

“Fine. Garcia, any other leads?” Y/N looks up to Garcia, to find her with a frown on her face, clearly wanting to say something. But Y/N has the pleading look in her eyes, and the way she tilted her head made Garcia shook her head and replied with a small “Nuh uh thats it, the rest is on your file” Nodding at her with a silent thank you, you get up and left the room, which in other cases Emily won’t appreciate but she let it slide because she knew something’s wrong.

“Y/N” Not him again, you muttered on your head, as you zipped up your go bag.

“Y/N..” Then he touched you, touched your arms, he touched you and you exploded, all your willpower ceased to exist as you swat his hand away and giving him a warning.

“Don’t touch me unless necessary, don’t talk to me unless it’s about the case, and do not call me by my first name, it’s agent Y/L/N, have a good day Dr.Reid”

—————

Throughout the entirety of the case, neither you nor spencer talk to each other, only piling up opinions about the case, the team have caught the unsub of course, so now you’re heading back to DC.

The longer you sit on the very opposite end to where Spencer sit, your mind started to wonder back to what happened three days ago. Being on the case has definitely helped distract you from the reality that Spencer Reid has a girlfriend and that you’re a fool to ever believed that he could love you. You’re so deep in thought whilst looking at the soft curls of his hair, you didn’t realized Emily has sat down next to you.

“A girlfriend?”

“What?”

“He has a girlfriend doesn’t he?” Your eyes darted to Emily’s as you sighed heavily, closing your eyes and leaned your head against her shoulder. “She’s a surgeon, pediatrics i think, she probably smarter than i am, um she smile a lot and she’s holding a cup of coffee when i arrived so i’m guessing she’s a nice person, there’re cat fur on her hair so i guess she has a cat which he should’ve hate being a germaphobe and all but i guess she love that kind.” Y/N half whispered half yelled, as she stared at his poking head still that is before she heard Emily burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry, Y/N you profiled her?”

“Em!” You whined as you shove her shoulder, you crossed your arms on your chest as you huffed and pout like a child. “I’m sorry it’s just.. oh god you even notices cat hair” She laughed again, which caused you to laugh loudly, feeling the joy overcome you in full force before you started to cry, not knowing why. Tears kept on falling down your face as Emily hugged you and rubbing your back “Its okay, let it out sweet girl. I got you.” That was the last thing you remembered before falling asleep.

—————

It’s been a week since the last case, you’re finally able to hold yourself up and not cry every 2 hours is an achievement. You spent your time on an autopilot mode, woke up, work, avoid Spencer depending if there’s a case or not, then lunch, cried in the bathroom, paperwork, avoid Spencer, return home, cried again watching Dr Who, falls asleep, woke up and repeat. That’s how you’ve been for a week, and you know how difficult it is to move on but you’re trying and thats what matters.

Knock knock

You furrowed your brows at the sound, Emily wasn’t supposed to be here until 2 PM, so why’s she visiting now at.. 11 am? You sighed as you put down your tub of ice cream and opened the door only wearing your pajamas since its sunday.

“Emily, its way to early to— Dr.Reid?” You can’t believe your eyes when you see a very nervous looking Spencer at your door, your heart still thump hard at the sight of him which you whined at inside— you still love him after everything. Damn it. You took a deep breath as you heard him say your name, before moving backwards to slam the door at his face,

“No! no no wait Y/N hear me out! please!” His voice cracks as he hold the door so you won’t have a chance to slam it in his face.

“What the fuck do you want? Is being an asshole and destroying my life enough for you?” You half yelled, as you turn around and let him see your angry tears. You were so mad at him, you hated him so much, yet you still love him just as much if not more.

“I know, i know you hate me and i deserved it. But please hear me out, you deserve explanation.” His voice are quivering, signaling he was about to cry as you chuckle darkly,

“Damn right i am. But i’m done, done with your games, i can’t keep up with you— i will never be enough and you have.. have someone so please just go and i’ll forget this will ever happen” You plead as your voice soften, you’re just exhausted, you want it to stop, you want to stop hurting. So you shoved him away before pushing the door,

“I love you! I’ve always loved you.” Your movement froze as you hear him continue, your tears still falling freely from your eyes

“The only reason why.. why i dated her is so that i can get over you. I thought.. i thought you’ll grow tired of me soon, and i don’t want to be the one who’s hurt so i.. i found her but i love you, i never stopped”

“You cant just assumed things like that Spencer! You can’t. You should’ve asked me you should’ve told me!” You’re full on yelling now as you let him in, god your neighbors is going to hate you.

“I know! I know but i never handled rejection well and you know that! everyone left me, my dad, Gideon, Morgan, Emily at one point, Hotch, and maybe my.. mom soon. I’m sorry Y/N, i really am, i’m— i’m sorry for being such a coward, for not telling you, for not—“ You cut him off with a kiss, pressing your lips against his in a desperate ‘i love you’ manner, you didn’t care, you just love him, and he could be lying but why? why would he be lying? You pulled back as you stare at him

“Have you end it?”

“5 days, 17 hours, and 28 minutes ago” You chuckled, the first time you chuckled after such a long time, as you let your head fall onto his shoulder.

“I love you too..” You whispered, causing him to hug you tightly as you both sob into each other’s arms, whispering I love you’s again and again like it’ll never be enough.

“I love you, Y/N Y/l/N, i swear.”

“I love you, sorry about calling you an asshole” You laughed nervously before he chuckled and leaned to push you on the couch, “You might have to make it up to me..” He teased, and you let out a grunt. “Fine, Blow jobs for a week anywhere you want..” His face beamed and he blushes before tickling you, “Deal, Baby.”

“Wait Spencer so does this mean—“

“Y/N, will you be the girlfriend of this asshole?” You let out a tear before nodding and tackling him to the couch to hug him tightly “yes, yes, yes i will” He kissed your lips quickly, reaching for his satchel and pull out a lilac sweater,

“I believe it’s yours”

“Like you’re mine?”

“Yours, always.”

——————

blurb requests are open! send some in, any genre is fine, and please like + reblog! if you have any constructive criticisms or feedback please private message me, thanks!

#spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid imagines #insufferableblurb

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binch-i-might-be · 3 years

Text

The More You Know

This is the aforementioned short story. It’s unfinished, a blatant Welcome To Nightvale rip-off, and I got extreme whiplash reading it again because one of the characters is named Alex.

Anyway. Can you tell we found out about my grandma’s dementia diagnosis when I wrote this? lmao

also, to reiterate: I wrote this around 2016, I think? It’s been years pls don’t judge me ok :’)

POV first person, wordcount 3.1k

The small town lay in silence, and honestly, that wasn't very unusual. I couldn't really remember a time when it didn't. The shops were closed, the windows all nailed shut with old planks of wood, and in the little corner-store the sign that said 'no help wanted, keep walking' was still firmly in place.

I smiled. It was all exactly like I remembered; exactly like I left it. Like the sign told me, I kept walking, but I didn't hear any steps following. Which was not good, considering I had brought my friend Alex along. He really should keep walking.

I turned, adjusting the backpack slung over my shoulder. »Alex? You need to move,« I said. He stood there, trying to peer into the shop in between the gaps left by the planks. Which was also not very good.

»Why is everything barred? You get a lot of storms here or something?« he asked as he straightened.

»Yes. Or something.«

He frowned, but thankfully caught up to me with a little jog. We continued down the road, in the direction of the woods that never drew any closer, and passed the veranda of Old Lady Miller. Old Lady Miller had a lot of free-running chickens, and it was better not to look at them directly if you wanted to keep your secrets.

She was sitting in her rocking-chair, watching us pass. My grandma once told me Old Lady Miller had already been Old Lady Miller when she was a child, but her chickens hadn't been as many back then.

Alex did another nervous little jog to walk beside me. »Are you sure we should be out here? I mean, no one else is. Maybe there was a storm-warning.«

»Don't worry. It's actually a lot livelier than it normally is.« A chicken crossed the road right in front of us. »Don't look at the chicken,« I told Alex, staring straight ahead.

He looked at me, frowning in confusion. »Why not?«

I looked back at him. »Why did the chicken cross the road?«

»What?«

»To steal your secrets and your memory of every chicken-sandwich you ever ate. Don't look at the chicken.«

He didn't look at the chicken and we got to the crossroad without incident. My family lived straight ahead, at the end of the road, in a nice little house with a nice little garden, bordering the woods that seemed so far away.

»So... what's going on here? Where are all the people? Why are there chicken roaming the streets?« Alex asked, trying to not sound too nervous.

»It's typical, really. Most of the townsfolk doesn't come out if it isn't absolutely necessary. I told you, there's no reason to worry. Everything is fine.« It was understandable Alex was nervous. In my time away from home, I had noticed a slight difference in the happenings of things–not that I thought it made much sense.

»...alright,« he sighed. Still sounded a bit suspicious, though. »So... your brother. You have a brother, right? Does he still live with your parents?«

»It's nice of you to change the subject. But no, he doesn't. Arden likes to live his own life.« And suddenly, we stood in the driveway of the house. Alex looked around, obviously confused, then turned around and looked back. The dirt-road lay winding behind us, despite us having just passed the crossroad a minute ago.

»Don't think about it,« I advised. He looked so suspicious it was almost endearing.

We went up the driveway and up the steps of the veranda. There were four deer-skulls lying in the corner, which was one more than before I'd left, but otherwise, nothing seemed to have changed.

»That's... very charming decoration you've got there,« Alex said, audibly hesitating.

»It's my grandma's. She likes to collect things. You'll see,« I answered. It was the only warning I was allowed to give him. He didn't respond.

I pushed the door open–it was never really locked–and stepped inside. The smell of old wood and burning herbs hung heavily in the air, but it always did, and I would be disappointed if it didn't.

»I'm home!« I called out. My mother came promptly out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of fresh Christmas-tree shaped cookies. It was July.

»Hello, dear! I'm so glad you're back! Your father was getting worried. You know how he gets when you stay out after nightfall.«

I could almost smell Alex' confusion. Apparently, my mother could, too.

»And who is this young man? Where did you find him?« she asked, excited at the prospect of some fresh blood in the house.

»That's my friend Alex. We met a few months ago.«

»Welcome to our humble home, Alex,« she chirped and went off into the kitchen again, presumably to put the tray down. We stood in silence for a few moments, simply listening to the clattering in the kitchen, but then Alex spoke up.

»What did she mean, 'when you stay out after nightfall'? You have been gone for literal months.« He wasn't suspicious anymore; just a little bit scared. Creeped out. That was alright with me. I turned around to face him, and smiled.

»I would tell you time works differently here, because that sounds mysterious, but honestly–my Mom's just always very confused. Sometimes she still sets the table for five people, even though Arden has been gone for quite a time now. She just baked Christmas-cookies.« It was the truth. My mother really didn't have all her wits together anymore, but that's what happened to outsiders staying here too long.

Alex frowned, but then seemed to remember the existence of illnesses like dementia and kept his mouth shut. She didn't really have dementia, but I decided to let him believe whatever made him more comfortable.

I started down the hall, with Alex following close behind, the floorboards creaking loudly with every step we took. It wasn't easy to sneak in here past curfew; but then, it also wasn't easy to survive past curfew.

In the middle of the hall were three possible directions to choose; as a child I always thought of it as a little crossroad in our house. There were the stairs to our right, laden with potted house-plants and herbs, and also loose dirt lying on the stairs nobody ever bothered to clean up.

To the left was the door to the living-room. It was a big, illuminated room with many windows; that was why we only ever stayed in there during the day. Well, except for my grandma, of course. She stayed there however long she pleased. I thought whatever roamed the woods at night was too afraid to fuck with her.

Up front was the kitchen, where my mother was still clattering around, probably cleaning up after herself. From the kitchen, one could go to our veranda; our second, more relevant veranda behind the house. The veranda overlooking the garden, bordering the woods.

When we were kids, my brother and I were only allowed to play in the garden in the summer, because the days were long then, but that was also the time when the stench of rotting flesh was the strongest.

Well, you couldn't have everything. I stole a quick glance behind me and saw that Alex was looking around curiously. His eyes caught on the wall to our left. It was clustered with stuff–mostly crucifixes my grandma had gathered over the years, even though no one really believed in the conventional gods around here.

Besides those, there were also many family-pictures; my brother and I when we were kids, our family outside in the garden, my parent's wedding-picture, my grandma when she was still young–that one photo of us all gathered in the living-room, playing monopoly. No one knew who took that picture. It was just on the camera-roll one day.

Alex made a confused little humming sound that drew my attention. He was looking at a framed newspaper-article and squinting at the headline.

»Man drowned after breaking into closed swimming-pool?« he read. »It isn't even from around here–it says Hamburg there.«

»Yeah... we only got our hands on that because it's the only document left of my grandfather. My Pa's a little sentimental, you see.«

At that, his eyes widened in terror. »You mean-« He whipped around to the article, then looked back at me in silent horror. »That's your grandpa?! And you framed the article and hung it with your family-pictures?!«

»Well, yes. It's not a big deal. Gran likes to be reminded of him sometimes.«

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly. »That's so fucked up, man.«

I raised an eyebrow at him, a little grin fighting its way onto my lips. »You think that's fucked up? Dude, you've come the wrong place.«

Nightfall approached quickly. Well, actually, it didn't; but it sure felt like it, with Alex pacing and mumbling to himself in the living-room while Mom and I watched from the sofa, fairly uninterested. I told her about the things I'd seen and done in the past months and she listened gladly. It was nice to talk to someone from home; everyone else was exhausting to have a conversation with.

I looked out the window in caution, noticing that the sun was setting behind the woods. We needed to leave the room soon. I told Alex as much and was met with a new-found suspicion of anything concerning me and my family. It was ridiculous.

»C'mon, Alex, only yesterday you trusted me enough to come home with me. What happened?«

He stopped his pacing and stared at me for a while, his eyes looking like he was having violent flashbacks of something unpleasant. »This place happened!«

I sighed, uncrossed my legs and got up. »Chill out, dude. Nothing is going to happen to you. At least as long as we leave in a few days time, but we planned to do that anyway, so I don't see what the big deal is.«

He sputtered, seeming to choke on his own words. »Well, first of all, I would have appreciated if you had told me that you basically lived in Night Vale! Secondly–what do you mean 'as long as we leave in a few days time'? I'm feeling slightly threatened here!«

I heaved another sigh. »No one is threatening you. Well, no one is threatening you in particular. It's just that this place does weird things to outsiders if they only stay here long enough–I mean, you've met Mom, so you should know what I'm talking about.«

He looked at the open door my mother had left through a few moments ago, then back to me and repeated that a couple of times frantically. Stepping closer to me, he lowered his voice to a whisper. »You mean- when 'outsiders',« he gestured quotation marks into the air. »Stay here long enough, they become... like her? This place gives you dementia?«

Why did he always have the need to find words for everything? »You could certainly say so, even though that's not really it. But for the sake of simpleness–yes. It basically gives you dementia. The people who were born here are pretty much immune to it, though.«

Alex breathed in and out a few times, presumably to gather his wits. »What do you mean, 'pretty'?«

For fucks sake, could he just stop picking all the relevant words out of my sentences?

»Some people are a little easier to influence than other people. No big deal there, though. It only happens like once every generation. I think.«

He stared at me thoughtfully, as if considering my words; and probably figuring out which snippet he would pick out next to make me explain some more.

I glanced out the window again, noticing it was about time we got out of the living-room.

»C'mon, we need to get out,« I said, obviously interrupting his inner monologue. He narrowed his eyes at me, but stepped out into the hall nonetheless. I followed and closed the door firmly behind me.

»Why exactly do we need to leave the room now?« he asked nonchalantly. Ah, Alex. You think you are starting to figure things out, don't you? Keep trying, buddy.

»It's the things living in the woods. You don't want to mess with them–even though things have been considerably calmer since Arden left, we still don't want to take a chance with those fuckers.«

And there he went again, looking extremely uncomfortable. »And what are 'those fuckers'?« He really liked his quotation marks, didn't he.

»Who knows,« I answered with a shrug of my shoulders. The only thing we knew about them was that they came out at night and ate pretty much everything consisting of flesh. Except grandma and Arden, of course.

He frowned in obvious frustration. »Why do none of you people know what's going on around here? You fucking live here!«

His little outburst didn't really impress me, so I simply shrugged again. »Ah, you know. No one really cares.«

»What do you mean-« he began, but I stopped him right there.

»If you fucking say 'what do you mean' one more time, I'm gonna haul your ass out into the garden and leave you there with the Woodkeepers. Fucking watch me, mate.«

He looked slightly taken aback at that, but recovered quickly enough, his gaze sweeping me from head to toe.

»Is this why you are never impressed by any horror-movie we watch? Because you live in a horror-movie?«

Now, that was hilarious. I couldn't help myself, I started laughing. Alex was first surprised, then pleased with himself.

»Probably,« I answered, grinning.

Mom made dinner and Alex and I set the table. We didn't have anything to do anyways. Grandma was still out on the veranda, pinning shed snake-skins she had found somewhere to the side of the house.

Alex watched her with interest from the window and grandma ignored him. Mom was humming in the background, checking on her meatloaf in the oven. It was the kind of strange domesticity I had missed during my time away.

»You said since your brother had left, the... Woodkeepers, I think you called them, hadn't been as persistent. Why is that?« he asked quietly as I stepped up to him and leaned on the windowsill.

The old oil-lamp illuminating the veranda flickered, and grandma stopped what she was doing for a second to throw a stern look into the darkness beyond, making a shooing hand-motion. The flickering stopped and she continued undisturbed.

I let my head fall against the glass of the window. »Because Arden is... well, he's special. Not special like Gran, but still. Special.«

»If I were to ask how exactly he is special, you would say you don't know, right?«

»Yep.«

He heaved a tired sigh. »How can you live with this not-knowing? It would drive me crazy.«

I smiled and vaguely gestured in my mothers direction. He followed my hand, and his eyes widened comically in understanding.

»No,« he said with an unbelieving shake of his head.

»Yes,« I retorted. »And that's the only thing I know.«

Half an hour later, grandma had come back in and was staring at Alex. She had been at it for a few minutes now, and it had crossed the 'uncomfortable', the 'creepy' and now the 'really unsettling' mark.

Alex looked over at me, seeking help, but I couldn't do anything. Grandma would take her time, no matter what.

Finally, she swept her intense gaze over to me and leaned back in her chair.

»I hope you didn't bring him here to tell us you are marrying him,« she said, with an obvious edge to her voice. Alex managed to look both offended and relieved at once.

I snorted. »Of course not. We are friends, Gran. You know my standards.«

At that, he only looked offended.

»No offence, Alex,« I said.

»Full offence!« Grandma butted in. She stabbed a crooked finger in Alex' direction. »That one wouldn't even last two months here!«

»That may be,« I answered as I seated myself next to Alex and patted his shoulder encouragingly. »But we aren't here to stay and we're also not here to get married. Don't you worry, Gran.«

»Still,« she continued. »Imagine what your father would say if you were to marry that one. I would never hear the end of it!«

I chuckled lowly and Alex threw me a dark glare.

»I know. Where is the old man, anyway?«

»He went to visit your brother, dear,« My mother said from the kitchen-counter. »He should be back soon.«

Grandma shook her head. »That brother of yours, Arden, he is only making trouble these days. He keeps disturbing the Woodkeepers; they even went and took a chicken from Old Lady Miller! Can you believe it!«

I frowned and looked over at Mom for confirmation, but she kept her back to us. Alex looked as confused as I felt.

»How is he disturbing them? I thought he was off doing his own thing.«

»That is what keeps disturbing them! Arden doing whatever Arden is doing!«

I didn't answer. It seemed very improbable that Arden of all people could be railing up the Woodkeepers, but when grandma said he did, it must be true. And Pa probably wanted to stop him from whatever it was he was doing out there.

Before I could continue my hypothesizing, three gunshots in quick succession sounded outside, breaking the peace and making Alex jump in his seat.

»That's gotta be Pa,« I mumbled to myself and got up. The door swung open as I jogged down the corridor, revealing my father in all his glory. The shotgun with the three barrels was slung over his shoulder and he looked grumpy as usual.

He kicked the door shut behind him and threw the shotgun from him, toppling a big potted plant.

»It's always the same with those three,« he muttered under his breath and unclasped the breastplate he wore for obvious reasons, then ruffled my hair as he walked by.

»It's good you're here, Ryn. I need you to talk to your brother.

#you can tell a lot about my mental state back then by reading this #ray was really going through it #short story #unfinished #i really stopped writing this mid dialogue #very iconic of me #rayrambles

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nutty1005 · 3 years

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Marvelous City – Chongqing Special

Video Link: https://v.youku.com/v_show/id_XNTA2NzMzODYxNg==.html

Translator’s Note: This is translated off the Marvelous City - Chongqing Special Episode. I wrote it in an article form because of video copyrights issues. This documentary was filmed early 2020, but only aired recently. Xiao Zhan’s episode aired on 12 Jan, this special episode aired on 17 Jan.

Q: What difference do you feel returning to Chongqing this time round?

A: Actually for all my years, I’ve never seriously experienced Chongqing like this. Because when you’re living within it, you will not jump to an outsider’s point of view and deliberately observe places, scenery and food. I grew up with Chongqing and it’s melded within me, hence this time I came back, including the air raid shelters, the local delicacies, or the Xiao Mian, I have a new understanding and knowledge of them. The feeling in my heart is different as well.

Q: What are your biggest takeaway from this visit?

A: As a Chongqinger who has grown up and lived twenty odd years in Chongqing, I realized my understanding of the air raids shelters, I originally thought they were just shelters. But after my discussion with Mr. Xiang, I discovered that there were many stories regarding them. Yesterday, he spoke of an example, an elder he interviewed, and that elder told him that during those years, once there was an alarm, he was actually secretly happy. He would watch for the shelter the lady he liked ran into, and he would follow that lady to that shelter. So you see, it’s that sort of finding joy in their chaotic lives. I feel that that is, very accurately, the description of Chongqingers’ optimism. But actually, it’s easy to say that we would feel like that – since we have to live every day, living a day happily versus living a day miserably, why should we not live happily. But few are able to do that, moreover in such a chaotic environment. So when he told me those stories yesterday, I felt especially touched. I was quite moved, actually.

Q: How was the experience when you previously rode the light rail?

A: The line for Niujiaotuo was especially interesting. To walk from Rail Line 3 to Rail Line 2, it took 15 minutes. If the person in front of you walked especially slowly, plus everyone was going to work in the morning, it’s just shoulder to shoulder crowded. Basically, even if you wanted to run, you couldn’t, you could only push your way through and then run forward. That period was especially weird. I was thinking, why weren’t these ladies and gentlemen in a hurry, then I’d be “excuse me excuse me”, push through them and run forward, then start queuing.

Rail Line 2 would come, because it was suspended between bridges, when the glass door opens you’d have to squeeze your way in, and there would be some situations, like some people with their bags stuck outside, their slipper stuck outside, and then all kinds of stuff, sometimes even their breakfast would be stuck outside. Then there’s like burst soy bean drinks, there’s a lot of situations like this, and actually below Rail Line 2, there was a huge safety net. The net was there because they were afraid of falling objects from great heights, and these might fall and hit someone below. So sometimes, well sometimes in the summer, I would see that there’s some ridiculous things piling on the net, someone’s slipper, belt, bag or umbrella, etc. I don’t know if it’s still there, I guess they would clean it regularly. But I felt that this was especially funny, funny and sad at the same time. I mean who would want to squeeze with people early in the morning, you’d be squeezed half dead, everyone would be angry, and you’d argue in the morning.

But you couldn’t help it, it’s for livelihood, hence that time when I saw that there were many reports saying “it’s so tough, this year is so tough on me”, but then I also felt that actually everyone had it tough. I feel that everyone is moving forward while trying to live, actually we’re like a battalion, and we are all being pushed forward by our lives. We’re already at 2020 and every single day before was tough, it’s all tough, so I feel that we just have to manage and adjust. I feel that our attitudes need to be managed well.

I remember that time, I was squeezed so badly that I was plastered onto the glass door. That glass door, I was literally stuck onto it, and then when I looked down at the Jialing River, because the Rail Line 2 was suspended over it, I just looked at the Jialing River below and thought, actually that scenery was rather pretty. So, I’d just watch the scenery, and when you start to carefully observe, you would feel that it’s actually quite beautiful. In the mornings, there would be elders swimming in the winter, and then there’d be some reefs, because I recall that it’d be dry season during the winter, the water levels would go down and hence the waters would also become somewhat clearer. Jialing River, with those oddly shaped reefs, and then there was all kinds of people fishing, jogging alongside. What also attracted me was the windows, they looked like film, frame by frame, and the windows on the light rail were also frame by frame. And then after night falls, because the light rail was built along the river, the night view by the river, those lights and those skyscrapers would be varicolored, just like a movie.

Q: What do you like about Chongqing?

A: I like its summer and I also like its winter. There’s two sensations, the summer’s passionate like fire, whereas the winter, and you’d feel that the chill seeps into your bones, just you’d feel hurt magically. Hotpot, Xiao Mian, spicy diced chicken, peppercorn chicken, there’s too many of them, I love them all. Double-cooked pork… I feel that these food are something engraved in your bones since childhood. When you mention those food, your mouth instinctively salivates. I already have the taste of peppercorn chicken in my mouth, it’s strange, but I haven’t had peppercorn chicken for a very long time, but now I am just… *swallows saliva*

Q: What is the Chongqing delicacy of your heart?

A: There’s no need to say. I used to go to this noodle stall in the past. It didn’t have a name, it’s just an aunty, and that aunty is especially nice. Because every time I went there I would tell her, aunty, for example I wanted to eat wontons, we call them Chao Shou, I’d say, “Aunty I want less wontons more vegetables”, and then the aunty would put in a lot of vegetables, but she didn’t really remove that many wontons. Every time I went there I don’t have to give her my order, I’d say “the same old”, and she’d know exactly what to make, just put more vegetables inside. So sometimes, I’d just watch her cook, and while watching her busy around, you’d feel especially warm in your heart. It’s just a stall, but every neighbor would be eating there, and they’d be eating there for decades, their children and even grand children would be eating there as well. Slowly, the stall would became a part of their emotional support, like maybe I won’t eat this noodles today, or perhaps she didn’t open today, it would became a kind of concern for that person. Eventually, it’s no longer a matter of a bowl of Xiao Mian, but a habit of life, an emotional interaction. I feel that this is the power of Chongqing delicacies in my heart.

Q: How was your childhood like?

Actually when you talk about my childhood, I really liked the environment I lived in when I was really young. Sometimes I would dream and I often dreamed of that period. When I was young, the early 90s era, multimedia wasn’t as advanced, there were no mobile phones or computers. There were probably arcade centers during that period of time, those that you needed to slot in coins, but children weren’t allowed to go, we had to sneak in. But mostly, it was our neighbors.

As a child, once we finish our homework, we could go downstairs and yell out “So-and-so, come down quickly”, and with a whoosh, all the children in the district would come down. Everyone would play hide-and-seek and then beanbag toss (TN: similar to cornhole), just all kinds of board games, any sort will do. All of these games are interactive. I still remember the shop on the first floor downstairs from my home, he modified the shop to become a snack stop, and all of the kids would buy snacks from him. I remember that real fresh milk was delivered on a bicycle, everyday freshly squeezed, and we would collect from him using our own bags or buckets. It’s just especially down-to-earth. I remember that time at around 5pm or 6pm,you’d hear yelling, as in that sort “selling milk” (TN: in Chongqing accent) and those fat sausages. Over there, fat sausages (TN: in Chongqing accent), all these kinds of finger food, you know? Wow, I miss those days.

And during that period, the smells of cooking would fill up the entire district, whether by mothers or grandmothers, they’d be cooking and the whole district would permeate with delicious smells. It was just especially wonderful, I feel that that period was really down-to-earth, everyone was especially vivid. Actually, I feel that our lives now are a bit cold, just a bit cold. Then, we would know all of our neighbors, but now, I doubt that we understand our neighbors well.

Q: What do you think of the phrase “pa erduo”? (TN: henpecked, literally means to be pulled by the ear)

Pa erduo (TN: In Chongqing accent), it means that the person’s ear is especially soft. It used to mean that the man is some kind of a loser, but I feel that now, this phrase is adorable. I feel that it’s a compliment, it means that Chongqing men treat their wives well, it’s a display of love for their wives, so I feel that it’s adorable. When I’m out, I am upright and indomitable, I can be your pillar of support, but when I’m back home, I will dote on you fully. I feel that it’s especially good, my father is like this. My father is especially cute sometimes, oh dear, I’m going to betray my father. He is especially cute, he would often tell my mother to let him maintain some dignity when they’re out, just especially cute. I feel that as a couple, they are quite good, just very standard, in my eyes, they are the standard Chongqing couple. Because actually my mother doesn’t talk a lot outside, she listens to whatever my father says, but once we are back home, my dad will give in to my mother most of the time.

Q: What is your relationship with your hometown?

To me, I feel that I am just very proud of her, she’s my pride. Maybe there are some youths, actually I was the same when I was a teenager, I thought about whether I should leave Chongqing to a bigger city. At that time, everyone was talking about Bei-Shang-Guang (TN: Beijing, Shanghai and Guangzhou), and I thought about whether I wanted to take a look there, for example design, obviously Bei-Shang-Guang is the forefront of China, spearheading. I thought about it as well, whether I should go and take a look, but when I was studying in the university, and then after I graduated, to me, I was slowly adjusting to the life in Chongqing, so I feel this differs from person to person. Hence at that time I felt that it was also quite fine remaining in Chongqing. If I can’t attain a top leader position outside, or become a highflier, then why shouldn’t I just stay grounded and do well in my own hometown? Actually those were my thoughts at that time, but as fate has it, I still left Chongqing. So I feel this is really just fate, just something mysterious. Now that there’s so much skyscrapers in Chongqing, so many office buildings, so many of them graded 5A, there are so many youths working in there, fighting for their dreams. There may be some people who doesn’t like it, some may be forced to work by their families, or the job was found for them by a relative, but I believe that most youths have an ambitious heart, and they want to fulfill the dreams they had when they were studying, their endeavors, and they are just fighting for their ideals. I feel that every city has its own charm, and Chongqing charm lies in the fact that it’s vivid. It’s very lively, it’s a young city, and everyone is fighting, for their lives, for their ambitions. She is a very lively city.

Q: Do you think you have the tenacity of a Chongqinger?

A: Very tenacious. I feel that I am a very tenacious person. Just when I encounter things, like I’ve lived in Chongqing for 23 years, well-adjusted to the living and working environment of Chongqing, and then suddenly I went to Beijing, to the entertainment business. It’s just worlds apart, two entirely different living environments. And truth be told, that period of time was quite tough. Whether it was singing, dancing or acting, to me those were all brand new things, but at that time I felt, since I’m already here, then I must do it well with all of my efforts. No matter how tough or how difficult, those were my choices, even if I had to crawl I had to finish the journey, that’s how I felt.

#xiao zhan #sean xiao #xiaozhan #肖战

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snowstark · 3 years

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fun fact i went jogging for the first time in literally years yesterday and forgot to stretch or warm up first, so now my legs hurt so much that i’m walking like i just got fucked upside down for four hours

#personal #Pain. pain #my poor poor legs #they hurt cries

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skullrock · 4 years

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the campers, chapter four - Steve x Reader

gif by @harringtown

chapter four: the routine

series summary: Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: The first week of camp is in full swing, bringing a few surprises with it.

warnings: swearin’!

word count: 4k (hehe)

a/n: this chapter encompasses the time span of a week so it’s a lil long and has some stuff happening but I hope you enjoy! things are spicin’ up but not like you’d expect! you can catch up on the series here! (ps Hop didn’t die in s4 because I said so <3)

===

Camp Know Where buzzes with excitement as the new campers file in on Monday. This is Steve’s first ever orientation - well, besides the one he just went through. He’s never been in a position like this, and he’s nervous as he checks people in. But it’s an easy job.

Until the Party walks in.

Steve stares at them all, mouth agape. El, Mike, Max, Lucas, Will - they’re all here, all carrying bags. Mike takes the lead, glaring tensely at Steve, as usual. Steve avoids him and looks at El. “Are you allowed to be here?”

She nods. “Hop’s letting me.”

Steve shakes his head and finds their names on the roster. He should have known, should have seen their names, but it’s actually a nice surprise. Well, except for Mike. But he’s happy everyone else is here.

“Where’s Dustin?” Lucas asks.

“Helping with move in.” Steve looks up. “Does he know you’re here?”

“It’s a surprise,” Will says, beaming.

“That’s nice,” Steve says slowly. “Well, don’t be dickheads, okay? Don’t make my job harder for me.”

El shakes her head, but Mike scoffs, “You’re a counselor?”

Steve gestures to his shirt. “Did you think I just disappeared for the past two weeks?”

“I hoped so.”

Max hits his arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

They all step past the table, and Steve puts his head in his hands. They’re gonna kill me, he thinks. A part of him is really happy they’re here, though. He’s not sure if that means he really is fond of them, or if he’s just happy that he can keep them safe here. He straightens and continues helping others check in, directing them to their cabins.

You come up a while later, suppressing a smile as you approach him. He looks flustered, perfected hair now a mess. His cheeks are red and his brows are furrowed as he tries to figure out how many more kids are left to come in.

“How’s it going?” you ask.

He looks up and smiles softly. “So great.”

“It’s not all this boring,” you explain. “Or stressful. It’ll be fun soon, I promise.”

He rolls his eyes playfully. “You better not be lying to me.”

“What if I am?”

He thinks for a moment. “I’ll flip your kayak.”

You laugh - a loud, ringing laugh. Steve smiles, pleased to have earned it from you. He wants your friendship to go smoothly, he wants you to like him. After yesterday’s confrontation and subsequent confession of enjoyment, he was starting to think maybe it was going to work out. Maybe you both weren’t going to dislike each other.

You straighten, still smiling down at him. “I’d like to see you try, Steve.” You knock twice on the table he’s at. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Steve nods, and you linger for just a second longer before heading off.

===

Steve continues to surprise you through the first week.

Though you still don’t get the appeal of him, you notice that many of the campers love going to see him for their intramurals. And he’s really good at teaching kids how to dodge a ball, or serve, or kayak. You’d never seen nerds so excited to interact with a jock, but they were, and it was actually heartwarming to see. You watched from the sidelines on your breaks as Steve helped teach kids tennis and soccer, his face red from the sun but beaming. He’d pause to wave at you before continuing, and you had a hard time prying yourself away from the scene. It was like it was in his nature to be a teacher, to care after others - and you’d never really seen that in a preppy jock before.

You also never expected a guy like Steve, known jerk, to be so good at interacting with kids.

You’re walking along the shore before dinner on Thursday when you hear shouts coming from the lake. You squint as you look out before seeing the source.

Steve had taught the kids a new game on the kayaks. They’d pass a ball with their paddles back and forth, and if they could get the ball into the seat of their opponent, they got a point. It was probably extremely dangerous, but the kids had fun, and so did he. He was soaked to the bone after every game, but his face hurt from laughing, and that was enough.

You watch from the shore as he and three other campers play, and you shake your head. Another counselor, Mia, comes up behind you and laughs. “He’s pretty popular, huh?”

“Always has been,” you say, turning to face her.

“He’s nice to watch, isn’t he?” She stands on her tiptoes to look past you. “I could watch that man’s arms for days.” You roll your eyes, and she frowns. “You don’t think so?”

You sigh. “He’s just… Steve. I don’t get the appeal.”

“You’re the only one, it seems,” she says, smiling again. “What is he, your villain origin story?”

It’s surprising how accurate the phrasing is. “It’s complicated.”

She shrugs. “You seem to get along well now, at least. Put in a good word for me, yeah?”

Your words catch in your throat as she walks away.

Part of you does like Steve. You find enjoyment in him - he’s goofy, he’s funny, he’s kind, and he’s smart. But he’s also the person who made you cry every summer. He’s your childhood bully - how could you enjoy his company? You confuse yourself with your own feelings. It’s like mental gymnastics, trying to hang on to your anger and resentment while equally wanting to like him.

You shake your thoughts out of your head and walk off the shore, away from Steve and his charm.

===

The week ends on Friday, leaving everyone exhausted. The Party kept Steve busy when he wasn’t leading intramurals, draining him fully of his energy. They were going to watch a movie with Suzie in one of the recreation rooms, leaving Steve by himself. He was worn and tired, sunburnt and hot. But he still jogged up to you when he sees you after dinner.

“Y/N!”

You whirl around to face him, a friendly smile crossing your face as he comes up.

“Hey,” he says. “Haven’t talked to you in a while.”

“Just since Monday.”

He shrugs. “Felt like a long time.”

There’s a silence before you clear your throat. “How was your week?”

A wide smile spreads over his face. “It was amazing!”

You let him gush, because you’re genuinely interested. He tells you about how easy it is for him to talk to the campers, how he created Kayak Ball (“still working on a better name”), and how he’d made some friends with other counselors. Which leads him to ask, “Are you going to the bonfire tonight?”

Shit.

The annual First Friday Bonfire was tonight, and you’d forgotten all about it. It was usually a very spiritual experience - people would write stories from their past, things that bother them, share it to the group, and then burn the paper in the flames. It was like a reawakening - fire is cleansing, after all. Just last year, you’d wrote about the Steve standing in front of you, hair disheveled and grinning dorkily. You burned the paper and went on with your life.

You never expected he’d be here. It’s a bit mind-boggling.

“Yeah,” you say. “Are you?”

“If you are,” he says, suddenly uncertain. “I don’t really know -”

“Steve, everyone here loves you. You’ve made friends.” You hope the bitterness you feel isn’t being translated into your tone. “You can hang out with these people. They like you.”

He nods, frowning. “I know. It’s just….” He sighs heavily. “I’ve never had people… like me before.”

Your stomach falls as you remember what he had told you about - how he hadn’t talked to Tommy since junior year. These were the first adults he had interacted with in years; he was bound to be nervous.

“I’ll be there.” You reach out and squeeze his shoulder. “But you don’t need me. Everyone here thinks you’re incredible.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the only thing the girl counselor cabin talks about.”

You see a blush creep up his cheeks. “Really?”

You don’t want to indulge him - you shouldn’t indulge him - but you do. “Every girl here has the hots for you. Maybe even some of the boys.”

Steve’s breath catches. “Every girl?”

You stare at him awkwardly. “Well - n… no, not every girl, but - enough.” You feel embarrassment creeping hotly through your veins. “Not - not me, if you’re thinking -”

“No, no,” he says, just as awkwardly as you. “No, I know that.” He smiles slightly. “You hate me.”

A smile turns the corners of your lips. “Yeah. I hate you.”

“Right.”

A long and awkward silence ensues before he says, “Yeah - okay. I will see you tonight.”

===

Hours later, you saunter over to the counselor bonfire, located right off the shore of the lake. It’s a beautiful, clear night - a slight breeze rustles the trees and the fire licks the stars. You’re a bit late, and Steve’s nervous that you won’t show up. Despite this, he is literally surrounded by the female counselors, who are eagerly asking him about himself.

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble as you approach.

“Look who it is!” Josh shouts out as you near. “Y/N, we’ve been waiting for you.”

“You shouldn’t have,” you say dryly, entering the circle.

Steve pats the log beside him - he had saved you a seat. With all these girls surrounding him, he saved you a seat. He had to tell them, “hey, don’t sit there, it’s reserved,” while he waited for you to show up. It’s a sweet gesture, one that sends your heart beating a little too fast for your liking. You sit beside him, giving a tight lipped smile.

The girls all smile at you, as if it’s all some type of game. And you know why they’re so amused - you had dramatically cut them off each night when Steve would be brought up. You’d throw a pillow over your head and shout at them to just shut up already. They thought you weren’t immune to his charms, just as they weren't. You roll your eyes at them.

Josh hands you a piece of paper and a pencil. “We’re doing the burning ceremony in a few.”

You take the paper and pencil from him gently, sitting it on your lap. Beside you, Steve is clutching his paper tightly to his chest. You bite the inside of your cheek as you think about what to write down - you’d already metaphorically burned Steve last year. You simply write down my past with no elaboration, intending to feed everyone a fake story and then throw it into the fire.

Steve himself didn’t need to think very long about what to write down. His biggest regret was the way he had treated people. A nauseous jerk tugs at his stomach when he thinks about high school, when he thinks about Nancy and Jonathan, when he thinks about the mask he always hid behind. He’s reminded of it every single day here with you - memories that he can’t quite touch but that he knows are there. The feeling of guilt when he looks at you, at the way your brows furrow and eyes narrow at him. How, even now, the pleasantries hide behind past aggression.

He doesn’t blame you.

And maybe, perhaps, burning a piece of paper will make him feel better. It’s not much, but it’s more than he’s ever done.

You listen as everyone goes around and tells their story. Some talk about relationships, or mental health. Each story is met with support from the circle, almost like group therapy. When all comments are said, the paper is thrown in, and everyone claps and cheers as it burns. You can sense that Steve is getting more and more nervous as he gets closer to talking, and you wonder what’s on his paper.

When it’s your turn, you stand up. “I wrote down my past.” You clear your throat. “Uh - I’m not proud of who I used to be. I used to be so quiet and shy. But I’m happier now, and louder, and I’m not afraid of the space that I take up.”

Steve’s eyes burn a hole into your side as you tell your story. He remembers the girl you’re talking about. He remembers how quiet you were, always minding your own business. And his chest hurts when he realizes that he’s probably why you were that way.

It takes a lot of strength for you to not side-eye him.

Everyone tells you that they’re proud and you throw the paper into the fire, sitting back down and crossing your hands over your lap. There’s a tenseness between you and Steve, but no one realizes the connection.

Steve stands, his hands shaking. It takes him a second to find his voice.

“Um. Well, when I was younger - not younger, just a few years ago - I was a jerk.”

You tense up, staring intently into the fire.

“I was such a dick. I made the worst decisions and the worst friends. I used to follow the crowd, because I thought that’s what I had to do to make them like me.” He licks his lips and takes a deep breath. “And I knew it was wrong - I knew it was - but that’s not an excuse. I let it go on for too long, and I hurt a lot of people. And that really kills me each day.”

You squeeze your hands together.

“I’m trying so hard to not be that person anymore, and I’m glad that I’m not. I got away from those people and I found better friends. Friends who believe in me and like me for me.” He clears his throat and sniffles. “But I’m so worried that I’ll turn back into that person again. I know there are people who will always know me as that person, and that sucks.” His eyes land on the top of your head. “But not as much as it sucks for them, I’m sure.

“I’m just ashamed,” he continues. “I wish I could change what I did. I wish I could make everyone believe that I’m not that guy anymore. I wish I wasn’t so scared. Most of all, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Everyone’s silent. Steve asks, “Do - do I throw it in now?”

“No,” Josh says. “Uh - wow. I don’t even know where to start.”

Steve feels the shame creeping into his chest again and bows his head.

“First of all, man, you’re allowed to change. You can change, and it’s obvious that you did,” Josh says.

Steve looks up, shocked at the validation.

“Yeah,” Nico, Steve’s roommate, interjects. “Dude, you’re one of the nicest, goofiest people I’ve ever met.”

A few yeahs echo around the circle.

“And it’s a good sign that you regret what you’ve done,” another girl, Emily, says. “That shows growth.”

You sit tensely, feeling cold in front of the fire. You know he’s talking about you. And you know he means what he’s saying.

You interject a few moments later. “What matters is that you’re trying to change. That’s the best you can do.”

Steve looks down at you, brows furrowing, but it feels like a weight has lifted off of him, freeing him. Feels like his collar bones aren’t cracking under pressure. His eyes are soft and filled with tears - he wasn’t expecting any of this.

You swallow hard, feeling your own tears swelling in your eyes. “And I think that - I think that it’s obvious you aren’t like who you were before.”

Never in your life did you think you’d say that, and never in Steve’s life did he think he’d hear it.

A few people agree, reinforcing that it’s okay for him to be ashamed, but it’s okay for him to grow, too. It’s a bit much for Steve, who makes a strong effort to not burst out into sobs. You can’t meet his eyes yet, but when he sits down after throwing the paper in, you reach for his hand and squeeze it. It’s more than the truce at the breakfast table - it’s an understanding. It’s forgiveness. It’s comfort. It’s friendship. You decide to truly, finally swallow your past, let the flames do their job, and embrace the new Steve.

Your hand leaves after just a second, but he understands the message, and you both smile the rest of the night.

===

It’s Sunday night now, and you’re doing rounds. It’s a little after one in the morning. You check on every cabin to make sure kids are asleep and safe, then decide to sneak a dip in the lake. It was a cool night, but the water was calling. You approach the pier but stop when you see another body already sitting on the edge, shoulders slumped.

You can tell despite the distance that it’s Steve, and you can tell that something’s wrong.

You make your footsteps loud so he can hear you coming, and you take a seat on the wood beside him. The lake is bright from the moon, and it illuminates on Steve’s sullen face. “You okay?”

He nods softly. “I just wanted to take a walk,” he says, but his voice cracks.

You frown. “Is that all?”

He doesn’t answer for a long time, but you can see that his cheeks and eyes are red and swollen. Finally, he whispers, “I had a nightmare.”

Steve had awoken in a sweat, kicking his sheets off of him and gasping for breath. It was another dream about the Upside Down, and it hit him unexpectedly and hard. Nico had stood over his bed, worry etched onto his face, asking Steve if he was okay. Steve brushed it off and said he needed to go on a walk. When he slipped outside, he cried, hugging himself as he walked to the pier. It was the brightest spot at camp, the only place he felt safe. He had learned the lake like the back of his hand in three week’s time, had found a home in it, and he went there to pull himself together.

A nightmare was a bit of an understatement - it had felt so real. He went weeks without one, happily, assuming the distance from Hawkins was helping. It was disheartening to have one here. Embarrassing, too. He wonders if Dustin or any of the kids had been having them.

The anguish on his face and cheeks is apparent and you whisper, “Hey,” taking his hand and squeezing it again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head numbly. He would like to talk about it, but knows he can’t. “Just a stupid dream.”

You frown. “It’s not stupid to feel scared.”

Steve sniffles. “I know.”

“But do you know?”

Steve stills, eyebrows knitting together again. “I… it’s hard to feel like it’s not stupid.”

You nod. “I know how you feel. Well, at least a bit.”

“Do you have nightmares?”

“No,” you whisper. Your thumb absentmindedly rubs over his. “But I have anxiety. And I know how it feels to think it’s stupid to feel that way.”

Steve nods. “I just kind of… push it down. I try not to bother people with it.”

“You’re not bothering people who love you for talking about it. Have you told Dustin?”

“Yeah, but… he’s got his own problems.”

You nod in understanding. After a few moments of silence, you say, “You can talk to me.”

He laughs solemnly. He wishes he could talk to someone about it. Someone outside of the people who were there, or outside of the shrinks that Doc Owens had recommended. Anyone with a new perspective. But he can’t, because the person he’d confide in would die, and he really doesn’t need that on his conscience. That’s not something you could burn in a fire and forget about.

“I’m serious,” you say. “I can help.”

Steve kicks his feet back and forth in the water for a few minutes. Then he looks over at you. “How do you stop being anxious?”

“You don’t,” you say, laughing. “It just gets easier to hide. But having friends helps, and loving yourself helps.”

“I don’t have either.”

You elbow his side gently. “You have friends, Steve. And I’ll be damned if you don’t like yourself by the time you leave here.”

He’s quiet again, then says, “It’s really hard for me to think of people as friends. It’s hard to think that people actually want to hang out with me. Tommy and Carol used me for money and an empty house.” He shrugs lazily. “The attention just feels so… superficial now.”

And it makes your heart ache, because maybe that’s why he won’t give in to the girls here. He thinks they don’t like him for him - they only like him for his looks. Even if he wants them to like him, if he wants someone to love, it’s hard to accept it. The realization ignites an odd anger in you; he doesn’t deserve to feel like this.

“Maybe,” you whisper. “But at least you’re aware of it, right?”

He nods and shrugs again. “I guess.”

More silence.

“Your speech on Friday…,” you say softly. “It meant a lot.”

“It didn’t have to -”

“But it did.”

He swallows and turns to face you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” you say, rubbing his thumb again. “I forgive you.” You smile. “For real this time.”

He smiles, too. “Apparently, since you can’t stop holding my hand.”

You retract it quickly, holding it to your chest. You didn’t realize how long you’d been holding it, and you blushed deeply. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You sure?” he grins. “Because someone told me every girl here likes me.”

You kick water towards him and he laughs, kicking back. You’re happy to see the light back in his eyes.

“So Kayak Ball, huh?”

“It’s the next big thing.” He seems proud of it.

You hum. “So I’ve heard.” You splash water towards him again. “You gonna teach me?”

Steve laughs incredulously. “You want to learn?”

“Yeah,” you smile, shrugging. “Maybe I can stop by tomorrow on my break.”

He smiles widely. “You’re gonna get your ass kicked.”

You push up and reach out for his hand, pulling him up with you. “Let me walk you back to your cabin, okay?”

“You don’t have to -”

“I don’t want you to get lost in the woods.”

You walk together in silence, but Steve feels comforted. Like maybe he could go back to sleep when he lays down instead of worrying about dying.

“Hey,” you say when you approach his cabin. “Um… Mia? She wanted me to put in a good word for her.”

“As in?”

“As in, you should sit with her at lunch.” You wink. “She’s one of those ‘every girls’ that likes you.”

His eyes widen and then he smiles, shaking his head. “You mean it?”

“No, it’s a prank.”

He laughs softly and shakes his head again. “Well, thanks for the tip.”

You smile and nod. When you turn to walk towards your cabin, you say, “Goodnight, Steve.”

He waves after you. “Goodnight.”

===

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#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington au #the campers #this chap is truly horrific but what can u do truly!

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