#i mean i still have a superiority complex i just keep it in check. and it's now coupled with crazy impostor syndrome and such

[enashinonome]

i post like an ISFJ and it kind of freaks me out. but the thing is when posting online you can edit before your post, and therefore soften or clarify or organize your thought properly before it is out in the world. which isn't the case in real life, unfortunately. i just say whatever. if i could do so in real life i would tag all of my quips and terrible ramblings with ♡ and ୨୧ and other such symbols just to be cute... i always feel like i'm lying to people when i post about the things i love and talk cutely on my blog but i'm not. i really do love my friends and frequently do self reflection and try to celebrate the little joys in my life but that's kind of reserved for my main blog and my journal... so this sweet side of me and the coarse 'other' are caught in two different realms and i know they can coexist because they do so within me but it's sooooo hard to like. integrate them for others to truly experience my whole self. the contrast is so jarring and i feel like most people wouldn't believe me when i say i'm an ENTP but i really am and have been for a long time...

[mysaintkitten]

Trigger-happy | Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

prompt: idek how to summarize this other than gunplay with tommy loool (18+ MDNI !!!)

WARNINGS: gunplay (real sick shit i’m not playing), degradation, unprotected sex (p in v), orgasm denial (eeeehhh)

*not proofread*

the first thing you notice is the crisp and cold dead grass beneath your knees and calves, then the cool breeze blowing against your bare skin. as you crack your eyes open, you nervously scan your surroundings. it doesn’t take long for you to realize you’re bound in a very large vacant field.

the dress you had been wearing was cut messily, the uneven fabric barely covered the tops of your thighs, and your stockings had been removed too. you couldn’t check, but just judging by how you felt, you assumed you weren’t wearing any underwear either. with your arms and ankles tied, you couldn’t do much to try and cover yourself let alone warm yourself up.

from behind you, you hear footsteps, followed by the sound of a match being lit.

“i assume you’re coherent now.” you hear a familiar voice mutter behind you. that gravely, deep, sexy voice that you know all too well.

as expected, tommy shelby comes up from behind you and steps in front of you, towering over you as you look up at him with confusion. you’d heard of tommy through the grapevine, and you’d occasionally spot him out and about. he was so enticing. like a forbidden fruit, so delicious, so dangerous, you wanted it all.

but being here now and having no choice to submit to him was having your mind and body stirring. you’re partially terrified, and just the slightest bit turned on.

“why am i here?” you finally gather up the courage to speak. tommy leaves you with an uncomfortable silence as he places his cigarette between his lips while he retrieves something from within his pockets. seconds later, he flashes his gun at you.

your body tenses at the bleak shift in energy. was tommy shelby, the man you occasionally fantasized about, moments way from killing you?

“you know …” tommy briefly takes the cigarette out of his mouth while he rummages through his other pockets for bullets. right in front of you, he loads them in one by one. “i’ve heard quite some tales about you, how could a little thing like yourself cause such problems?”

what the fuck is he talking about? for the most part, you just kept to yourself. yes, you may have been involved in some dirty work here and there but come on, who isn’t?

“i don’t know what you mean tom-“ you attempt to start before tommy cuts you off.

“aht- sweetheart, you don’t get the privilege of saying my name. it’s sir.”

“… i don’t know what you mean, sir.” you correct, your tone becoming shaky as the weight of the situation has began to settle in. again, tommy doesn’t respond, leaving you with nothing but your own thoughts. tommy leeches off your nervous energy, it feeds into his superiority complex.

without saying a word, tommy aims the gun directly at your forehead, the icy metal barrel caused your heart to race faster.

“please.” you plead breathlessly, your entire life is playing out in front of your eyes, every single fuck up is looping inside your head.

by some force, an unfamiliar wave of confidence makes it way through you. maybe it’s the adrenaline mixed with some delusion, either way your actions begin to change.

“please.” you repeat, rising up to your knees as best you can with your ankles still bound. tommy keeps the gun in the same place and watches you attentively as you move around in front of him. the barrel of the gun now grazing your nose and lips.

“i’m sure we could …” you hum as you plant a kiss onto the barrel, testing the waters. “work something out, sir.”

through a chuckle, tommy asks “is this your plan? whore yourself out to try and save your life?”

“mmm …” you pretend to think for a moment, your kisses against the gun becoming more deliberate and sloppy. “i’ve always thought you were so handsome, sir. so big and bad.” you bat your lashes at him while teasingly licking the underside of the barrel.

quickly, tommy snags the gun away and shoots off into the field before quickly bringing the gun back down to where he had kept it before.

you can’t help but giggle, this entire situation is so tense— yet suddenly you cannot take it seriously for the life of you.

“wow …” you grin, kitten licking the barrel. “gives you a rush, huh?” you ask tommy. his jaw is clenched and he’s shifting his weight around in a way you’ve never seen him do before. tommy was normally so calculated, have you really thrown him off that much?

“do it.” you whisper, slowly taking the tip of the barrel into your mouth. his jaw goes slack, undoubtedly he’s imagining your lips around his member, licking and teasing him like you’re doing to his gun.

as you slowly blink, your lids becoming heavier as your body starts to get worked up, you take more of the barrel into your mouth. jesus, if any outsiders saw you mimicking fellatio on tommy shelby’s gun, along with tommy allowing you to do it, they’d likely be convinced that hell had frozen over.

tommy swallows, huffing loudly as he finds the right words to say.

“you’re disgusting.” tommy spat. your ego was bruised temporarily, until your eyes drifted down to his bulge, which ultimately revealed tommy’s true opinions on the matter.

“d’you get off on being disgusted, sir? because …” you signal to his cock as best you can without your arms being available, tommy scoffs as if him having an erection during a moment like this meant absolutely nothing.

“come on, just blow off some steam.” you purr as you muzzle the side of your head against the gun, “you’ve got a dirty, vulnerable girl right here in front of you. i couldn’t stop you even if i tried.”

finally, something snaps within tommy. with his free hand, he nudges your shoulder and pushes you down. you fall against the hard ground, and before you even have time to process that tommy is proceeding to flip you over onto your stomach.

then, you feel tommy’s big rough hand grab onto your hip. with ease, he lifts your hips up and forces you into a face-down-ass-up position. you turn your head to the side and whimper at the change, you had much less confidence in a state like this.

“i could blow your fuckin’ brains out …” tommy grumbles as he roughly whips up the bottom half of your very short dress, your back involuntarily arches at the brisk wind hitting your most private, and now sensitive areas. you can tell you’re wet, and tommy can too, cause he can see the wetness glistening off of you. “and all you’re thinking about is getting your holes filled?”

as you mewl back to him, you gasp when you feel the cold barrel make contact with your desperate core. he toys with your slick, watching how quickly your sticky arousal eagerly coats whatever it touches. he pushes the tip of the barrel inside, almost fucking you with his gun.

and as if things couldn’t get worse, his skilled thumb finds its way to your clit. he rubs it and groans when he sees you get wetter around his gun, a bit more of the barrel accidentally sliding inside of you due to your increase in arousal. this is sickening, tommy is getting you off with the weapon he uses to off whoever wrongs him.

tommy takes the gun and his thumb away from you, before you can protest you hear fabric rustling and the sound of a zipper being ripped down. you hold your breath with anticipation, until you feel tommy’s warm tip press against your opening.

“mmh-“ you moan, attempting to rock your hips back against him. you really didn’t need to though, because seconds later tommy shoved his full length inside of you. the sudden stretch and fullness made your mouth hang open with pleasure and pain.

tommy pulls his hips back before slamming them back in, immediately fucking you with a relentless pace. you felt like a cheap whore beneath him, like all he was thinking about was getting himself off. hell, he probably was thinking that, and that only made it hotter.

“such a fuckin’ whore… ‘n still so … shit … so tight.” tommy groans, tipping his head back while mumbling strings of curses under his breath.

“uh-huh … mmh—“ you gasp as tommy’s angles change, causing him to slam into that special spot inside you. “right there, right there—“ you ramble as your whole body pulses with pleasure. again, tommy’s not doing it to make you feel good, he just happened to tweak his angle. and if it just so happens to make you come on his cock, that’s just life he thinks to himself as he feels your arousal spill down onto his balls.

as your mind reels from tommy’s harsh pounding, you feel the barrel being pressed against the side of your head.

“maybe it would be better if i shot you like this.” he pants, laughing breathily to himself. “we could keep that pretty face of yours intact.”

your fate sat in his hands. he could kill you right then and there, you’d have zero say in it. it’s petrifying, and incredibly erotic.

you huff, “you think i’m pretty?”

tommy presses the gun against your head harder, “that’s the part you’re focused on? jesus … stupid fucking whore.”

your cunt clenches around him from his degradation, this wasn’t going to last long. the pace tommy has stuck with was not meant for longterm endurance, that’s why he chose it.

tommy let’s out a low purr at the sensation, “you really are disgusting … gripping my cock like that …” the last bit of his sentence had the slightest bit of praise hidden within it, you absolute ate up such a drastic bittersweet mixture.

his thrusts start to get janky, and his breathing is loud and laboured. much too soon for your liking, tommy pulls out and feverishly pumps himself, huffing harshly as he spills his load onto your ass and back.

you release a little whine. like, obviously the man who was sent to kill you isn’t going to sit there and make you come, but it was definitely nice while it lasted.

you’re pulled out of your thoughts as you feel tommy silently untying you. before long, your limbs are fully free.

tommy pulls out a cigarette, lights it, and takes a generous inhale before speaking.

“if anyone asks, just say you broke out of your restraints before i got here.”

you raise your brow, challenging tommy in a way. “and what if i don’t? what if i say what actually happened?”

tommy laughs, slipping his gun back into his pocket.

“then i’ll find you and actually put a bullet between your eyes. how’s that sound, sweetheart?”

—

this was one of my before-bed imagine scenarios. sigh. i’m sorry god.

[anincompletelist]

rwrb christmas recs! ❤️

hi all! :D i wanted to rec some festive fics for the holidays for fic rec friday this week!

I'm sure that I've missed some and that some are still to be posted, which will be included in the january rec if so! but here are a few that I've particularly enjoyed reading this month -- the holidays can be a difficult time for many of us and fic - both reading and writing it - can be such a wonderful distraction!

I hope all of you are doing well and being kind to yourselves and to one another this season. happy reading, and as always be sure to spread the love with a kudos, comment, or reblog if possible. enjoy, and happy christmas! <3

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fell apart (in the usual way) by @hypnostheory (E, 12k)

Henry is a mess around the holidays, and he's expecting to have a tremendously horrid time without Shaan. Fortunately, Alex has plans to make his Christmas both merry and bright. (Bodyguard!Alex Part 2)

When I Think About You by @clottedcreamfudge (E, 36k, wip)

Dream sharing is absolutely not a thing, even though Alex would very much like it to be. The magic of soulmates, however, means that someone you’ve never met – someone whose soul is tied to yours, in whatever way that manifests – can appear in your dreams, like an extra character who keeps popping up over and over again. They won’t be having the same dream as you, and you won’t actually meet, but whatever you remember from the dream can start to take shape in your waking hours; you can figure things out, bit by bit, dream by dream.

Gonna Give You Something (So You Know What's On My Mind) by @affectionatelyrs (E, 4k+)

With the help of a white elephant gift, Henry learns that maybe the whole being-in-love-with-his-roommate thing isn’t as one-sided as he thought.

Every Day's a Holiday (When I'm Near To You) by bleedingballroomfloor (E, 30k)

I know this is a long shot, but if anyone’s going to Texas/anywhere south for the holidays and is crazy enough to drive there instead of fly, I’m looking for a road trip buddy. We can split gas money and snacks if you pick good ones. DM me if you’re interested. And Henry knows he's about the make the most idiotic decision he's ever made in his life. [Or, Henry impulsively tags along with Alex on a road trip to Texas with absolutely no plan. Surely this won't backfire.]

The Christmas Guest by @omgcmere (E, 17k)

Alex is looking forward to a relaxing winter break catching up with his sister after her semester abroad, but June's gone and ruined everything by inviting her insufferable international student friend to stay with their family for a real American Christmas experience. Henry is irritatingly gorgeous with a completely obnoxious superiority complex, and Alex is prepared to hate every single second he's forced to spend in his presence. As Alex starts to get into the Christmas spirit, however, he finds that maybe there's more to Henry than meets the eye - and maybe, just maybe, this will actually be the best Christmas ever

❤️ and if you finish all of these or don't see something you like, be sure to check out this wonderful collection!

New Traditions: A Red, White & Royal Blue Advent Calendar Event

featuring so many beautiful and lovely works by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @adreamareads @lizzie-bennetdarcy @whimsymanaged @raysletters @sparklepocalypse @thinkof-england @littlemisskittentoes and more!

❤️ as well as a few rwrb holiday fic roundup posts I've seen floating around:

cricketnationrise's holiday fics / @cricketnationrise chamel's holiday fics / @cha-melodius railmedaddy's holiday fics / @rmd-writes allmylovesatonce's holiday fics / @three-drink-amy clottedcreamfudge's holiday fics / @clottedcreamfudge

❤️ and, last but most definitely not least, a wonderful and thorough rec from @roseharpermaxwell (thank you for all you do!)

RWRB FirstPrince Holiday Recs

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happy reading friends! :D

xx

[linkspooky]

What would you say to people who say Gojo only cares about Geto? 😭 I've seen this take go around that Gojo doesn't care or want to risk his life for anyone BUT Geto, and there's another take in Geto's case where the whole reason he defected was for Gojo. Which.. are both obviously wrong, but I was wondering about your thoughts on this?

A lot of the "Gojo only cares about Geto" takes come from a misinterpretation, or romantization of this line that Geto was "his one and only..." This line does not indicate that Gojo never cared about anyone else but Geto, in fact the story does go painstakingly out of its way to give several indications of Gojo showing the indirect way he cares about both his students and his fellow sorcerers. At the same time, I do believe that Gojo does mean that Geto is his "One and only friend..." that for various reasons as attached as he may feel to his coworkers, they'll never be friends to him because friends implies they're equals and the only person he ever saw as one is Geto.

The three years of Gojo's youth stand out to Gojo because meeting Geto was the only time he ever really experienced a normal friendship with someone on equal terms, and that was because for that brief period of time they were the strongest together. Gojo who's birth apaprently changed the balance of the world for Jujutsu Society, just happened to meet a boy with curse manipulation who didn't come from the clan system, could hold his own against him in a fight, and constantly lectured him and tried to keep him following regulations.

It's something which draws them together and also eventually drives them apart, because Gojo thinks the basis of his friendship with Geto is that Geto will just "Get it..." because since they're both the strongest he's the only one that can understand Gojo. Gojo's entire character revolves around the fact that he's always observing other people from a distance, his technique is called the infinity and it makes it so people can't touch him no matter how close they come. His assumption that because Geto is as strong as him and they so naturally connect that is enough, but that assumption is proven wrong via Geto's downfall.

Here's where I quote another meta because they put it way better than I could, but a big factor sabotaging Gojo's relationship is his own superiority complex.

gojou 100% has a god complex and thats why getous downfall hit him harder than anyone else. he saw himself and getou as above everyone else and exempt from ‘regular’ peoples flaws, he never thought either of them could be led astray and when getou finally snaps hes bewildered that something like that could ever happen to either of them. hes not just heartbroken over his best friend becoming an enemy, hes thrown for a loop because getou, the one person he thinks of as just as above everyone else and incapable of failing as he is, could ever do something wrong, could ever be wrong. hes finally put into a position where he has to face the fact that hes just as capable of screwing up as anyone else and he can’t make sense of it. gojous hesitance in killing getou isn’t just a byproduct of their friendship, it’s also him realizing that it could have easily been him on the other side of the conflict, which breaks the illusion of him being better than everyone for a second. and like that’s still not enough for him to reject this idea, personally i think that his comment about him and getou being 'the strongest’ in volume 0 is indicative of the fact that despite everything he still hasn’t grown out of this delusion

Gojo didn't really descend down to Geto's level to understand him, he just assumed that him and Geto were standing above others on top of the same pedestal which is why they so naturally clicked. Which isn't the real reason why they're friends, they're friends because well they like each other, Geto's stricter personality keeps Gojo in check, but Geto's also good at noticing that Gojo's a much more considerate person than he appears to be and sees the good in Gojo and how he indirectly tries to help people. Gojo also tries to do in return with Geto, like how he changed his entire speech pattern based on a lecture from Geto that he needed to be more respectful when addressing others. The reason they're friends isn't their power level, but Gojo thinks it is (and Geto probably did too) which is why their relatioship starts to crumble. It's actually foreshadowed in a pretty well directed scene in a first episode of the anime.

Geto and Gojo are talking about their ideologies about protecting the weak, or how Gojo doesn't believe strong people should have to limit themselves. Geto throws a basket jumping into the air to do so, he hits the rim and then falls off.

Gojo on the other hand not even looking picks up the ball with one hand, and effortlessly throws it into the net and makes the basket. Implying the fact that despite both of them being compettitors, Gojo just has the natural edge in talent. Which is what happens by the end of their third year, Gojo just gets way too far ahead of Geto to the point where he's always doing missions alone from then on.

Gojo forms a friendship with Geto because he wants to be an equal with someone else, but he never gets over the belief of his inherent superiority. This is also his foiling with Sukuna, and why we see Sukuna and Yorozu's fight right before the final fight between him and Gojo.

Sukuna and Gojo both suffer from the "Solitude that ultimate strength brings" because they only person they'd acknowledge as their equal is someone as strong as they were. Heck, even Sukuna the nastiest character in the manga has a companion in Ura Ume, who despite Ura Ume acting like a slavish devotee he doesn't really mistreat that much. When Ura Ume fails and apologizes, Sukuna tends to just let it go. The two of them even laugh together. However, despite Sukuna treating Ura Ume marginally better than he treats literally anyone else, their relationship is entirely based off of the fact that Ura Ume is Sukuna's devotee. He's just a subordinate that Sukuna seems sort of fond of, nothing more. They're both unable to let go of their own egos, and therefore don't really form relationships between equals, they form relationships as barters or transactions.

So to reiterate there's a lot of evidence that Gojo will go out of his way to take care of his colleagues and his associates. Gojo's pretty famous for his bullying of Ijichi, but there's a light novel story where he goes out of his way to take Ijichi drinking when he realizes the strength of his work is becoming too much for him.

This could all be attributed to being able to take a proper break after so long but a larger portion was due to sweeping away the “haze” within his heart and most importantly, Gojou’s concern for him had an immediate effect that was better than expected. Even though Gojou was self-centered, did whatever he wanted and had Spartan methods, he was still a teacher. As a top Jujutsu Sorcerer, Gojou was extremely reliable and Ichiji’s own hard work was acknowledged by him, and in Ichiji’s opinion, this sense of sincerely had an immense power of motivation.

Then, of course there's the recent chapters where Gojo reiterates he's asking Ijichi to do things for him because he trusts him.

At the same time I think there's a clear parallel between Ura Ume and Ijichi, Gojo's fond of Ijichi but in the end he's still a subordinate that Gojo trusts on the basis that Ijichi will do things for him. Ijichi thinks that he OWES Gojo and therefore must serve him to the best of his ability. His self esteem is incredibly low such as when he openly remarks that he expected Gojo to say that he should have died instead of Nanami, and he sees himself as inferior because he's weaker.

A lot of Gojo's relatioships work on the basis of transactions, because he is a cog in the machine of sorcery society and that's how you navigate that same society. For example he seems to get along better with Mei Mei than say Utahime, but that's not because he thinks Mei Mei is a better person, he can just pay her off and she'll do what he wants.

Gojo puts Gakuganji the guy who killed Yaga in charge after the higher ups are killed, because that's just how the machine keeps running you gotta find replacement cogs. If Yaga's gone then you just need someone capable of doing the job that Yaga did. Gojo prioritizes function above everything else in regards to personal relationships.

I'd also like to point out that despite Gojo went behind Yaga's back a bunch of time, he also had respect for his position as principal. He does stuff like let Yaga wrestle him down and lecture him in front of everyone after learning that Yuji is still alive, and Gege calls it "reading the room". He acknowledges also that Yaga's position as principal requires him making harsh decisions to compromise between protecting his students and catering to the elders. Gojo gets it, because he's a cog in that same society too.

When Gojo goes out of his way to rescue Megumi and Tsumiki from being forcibly taken in by the Zen'in Clan? Well, they have to still work for Jujutsu High otherwise he's not even going to give them money for food to eat.

Yet, Gojo's also capable of being really fond and considerate towards these same people. He clearly watches over Megumi closely and when he saw Megumi was sacrificing himself too much by summoning Mahoraga as a last resort suicide attempt, he did his best to try to fix Megumi's behavior in his own Gojo way. He watches Megumi close enough that he could notice that pattern of behavior from one tiny detail like Megumi choosing to bunt in a baseball game.

Gojo does things like pet Megumi on the head and act fondly towards him, but at the same time he's taking Megumi on missions to exorcise curses when Megumi's like... eight. Gojo will go out of his way to recruit Nanami because he realizes that Yuji needs someone to take care of his emotional needs and teach him the basics which isn't something he's good at as a sorcerer.

Which was why he decided to talk about such a topic with Nanami. “For people like us, we naturally know how to get rid of the poisons within their heart. But for youths who hold onto a lot of sentimental feelings, it’s another matter altogether. Their heart might collapse just from getting struck by poison once.” “Isn’t it an adult’s duties to rid poison from a child’s heart? As a teacher, you should know this better than me, right?” “Of course I know that’s my duty, which is why I’m talking about this with you here.”

Gojo notices that Yuta is lonely, and is the first one really to advise him to make friends with his fellow sorcerers, something Maki also repeats later in the first chapter of JJK 0 that if he works hard as a sorcerer he'll find someone who needs him and a place to belong. Gojo is also someone who threatens the higher ups if they turn against Yuta that he's going to take Yuta's side and not theirs.

Gojo is also the person who sent Yuta's friends to get beaten up by Geto, because he knew it would piss Yuta off and power him up.

Gojo constantly mocks Utahime and derides her as weak, Gojo also goes up to Utahime personally and asks her to track down the spy leaking information in the sorcerer college because he admits it's something he can't do and she's good at.

My point in highlighting all of this is that Gojo is not a good or bad person, but that his behavior is extremely contradictory. I can point out just as many occasions where he's considerate to people he's close to and tries to take care of them, as I can point out where he uses people in selfish ways to push forward his own agenda.

The central reason why being this, that Gojo's incorrect belief that being the strongest makes him alone, and there's no one who could understand him with the exception of someone on the same level of him.

When that's just not true.

[king-craftsman]

Sorry to ask this as an anon, but what do you think about white/western people? Being one myself it sometimes feels like we get the blame for everything. Now a days it seems like we are all brushed over the same comb. Because of this I even find my support for certain causes wavering. What does it matter what i do or think, if I will be hated anyway. Even as an "evil white western" person I wish for Palestina to be free. But I also hope my country can still exist and aren't globally hated.

I have no clue why you'd ask a...*checks notes* transformation fetish blog, about views on white/westerners, but here goes:

When people criticise whiteness, it's more the institution than the actual skin colour. I notice a lot of white people tend to view such criticism through the lens of discrimination because we live in a world which has trained people to view others as "lesser than".

You're used to thinking that when someone says "(blank) people", they must mean in the derogatory/racist way because that's mostly what whiteness teaches, that some races must be superior to others. Nobody thinks black people, asian people, hispanic people, etc. are genuinely "superior" to white people. It's just white people throughout the history of the West have often tried to ascribe this "superiority" in order to justify their institutions.

You have manifest destiny. You have justification for slavery. If you dehumanise indigenous and black people enough, you can subliminally coach yourself to believe that due to your superiority, you are better. They are not human. Therefore their pain, their agony, their suffering is more justifiable because they are not on your level.

It's just that this has gone on for so long that it is now the bedrock of much of Western society. When you create a society based on the justification for discrimination, for stealing land, for slaughtering people, you cannot just "move on." You have to embed those lies into society and not just in thoughts and feelings, but in culture, laws, history, the overall system. Otherwise, what's the point?

Nobody hates white people. People hate "whiteness", they hate this concept of a superiority complex because not only has it led to uncountable numbers of deaths, lynchings, imprisonment, hate crime, suffering and so on, but it doesn't even help you now.

Now, when we say "we shouldn't do this or that", your instinct is to feel attacked and guilty and believe we will come for you, the way that you have come for us. That isn't true and it never was. It's the same reason why when people say "Black lives matter", others will say "actually no ALL lives matter."

When did we say they didn't? We know they matter. When black people say "we want this", it is not "we will TAKE this from you", it is "we want this too." Whiteness has evolved you to instinctively believe that the only way you can interpret "we want this" is a "we will TAKE this" because that was what was done in the past.

Also there is nobody who is anti-racist and will genuinely believe that all white people are evil. Once again this is what the West has trained you to believe, as if racism, discrimination is just a natural instinct. It was a tool of oppression used by a select bunch of white people in order to justify why they could have a bunch of land, money and power.

People will do anything to get the power that the colonizers had and still often do have to this day. They tricked you because rather than actually aid the average white person, they treat the average white person how everybody should be treated and use you as a foot soldier to keep others down. You get the least amount of benefits for most of the risk.

The American Civil War is a prime example of this. The Confederates helped further create racist white folk who were so hell bent on this "whiteness" they would do anything to preserve it, even if it meant going to war for the sake of keeping slavery. Then they died and lost and many lucky enough to survive were now disabled from war injuries or had PTSD and slavery was overturned anyway. You see how far "whiteness" got you then? It's a trick, used for the sake of power.

Perhaps in some sense, the lie got so riveting that the colonizers truly believed it. I think for the most part, they did. But any evidence on the contrary, cannot be accepted.

If you look at history, the modern day views on race would be far from how we engage with it and I don't mean, "oh well it's wrong to say the N word and segregate people compared to 100 years ago", no when I say modern day history I mean the last couple hundred years.

We've been on this planet for thousands of years and not until very recently in the scope of our human history did we have very...odd thoughts about race. Genetically you would be so shocked at how completely different people from different countries can share more similarities than say two ethnicities that have grown up in the same area beside one another.

If your support for certain causes waver due to the criticism not even of you, but just the society that raised you and protected you at the expense of others and continues trying to brainwash you, then I don't know what to say. Like yeah it sucks being criticised, but it sure sucks a lot more to have to worry about your skin colour, race, stereotypes, culture being mocked (and then stolen anyway), your hair, your clothes, the way you speak and more. Then continue to say "oh but come onnn we stopped enslaving you and segregating you and mocking you, so we're all equal now right?"

Sure bud.

But what do I know, I'm just a transformation-fetish blog and I got some writing to do. 💀

[thepiratequeenofneverland]

The girl not from here

Pt 2

*warning area*

“Hold on,” I look at the littler boy that was here, “your new lost girl? last time I checked people weren’t property, and not something that you can just assume that I would come with you, submissively.”

“Oh you got fire, I like that.” He grinned at me. As much as I wanted to go and slap that boy I knew that it probably would feed into his kinky sexual feelings that I swore I could see radiating off of him.

“So your one of those people.” I say rolling my eyes at the boy and stepping closer to my newly reunited with brother.

“What do you mean by that, love.”

“First off, don’t call me that again, secondly your one of the boys that don’t treat either women or others with respect like you should, and you don’t look at the signs for when you are clearly NOT in the womens interests and they don’t want to do anything with you, thirdly, I feel like you have a Superiority complex, with by the way isn’t good for you.” As I finished that little rant I had fully made it to Killian, which I hoped he got my sign that I wanted to go.

“I think that it is in your best interest to leave Pan, and leave my- I mean this girl alone, she clearly wants to NOT go into your company.” And with that he stood in front of me protectively like a brother would.

“Look at that the pirate has guts, fine you can have her for now, but I still want her in my company, and I always get what I want, don’t you forget that Peter Pan always wins.” And with that he disappeared.

“Let’s get out of here before he comes back.

A while later we had arrived at Killians ship, he rushed me to what I could assume is that captains quarters, with gaining the attention of the entire crew, I felt all the eyes on me the whole time.

“Are we able to get out of this dammed dimension?” I suddenly asked.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” He replied.

“How’d you even get here?”

“A magic bean.” He said.

“And you never thought of bringing another thing to leave?!?”

“I never thought that far ahead.”

“Wow my biological brother is an idiot.” I shook my head.

“Just call me your brother, you don’t need to say bio- whatever you were saying before it.”

“Okay fine idiot.” I smiled at him.

“So how did you get here? What realm were you in? What was your life like?” He started asked me, I could tell he was curious.

“Okay one question, at a time brother.”

“How did you get here?”

“Something dark decided to kidnap me and I woke up here, so I have no idea how I got here, but it had to do the that dark human floaty thingy.”

“Pan’s shadow, it normally goes and brings him boys that feel unloved or unwanted by anyone.” He takes a breath. “Okay my next question, what is your realm like?”

“Well, seeing as this island and probably where you grew up, my ‘realm’ as you call it, would be about 400 years or more into the future, so our boats are more technologically advanced, with most boats not running on wind power, also we don’t fight with bows and swords, and have indoor pluming.”

“Wow, that’s very different, and what’s indoor pluming.”

“However you go to the bathroom and bathe now, it’s way better where I’m from. Some countries even have better things for that than where I was.” I take a step to look out the window as we started to set off from the coast.

“Was your life good?” He comes to stand next to me.

“I would say so, I had more than what others had, and I had less than others as well, but I liked my life, I had my own place even if I was too young, but I was able to live on my own.”

“That’s good, did you have a family?”

“No, I had myself, but I was okay with that, my landlord was my only friend, and that was okay with me.”

“I’m glad I found you, me and our older brother looked for some time before he died.”

“We had an older brother?” I turned my head to look at him.

“Yeah, we did. His name was Liam and he was the captain of the Jolly Roger before I was. He was a great man.” He looked down.

“I’d love to hear stories of him someday when we are not on this island.”

[blackjackkent]

Ran into an earthquake, proceeding south through Rivington.

Presumably this is the sort of quake we heard mentioned in that cutscene with Gortash - fallout from the elder brain straining against the Chosens' control. Feels like a bit of time pressure for sure.

But for right now Hector has no idea what it means, just that more trouble.

Shadowheart also commented, "If I was a Sharran lookout, this is the sort of place I'd wait around," which feels very ominous. Definitely feels like we're about to get jumped, but there's no one immediately obvious in the vicinity that is interactable, so possibly Shadowheart is just being paranoid.

Moving on, there's a fight going on between a dude and some squatters in his house.

"The place was empty! Keep those thugs away from my family."

"ZENOVIAAAAA! GET THESE SQUATTERS OUT OF MY HOUSE NOW."

This guy is comically upper-class - loud and dramatic and very upset with the situation. Hector does not have much familiarity with such people but he can sense that Karlach does; she lets out a soft snort behind him and rolls her eyes.

The merc at the man's side, on the other hand, is anything but humorous; she's carrying an extremely large and well-cared-for sword on her back and looks like she's fully ready to use it.

"Arfur, *sweetheart*, you paid me and my boys to be caravan guards, not cattle wrangles," she drawls, and gives the man in the house an unpleasant grin. "If you want us to get our hands dirty, it'd be our pleasure, but that'll be extra."

Hector doesn't fully understand what's happening here, but it's obvious there's the threat of violence, and so - almost without thinking about it, he steps in.

(One of the available options here is "Does no one we meet ever get along?" which is excellent. I don't think Hector would say it but he's definitely thinking it right now.)

"Calm down and tell me what's going on," he says, his tone automatically shifting into something placid and firm, a voice of authority - not the tadpole's sort, but that which the abbot would use to calm a disagreement of monks in the monastery.

"I just want to remove these unlawful interlopers from my property!" Arfur wails aggrievedly.

Hector raises an eyebrow at him. Given the state of things around here - and in particular, given the mass of bodies he just saw at the site of the battle outside the gates - he doesn't have particular interest in indulging this man's superiority complex, or being party to turning a family in need out on the street. But the mercenary with the sword is worrisome.

So he has to consider his approach. Something nonconfrontational but unambiguous. He summons the memory of the cleric who ran the services in the monastery's temple and puts on his most beatific smile. [CLERIC] "The gods study our deeds during crises," he points out. "Now is a bad time to be uncharitable."

"Excuse me?!" Arfur yelps. "I'm *exceedingly* charitable. Ask anyone in this wretched town! It's one thing to donate - extremely generously - to those less fortunate than oneself, and quite another to give away one's entire home!"

It seems to Hector there is likely a middle ground to be struck here - but something else sticks out to him as he listens to the man rant.

Narrator: [INSIGHT] This man's indignant demeanor barely masks a seething anxiety. There's more to this situation than he's letting on.

"I'm a very magnanimous individual, but this is my home," Arfur insists. "Either they leave or I'll make them."

"You seem to be a little on edge," Hector says carefully. "Are you all right?"

Arfur stiffens. "Well, wouldn't you be on edge if your beautiful home had been defiled by such brazen interlopers?"

(A/N: This conversation is fairly confusing/frustrating. Passing the above insight check and then following up on it gives us zero net new information to act on in the conversation, as shown above, and also cuts off an available [CLERIC][PERSUASION] check - which Hector would have been physically incapable of passing but was still more likely for him to say.

At this point in the conversation we have three options: a) completely back out of the situation, b) an option from Hector's rogue multiclass to do the job instead of the mercs for cheap (???), or c) intimidate - a check which Hector cannot pass either and leads to violence. Of these three options I guess we'll go C, and I don't mind it tremendously since (especially having seen some of Arfur's other dialogue) this guy seems like kind of an ass, but the conversational line feels weird.)

Hector sets his jaw. He has seen far too much suffering over the past few months to be able to easily stomach this man's dismissal of people in need. He can sense Karlach's agitation too; she wants to give the man a blow or two herself for how he's behaving. [INTIMIDATION] "How about you live and let live," he says coolly. "And I let *you* live in return."

It's an ill-advised comment, perhaps, given the merc with her sword standing directly nearby. And he regrets it almost as soon as he's said it; he doesn't want to encourage the threat of violence here. But damn it... this house has room for these people if Arfur would just open his ears, and Hector finds that he can't stay silent.

Arfur draws himself up to his full height and glares at Hector.

"Are you threatening me?" he snaps. "Zenovia - why are you just standing there? Do what I'm paying you for!"

The merc grins casually. "You paid us to protect you and your high-quality merchandise on the road - and we've since arrived at our destination. As I said - anything else is extra."

"Ughhh," Arfur groans. "This is the last time I hire someone from the Guild." Coin flashes across his palm as he tosses it towards Zenovia. "Fine. Here's the extra. Finish the job." He turns to look at Hector balefully. "Now please show this meddler some of that famous Rivington hospitality."

-----

"Nice one, Hec," Karlach says with a gleeful laugh as the mercs turn on them; she draws her sword and gives it a dramatic whirl. "Let's show 'em what we learned in the wilds!"

Shadowheart lets out a heavy sigh, already weaving a Shield of Faith between her fingers, ready to throw. "Are we to right every wrong in the city on our way to the gates?" she asks dryly. "Hector, I know you're compulsively charitable but this place has no shortage of wrongdoing."

"All the more reason to do what we can, where we can," Hector says firmly.

Jaheira just laughs softly. She remembers another man, much younger but with that same determination in his eyes - unwilling to see a wrong and look away from it if there was something he could do. "Like old times, indeed," she murmurs. "Do not worry, Shadowheart; we will find our way to where we need to be, one way or another."

[r3dblccd]

Have you been Naughty or Nice?

tagged by: @vienrose & @rainyearning

tagging: @moonfl0wxr, @luneblush, @formorethananame, @mournus, @temporalobjects, @unfinishedjulyrain, @weedzkiller, @unavernales, @caelcstis, @warsinmyhead, @cherridream, @frxgmcnts, @dozenrozez, @mxldito, @wcvensouls

Minsung, you must have been EXTRA nice this year. Santa has a smiley face next to your name on the Nice List!

+ other muses under the cut because this is fun and I couldn't do just one muse

Yongsun, do you really think Santa is unaware of your inappropriate Facebook posts? Naughty. (ngl this is pretty accurate, just change Facebook with Only Fans lmao)

Nao, you REALLY put ex-lax in Santa's cookies?! Don't expect to see your name on the Nice List anytime soon. (also pretty accurate, they're a menace like that)

The world could use more people like you, Elaine. Keep up the good work, and you'll make the Nice List every year!

Wow Azazel, rescuing those Orphans from that burning building got you a free ride on Santa's Nice List for years to come! (he has a literal bears and wild animals as his pets and best friends, fir doesn't affect him, he totally save orphans from a burning building)

Ubon shouldn't you be working, instead of surfing the web during office hours… NAUGHTY LIST FOR YOU! (she's too hot to work, though)

Now, Oliver. Santa knows you're trying, but it still doesn't make up for last year. You're on the Naughty List.

Congratulations, Lilith! You've made the Nice List! JUST KIDDING. You've been a very bad, bad person. (next year she'll return Santa to Oogie-Boogie, she doesn't give a shit)

Ho ho ho! Nice try, Earendill. Thought you could slip one past the Big Guy, huh? Naughty. (let him enjoy Christmas at least once damnit)

2 words: Nice List. Mother Teresa has nothing on you Mrithun. (he is a single mother himself tyvm)

I must say, Chinhwa. You've really improved last year's performance and made the cut on the Nice List!

Dabi, you have been sooooo nice that you make "The CareBears" look selfish. (don't inflate her ego too much though)

Jum, Santa has something extra special for you this year! You're at the top of the Nice List. (don't give this idiot a superiority complex either)

You better start making some room for the huge lump of coal your about to get, or either start cleaning up your act Abigail!

Santa's been watching you Stella, and right now you have a very large coal mine coming your way.

Well, Toi, you've been a good kid this year. Santa has lots of good stuff for you this Christmas!

Abaddon, you must have been EXTRA nice this year. Santa has a smiley face next to your name on the Nice List!

So far you are on the "Nice" list, but you'd better watch out... Santa's checking his list twice! (and Tai's just like "What does this even mean?!")

Way to help that old lady, Amethyst. Santa will certainly add you to the Nice List this year.

Whoa Takumi! You need to start thinking about packing your bags if you don't change your ways soon. Santa is more likely to hunt you down than bring you a present.

There's a reason Santa created a Naughty List. And you're just one of those reasons Misty.

You are currently #11401 on Santa's Nice List. Not too shabby considering everyone in the entire world! Keep up the good work!

In the words of Larry David, you've been "pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty good" this year.

2 words: Naughty List. You know why Arthit. (Art is still gonna get all the presents she wants for herself though, she doesn't care, she's rich)

[santacarlatourism]

kevin x jd (x reader) general headcanons because u don’t understand. it’s the ideal crossover ship for me.

⮞ i think that they balance each other out and this is both a very good and very bad thing, depending on the time of day and ur perspective.

they can keep each other’s egos in check

like, don’t get me wrong. in many ways they encourage each other’s worst character traits

but at the same time, they’re both sarcastic, witty pricks. sure, kevin and jd would each think the other is better than the general populace. they still take blows at each other’s ego daily.

kevin will also take cheap shots at you, if you leave yourself open, and if you’ve done something to get on his nerves he’s more likely to go for things that he knows will actually get to you. jd is better about skirting those topics unless he’s actively trying to manipulate you into something and does snap at kevin for it. but don’t expect kevin to apologize, these boys rarely do, but he’ll let the subject go and won’t bring it up again. usually.

jd will suggest like ten things for dinner and kevin will say no to all of them and offer no suggestions. in response jd very likely to just make dinner plans for the two of you, will only get food for the two of you, and leave kevin out. is it petty? sure is. does kevin learn to actually agree to something for dinner? sort of. he’ll make sure to ruin your dinner as punishment (whoops, what on earth could have set your apartment’s sprinkler system off?) but it won’t be a problem again for awhile

⮞ in addition expect them to just straight up bicker too. and they are petty with it. they wind each other up sometimes.

⮞ between the two of them the pda is almost 0 unless jd is feeling especially superior or sentimental that day, rly vibing with that god complex of his. then he may slide an arm around kevin’s waist in public and stuff like that.

wrt you, i feel like jd will sort of match your pda level-- he’s certainly not going to push you away if you’re always putting your hands on him. kevin will though, if he’s not feeling it. again, though, you can tell when jd is in an especially grandiose mood because he’ll be way more touchy

kevin only will only seem to actively enjoy pda if he knows it’s going to fluster you (he knows it won’t get to jd much), or if it’s going to make the people around you uncomfortable.

however if you and jd are out with him you two can’t get too handsy without including him at least a little. he never vocalizes any desire for it whatsoever, but you’ll notice he complains about you two being gross way more if you’re being touchy with each other and not him.

⮞ if you’re into the idea of love languages, jd leans into a few different love languages. the big one is acts of service (killing for u is a service) and quality time (he will just assume that you’re okay with him going everywhere with you). he likes if yours match up with his easily; he hinks it’s cute.

jd will jokingly say that kevin’s love language is putting up with you two, to which kevin will respond that it’s not a love langauge but a test of endurance.

kevin’s would also, arguably, be quality time, in that he does not enjoy the company of most any people but doesn’t mind you and jd’s. arguably, he even likes it some days.

this means that the two would frequently be near each other-- in the same house or room, and are frequently together when they go out-- but often doing totally separate things

you’re usually welcome to join in on whatever thing they’re doing, or do your own thing as well

joining in on things sometimes involves picking up arrows for kevin when he’s doing target practice, and sometimes you’ll feel one whizz right by your head, too close to comfort. he says he’s only teasing. he is; if he wasn’t you would have already been injured by now.

⮞  there are multiple possible arrangements on who met who first

if kevin and jd meet first, then once you catch their eye i u are getting hunted down and manipulated into a relationship and it is being done efficiently. part of them keeping each other balanced is they can also make each other a bit more effective at their less than moral behaviors

if you’re with kevin or jd first, expect whichever one you’re into first to introduce the idea of expanding the relationship with more (jd) or less (kevin) tact

⮞  a lot of these headcanons may make it sounds like kevin does not actually like you or jd, but by merit of him being around the two of you without being patronizing, fake, or downright antagonistic, you can rest assured that he does

someone makes you upset-- angry or sad or maybe crying-- and when you leave the room to go lay down the gears in jd’s head start turning. he and kevin will soemtimes butt heads about this because kevin will, in response to whatever murder method jd is lingering on, snark that you’re a big kid and you can handle yourself.

this agitates jd a lot especially at first because jd takes a lack of interest in putting your problems to the grave as a lack of care for you, but it’s not really that.

despite the less than gentle way of putting it, kevin does usually assume that you can handle your own shit and don’t need him or jd to swoop in and save you. he wouldn’t bother with actually having a relationship with you if he didn’t think you were competent. if you need their help with something, he assumes you’ll be grown up and tell them.

this does not stop jd from killing the person that upset you, though.

and if you do ever come to him and jd and directly ask for help, kevin will help and he expects nothing less than express gratitude. even if you disagree with their methods. you asked for help, they helped. you’re welcome.

[everythingflowinginbetween]

#1

I have found the journey to twenty-three arduous, blindingly painful, and shit. When and where was the warning that by the tender age of twenty-three, I would be seen as this full-fledged adult who carries wisdom and is on her path to enlightenment and has enough money and enough language to articulate what to order at some fucking high-end restaurant that has Truffled Leek Compoteor (really love the fact that I can experience wanting these experiences though, and I desperately want to hit le bernadine when the money comes in, even though there are cynical parts of myself fighting with healthy me on the topic of finer likes and more opportunities of self-expression…I digress), or having the language to discuss contemporary art or the mannerism and social cues to benefit from a networking experience. I'm still in the binds of the mind and language from a 17-year-old girl who’s spent her entire life dissociating, having a pocketbook amount of language to communicate with the outside world with. I was contemptuous at the cards dealt to me, the victimization, the raw rage at what the world had given. The deep cynicism that kept and gave me enough energy to continue living in a world so seemingly hell-bent on destroying me and my innate curiosity and inner goodness. My rage got me into jail, got me a divorce, led me astray from my peers, and isolated me into extreme depression and shame. I buttered my entire existence into this cocoon wherein lie a rotting carcass holding onto failed dreams and the hope for my parent's love. I mean when was I supposed to know how to be an adult? Society really just throws children of 17 into the world and says good luck, don’t do too many drugs, and come out back okay. Where was the toolbox? How do you expect me to keep my neurosis in check in this world where maneuvered contempt hidden in kind gestures is the way to win, to gain, and to live. I was still stuck in this brutally honest rage fit that held everyone at face value. When was I supposed to know you're supposed to repress the rage and find a way to express it healthily? 

Now I'm 23, I'm supposed to adult And I am. I guess YouTube was a great tool, and Google too; searching up why am I depressed every day? and how I structure a good life? was very defining for my life. This research lead me to my Internet mentors, some of who I am in utter awe of and some I'm a bit embarrassed to say changed my life despite their ideologies. I'm a child of the internet, it's the ultimate sage the ultimate god the ultimate tool, and the ultimate parent and idealized figure. The Internet helps me become me

Now 3 quarters and a half into twenty-three and there’s this terrifying reality slapping me in the face, and I want to like scream at the world to not take it away. I'm begging, Please don’t take away the little of my curiosity, the innate goodness and childlike wonder I have left. Every day I gain more responsibility and see reality for what it is and more so the reality of society for what it is. 

Three days ago, I went into midtown Manhattan; I love midtown despite what everyone believes, its fucking great, the architecture, the many different cultures of people, the annoying excitement of the opportunity of being here, just being able to be connected to others life stories without being overtly attached makes me feel seen, the chaos it's perfect to me, Although the truth of this sentiment of loving people the paradoxical notion of pure hate came up in a bit. I was walking and this group of teenagers walked right through me and I found myself saying fuck these fucking teenagers,  I felt this deep contempt within me, felt my face contorting this hate. I found myself thinking and feeling superior to them, and this is something I've been battling the past few months this innate feeling of feeling better than anyone younger than me, now that I'm not the youngest girl in the room. This complex started stemming in conjunction with the feeling as if I'm losing the best part of myself, my childhood, my inner Child's needs, wants and voice being torn away. Is this a conscious choice or is it the result of a capitalistic consumerism society? Is being an adult the complete disregard for other human beings, younger or older, is it the ability to thrive in this decrepit society? is it the ability to suppress yourself to a debilitating degree? Im deciding I don’t want to be warped by this social system, and look I don’t know how I'm going to not drown in the noise and lose my best parts. Well actually fuck that im deciding there’s no way I'm losing these parts of myself. I'm consciously choosing to be my own kind of adult, I choose my life, and that is what’s wild, what I didn’t really know before is that we have a choice, and when you start to feel like you're losing yourself or you're in a Job that makes you want to grab a noose, just realize you're not a victim, even though there are certain things out of our volitional control. We can control our responsibility to ourselves, the way we act, where we put ourselves, the people who surround us, how we interact with others, our beliefs, values, etc. I guess the point of this piece is to realize you don’t have to mold yourself into the perfect Western ideas of what it means to be a successful human adult or just a successful human entity, you choose.

[sk3tch404]

“Keep sending ideas!” Yay I think— I have no ideas. THE ONE TIME I ACTUALLY WANT TO GIVE MY IDEAS MY MIND IS BLANK 😭😭 COME ON BRAIN THINK! 😔 maybe a dependent Yandere who clings to darling but isn’t stupid?? Like they know when darling is trying to manipulate them but just goes along with it unless it’s going outside, taking to other, y’know?? I feel like this fits Victor because as a postman he regularly see’s peoples emotions and has learned what emotion is which. He’ll allow darling think she’s in control but in reality he’s just doing this to “Please ” then? Make them think their in control when in reality it’s him who’s pulling the strings. Anyways it’s basic I know but this is what I got, are you pulling for any skins in this essence? I LOVE ALL THE SKINS! BUT I DONT PLAY HUNTERS OR GARDENER 😭😭 AND SAME WITH THE BSD CROSSOVERS MOST ARE MALE CHARACTERS, I PLAY MOSTLY THE FEMALE ONES BECAUSE THATS WHO I MAIN 🤡🤡 BUT WHAT ABOUT YOU?? I’M ON A 3-DAY WEEKEND SO YAY!! 🥰🥰 Lazy regards - ☁️

I LOVE THIS CONCEPT SO MUCH!

Especially because Victor has spent so much time observing people's emotions and reactions during his time as a postman. He'd see through his darlings tactics so fast that, it's actually really concerning.

Victor keeps up his nice quiet boy act as to reel his darling in. He doesn't care if darling is only doing it to get on his good side and get him to do what they want him to do. When the time comes, he'll pull them out of the water and keep them on the hook, just to teach them a lesson as to not play with others feelings. Especially when their act is so obviously superficial.

He'll send darling all his letters, he'll let them pet Wick all they want, he'll let them use him as bait when the hunter is near, but what he'll never do is let them go without getting what is due.

A check of darlings love perhaps? Or maybe he gets so frustrated with darlings superiority complex, that he'll just have to show them who's really in the understanding.

Victor is nice and quiet, but he isnt an uwu plz dont be mean to meh 👉👈 HES SICK OF PEOPLE BEING FAKE AND PUTTING UP FACADES JUST TO LOOK GOOD IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE. THEIR TRUE COLORS AND FEELINGS COME OUT WHEN THEY READ THE LETTERS HE SENDS.

Idk who to put this idea in for at the moment, but perhaps I will do something like this if the future wills it :D

Yanderes who use their charm and socially manipulate their surroundings in order to get to their darling >>>>>>>

I WANT EMMAS SKIN BUT I DONT PLAY HER SUPER WELL AND NETEASE NEEDS TO GIVE ANNE A LUCY SKIN RN. I WANT ALL OF THEM BUT IDK IM POOR.

I dont have online schooling on fridays bc yeah but im still not leaening bc am learn visually 😆😆😆 3 day weekendsssss

[when-ramona-cries]

My Old Friends Suck

I figured I should start with that just in case I fill in half of this blank sheet and in the middle of it all, I get swayed by my soft heart again, willing myself to forgive then without them even apologizing for what they have done to me. I mean, I'm not really a person who likes to hold grudges against people. I'm normally the oh-I-don't-have-the-energy-to-deal-this-drama-right-now-fast-forward-two-weeks-later-oh-was-I-mad-at-you-sorry-I-forgot person. Maybe that's why I'm mostly taken granted by the people I love (or maybe that's just my superiority complex victimizing myself, I'd like to think it's the former still). Maybe that's why I always get thrown under the bus. People always just think that I'd understand. Or that I'd be the more forgiving one. That I have much more wiggle room to provide so I should be the one adjusting.

At first, of course, when I started to realize it's coming this way, I cried to my sister. I was like, twelve, or somewhere around that age, definitely still in elementary. I cried to her and asked why people are like that to me when I just wanted to be friends with them. My sister, the ever-so nonchalant she is, dismissed it like it's no big deal, and told me that if it doesn't matter in the next five years for you, then you shouldn't bother with it at all. I remembered taking it to heart, thinking that's the first-ever sisterly advice I received from her, and just like how it is in the young adult novels I've been feeding myself despite me not fitting yet in that genre-category, I imagined myself and how I was going to carry that as I grow up, apply it to situations that will come at me, and be like her, oh-so cool and oh-so unbothered. I'm betting now she probably just read that around Tumblr or Twitter.

Anyway, it doesn't matter because no matter how much I forced myself to regroup my way of thinking into that line of thought, I was just so much a people-pleaser that I always end up either making people extra like me or spite me to death. I never really had childhood friends back at home. I graduated elementary with no secured friendships that I won't even be bothered to join reunion events. By the time I got in high school, wherein I entered an unchartered territory, where no one knows me, and everyone else knows my cool sister, I figured that was my chance. I'll be the cool girl who's friends with everyone and who's so nice that even if I keep rejecting their invites because of my strict parents, they'll keep inviting me in hopes that one day I'll come. At some point, I was that. I was part of a large group of friends in my class and every seniors know me as the Little sister of my sister. I joined clubs, ran for office in the class, and then later, in the whole department. I'll say I thrived. But it was the sort of thrive that comes from the validation of others.

Maybe that's why by the time I moved up Senior High School, I got tired of socializing, going out, and just... people-pleasing. Even though I brought some friends with me back in High school, I never really bothered keeping it tight because I was so focused in myself, in my drama, and nothing else. People still got something to say, of course, and I started to get people hating at me again for no reason. But I was too caught up with myself to give a fuck, and so I never really did. For them, Senior High School was this memorable part of their youth, bunch of teenage angst and fleeting memories of wild and adventure. It was just really like a time filler for me. If you ask me what was my favorite thing about it, I wouldn't really be able to say anything substantial.

And so when I moved out of the country, I had zero elementary friends checking up, wavering ties with my high school friends, and nothing much really with my Senior high. At this point in life, I just started to blame myself for not being able to keep them aflame. Maybe I was too intimidating. Was I too timid? Did I offend them? Maybe I showed less interest than they want. Or maybe more and then I started to creep them out. Whatever that is, people seemed not to bother with me anymore. No matter where I go, or how much I have achieved, it felt like I'm floating and I wasn't really there.

Of course it bothered me. I'm still a people-pleaser deep down despite me getting tired of the act. I grew up sort of like the golden child. I get awards for my parents in exchange for validation. I guess their words of affirmation defined what love is for me. My Mom isn't really into physical affection and my Dad is rarely in the picture for that. I have two other siblings and we weren't brought up materialistic. But my parents and the other people around did really love comparing us with each other, mostly me to my sister, and my brother to the both of us. Maybe that was it. What I'm trying to say is that words coming from them really hit differently towards me. So at a young age, I already knew how words worked and I learned how to play with them.

My old friends really do suck. By old friends, I'm pertaining to the high school ones, the wavering ones. Now that I'm self-evaluating, I'm wondering if I even should call that as friendship. I mean, we were in that young age, so caught up with the internet and self-image patronization. I don't know if we're being friends then, but I'm sure we were trying so hard to be cool. At least to the people watching. By that, I mean our Instagram followers.

It's not that they did me dirty. I mean, they did. But I feel like now, our friendship was so shallow that whatever they did to me is so detached that it practically feels like dust to me now. See, I'm the forget-it type, not the hold-a-grudge one. Though there are times where I will myself to remember the nasty so that I replant that fading grudge. It was that bad that even if I'm so detached and I'm never the grudge holder, I force myself to. I'm petty. I just won't allow whatever they did to just get past. They should at least know that it wasn't okay before I forgive them. But to be honest it has never really reached a point so far where they do ask for forgiveness. I think they're either too self-absorbed or I just don't matter to them that much. Both are depressing facts, by the way.

I grew up on novels of friends growing together, growing apart, then reconnecting and rekindling, to achieving their younger versions' dreams made together. I craved for the hanging out after school, learning about the mature stuff together, discovering things together, crying in bathroom stalls, throwing up in bathroom stalls, all that shit. But I guess those are just for some kind of people. And I'm never going to be in that kind.

While writing this, I originally thought of writing how much I have changed now that I'm in college. That I learned how to let go and cut off, how to move forward without stepping back just so I know I can keep up. I do acknowledge these growth. Still, I know in most parts of me, I still blame myself for me.

You see, I'm still a people-pleaser. I give a damn about what other people would say. I will always take hundreds of pictures so I could have the perfect one to post. I will always cater myself as the cool one.

What changed though, is I know now that my old friends suck. I know now who to cater myself to, who to only give my damns to. Sometimes I slip up, but I don't entirely crumble. I only try to those I consider. The rest, I don't give a shit, though I still assume that most look up to me. Now that's my superiority complex talking.

[incorrectmadrigalfamilyquotes]

Hullo again coolio person !!

Not an ask about the question game, but we were just wondering what ocs you have since I heard you mention ‘em (We have like a lot of ocs and we want more people to bond over with our ocs)

OMG OMG OMG THIS ASK MAKES ME SO HAPPY OH MY GOD TYSM FRIEND FOR THIS OPPORTUNITY I'VE BEEN KEEPING THIS IN THE DRAFTS FOR A WHILE NOW SINCE I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO REACT (/POS) BUT I'M JUST FILLED TO THE BRIM WITH OC BRAINROT AND IT MAKES ME SO GIDDY SEEING SOMEONE ASK ME ABOUT THIS TYSM FOR THIS AGAIN JULIAN YOU KIND, KIND SOUL WE SHOULD DEF INTERACT MORE SOMETIME YOU SEEM LIKE SUCH A COOL PERSON OMFG AND SORRY FOR REPLYING SO LATE I TOTALLY FORGOT 😭😭

anyways, the ocs i have currently compiled do not belong to any set fandom as of now and only exist as characters i may use for roleplays, lore building, practice, etc etc. i did use to have ocs belonging to fandoms but i've grown out of them since their creation and have since moved on to making my own original content <3

the ocs i did used to have in fandoms were most of the time cringey and embarrassing to look at; the memories i had with them weren't embarrassing however but anybody who makes ocs can mostly agree with me here when i say, old ocs... some— no. correction: most of them are bad. if not all of them. and that's not necessarily a bad thing.

moving on, i have no idea which oc to go first but i might as well just describe some of them in the simplest format possible to save everyone some time (disclaimer: most of them need therapy):

first off we have a zombie guy with amnesia who does stand-up comedy sometimes (he's like a sona-oc-whatever the fuck hybrid i draw sometimes. he's great. don't have a name for him yet but i just call him c for simplicity.)

a token white man vampire hottie (marshall) with daddy issues and an unchecked superiority complex he needs to work on. yes, i know he has the same name as marshall lee from adventure time, who did you think i based him off of?

the little mermaid's long lost australian danish sister (cecile/cecilia) but instead of daddy issues she has stepmommy problems! and... a manic pixie dream girl/"i can fix him" complex she needs to get checked on...

aroace homeless incubus (thomas). a personal favorite of mine.

a literal god trapped in the body of a dorky highschool boy (blake) as punishment for being an absolute diva in heaven. i detest him very much (affectionately).

a literal genderless god (indigo) who's trapped in the same punishment as the previous guy except voluntarily! they're dating and have homoerotic staring contests most of the time 😊

batshit insane furry woman (belle).

batshit insane furry woman's batshit depressed anemic twin (johan).

that's all i can share atm.

have a good day, sorry for the late reply again, julian, didn't mean to keep you waiting <3

if anybody wants to talk about their ocs (encanto related or not) and stuff, feel free to flood my dms. if i don't reply i'm probably busy or forgot to respond but still— shoot your shot! go girl (gnc) give us everything!

[freddoneptune]

Alec Volturi being mated to a Succubus.

[Part One] [SFW, mostly]

This is my first headcanon so it’s probably not gonna be the best.

To start off with, Alec would be completely puzzled about you

I mean, boy is old

really, really old

it came to a shock to him that he even had a mate

not to mention, she’s a demon that thrives on the souls of men

he didn’t even know those existed

and she has to fuck them to ‘feed’ so she can stay alive and immortal

yeah he wasn’t the happiest with that but you know, you gotta do what you gotta do

especially because he was born in 600 AD (approximately) and seeing an unmarried woman’s ankles was seen as a sin when he was human.

<3

He met you while at the Cullen’s house, checking on Renesmee.

You were there to hide, as a coven of vampires were after you, as they found out what you really were.

You didn’t expect to find your mate there though

The moment you stepped into the room,

all he saw was you

with your enchanting eyes

and soft skin

and devilish smirk

he was captivated, couldn’t look away from you.

<3

and having a vampire as a mate came as a shock to you too

especially when you were running from a coven of them beforehand

which is why you were in Forks.

But now that he found you, he couldn’t let you go, so he didn’t

he brought you back to the castle.

which he did, while facing the wrath of one Rosalie Hale

it was a miracle that he was actually able to take you

considering the blonde was trying to rip him to pieces.

<3

The Volturi loved you

you were feisty, and you were powerful

the best addition to the coven

surprisingly, Caius loved you

he finally had someone who could understand how important it was to have great hair.

Marcus wasn’t that bothered, still nice to you though.

Aro loved having you in his coven, a succubus, rarer than a hybrid, and you were on his side

It made his superiority complex just get worse

but you didn’t care, you were powerful

a succubus and mated to one of the most important vampires in the world

yes, please

<3

Alec saw you differently though

and you loved that about him

he saw you as his mate

not a weapon

no matter how powerful you were, he was always by your side

protecting you, 24/7

he was by your side at all times

when you slept

when you woke up

all the damn time

he also made sure you were healthy

keeping up on all your meals and drinks

“drink water, now”

“excuse me”

“you heard what i said mia gattina, it’s been two hours since you last drank water, so get water”

“how-how do you even know that”

just drink water gattina”

<3

not to mention the cuddles

so many cuddles

on the sofa

in your room

everywhere

and the nicknames

so many nicknames

“gattina” “amore” “tesoro” “tesora” “bambina” “cara mia” and more™️

you couldn’t even speak italian, so you couldn’t tell what he was saying.

but he assured you they were good things

and you believed him

mostly

<3

dude became your hype man

especially when you went out to ‘hunt’

he didn’t like it but he would be damned if he didn’t tell you how good you look in that dress

literally though

you could just be standing there

and all he could think was “that’s my girl 😍”

and you’re just staring off in the distance

probably thinking about food

or sleeping

and as a succubus, you were pretty much always tired

being sexy takes your energy

so Alec would always be there to cuddle you to sleep

he wouldn’t watch you sleep tho

that’s creepy

and he’s not like Edward Cullen

Not like other girls™️

he especially loved when you slept naked

which is what you did after hunting

Alec may be a gentleman

but he wasn’t superman

how could he resist you

in all your glory

you were like an art piece to the man

more expensive than the mona lisa

and a lot more needy

<3

yeah he loved you a lot

and would continue do so for the rest of eternity.

And that’s my first headcanon done, if you have any other suggestions of what you want to write next, my blog is always open.

Ciao, Millie xx

[wonjaekook]

Residual Starshine

Pairing:  Soccer player!Yuta x fem!reader

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

Word Count: 19.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One of our neighbors is a total ass!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, he doesn’t know who you are-”

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

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

“Great morning, isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it?” You lift an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

“Are you coming tonight?”

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

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

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

“What position does he play?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, the whistle is blown.

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Yein, Sowon, Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you stalking me or something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NaYu: Are you at the Ravens game??

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This again?” You say, frowning.

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

“I also help you with your statistics homework.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next Friday, you receive a strange text.

Unknown Number: Hey, is this Y/N?

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

Unknown Number: This is Mingyu from physics

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

Y/N: Hi! What’s up?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could say that.”

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

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

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

His eyes light up. “Are you serious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes flash. “Challenge accepted.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I get it,” you respond, nodding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

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

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

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

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

“Does he keep you a secret on purpose?”

“I asked him to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, the subject you’ve been dreading comes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He misses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it that obvious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yuta, it’s me.”

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

“I came to talk to you.”

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

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

“You can look at me, you know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“These have to come off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm, good. That’s my girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yuta?” You say between shallow breaths.

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

“Do you want to go professional?”

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

“I really think you could do it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re weird and a horndog and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N? Whose shoes are these?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[outarizaki]

Lovesick. — Levi Ackerman.

SYNOPSIS: In a world infested with mindless, horrendous human-chomping titans, you’d never expected that Levi taking care of you was how you’d go out.

WC: 2.3k

PAIRING: Levi Ackerman x Reader

GENRE: Fluff

A/N: this is my first time writing for levi/aot in general and just overall my first time in a long time from doing creative writing i hope you guys like it!

In truth, Winter has never been your most favorite time of the year.

After all, those delicious hot meals, thick blankets, and cozy naps by the fireplace always came with a price for you every single year, wherein the same chilly weather that granted you those several pleasures only betrayed you and bit you in the ass annually, reeling you in again and again for recurring nightmarish sicknesses.

For as long as you remember, you’ve never fared well with such drastic change in weather. Ever since you were a little girl, your fevers were sky high enough to make your mother lose at least a year off her life with every time they checked your temperature around the dreaded season.

Thus even now, as a distinguished and mighty cadet in the Scout Regiment, there you lay, thrashing in wrinkled sheets with a spiking fever of 103° Fahrenheit.

It was quite an unraveling series of events. Perhaps you should have let it be known much earlier to your squad and superiors.

Maybe they would have taken your sudden, voracious collapse against a blushing Jean in the mess hall a little less seriously.

You could still recall those same goofy shrieks of surprise from your squad members with a grin. The look on Connie’s face was absolutely priceless.

But as you stared up at the ceiling, sweat beading at your hairline and mouth clammy with dehydration, your mind could only render and wring out the possible reactions that could have emitted from your Captain Levi.

Ever since you joined the squad, you’d been naturally drawn and fond of him. His cold demeanor seemed to be just a thin layer between a complex personality, and as much as you hated to admit, you desperately, secretly wanted to claw underneath that sheen.

It started with one sleepless night in which you brought yourself to the kitchen to rid yourself of your heavy mind with a book, only to find your captain sitting idly with a cup of tea.

You remembered the first encounter, how you babbled apologies like some sort of nitwit and he scowled and waved you off, uttering an, “it’s not like I own the damn room, quit being an idiot and do what you need,” before you dejectedly nodded and took a seat with a book just some feet away from him.

The insomnia seemed to grow only more and more, and a few more awkward nightly greetings later, it became a routine. He slowly began to acknowledge you, humming short replies and holding small talks every now and then.

Then on the field and during training he mindlessly complimented you. In his own way, of course.

A grumble of, “you didn’t get killed,” or, “you didn’t look like complete shit out there,” were some hearty examples of that.

Time went on as you began to loosen up even more around the squad, shamelessly poking fun at your members and joking around with them constantly. Even berating the Captain every now and then with snarky remarks that earned hesitant chuckles and gasps from your team, and even sometimes, if you looked really closely, a smirk from the Captain himself.

So with your poor little heart, ready to yearn, there was a spark of fondness towards him. One you wish would smother before it fanned out even more.

Damn him.

You wondered what he had thought when he saw you faint atop of Jean, that poor boy. How ridiculous you must have looked. How humiliating it must have been.

“God, I could die,” you groan aloud and fling your body on your side, hands coming to grasp at the roots of your scalp.

“That is quite an exaggeration, don’t you think?”

That voice. Speak of the devil.

Instantly, you spring up to meet his gunmetal gaze, hissing at the speed that caused your brain to seemingly rattle in your head with fatigue.

He tsks his tongue, brows furrowing together in an unamused manner as he walks towards the table across your bed. You swallow gently, gaze averting to the tray he holds with a small teapot, one teacup, and liquid medicine. You grimace.

“Oi...” Levi begins without looking back at you. You look to his stature expectantly. “You look like shit,” he says, finally twisting his torso to lock with your gaze.

A breathy, sarcastic laugh escapes your lips.

“Gee, you have such a way with words, Captain Suave,” you croak out with a roll of your eyes before easing your posture, allowing yourself to slouch.

“Don’t call me that.”

With his back faced to you once more, Levi feigns an aggravated grumble, yet the ghost of a grin still resides on his face. You watch in silence as he begins to move around the things on the tray.

You take your time to drink in the sight. His raven undercut, bangs slightly covering his handsome face, his white button-up rolled up at the sleeves showing off his veiny forearms, his black pants and leather shoes, the look of faint concentration on his sculpted face as he pours the contents of the teapot into the cup... and God, his hands. So slender and delicate, his fingers nice and long and—

Shit. What are you doing?

You take a deep breath and compose yourself in time before he turns at you again, bored look on his face as he approaches you with a cup of tea and the tiny bottle of medicine.

“Never thought I’d have to babysit one of my most promising Cadets,” Levi drawls out, handing you the teacup. Your fingers graze against his as you accept it, breath hitching in your throat slightly.

You fight off the gooey feeling by occupying yourself with his crude words.

Scoffing, you take a small sip of your tea, only to frown at the feeling of hotness. Levi’s brow arches in question.

“Who said you had to, Captain?” You say softly. “You’re busy. Why didn’t you ask Sasha to come instead? She would have brought me some good food, too.”

“Stolen you food, you mean. And what? You don’t like my tea?” He husks out, to which you perk up in realization.

Quickly, you shake your head to deny his question. “The tea is lovely. But I’m pretty sure my body is hotter than that teapot, and quite frankly the warmth feels suffocating,” you preach.

“Plus, you’re busy. And I look — indecent. You said it yourself,” you whisper the last part shyly, gulping down another sip of tea.

Levi feels taken aback. Surely you hadn’t taken offense to his comment, right? Brat, he thinks to himself.

“Tea is good for when you’re sick. You’re nauseated. Did you expect us to give you some sweet or cold crap while you have a fever?” He says sharply, squinting slightly.

You chuckle a bit at that.

Waving your hand, you grumble. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” you roll your eyes.

“Quit rolling your eyes at me.”

“Quit giving me a reason to.”

“Oh, you want me to give you a reason to roll your eyes back, Cadet?”

Your gaze widens and you feel yourself choke on your tea.

Your arm bolts to set your cup onto the nightstand and you glare up at him. You swear you see the faintest hint of amusement glint in those stupid grey eyes of his.

Suddenly, you’re feeling a little too hot. And you’re sure it’s not your fever.

Levi raises his brows, unimpressed as he leans forward. Slowly, he brings his hand to your forehead and presses his cold fingers against you. You feel your heart stutter in your chest, holding in your breath.

“You’re burning up.”

Wow, I wonder why.

“Yea? Tell me about it. I’m literally feeling all of it as we speak, old man.”

He clicks his tongue in irritation, straightening his back before jolting his arm at you with the bottle expectantly. “You’re better off holding your tongue, Cadet. Now take your medicine.”

Your face scrunches up. He narrows his eyes as you cross your arms and look elsewhere.

“L/N.”

“No.”

“Now.”

“No! It tastes gross.”

His eye twitches at your defiance.

“God, this is like talking to a little kid. Take it or I swear-“

“No.”

“Take the damn medicine. And that’s an order, Cadet.”

You look up at him with a scowl. Hesitantly, you take the bottle before unscrewing it, taking your sweet time until finally you down it reluctantly.

Meanwhile, your Captain stands with his arms crossed, albeit satisfied that you finally listened.

Once it goes down your throat, you gag slightly.

“God, this shit is vile-“

“Language.”

“It’s worse than what we usually take! What is this?”

“Higher grade medicine. I had to ask Erwin and a few of the nurses for even just that small dosage, you damn brat. I need you back on your feet ASAP.”

You blink. He went through trouble just to get you medicine? A fond grin starts to stretch on your lips.

“Thank y-“

“Don’t thank me. It’s my job to keep my Cadets at their best,” he practically half-lies through his teeth.

Oh. Right.

You nod, that fluttery feeling slightly dampening at his words. Of course. You’re just a young woman in his squad. His subordinate.

Levi notices. He doesn’t say anything.

“Now get some rest. I’ll clean up your room. It’s filth in here,” He scrunches his nose.

“Maybe ‘cause I’m sick, smarta- I mean, Captain,” you slur drowsily as you plop down onto the pillows. Whatever you took, it was strong.

The look on his face affirms he didn’t take lightly to your potential word vomit, though he allows to let it slide, much to your favor.

Levi groans, tidying up the teacups and the pile of clothes by the baskets, as well as the used bedsheets. He stops to think what in the hell he’s doing, going out of his way to care for one soldier.

He chalks it up to it simply being a better option than the inevitable mountains of paperwork he has to face later. That was it. Right?

A moderate amount of time had passed until he was satisfied with what he’d done. Levi’s eyes avert to your tiny figure on the bed. Laying flat on your back, arms sprawled beside your head, a dreamy smile on your lips.

The man walks up beside your bed. When you suddenly shift your head towards him, he startles a bit.

A breathy, twinkly giggle leaves your mouth as you look up at him. Levi swears he can feel his heartbeat in his ears.

You pout playfully, pointing an accusatory finger up at him. “Stalker. Are you here to watch me sleep?” You say almost so incoherently, Levi isn’t sure you’re speaking a language.

He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips at your change of demeanor. So out of character, even for you.

The pout on your lips soon curves into a sleepy grin of your own, and your eyes gloss over with something that makes your Captain’s breath hitch in his throat.

Such gentle, comforting fondness.

When you urge him to get closer, he obliges, slightly bending over your figure despite the rouge in his cheeks. Levi holds his breath as you reach up, fingers threading through his bangs to pull them back.

“You’re pretty when you smile, you know?” You whisper gently, the smile never fading from your obviously far-gone face. “Such a handsome boy.”

Heat rises even more to Levi’s face and he gulps thickly as he watches your arms begin to drop, eyelids following soon after.

A delighted, snoozing hum releases from your throat, and only then does Levi allow himself to breathe.

His eyes glance over you once more.

Soft cheeks, pretty eyes, long eyelashes. The tank top on your torso still allowing you to look like the most stunning thing he’s ever seen. The unruly bed-head hair that sat messily, yet still appearing soft to the touch, making him want to rake his fingers through. Your soft lips, still stuck in that smile. Your flushed face.

Levi sighs dreamily and defeatedly. He brings his hand up to pat at the top of your head.

“Shitty girl,” he says underneath his breath, voice cracking like that of a young boy with an unwavering crush. “You look — decent.”

His brows knit together even more as he thinks it over, finally sighing gently.

“You’re much prettier, Y/N,” he whispers, mostly to himself.

Levi then exits your room, his face still hot with fluster, hands shoved into his pockets, and the giddy feeling in his heart still reigning supreme.

And at the corner of the hall reside the Levi Squad members, spying from afar.

“You owe me your next lunch, Connie. I told you they liked each other!”

“Shut up before he hears you!” Jean scolds quietly.

“Oi,” a voice sounds from behind them unexpectedly.

They all freeze. Their blood turns cold. Armin is sure he’s as good as dead.

“Give me fifty laps outside. All of you. Now.”

“Not bad after feeling shitty for so long,” Levi nods at you as you return from combat training for the day.

You smile brightly, eyes twinkling as you catch your breath.

“Mhm. All because of you. Thanks for-“

“Don’t thank me.”

“I said,” you say firmly. “Thank you for taking care of me. You didn’t have to.”

Levi can only sigh and nod. “Sure.”

You beam at that, beginning to stride past him, before stopping midway.

“Oh, and Captain?” You begin.

He grunts in response, slightly turning your way with that same stoic expression.

“For the record,” you hum sweetly. “I think you’re the prettiest.”

And with that you walk away with a proud smirk, leaving Humanity’s Strongest with a pounding heart and the reddest cheeks mankind has ever seen.