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princessleechan · 2 months

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"You're the man!" Chapter 39 Written Chapter

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⚽Chapter tags: MDNI, she’s the man au, revenge au???, cross dressing!reader, reader identifies anything but male, sports au, queer themes, university au, love-whatever the fuck kind of shape, 2.9k w.c., game day, mentions of tits and dick lol, a bit of hurt and angst, the closest things to a sports fic

⚽Tag list: @90s-belladonna @the-boy-meets-evil @lirtha97 @hipsdofangirl @justineasian @kwanisms @multi-kpop-fanfics @pantumin @wooahaeproductions @mayashu @shuasdraftsalt @lone-lone-ranger @headlockimnida @horanghaezone @haolistic @porridgesblog @jeonjungkaka @luchiet @ujimatchaaa @skzdesi @cheoliehansolie @vlbii @myghobi @sisterofsomeone @joonsytip @gyublues @alltheshineofthestars-blog @randomworker @isabellah29 @savgogh @too-many-kpop-hubands @kamabokogonpachro @skittlez-area512 @seccdlurv @chisskaa @mochiteez @theyluvfrankocean @lllucere @thomawifey @middle-of-the-earth @okiedokrie-main @itsokaytobedumb00 @humankimbap @zezedoesshit @teenyfinds @jeonghansshitester @aaa-sia @heyitz00 @silvsie

When you finally get to be in the field all you feel is relief until it comes to trying to convince Seungcheol to put you back in after that awful performance courtesy of your brother.

“Captain!” you call out, your voice tinged with urgency.

Seungcheol glances at you from the corner of his eye, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. The stern set of his jaw and the way he shifts his weight suggest he’s not in the mood for pleasantries. “Maybe next game,” he replies coolly. “Can’t risk another fluke like the one you had out there.”

“I was nervous,” you protest, trying to keep your tone steady. “It was my first game with a new team. I panicked. Please, just give me another chance.”

Seungcheol shakes his head, a look of skepticism in his eyes. “How am I supposed to trust that this time will be any different?”

“Put me in and I’ll show you,” you insist, your voice brimming with determination.

Seungcheol exhales sharply, clearly agitated, and turns his attention back to his clipboard. His gaze flickers briefly in your direction before he starts writing something down. The seconds tick by as he weighs his decision, and you hold your breath.

Finally, he looks up, a reluctant glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Since you look like yourself again,” he says, his tone softening just a touch, “I’ll give you 15 minutes. Use the time to reflect on what happened. Then we’ll see if you’re ready.”

“Got it, Coach—I mean, Cap,” you respond, a mixture of relief and resolve in your voice as you prepare to prove yourself.

You take the spot previous occupied by Yeonam next to Jeonghan who holds a smile of mischief like he always does. He gently nudges you, playfully greeting you. “Welcome back to the bench, Yeonam.”

“Thanks,” you grumble, your gaze lingering enviously on your teammates out on the field. A few catch your eye, especially one who you happened to share a bed with just last night. You sigh deeply. “I don’t know what to do, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan picks up on the fact that your frustration likely stems from more than just soccer. He senses that there’s an underlying issue he might not fully grasp without knowing the whole story. Still, he recognizes the delicate nature of your situation, understanding that when it comes to your personal life—especially something as precarious as your recent entanglements—he needs to tread carefully.

“Soccer, buddy,” Jeonghan says with a wry smile, “We’re playing soccer.”

You roll your eyes, a mix of exasperation and frustration. “You know what I mean.”

The match is evenly balanced halfway through. Seokmin manages a few solid shots, proving himself a key player for his team, but he struggles to keep up with his opposite, Mingyu, who is emerging as the true star on the field. Invisible to the naked eye, he lets his mind on body run on the one thing he could focus on: his rage, allowing it to fuel his movements. It doesn’t take him long to dominate the pitch, and before you know it, it’s your time to rejoin the game, with Seungcheol’s approval and a pat on the back from Jeonghan.

You jog excitedly back to your team, eager to hear the game plan and be involved. However, you’re distracted by compulsive lingering glances at Soonyoung, who never even bothers to look your way. You decide to shift your focus to Mingyu, who noticeably avoids your gaze. Before you can offer your input, the team huddles and breaks, and everyone returns to their positions on the field.

You chase after the ball, skillfully dodging defenders and making yourself available. “I’m open! I’m open!” you shout, hoping to get Mingyu's attention.

Mingyu, controlling the ball, ignores your calls and attempts to maneuver around you, ultimately missing the goal. Your frustration is palpable as you furrow your eyebrows at your roommate, pointing out your presence on the field. Once again, you receive no response from him, and instead, Seungkwan gives you a reassuring pat on the back, “You ok?”

You nod at him in tired confirmation, and quickly, the game is back on with the soccer ball at centerfield once again.

This time, you're trailing Mingyu closely, trying to keep up with his swift footwork. "Pass it to me! I got it!" you shout, waving your arm to get his attention.

But he doesn’t acknowledge you. His focus is solely on the goal ahead. He takes the shot, but it goes wide. No goal. Nothing but air.

Frustration bubbles up inside you. “Mingyu, come on!” you shout, your voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and urgency.

“Stop following me,” he finally says before running off.

This goes on for a period of until you’re at your tipping point, confronting him after yet another missed goal. “What the hell, Mingyu! Why are you being like this?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He dismisses.

“You know what? No.” Before he can storm off again, you stand your ground in front of him, ready to duke it out in front of teh entire team if you need to. “I am gonna worry about it. We were good for the last weeks working together, getting along even. Texting a decent amount, then you block me, and now your blocking my plays.”

Mingyu tightens in on your confrontation, a silent anger in his eyes. He drops is voice low enough for only you to hear, clipped tone that makes it clear there’s more at stake than just the soccer game. “Well, maybe if you didn’t be a dick instead of being my friend, I wouldn’t have to.”

“Bro, are you kidding me? All I’ve ever been is your friend. What is this even about?” you demand, your voice trembling with frustration.

“I know,” he retorts, taking a sharp breath. “I know what you and Chae did behind my back.”

“You—you actually—wow, dude,” you stammer, utterly stunned by his accusation.

He scoffs, crossing his arms. “Can’t say shit, can you?”

“What the hell is interrupting the game right now? Boys?” the Captain intrudes, his voice cutting through the tension.

Your hands start trembling, and you feel the weight of your bottled-up emotions about to explode. “You know what? Fuck. I can’t do this. You know what, Mingyu? I didn’t kiss your crush, my brother did.”

“Brother?” Mingyu stares, his anger only intensifying with your supposed lie. “You don’t have a brother.”

You nod, your voice steadying. “Yes, I do. Yeonam—Yeonam is my brother.”

Mingyu’s face twists in disbelief. “Have you gone mental?” he asks, his tone a mix of anger and bewilderment.

“Goddamnit, look,” you say, reaching for the back of your head. You pull against the elastic band holding your hair tightly in place, finally releasing it from its death grip.

As your hair falls against your shoulders, everyone’s eyes widen in surprise, shocked to see you shed your disguise.

“What the fuck,” Mingyu begins to grumble, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You peel back the fake eyebrows, sideburns, and anything else that was part of your disguise. Each piece removed leaves you feeling more vulnerable, fully exposed to scrutiny as you reveal your true self.

“Yeonam is my brother because… I’m his twin,” you say, standing tall despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

The corner of your eye can’t help flicker towards Soonyoung quietly started before he turns away from you, something being told in his body language and your heart sinks realizing what. The revelation hangs heavy in the air, Mingyu's expression shifting from confusion to a mix of shock and realization. The team around you murmurs, trying to process what they've just witnessed.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Mingyu exclaims, his voice full of disbelief.

“Y/n?” Seokmin steps forward, recognition dawning on his face. “What is this? What are you doing playing for this team, dressed like one of them?”

You scoff, locking eyes with your ex. “Making a point, asshole.” You turn back to Mingyu, who is still in shock.

“And no, I didn’t kiss Chae. I mean, how could I when I don’t see her that way and knowing you have feelings for her?”

“You—I—“ Mingyu stammers, struggling to find his words.

You take a deep breath, addressing the team. “I’m sorry, guys. I joined this team because mine was terminated to prioritize the boys' team at my university. I joined this team because you guys were the best, along with my school. And my brother” you clear your throat, “ he was going to be out of town. That’s him over there.”

The team follows your gaze to the stands, where your brother Yeonam is watching. Noticing the attention, he makes his way down, joining the group with a soft smile. “Hi.”

“He was the one playing in the first half of the game,” you add, feeling defeated. “That’s who was kissing Chae that night.”

“No wonder he sucked,” Jihoon blurts out, unable to hold back his observation.

“Hey,” Yeonam retorts, clearly offended.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Soccer is my entire life. I wanted to prove to everyone here, and maybe to myself, that we didn’t need to be boys to play. To prove ourselves worthy of the school funding. I didn’t think I’d end up liking being on this team so much. Liking the people on this team so much.”

You glance at Soonyoung, and for a brief moment, your eyes meet before he looks away again, avoiding your gaze. The moment hangs in the air, thick with unspoken emotions and the weight of your confession.

It hurt. More than you’d like to admit.

You realign your gaze. “I wanted to play so badly, and I can’t do that with what’s happened between us. We had a good thing going, our friendship. We’re better together, stronger when we work as a team.” You pause, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “What do you say, Mingyu?”

Mingyu hesitates, then asks, “Wait, wait. If you’re not a guy, then what are you?”

You roll your eyes in exasperation. “Do I have to whip my tits out to prove something?”

Joshua chimes in with a grin, “Is that an option?”

“Please don’t,” Yeonam interjects, looking horrified. “I’d rather not see my twin’s tits. Sounds like it would require expensive therapy.”

“Yeah ditto, stickdick.”

“Okay. I believe you,” Mingyu says, his voice tinged with defeat as he looks down, shoulders slumping.

“So, can I play?” you ask, hope creeping into your voice. “I want to show that it’s not just boys who can be good, and that I, representing my team, can be just as skilled.”

Mingyu contemplates for a moment, his brow furrowing in thought. He glances at Seungcheol before speaking again. “It’s not the matter of the player but what they bring to the field. Skill is nurtured, not born. Right, Seungcheol?”

Seungcheol, who had been observing the exchange closely, lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a frustrated sigh. “We’ve all seen players improve through hard work and dedication, regardless of who they are.”

“Hold on,” one of Seokmin’s teammates pipes up, his voice dripping with skepticism. “You guys can’t be serious about this.”

“Why the hell not?” Seungcheol retorts, his voice rising in frustration as he points directly at you with a commanding gesture. “That’s my kid. My player out there. You think I’m going to just let go of someone that talented?.”

Seokmin’s team doesn’t let the matter rest without a fight. The tension remains high as arguments and counterarguments fly back and forth, each side determined to prove their point. The obnoxious player, clearly enjoying the confrontation, smirks as he pulls out a rulebook from his bag, its worn cover betraying its frequent use. He hands it to Seungcheol with an air of smug superiority. “Rules strictly state that boys’ sports teams stay boys’,” he says, his tone almost mocking. “Right, Cap?”

The obnoxious player turns to Seokmin with a triumphant grin, as if he’s won the argument before it’s even over. Seokmin, however, remains silent, his eyes locked on you still registering the conflict in front of him, detailing every word he’s said to your face without knowing and remembering the empty feeling from lack of response.

Seungcheol’s expression hardens as he takes the rulebook, his gaze fierce and determined. With a defiant glint in his eye, he rips the rulebook in half, the pages fluttering to the ground in shreds, and placing the giant chucks back on the opposites. “What rulebook?” he declares, his voice filled with defiance.

Seokmin’s teammate’s eyes widen in shock and indignation. “Hey–” he begins, but Seungcheol cuts him off with a steely gaze.

“If you’re scared of losing, just admit it,” Seungcheol continues, his voice cutting through the tension. “Don’t hide behind some petty excuse like gender. This is about sportsmanship and skill. Unless you’re really just the losers who stole resources from a capable team to cover up your own lack of talent.”

The obnoxious player’s face turns a deep shade of red, his pride clearly wounded. His fists clench at his sides as he struggles to maintain his composure, flinging the defiled rulebook on the field. “You’re on!” he finally shouts, his voice cracking with anger.

The game resumes, and with renewed determination, you step back onto the field, channeling every ounce of energy and skill into each play. Mingyu, having finally warmed up to the idea, starts coordinating seamlessly with you, his passes sharp and his movements precise. The rest of your team, energized by your resolve, steps up their game. You can feel their hope and faith in you, driving you to push your limits and showcase exactly what you’re capable of. To prove yourself that there’s more to what’s in your pants to show what kind of fire is in your heart.

You weave through defenders with skillful footwork, making strategic plays and delivering accurate passes. Each time the ball comes to you, you handle it with precision, your vision and quick reflexes earning you a few key assists and encouraging faces of your teammates. The game is intense, with both teams fighting hard for every inch of ground. You intercept a crucial pass, setting up a perfect opportunity for your teammate to score in the finally minutes of the game. The crowd roars as the ball hits the back of the net, giving your team the lead.

The clock ticks its final seconds and the final whistle blows. The scoreboard broadcast your victory. Ccheers explode around you, a cacophony of celebration and relief. Your teammates rush in, their faces alight with joy. They envelop you in a sea of high-fives and cheers, their exuberance palpable. It’s a moment of pure triumph, and the camaraderie is electric, filling the air with a sense of collective achievement and unity.

Yet, amidst the jubilation, your gaze keeps darting to the sidelines. Soonyoung is already heading towards the locker room, his shoulders slightly hunched, as if trying to escape the spotlight. The sight of him leaving so abruptly tugs at your heartstrings, cutting through the elation of victory. You want to bask in the triumph with everyone, but your concern for Soonyoung pulls you in his direction, a gnawing need to understand what’s behind his distant expression.

You rush to catch up with him, weaving through the celebrating crowd. “Soonyoung! Did you see that? We won!”

He stops momentarily while packing his things, glancing back with a weary expression. “Sure. Congrats on the great game,” he replies, his voice flat and devoid of the excitement that should accompany such a victory.

You take a hesitant step closer, your heart aching at the sight of his disinterest. “I’m really sorry for lying to you,” you say, your voice earnest and filled with regret. You can’t help but feel the weight of your mistake pressing down on you.

“No big deal. Doesn’t matter,” he responds dismissively, his back already turned, signaling his desire to move on.

“But it does,” you insist, your voice cracking slightly as frustration and sadness mix. You trod towards him anxiously, missing the smile he always spays, the teeth he bares, teh flirtatious way he’d greet as you or Yeonam. “I wanted to tell you. I was just so, so happy being around you, I just…”

Soonyoung takes a deep breath, clearly struggling with his emotions. He shoves the last of his things into his bag with a sense of finality. “Can I just get a minute?” he asks, his voice strained and barely above a whisper.

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat as you swallow your own tears. “I’m really sorry,” you repeat, your voice soft and almost pleading.

Without a response, Soonyoung walks away with his bag slung over his shoulder, his footsteps echoing as he passes through the locker room exit. The door swings shut behind him with a soft, final thud, sealing him off from view. You’re left standing alone in the boys’ locker room–the one place you did everything in your power to avoid, now the only place you find yourself wanting to stay–as the jubilant echoes of the earlier celebration now distant and muted.

The weight of this moment settles heavily on your shoulders, the joy of the day overshadowed the bitter taste in your mouth and your heart now shattered into a million tiny pieces.

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