#if anyone is aware of any fics like this PLEASE hit me up the dramatic irony would go crazy

[funsosfunzone]

Idea: Clark decides to eschew his powers at a young age, preferring to try and live his life as a normal human reporter. He somehow ends up dating Bruce (who is still Batman).

Shenanigans ensue, including:

Clark isn't actually that good at pretending not to have superpowers.

Bruce realizes that something isn't quite right about this guy he's seeing. "Actually an alien" is nowhere on his list of theories.

Clark gets kidnapped. Bruce angsts about how his poor normal civilian boyfriend is in danger and it's all his fault.

Meanwhile, Clark is weighing the pros and cons of busting himself out.

Bruce gets himself into serious trouble and Clark has to come save him.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hello!! I hope you’re doing amazing!!! I really like your megumi works, so id like to request a fic where him and the reader have a very under cover secret relationship and yuji,nobara and gojo try to figure out why fushiguros been acting so weird. I’d love to see it! And more megumi works 🙏🏽. It’s just a request it’s totally okay if you don’t want to!! Hope you have an amazing week!! 💗💗

Okay, I probably never laughed this much while writing a fic lmao, this right here is ridiculous y'all

Keeping your relationship with Megumi a secret until you can't anymore

Pairing: Megumi x fem!reader; pure comedy friendship with Nobara and Yuji lol

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis: Megumi Fushiguro’s secret relationship with you has been going smoothly—until his friends start noticing his odd behavior. Yuji and Nobara grow suspicious, launching a hilariously relentless mission to uncover what he’s hiding, while Gojo sits back, amused by the chaos. Will the two of you finally confess?

Warnings: y'all, I almost died writing this hilarious piece of work lmao, I never praise my own work but that bonus has me rolling, if you're looking for a bandage for your broken heart there it is, fluff fluff fluff

Please let me know what you think! If this does well, I might write some more about the chaotic trio lol

You never thought keeping a secret would be this much fun.

Your relationship with Megumi started quietly, just like most things with him. There was no grand confession, no dramatic kiss in the rain. It was slow, understated, like the way shadows stretch out under the setting sun. You had been drawn into his orbit naturally, like you’d been waiting for it to happen all along.

Still, it wasn’t exactly planned. One moment you were sitting next to each other in silence, and the next you were sitting a little too close. Your fingers brushed. His eyes lingered. The air between you became charged with unspoken things, and soon enough, stolen moments were the only thing keeping you sane. The decision to keep it quiet came easily: neither of you had any desire to deal with the chaos that would break out if anyone found out. And besides, it was kind of thrilling.

But now it’s starting to get tricky.

It’s a normal Wednesday when the subtle shift in the atmosphere begins. Megumi is acting just a little too normal - stiffer, as if he’s hyper-aware of everything. He’s not good at this, at pretending everything is fine when there’s something simmering underneath. And unfortunately, it doesn’t take long for his odd behavior to catch some unwanted attention.

“Hey, Megumi,” Yuji calls from across the room, his eyes squinting suspiciously.

“You’re acting weird. Are you okay?”

Megumi doesn’t even flinch, though his eyes are literally glued to the ground.

“I’m fine.”

That’s it. Flat, simple, closed. He’s good at short answers. It should be enough. It’s not.

Yuji leans over the back of the couch, brow furrowed in confusion.

“No, you’re definitely acting off. You haven’t been sarcastic all morning. And usually by now, you’ve threatened to hit me at least twice.”

Megumi sighs, fingers twitching in his lap, the only outward sign of his discomfort.

“I’m fine, Yuji. Maybe you’re just imagining things.”

Yuji is definitely not convinced. He glances at Nobara, who’s lounging nearby with her arms crossed, already suspicious. She had been eyeing Megumi the second he walked in, catching onto his strange energy faster than Yuji had.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed it too,” she adds, voice sharp.

“Something’s up. You’ve been... I don’t know, distracted?”

“Seriously, I’m—” Megumi starts, but Nobara cuts him off, grinning.

“You’re not hiding anything from us, are you, Fushiguro?” Her eyes gleam with mischief, and you can tell she’s just playing around.

For now.

“Oh, I think I know it!”, Yuji suddenly announces with his arms stretched in the air.

“Do you really, idiot?”, Nobara remarks.

You almost lose your cool, cold sweat dripping down your neck while waiting for Yuji’s next words. He didn’t catch it, did he? Not when you’ve been carefully avoiding being too close to Megumi while they’re around since you first joined Jujutsu High. He simply can’t know it-

Megumi’s eyes flick to you, a barely noticeable glance paired with his reddened cheeks, but it’s enough. Too much. Your heart skips in your chest, and you quickly look away, hoping no one else caught it. But then-

“Oh.” Yuji’s eyes widen in realization, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Oh, I get it now.”

Megumi’s spine visibly stiffens.

“No, you don’t.”

But it’s too late. Yuji has already decided he’s figured it out.

“You’ve got a crush on someone, don’t you?” Yuji practically shouts, leaning forward in his seat with excitement.

“That’s why you’ve been all weird lately!”

Nobara sits up, clearly intrigued by this new development. “Wait, what? Megumi has a crush?”

“I do not,” Megumi says, but he’s starting to lose his calm now.

You can tell by the way his hand runs through his hair a little too harshly, as if he’s trying to ground himself.

You bite back a smile. Megumi can be as composed as he wants, but when it comes to things like this, he’s terrible at hiding it.

“You’re totally lying,” Nobara declares, standing up and crossing the room to get a better look at him.

“Who is it? Do we know them?”

Megumi groans, pressing his fingers to his temples as if he’s already getting a headache. You’re trying hard not to laugh because if you do, they’ll turn their attention to you. You’ve been careful this whole time to stay out of the line of fire, just a silent observer to this chaos.

But you know it’s only a matter of time.

“I’m not lying,” Megumi grumbles, clearly regretting every decision that led him to this point. “There’s no one.”

It’s almost convincing. Almost.

Yuji leans back, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Nah, you’re definitely lying. You’re terrible at it. You get all tense, like right now.”

“I’m always tense,” Megumi shoots back.

“True,” Nobara agrees,

“but this is different. You’re acting sketchy.”

Megumi shoots her a flat look, but Nobara only smirks back. She’s having way too much fun with this.

“Is it the one we’ve met at that pizza place yesterday, the one with a big ass and those nice hair?”, Yuji shouts into the conversation.

“The girl from yesterday?”, you repeat before you can stop yourself, arms crossing in front of your tightening chest.

“You guys are gross.”

Megumi’s gaze meets yours, panic shimmering underneath the surface while he fumbles with his own hands.

“What? No! It’s not that one!”

“Oh, not that one, huh? Who is it, then?”

“Fine,” Megumi says, standing abruptly.

“I’m going for a walk.”

Before they can say another word, he stalks out of the room, leaving you alone with Yuji and Nobara. You let out a quiet breath of relief, grateful they didn’t notice you.

Yuji turns to Nobara, eyes wide.

“This is huge. Megumi’s got a crush.”

Nobara hums thoughtfully, rubbing her chin.

“He’s never shown any interest in anyone before. It must be serious.”

“I wonder who it is,” Yuji muses, glancing around the room as if expecting the answer to jump out at him.

Your pulse quickens. If you stay here any longer, you’re going to blow your cover.

“I’m gonna grab some water,” you announce quickly, standing up.

You manage to make it halfway to the kitchen before Nobara’s voice calls after you, filled with sudden realization.

“Wait a minute. You were with him all morning, weren’t you?”

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Weren’t you two on a mission yesterday?” Yuji adds, piecing it together far too quickly for your liking.

“And last weekend, too?”

Panic rises in your throat, but you manage to keep your expression neutral when you turn back to face them.

“We’ve just been on a few missions together. That’s all” you say, voice steady.

Nobara narrows her eyes, scrutinizing you.

“Uh-huh. And you didn’t notice him acting weird?”

“Not really. Maybe he’s just worn-out” you lie, doing your best to stay calm.

Yuji tilts his head, still unconvinced but willing to drop it for now.

“Yeah, maybe.”

But Nobara isn’t so easily swayed.

“You sure? Because you’re looking a little-”

“Nobara,” you interrupt,

“you’re overthinking it.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, with a final hum of suspicion, she shrugs and lets it go.

But just as you think you’re in the clear, a new voice cuts through the tension.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

Gojo saunters in, sunglasses perched lazily on his nose, a knowing smirk already playing on his lips. He must have been eavesdropping because he’s grinning like he’s just hit the jackpot.

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to figure out what’s up with Megumi,” he notes, voice dripping with amusement.

“That kid’s an enigma even to himself.”

Yuji perks up at the sight of Gojo, excited to rope someone else into their investigation.

“We think he’s got a crush.”

Gojo pauses, grin widening.

 “Oh, is that so?”

You stand frozen in place as Gojo’s eyes slowly slide over to you, lingering for a beat too long. He knows. You don’t know how he knows, but he knows. He’s always been good at reading between the lines, picking up on things that most people miss. Megumi that traitor, did he really leave you all alone with these two and now even Gojo?

His smirk deepens.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, leaning casually against the wall, clearly enjoying this far too much.

“I wonder who it could be.”

You’re going to kill Megumi. You’re both dead. This is it. The end of your secret.

But before Gojo can say anything else, Megumi walks back into the room, his expression darkening as he notices Gojo’s presence.

“What are you doing here?” Megumi asks, his voice flat.

“Oh, just catching up with the kids. They were telling me about your little crush” Gojo replies innocently.

Megumi’s eyes dart between you, Yuji, Nobara, and Gojo, clearly calculating his next move.

“There’s no crush,” he replies, exasperation creeping into his voice again.

“Yuji’s just being an idiot.”

“Hey!” Yuji protests, but Megumi ignores him.

Gojo chuckles, pushing off the wall with an exaggerated stretch.

“Well, I think I’ll let you all handle this. Good luck with the investigation.”

He winks in your direction before sauntering out of the room, leaving you tense and trying to avoid Megumi’s gaze.

Yuji and Nobara are still watching him, and you can tell they’re not going to let this go anytime soon.

“So,” Nobara says, crossing her arms. “Are you going to tell us who it is, or are we going to have to follow you around until we figure it out?”

Megumi pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly fed up. “There’s no one.”

“You’re such a bad liar,” Yuji mutters, shaking his head.

Megumi’s about to respond, but then his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, glances at the screen, and his expression softens for just a split second before he tucks it away again.

You know who it is. He knows you know.

You’re barely holding back your laughter at this point, trying to keep a straight face. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you have to look away before anyone else notices.

But Megumi, in his ever-stubborn way, is still trying to salvage this mess.

“I’m going for another walk,” he announces abruptly, clearly done with this interrogation.

“Uh-huh,” Nobara calls after him, grinning like a cat who just caught a mouse.

“Sure, go clear your head, lover boy.”

You can’t help but chuckle quietly as Megumi shoots you a helpless look before heading out the door.

As soon as he’s gone, Yuji leans over to Nobara, whispering loudly.

“Do you think he’s texting his crush?”

Nobara grins, leaning back in her chair.

“Definitely.”

You bite your lip, doing your best to keep your composure while peeking at your phone.

Sorry for the mess. Meet me later in my dorm?

This is going to get much harder to hide.

Later that night, when you and Megumi finally have a moment to yourselves at his dorm, he sighs heavily, dropping down onto the couch beside you. He looks exhausted, and not just from the missions. The day’s events have clearly taken their toll.

“This is getting ridiculous,” he mutters, rubbing his temples.

You smile softly, leaning into his side.

“It’s kind of your fault, you know.”

Megumi groans.

“I know.”

There’s a moment of silence as you both sit there, the weight of your secret relationship pressing down on you. But it’s not a bad weight. It’s more like a blanket, warm and comforting, something shared between the two of you. Something that’s just yours.

Still, you can’t help but tease him.

“You’re really bad at lying.”

Megumi turns his head to look at you, a small, exasperated smile pulling at his lips.

“Shut up.”

You laugh quietly, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the tension melt away as his hand finds yours, fingers intertwining. For now, it’s just the two of you, and that’s all that matters.

“Maybe we should tell them,” you suggest softly, half-joking.

Megumi’s body stiffens for a second, but then he relaxes, a soft hum escaping his throat.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, voice low.

“But not yet.”

You smile, content with the secrecy for now. It’s your little world, and as chaotic as it is, it’s yours to navigate together.

And for now, that’s enough.

Bonus:

The decision to finally tell them wasn’t exactly well-planned. In fact, it wasn’t planned at all.

It happened after another long day of training. Yuji had been particularly insufferable, constantly pestering Megumi about his “mystery crush,” while Nobara was fuming over how Megumi wouldn’t let her in on the secret.

You and Megumi exchanged looks all day, the unspoken question hanging between you both: Should we just tell them?

By the time the sun set and everyone was lounging in the common area, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. Nobara was pacing the room, practically radiating with frustration, while Yuji sat on the edge of the couch, watching Megumi like a hawk.

You were sitting next to Megumi, trying not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. You hadn’t expected the pressure to mount like this. They’d been relentless for days now.

“Okay, I’m done!”

Nobara throws her hands in the air, eyes narrowing at Megumi.

“I can’t take it anymore! You have to tell us. Who is it?”

Yuji nods rapidly, his eyes wide and pleading.

“Please, man, just tell us! The suspense is killing me.”

Megumi lets out a long, exasperated sigh. He’s been handling this for a week now, and it’s clearly taken its toll. He shoots you a quick, sideways glance, silently asking for your input.

You shrug with a small smile, mouthing.

“Your call.”

With another sigh, Megumi straightens up and clears his throat.

“Fine,” he says, his voice firm.

“I’ll tell you.”

Both Nobara and Yuji freeze, their eyes going wide with excitement.

“Finally!” Nobara yells, nearly vibrating with impatience.

“Okay, okay. Who is it? Is it someone we know?” Yuji questions, leaning in closer.

Megumi looks at you again, and you give him a reassuring nod.

Then, with a small smirk tugging at his lips, Megumi casually slips his hand into yours, right there in front of them.

At first, there’s silence. Complete, deafening silence.

Yuji’s mouth falls open, eyes flicking between your joined hands and your faces, his brain clearly short-circuiting.

Nobara, on the other hand, just stares. Blinks. Then her hands slowly rise to cover her mouth, her eyes growing impossibly wide.

“Wait—” Yuji finally speaks, voice squeaking a little.

“YOU—YOU AND—”

Megumi sighs.

“Yeah. Me and (y/n). We’ve been dating for a while now.”

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

“WHAT?!” Yuji practically screams, jumping up from the couch and pointing at your intertwined hands like they’re some sort of mythical creature.

“NO WAY! This whole time? You guys were dating this whole time?!”

Nobara just starts shrieking incoherently. It’s a mix of disbelief and outrage, her voice a high-pitched wail as she dramatically collapses onto the couch like she’s been personally betrayed.

“YOU HID THIS FROM US?!” she yells, clutching a pillow like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

“HOW COULD YOU?! I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!”

You burst out laughing, unable to keep it in any longer. Megumi pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting every choice that led to this moment.

Yuji is pacing now, running his hands through his hair, still trying to process everything.

“How did I not see it? I mean, I thought you had a crush, but I didn’t think it was… this!” he gestures wildly between the two of you, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Oh my God!” Nobara yells again, standing up suddenly.

“This is insane! You’ve been sneaking around this whole time? That’s it. I demand details! Right now. How long has this been going on?”

“Yeah!” Yuji chimes in, pointing accusingly at Megumi.

“How did you manage to keep this a secret from me of all people?”

You laugh again, raising your hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay, calm down! It’s been a few months. We just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“A few months?” Nobara shrieks, grabbing Yuji’s arm like she needs to hold onto something before she passes out.

“That’s practically a year in relationship time! How did you keep this from us? I’m so offended right now.”

“I knew you were acting weird!” Yuji exclaims, throwing his hands in the air.

“All those times you disappeared, Megumi! I knew something was up!”

Megumi groans, running a hand through his hair.

“You guys are overreacting.”

“Overreacting? This is the most exciting thing that’s happened all year and you hid it from us! You’re for the streets, Fushiguro!” Nobara echoes, voice high-pitched with disbelief.

Yuji nods, agreeing way too quickly.

“Yeah, we need details. Dates, first kiss, how did it start, everything.”

Before you can answer, a familiar voice interrupts the chaos.

“Oh, you guys are just figuring this out now?”

You all turn to see Gojo leaning casually against the doorway, a smug grin plastered on his face, arms crossed like he’s been watching this unfold for a while.

“What?” Nobara screeches again.

“YOU KNEW?!”

Gojo shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Obviously. It wasn’t exactly hard to figure out.”

Yuji’s jaw drops to the floor.

“You didn’t tell us?”

Gojo tilts his head, grinning.

“And ruin the fun of watching you two idiots freak out? Why would I do that?”

Nobara looks like she’s about to combust.

“So, you just let us suffer, while you were sitting there knowing the whole time?!”

Gojo shrugs again, completely unbothered.

“You’re welcome.”

Yuji groans, dramatically flopping onto the couch beside Nobara.

“I can’t believe this. I feel so betrayed.”

Nobara crosses her arms, huffing.

“Yeah, same. This is worse than the time Yuji ate my fries.”

“Hey, that was an accident!” Yuji protests.

Nobara glares at him.

“It was not an accident.”

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[neopolpleb]

Curiosity Saved The Cat | a Micheal Myers x GN!Reader

warnings: none! Just a sweet ol thingy bout you and ol mikey meeting

A/N: Aye babies this isn’t my first rodeo on this hellsite but you’ve probably never seen my work unless you have the memory of an elephant and an obsession with Karl Heisenberg!

But! New user new me y’know. So this is my first fic as Neopleb and I hope you stick around and maybe send in some requests!

——————————

His favorite activity was to watch you. Sometimes you didn’t know. Sometimes he knew you knew, but your favorite was when he didn’t know that you knew.

You were used to the iconic Micheal stare. I mean, dating this seven foot hunk of a killer for a few years meant you had to get used to it or it just wouldn’t be pleasant for you. Thankfully, you were able to take his glares and glances but you also learned how to tell them apart.

Of course, theres the stare that fills even the strongest of men with fright as they realize their death is soon nearing when they look into the emotionless gaze that hid the truest form of evil. The Shape.

You’re grateful you’ve never experienced the full force of that gaze. You had seen it be fought off the night you two met. It was replaced with the next stare; curiosity.

The day you two met is a memory you cherish, but of course your logical side always is ringing in the back of your head “HOW THE FUCK DID I SURVIVE EVIL FUCKING PERSONIFIED???” or something along those lines.

The answer was simple, you intrigued him. Micheal had never seen anything like you. He couldn’t understand it. The shape was banging in his skull telling him to kill you right now. Finish the job. But Micheal for once didn’t listen. For once in over many decades, he let his more human side take over and he just left.

Imagine the look on your face when Micheal Myers, who was five seconds away from killing you just up and walks away. You didn’t know how to react. You sat in the corner of your silent bedroom praying to whatever was out there that he wouldn’t change his mind about sparing you.

You didn’t want to provoke him in anyway so you cast logic to the wind and didn’t contact the police. In the weeks following the encounter you thought you had just been a miracle and would never have a run in with the masked fellow again…

Until you started noticing things. Things like, windows being open that you were sure to have closed the night before. Locks suddenly broken no matter how many times you would replace them. You tried your best to calm your thoughts but the obvious answer was basically hitting you in the face. He never let you be. He had been watching you the whole time.

Of course you freaked out, but then came the confusion. Why hadn’t he killed you? You had lived in Haddonfield long enough to hear the stories, and from what you gathered, Micheal didn’t really keep victims. Of course if they ran he’d find them again, but it was usually a quick job. So why are you still here?

That was a question even Micheal couldn’t answer. It felt like everyday was “the day he is definitely going to do it” but it never was. He just watched you. Almost as if you were a science project that he had to observe.

He couldn’t wrap his head around you. To the naked eye you were just a normal person. You moved from the city to live a quiet life, a fresh start, in a small town in Illinois. You kept to yourself. The only person who knew you by name was the usual cashier at the local supermarket. You minded your business. Yet some how you caught the eye of god’s most terrifying creation.

After a few weeks of trying fix the locks, even going as far to super glue a few windows shut, you gave up. They always found themselves open again, you came to the thought that “if he hasn’t killed me yet, why am I to be so worried?” Which on your part isn’t the smartest, but no one ever said you were the sharpest knife in the drawer.

It was a silent night it February. You had fallen asleep on your couch after a long day of studying for your exams. You hadn’t slept in over 20 hours, and you were out cold, so you didn’t hear the creak of the back door opening.

Micheal stalked in, as silent as ever. Hiding in the shadows as he mapped out his plan to finally end you tonight. He headed towards your bedroom, expecting you to be there asleep in bed as you usually were. He stopped as he spotted you passed out on the couch. Half your body was hanging off the side and there was a pencil stuck in your hair.

He stared at you again, the curious gaze returning as his plan slowly faded from his mind. You were an enigma. How did you capture his gaze like this, why did he push everything aside just to watch you. You were just another victim. Another body. Another object to him. Why is his mind seeing you as something more.

The thing that pulled him from his thoughts was your body slamming to the ground after just a bit too much of you came off the couch. He quickly hid in the shadows of the hallway, planning his escape as you tried to get your bearings after your rude awakening.

You rubbed your head, groaning as you slowly stood. You waddled over to the kitchen to get a glass of water before chasing the lingering sleep to your bed. You felt his gaze, you had become more aware of it once you had given up on shutting the monster out. You grabbed a cup from the cupboard and filled it was tap water. The stream filling the glass was the only sound that could be heard throughout the house.

You leaned back against the counter as you sipped the water. Glancing around the room hoping to spot your watcher but you as always, you never could. You sighed shaking off the gaze and setting the cup in the sink before heading towards your bedroom.

You made it halfway towards your hallway before you spotted the silhouette in the shadows. Your brain was yanking at the reigns of your body to run, hide, call someone, ANYTHING. Yet you just… stood there. Not as if you were frozen in fear, but as if you were having a staring contest with your intruder.

You took a deep inhale and let it out in a sigh before you continued your walk to your room. You knew that this could possibly be your final moment, but it was almost 4 am and you were still incredibly tired. So with logic to the wind, you walked past Micheal who kept his gaze on you the entire time.

You couldn’t see his face, but it was contorted in pure confusion- Why weren’t you running? Why weren’t you cowering in fear. He stared in shock as you reached your bedroom door at the end of the hallway.

Your hand grabbed the knob turning it gently, before glancing back at the man who now stood on the opposite side of the hallway, still watching. You opened the door slowly, turning back to face him.

“… Theres uh- Theres leftovers in the fridge. Spaghetti. You can have some if you want, just put the plate in the sink when your done please.” You spoke quietly, before quickly closing the door to your room. Immediately jumping under your covers as if you were a child hiding from the monster in your closet, but you knew even a child wouldn’t be dumb enough to offer a monster DINNER.

You squeezed your eyes shut and cut out the world as you let sleep take over, hoping to awake the next morning.

You did in fact wake up the next morning, your bedroom door was left open, which you let go quickly considering the fact that you were still alive. You slowly crept out to the living room, glancing around to make sure your visitor hadn’t stuck around. You didn’t see anyone, or feel any gaze so you walked to your kitchen feeling more safe.

There was a bowl left on the counter, you furrowed your eyebrows at it. “Dude breaks into my house, eats my food, and I ask him ONE thing and he can’t even do it? Unbelievable.” You fake being dramatic to yourself, as you set the bowl in the sink and begin making yourself breakfast.

You begin cracking eggs into a bowl when you hear the creak of your back door opening. You pause momentarily, before continuing your cooking. A few silent seconds later and you feel the familiar gaze resting on the back of your head.

You continue your cooking and point to the table,

“If you want breakfast sit down and it’ll be done soon” it came out more confident than your offer last night and you hope that you didn’t anger him. Thankfully, you hear a chair being pulled out and you take a glance to see Micheal sitting, his gaze still locked on you.

Sometimes you still wonder why he hadn’t killed you. He doesn’t talk much but in his more talkative moments he joked that he only kept you around for your food. Though in truth sometimes he doesn’t really know the answer. He doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Hell he didn’t even believe in love period before he started hanging around you. Yet something about you stuck out to him, but he has a lifetime with you to figure it out.

[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.

[cafffine]

Hey guys, I’ve decided to stop publishing Saltcoats for a number of reasons. I'm aware that many of you are going to initially be let down or confused, but hopefully once you’ve read through this post you’ll understand why this had to stop. I’ll try to hit all my points, but of course if you have any questions pls feel free to dm me or reply to this post.

DISCLAIMER: Ending this fic was a decision I came to by myself! No one asked me to do this, though many did help, and if you have something to add please do not bring other tumblr or ao3 users into the conversation unless they’ve explicitly said they’re ok with that. It’s a draining and heavy topic (not to me, but for those affected) and I don’t want to cause anymore unneeded distress.

Also, I’m the only author, all the problems with this story were created by me, and were biases I should have recognized and acted on much sooner. I’m very thankful to all the people that have reached out to me about the negative impacts on this fic, but it really does come down to: I wrote and published a story that was fundamentally ignorant of its setting and racist. So now I have to do my part to apologize and educate myself/take accountability.

First off, this was a flawed concept to begin with because I was trying to do a low fantasy setting with aliens in period clothes and a work of historical fiction at the same time, and those are not things you can go halfway on.

Historical fiction that centers around people of color has a long history of simply going race-blind and faking diversity by giving poc the roles of white people in Eurocentric stories and erasing their identities. (This article about Bridgerton explains the problem better than I could.) And it was something I tried to avoid by still having the Fetts written as immigrants from Aotearoa (NZ), but completely missed the execution on because I didn’t commit to full historical accuracy in all characters and aspects of the story. Meaning, I might as well have gone race-blind because you can’t pick and choose what to include, it’s just as racist.

This creates situations like the Fetts being immigrants facing real life oppression while the Organas, also people of color, are unaffected by the social climate and living as members of the British upper class. That’s not accurate to any version of history and ends up wiping clean any point I was trying to make about race and oppression. That also extends beyond the Fetts, I was not addressing how the american characters come from a country that still allows for the ownership of slaves, the British oppression of Scottish people and their culture, or even an in-depth look at real Queer communities of that era. (and more)

Given the real life historical climate in the 1850s, a multi-racial story like this one is not successful, and is racist in its ignorance of the struggles of poc, immigrants, and the intersectionality that had with class and crime.

In addition, the Fetts being written as criminals, even if it is framed as a morally correct choice*, is still playing into negative racial stereotypes that shouldn’t have been ignored.

* I should add, I don’t mean to make it sound like i’m creating excuses for myself when I give explanations for some of these choices such as “but it was framed as morally correct”, that doesn’t lessen the damage being done, it’s still racist, I guess I'm just trying to show why so many of these things went overlooked for as long as they did, and how easy it is for white/privileged people to find mental loopholes around racism when you’re not being sufficiently critical of yourself.

On another note, the Fetts being indigenous immigrants to Britain in the 1800s is not something I should have tried to tackle in fanfiction - a medium that often lacks nuance and can easily end up romanticizing or glossing over most heavy topics. This goes for period typical homophobia, addiction, and class struggles as well.

That being said! I’m not implying that any of those things should be completely ignored in fanfiction. Addiction, for example, is something very close to me that I do still want to explore in fanfic for the purposes of education and normalization, I’m not telling anyone what not to write, just checking myself. Because in a story like this where literally everything is so heavily dramatized and also applied to characters of color by me, a white person? It’s only going to end up being out of place, lacking in historical accuracy, and wholly disrespectful.

Another major problem I wanted to address is the relationship between a rich white person and a poverty stricken poc. That's a bad stereotype to begin with, but then I tried and failed to frame Obi-Wan as ignorant and biased to a point where his social status plays into the theme of class critique. But, if he’s still being written as Cody’s love interest, all his negative characteristics are ultimately going to be ignored and excused by the narrative (by me).

I’m not trying to end this conversation, I’ll always be willing to talk about this to anyone who’d want to say/hear more, but I don’t want run the point into the ground with over-explanation.

So, in conclusion, this fic had to stop and be broken down into the problem that it was. All white authors who write for the clones need to be hyper-vigilant about the fact that we are creating narratives for poc, and that our inherent racism is always in threat of being baked into in the stories we publish and spread to an audience. I was in the wrong when I wrote this story, and it should never have gone on for this long. I apologize for both my actions, and to anyone I may have hurt along the way.

This is getting posted on ao3 in the fic, and then, for now anyway, the fic is going to be deleted after a week. I’ll leave this post up and answer everyone unless it's someone trying to change my mind. Also, if I ignore an ask please send it again, tumblr might just have deleted it. I don’t want to try and bury this or run from my mistakes, I just don’t think that leaving the fic up where it can still find an audience will do anyone any good. Thank you for reading

If you're interested here's some resources I've been using to educate myself further:

What caused the New Zealand Wars? - An excerpt of the book by Vincent O'Malley of the same title. It gives a good summary of the violent colonization and oppression of Māori people and their culture by the British empire.

NZ Wars: Stories of Waitara (video) - Very educational documentary about the NZ wars and British colonialism. There are some historical recreations that get violent so pls watch with caution.

Historical American Fiction without the Racism - Tumblr post by @/writingwithcolor that talks specifically about Black people in the 1920's, but makes a good point about race and historical fiction in general. I'd recommend any post from this blog, especially their navigation page just a lot of great resources

Who Gave You the Right to Tell That Story? - An article about writing outside of your race that includes a diverse series of testimonials

History of Scottish Independence - Details the colonization of Scotland by the British empire, sort of long, can cntrl + f to "The Acts of Union" for a more direct explanation.

The best books on Racism and How to Write History - A list of well written and diverse works of historical fiction and why they are good examples of representation

I have a lot more that I can share if you're interested (x x x x) but this post is getting a bit too long.

[forbiddensoul562]

Contagion

I could have sworn I’d published this, but I found it in my draft folder this morning... So... I apologize that it hasn’t gone through a rigorous editing process, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

Two years ago I sat on a train in Taiwan, headed from Taipei to a small, remote place called (I think) Wufeng. As I sat there, I thought about a post-apocalyptic zombie Meronia fic I’d read somewhere on here. It was very good, but I had no luck tracking it down again, and I thought that was a damn shame.

So, I pulled out my notebook and wrote a test first chapter of my own version during the whole two hour train ride. 

It’s not much, and might not have much substance to it. But I’d love to get anyone’s thoughts on it’s start.

Working Title: Contagion

The moment they appeared their existence made national news… The world screeched to a halt, all attention on these things. Humans… turned diseased, feral, or perhaps something else entirely. No one knew for sure where they came from. It was as though one moment the world continued spinning like normal, and in the next… these things began flooding the streets. The initial confusion of news analysts and reporters slowly began to turn to fear. It took only an hour before the first bite was reported... The victim turned, becoming one of the diseased. 

That was the moment public fear began to turn to panic, catching like wildfire.

As Near watched, from secluded inside his high tower, he was acutely aware that he was witnessing the turning point of human history.

By the second hour after the first report had hit the news, Near had decided that what he was witnessing was potentially the unravelling of human society. He was a detective… trained to solve the world’s mysteries. But this… There was no training for this, and even if he wanted to act, the pandemic was spreading far too fast.

By hour three Near found himself trying to name these things based on their condition – should he refer to them as the Sick, infected initially by some kind of widespread contagion? The news began to report them as simply ‘undead,’ and while Near understood that such a title effectively, and most simply communicated to the general populace what these things were doing, based on common knowledge from mass media, Near could only roll his eyes at how unoriginal and unfitting the term appeared to be.

At the tenth hour, local news agencies began going off the air as it was too dangerous to stay and try to report. It made sense, they had themselves and their own families to think about. It was in that moment that fear suddenly began to take the place of Near’s previously more pragmatic thoughts. A new, chilling terror of encroaching total isolation the outside world seeped into his bones.

It was then that he decided it best to make the one call of utmost importance in the dying world, before cell towers began to completely fall off the grid.

Rester handed Near the phone and the detective listened to the ringing tone as he pressed it to his ear, an unspoken panic brewing in his center and he couldn’t decide if it was premised in his worry for lines of communication, or something much more morbid. ‘Pick up,’ He mentally pleaded, desperately. ‘Come on, answer your phone…’ Of all the times to be ignored…

But then, as if by command, finally the other end of the phone ceased the repetitive tone, replaced instead with a simple, abrupt, “What?”

“Mello.” A heavy breath was released that Near hadn’t realized he was holding, momentary relief taking its place. “You’ve seen the news?”

[More beneath a ‘keep reading’, just in case Tumblr isn’t showing it...]

There was a brief pause from the other end, and Near felt his heartrate quicken in response. Time was just too precious for delays of any kind. Every second that crucial information wasn’t being conveyed was another second that Near felt his panic increase, worried that the call might drop and he might never get to say what he needed to.

“It’s starting to be chaos here, too.” Mello’s tone was somber, quieter as though speaking any louder would make the events all the more real.

“I see.” Near reached for a strand of hair, though the repetitive twirling sensation was proving to do little to calm his nerves, as it once had. This was just becoming too big of a catastrophe for his simple rituals to pacify his worry. “The world is ending, Mello.”

“Strangely dramatic of you.” The older successor muttered, but was quick to add, “You think I don’t know that?” There was an irritated edge to his tone, yet still Near couldn’t help cracking a small smile at Mello’s underhanded, and perhaps unconscious, implication that they both truly were not above dramatics. Though, perhaps he was reading too far into it, searching for a sliver of normality in a world that was quickly falling crumbling.

“No, of course you would already be aware.” After all, Mello was much more heavily involved in the world, or at least connected to it on a far more personal level than Near was. “No doubt the grid will be going down at some point. Maybe in a few minutes, maybe in a few hours, or days… So to that effect I wanted to contact you first over anyone else.” Near’s motions in his hair stopped, the white strand unravelling around his index finger. His vision and even his attention to the rest of the room seemed to blur as he focused entirely upon his connection to the only other person of importance Near had, in a world that was falling apart. “If things continue as they are, to the best of my ability I plan on attempting to create a safe zone within my tower. Right now it has the resources to survive here for at least a year, but I aim to build on those.”

When Mello said nothing in response, Near continued, rambling still, but this time more to the point, “What is happening right now is far greater than you or I, Mello, and on our own I do not think we will make it long. You lack the resources and I lack the physicality. But together, we-”

“Near, don’t, I’m not-”

“Mello, please.” He could hear the pleading in his words, “Just listen to me a moment.”

This time, the blonde remained quiet on the other end.

“If you can make it from your present location in California to here in New York… I would greatly benefit from whatever you have to offer to survival efforts. Neither of us will make it if we’re split up. This is not like anything else we have ever dealt with, and because of that I don’t think it makes sense to hold onto lingering animosity. Think of your survival.”

Near shook his head. Logic wouldn’t work with Mello… So he added quieter, “I need your help, Mello.”

There was a long silence between them, then, the words and residual antipathy culminating between them into that one moment of silence which seemed to hold all the necessary potential to be both of their ruin, not to mention all the others Near had every intention of trying to help. Everything hinged on this single moment… of being able to put aside disputes, and endless history for a greater good. It had never worked before. Yet this time, Near held his breath.

Finally, “I’ll do what I can.” The words were vague, but of course both successors understood the weight and challenge associated with attempting to travel from one side of the country to the direct opposite in the current collapsing state of things. But if Mello was as willing and able as his words alluded to, then Near was willing to hold his breath a little while longer.

Near nodded, “I look forward to your arrival, then.”

The detective was ready to end the call while he had Mello’s agreement and thus his own sense of hope, but of course Mello broke in before he could, “Yeah, you say that, but you’re not the one having to go out and deal with this shit. It’s a risk, Near. At this rate, who knows what the country will do in response...”

Near could read between the lines: Mello thought he might not make it.

But Near had to stay positive, even if he was feigning it for both of them, now. The thought of being alone to go going through what was shaping up to be the apocalypse was troublesome at best, and truly terrifying at worst. “Getting into and climbing the ranks of the Mafia was a risk, too.”

There was a short, curt chuckle from the other end of the line. “Yeah, well… we’ll see. I’ll try.” The younger successor didn’t like the tone latent in his voice. He didn’t like hearing Mello be anything other than his loud, over-the-top self that exuded confidence. But then, nothing was good about this situation or provided any reason for the blonde to hold onto his normal demeanor… Still, it was jarring and was almost worse than seeing the reports on the news.

But Near forced himself to nod, “Right, I’ll see you soon, then.”

Yet another pause on the other end, followed by a simple, “Yeah.”

In that moment Near found himself reluctant to cut their connection. There were so many things he wanted to say to the blonde successor… just in case this was their last time ever speaking. Years of harbored words flooded his mouth like bile, yet burning his throat with the knowledge that no matter how much he wanted to let it all spill out, Mello wouldn’t stand such talk. Not now. Maybe not ever. Though, perhaps it was better this way. He didn’t want to say anything that might prove a distraction to Mello’s journey across the country to get to him.

So he instead swallowed it all back down, promising himself that he would make time to pour out all of these words to Mello when the older successor made it to him.

He could only bring himself to whisper, “Good luck. Be safe. Please.” It was the closest thing to a prayer Near thought he could ever formulate. 

“You too, Near.” Mello said much quieter. “Don’t... let anything happen before I can make it there, alright?”

“I won’t.” He shook his head. “I’ll be here waiting.” With that, he pulled the phone away and hung up.

[kaeyastopmakingicepuns]

Hey, I suck at writing fics that have a plot, so here's a little Diluc x Reader prompt, for anyone who wants it.

It occurred to me that Diluc's character had been MADE for a fake!married trope, and this scene popped into my head, but I didn't know how to go further with it, so if anyone wants to continue it, or use it for inspiration, please be my guest! :)

Diluc x Reader Fake!Married AU

"There you are," you said, paying no mind to your fancy clothes as you plopped yourself down on the dusty floor to lean against the cold, stone wall of the wine cellar. You had found Diluc right where you had expected to whenever the winery held these public festivals.

Diluc, seated on the ground next to you, merely grunted in response, taking a swig from the glass bottle he held before he nestled it back into its place in the crook of his arm.

"People are looking for you, ya know," you commented idly.

Another grunt. Honestly, having a conversation with this man could be like pulling teeth at times. It was a good thing that you had known him long enough to have learned that once you did get him talking, Mondstadt’s grumpiest bartender was actually a huge softie with a droll sense of humor that never failed to have you clutching your sides with laughter at least once or twice before he inevitably clammed up again.

“There’s a new bard in town.” You tried again. “Goes by the name ‘Dandelion.’ Wants to woo you with a special poem he wrote just for you.”

And yet another grunt punctuated by a long swig from the bottle. Time for drastic measures.

“Hey!” Diluc cried, uttering the first word you’d heard from him all evening as you snatched the bottle from his hand and helped yourself to its contents. You lowered the bottle as soon as the drink hit your tongue and spat the sip you had taken to the side.

“This is just stale grape juice,” you said in disgust. Honestly, you should have known, but the way he was nursing the drink had you convinced it was something stronger.

Diluc rolled his eyes as a plucked the bottle out of your grip. “Wait ‘til you find out what wine is,” he remarked drily.

You laughed. There was the Diluc whose company you had sought out. “Connor would cry in shame if he ever heard you say that.”

Diluc winced. “Please don’t tell him,” he pleaded.

“Of course not,” you agreed. “No way I could break his heart like that.” You grabbed the bottle again and took a proper drink this time. Now that you were expecting the sweeter beverage, it was actually quite good. Dawn winery didn’t get its reputation for nothing, its grape juice was just as good as its wine.

“How much longer do you suppose I have?” Diluc asked with a grimace as you passed the bottle back to him.

“What, before they come bursting down here trying to marry you off to their sons or daughters? Oh, not long at all,” you teased, accepting the bottle as he passed it back to you.

Diluc groaned. “Archons, I hate this. I wish they’d just leave me alone.”

You gesture in his direction, using the neck of the bottle to point at him, ignoring the way the juice sloshed around dangerously inside, threatening to spill on Diluc, who leaned away from your waving arms with a frown. “You know what you need to do?” you asked playfully. “You need to get fake married.”

Instead of laughing at your joke, Diluc’s brow scrunched up in puzzlement. “I need to get what?”

You sighed. Leave it to Diluc to not be aware of classic story clichés. “You know, disappear for a week or two, then return with some pretty thing on your arm and just tell everybody that you’ve eloped.”

Diluc scowled. “But I don’t want to get eloped.”

Archons, but he was lucky he was pretty. Diluc was generally an incredibly smart guy, but sometimes the way he failed to employ common sense baffled you. Like when he had used slime bait near his own vineyard and had to fight off a few curious slimes every few hours for a week.  Still, being (secretly) big of heart and dumb of ass was what made Diluc, well, Diluc, and you wouldn't have him any other way.

“You wouldn’t actually get eloped,” you explained slowly. “You would just pretend to. You and whatever idiot you persuaded to be your fake spouse would know, but no one else would. That way, you get to be free from all the hassle of being a bachelor, and some lucky sucker gets to, I dunno, live in the manor rent free, or something. I’m not really sure what you would offer them to make it equitable, but I’m sure you can think of something, you’re rich, after all.”

It seemed Diluc still wasn’t getting the joke as, judging from the contemplative look on his face, he was actually giving the idea some serious thought. “That... might actually work,” he said thoughtfully.

Of course he would think this was a good plan, this was the same guy who thought it would be better if the city of Mondstadt was attacked from two fronts at the same time, rather than him revealing himself as the city’s so-called ‘Dark Knight Hero.’

“There is something you do have to be very careful of, though,” you said gravely, schooling your expression into something serious.

Diluc looked at you with concern. “What?”

“You have to make sure you pick someone whom you will absolutely not fall in love with, and will not fall in love with you under any circumstances,” You said. finally passing the grape juice back to him as you realized you were still holding it. Diluc took it and set it on the floor between you. “That’s how these things always go, someone falls in love with the other one and suddenly bam!” You punched your hand into your fist for emphasis, pleased to see that Diluc had been listening to you intently enough that he started a little. “The whole scheme goes up in smoke,” you said dramatically.

Diluc rolled his eyes. “Someone I won’t fall in love with?” he repeated. “How about you?”

“Ouch!” You put your hand to your chest in mock offense. That was clearly payback for making him jump.

Something flickered behind Diluc’s eyes and you hurried to make a teasing remark, knowing that if Diluc thought he had actually hurt your feelings his social awkwardness would instantly turn him back into Mr. Tall, Dark, Silent, and Brooding.

“And you call yourself a gentleman,” you said, lightly shoving his arm.

Diluc smirked back at you, visibly relaxing as soon as he was reassured you weren’t actually insulted. “I can be a gentleman,” he said, “when the situation calls for it.”

“I’ve never seen it,” you scoffed.

“Do you want to?” he asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

You did, weirdly enough. At least a little. But rather than say that you snorted and said, “Archons, no.”

“I thought as much,” Diluc said confidently. He picked up the bottle again and finished it off, before giving you a sidelong glance. “You didn’t say ‘no.’“

“I didn’t,” you admitted. But that didn’t mean you were saying yes. After all, there had to be a reason this stuff only happened in stories, right? It’s not like this kind of game could work if attempted in real life.

“How would it even work?” you asked. “I mean, this kind of thing can only stay a secret for so long. It just takes one person learning the truth, and suddenly everyone knows. And it’s not like you can just explain away the fact that we have separate bedrooms to your staff, so that right there is where it all starts to fall apart.”

“No, it’s not.,” Diluc insisted. “It’s not at all uncommon for a husband and wife to have separate rooms. Royals do it all the time.”

You barked out a laugh. “Oh, so you’re royalty now? I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you took that ‘uncrowned king of Mondstadt’ thing so seriously. And all this time I’ve been calling you by your first name. Is ‘your majesty’ too informal when we’re alone? Is it to be ‘His Esteemed Royal Highness, Diluc Ragnvindr of the Grape-Growing-Greats’ at all times?”

Diluc sighed. “Stop that, I just meant it’s not without precedent. My parents had separate rooms here when I was a kid, it’s not unthinkable.”

You blinked. You hadn’t known that. “They did?”

“Yeah,” he said. “They rarely made use of both of them, but they did. It’s expected of nobility, somewhat.”

Huh. There might be something to this plan, after all.

“And you still haven’t said ‘no,’“ Diluc said.

You hadn’t. Were you actually considering this?

“If you lived at the winery, you wouldn’t have to walk down here from Mondstadt every day,” he pointed out casually. Damn him for knowing your one weak point-- your hatred for your daily commute.

You were saved from having to answer by the torch on the wall going out with a pop, plunging the two of you into darkness. You squeaked and instinctively grabbed onto Diluc’s arm.

“Sorry,” Diluc said. “It must be a faulty torch. That’s the third time it’s gone out this week. I’ll get it.”

You felt Diluc wave his hand, and the torch flared back to life, illuminating the small corner of the cellar once again.

“Thanks,” you said, letting go of Diluc’s arm, wondering at the way Diluc’s face seemed to flare blight red in the glow of the firelight.

Suddenly, your eyes widened. “Archons, Diluc, you’re on fire again!” Was there a single pyro vision wielder in all of Teyvat that had mastered the art of not setting themselves on fire whenever they used their vision?

Diluc swore under his breath and began frantically patting his arm in an attempt to smother the flames. You helped, and, between the two of you, managed to get the small flame put out in a matter of seconds. Just another day at Dawn Winery.

Diluc stood, making sure there were no other embers lying around that could burn the whole manor down. “I should get back to the party,” he grumbled, offering you a hand to help you to your feet.

You followed him up the stairs, your earlier conversation seemingly forgotten. You were confidant that once the pressure from the party was gone the next morning, Diluc would never bring up the thought again, and you would both carry on with your lives.

But, still, neither of you had said ‘no.’

[alexaplaysgames]

Hideaway

Pairing: Felix Escellun x GN!MC

Fandom: Fictif (Last Legacy)

Rating: T (swearing, dorks making out)

Words: ~2600

Description: Felix and his barista explore his childhood home.

Notes: Felix has all my uwus 🥺 did not post five fics in one day (yet) but I might if convinced.

Thanks to @callioops for the inspiration :)

Please go easy on me I am in no way a fanfiction writer by nature but my love for Felix has evidently overpowered my insecurities ;)

Edit: Uhh.... I was debating between settings for this and realized I made it super ambiguous, so I’ve edited it now!

Warning: This is heavily canon divergent now. Oops.

I’m not even sure how I ended up here, to be quite honest.

But I would’ve had to be crazy to have predicted such a thing- a portal to another dimension (is this another dimension?), a towering manor overflowing with stuffy furniture and servants, a raven-haired goth (although he would protest to such a description) with a bird skull strung around his neck. Honesty, his fashion sense is questionable, though admittedly charming, but I nonetheless can’t seem to get him out of my head.

No, this is the stuff of fantasies born to the insane, of perhaps just the slightly deranged.

I’m not protesting, however, quite the contrary. As I pull Felix through the winding corridors of his childhood home, trying not to thing about the smooth softness of his cool hand in mine, I can honestly say that I haven’t had such fun in a very, very long time.

“Stop, stop!” Felix laughingly protests between laboured breaths, tugging on my hand. I gradually slow to a halt, our footsteps echoing in the large, surprising empty corridor, and Felix slips his hand from mine to brace his hands on his knees as he pants. I try to ignore the resulting disappointment that pangs in my chest and grin.

“You doing okay there, bird boy?”

Apparently, he still has the energy to raise his head and glare.

“My apologies, dear barista, that I have not your physical endurance.” He rolls his eyes, then pauses and smirks. “My being a magical prodigy has spared me the effort of such trivial things as exercise.” He spits the last word out with a scoff.

My grin widens as I saunter closer, placing a finger under his chin to raise his gaze to meet mine from where he is still bent over and panting.

“Perhaps we’ll just have to work on your stamina then, won’t we?”

Felix’s cheeks flush that pretty red that I know has nothing to do with exertion as he ducks his head. I smirk as I turn to examine the nearby wall, giving him time to collect himself. How fun it is to make him blush.

A row of framed paintings lines the wall, all of the equally bizarre. I try to make sense of the faces in them, but the harder I look, the more blurred they become. They are all covered in a discernible layer of dust, indicating that this hallway is rarely used. A peculiar sort of coldness rolls off of the strange pieces, one that has me averting my eyes from the freaky, obviously magically concealed paintings.

“Do you think anyone will find us here?”

I question as I turn to see Felix straightening and running a hand through his hair. I try not to let my eyes follow the motion, choosing instead to meet his icy gray gaze.

He seems perturbed as he looks around, biting his lip. It’s as if he’s just realized where we are. His fault for letting me lead him through the monstrous maze that is his home.

“No. Escell has not entered this corridor in years. I’m surprised he has not blocked it off. He rather enjoys avoiding all things that make him uncomfortable.”

“And what makes him uncomfortable about this wing?”

“Too many memories, my dear. Memories he would prefer to keep locked up.” Though he says it with a smirk, tapping one black-painted fingernail against his temple, it comes out only as sounding rather sad.

I open my mouth to reply, but am interrupted by a sharp-

“Master Felix! Enough with your foolish hiding!”

Felix’s eyes widen as he visibly flinches. “Great goddess, have mercy.”

The voice of Madam Usoro, an angry, mean, lump of a woman, sounds like it is coming from just down the long hall. I cringe inwardly, and probably outwardly, at the thought of meeting her again. According to Felix, she was one of his many childhood nannies (the only one that actually managed to survive his torments), and judging by her scowl, she hasn’t had a “me day” since then.

Unfortunately, Escell also assigned her the task of watching over Felix.

“Ridiculous,” he huffs, “it is as if I am nine years old again!”

My gaze darts frantically between the doors lining the walls, not sure where any of them lead.

I grab Felix’s sleeve and tug, though his eyes stay trained on the end of the hallway, his expression resigned.

“Felix!” I hiss, “which of these goddamn doors will get us out of here?”

He merely sighs. “Why bother? My inevitable capture fast approaches, thus I have decided to be accepting of my fate. I will remain here as a prisoner for the rest of my days while Escell continues to treat me like a babbling infant.”

Great. Now really isn’t the time for his dramatics. I lunge forward and lock my hand around his wrist, tugging him once more down the endless corridor of doors. I feel Felix stiffen as I go to open the first door that catches my eye, but I yank it open and pull him inside before he can protest. The door shuts with a satisfying click and we are alone in a strange, dark room.

“Felix?” I cannot see a thing.

A flash of light, and then Felix appears, a green

orb of light glowing in his palm. I suck in a breath as I take in the captivating way the light hits his features, highlighting his long eyelashes and silvery eyes.

“Apologies! I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

I shake my head, unable to divulge to him the truth. I can’t have him knowing about my strange infatuation. Though I often indulge in what I consider to be harmless flirtation, I know Felix obviously isn’t interested in me. Just days ago he was crying over me, thinking I was someone else! The thought is sobering, and I shake my head.

“What is this room?”

“Ah,” he appears uncharacteristically lost for words. “This is... nothing. We can wait here, I’m certain she’ll cease her endless badgering soon enough.”

I send him a thumbs up before I turn to examine the room. I might as well look around, if there’s nothing else to do but sit around.

“Wait!” Felix’s sharp cry is especially harsh in the quiet of the strange room.

My head jerks up. “What is it?”

“I simply think it best not to carelessly voyage through the uncertainties of the dark. You haven’t a clue what you could stumble upon.”

Something about his tone sounds off, but I sigh and move back towards the door anyway. I have learned that there is no use arguing with him.

I’m almost near the safe haven of Felix’s orb of light when my foot slips on something. I manage to catch myself, but lean down and pick up the offensive item out of curiosity.

It’s a bound, leather notebook. It looks worn, from what I can tell in the faint light, and I flip it open to the inside cover, ignoring Felix’s faint protests in the back of my mind. On the right page are lines of scrawling, messy and unintelligible handwriting. But that’s not what catches my eye. On the left, the page reads:

Property of Felix Iskandar Escellun

I lift my gaze to meet Felix’s guilty visage.

“This is yours?”

He cringes but attempts to hide it with a shrug. The movement does not at all look natural on him.

“You are aware I was raised here?” He snatches the journal out of my grasp with his free hand, then quirks a brow. “Why are you surprised to find an object previously in my possession?”

Felix is an atrocious liar. I glance around the room and suddenly it hits me where we are.

“This was your bedroom, wasn’t it?”

Although Felix is, I assume, currently staying somewhere else, his reaction leaves me with no doubt in my mind that this used to be his room.

Felix bites his lip (he really needs to stop doing that lest I get distracted) then slowly nods. With another sigh, he presses his palms together, then spreads them apart until green light flows throughout the room, the night vision goggle-like effect making it look like we’re on an episode of ghost hunters.

“I would rather not spend time sifting through old memories,” Felix says quietly from beside me as I observe my surroundings.

The room is relatively sparsely decorated. In the centre of the opposite wall is a large, canopy bed, the sheets tossed to the side and the curtains haphazardly thrown about. A large desk is pressed up against one wall, overflowing with notebooks and stacks of parchment, and a bookcase on the opposite wall is spilling over with messily arranged books. A large, elegant armchair is piled high with odd boxes near the middle of the room, and an open armoire is empty save for a pile of clothing laying at the bottom. The whole place is a mess, and though the furniture is very fine, Felix’s attempts to hide that fact are quite obvious. The few windows are boarded up, the curtains surrounding them singed. In fact, there are several odd burn marks on the floor, and I don’t think they’re due to the large stone fireplace.

“Wow.” Very eloquent of me to say.

“Ugh. I despise this room.”

I drift curiously about making note of the objects in the room. Aside from the pieces of writing, there is very little here to signify that the room was Felix’s.

I walk over to the window and am pleased to find the the large wooden board covering it is relatively easy to dislodge. Behind it, there is a window seat, and I glance out the window to see a view of the rolling hills that stretch far and beyond, illuminated by the moonlight.

Felix flops onto the window seat with a sigh. I sit beside him and try to ignore the fact that our knees touch.

Felix squeezes his eyes shut. “I apologize for my theatrics, dear barista, but I would truly rather leap off the highest tower of the castle of Porrima than suffer through living in this room again.”

I refrain from telling him that I did, in fact, almost leap off the castle’s highest tower, and it is not as fun as he makes it out to be.

He hardly ever speaks of his past without flippant disregard for true emotion. “Will you tell me why it was so bad, Felix?”

His eyes shoot open and he scoffs, though his eyes glisten in the moonlight which shines through the window.

His voice is small as he replies. “I was forced every day to live a life I hated in hopes of pleasing a father whose love I already knew I would never earn. I have never felt so useless, so pathetically desperate, as I felt here. And here I am, back again. All my work to escape this place has been for naught.”

My heart aches for him, the expression on his face causing a physical pain in my chest.

“Felix...” I say softly, and before I even register what I’m doing, my hand is grabbing his.

Felix meets my gaze, eyes wide. Every time I touch him he gets so surprised, and I wonder how often he has been touched lovingly in his life.

“I would never think you useless, Felix, never. You are so extraordinary, so brilliant, and it’s a shame that you can’t see it. You have done so much for me and... I need you. Not just to get home, I don’t even know if I care about that anymore, but because you’ve make me so happy, Felix. Being with you feels like being able to breathe. I know that everyone else has left you, but I promise you, I never will. Never.”

His lips part in shock at my words and this time I can’t stop my eyes from flickering down to his mouth. He is so beautiful. I would do anything to kiss him, even just once.

Felix raises his hand and his fingers draw lines down my cheek, making me shiver. Then he leans forward and presses his forehead against mine, closing his eyes.

“Thank you.”

The words are said so quietly that I barely hear them, but I don’t need to with the gratitude that seems to roll off of him in waves.

“Felix?”

“Hm?”

A pause.

“Do you ever think about me?”

“I... I- of course I do. You have consumed every aspect of my waking life.” I can hear a slight teasing in his voice.

I lick my lips. “Do you ever think of me like you think of Rime?”

I can feel him flinch at the name and am about to apologize before he speaks.

“Rime is gone. A necromancer knows better than to waste energy attempting to recall what has been truly lost.”

“Oh... I-“

He sounds so incredibly sad. Whoever Rime is, I’ve no doubt that Felix loved this person. Though I know I shouldn’t feel jealous of a dead person, envy ripples through my stomach all the same.

“I... do. Think about you.”

And the meaning has changed. He pulls back with a shaky breath, cheeks bright red. “I know I am not the most naturally affectionate person, but I-“

He thinks about me. My heart does a fluttering little happy dance at the thought.

Screw it. If I leave this world, I don’t want to have any regrets.

And that’s the thought that propels me forward as I crash my lips into his with a longing I have never before felt. Felix gasps against my mouth and stiffens, and I panic. What the hell am I doing? But no sooner has the thought left my mind then he relaxes and kisses me back. He kisses me back! And I’ve never felt anything more wonderful.

His hands come to set at my waist as mine cup his face, feeling his jaw work as he kisses me and that makes it all the more real that he is kissing me and this isn’t some sort of fervour dream. I pull his hair free from its tie and tangle my fingers in the silken locks of his hair, and god, it’s just as soft as I thought I would be.

Felix kisses like he talks- a little hestitant, full of passion, and enough to make your head spin. It feels like I’m falling, I don’t know which way it’s up and which is down, just like when he rambles on about spells I could never hope to comprehend, but the drop is thrilling because I’ve wanted it so badly and for so long. At first it’s slow, soft, but I want, so I press myself harder against him in effort to let him know that’s it’s okay for him to let himself take from me what he needs.

HIs hands tighten around my waist as he pulls me closer to him, hands drifting over my sides, and I smile against his lips at his momentary display of forwardness. I retaliate by tugging on his hair that flows between my fingers like water, causing his lips to part against mine as he gasps, the perfect opportunity to slip my tongue into his mouth and I’m worried that I’m moving too fast but he moans. I sling a leg over his thigh and we’re grabbing at each other like horny teenagers now-

Felix pulls away with a gasp (I knew we had to work on his stamina). We’re both breathing hard, echoing in the quiet of the large room, and he blinks rapidly; he looks rather like someone hit him over the head with a brick.

I smile at him, running a thumb over his lower lip, and he lets out a pained noise somewhere between a whimper and a squeak.

“I liked that,” I whisper.

“You- you did?”

I nod. “Of course, Felix. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long.”

“R-really?”

I roll my eyes, responding by leaning forward and pressing another chaste kiss to his lips.

“Me too.” He whispers it like a secret, one that I’ll gladly hold forever in my heart.

Felix tentatively reaches and takes my hand in his, flipping it over and drawing little patterns into my palm as he turns to stare out the window again. It’s soothing, and I don’t really pay attention to the patterns. But after a while I think he starts inadvertently drawing hearts into my skin. It’s rather cute; I didn’t take him for a romantic.

“Master Felix!” The voice sounds from not too far outside Felix’s bedroom door.

“Shit.”

I’m afraid I don’t possess his way with words.

Our eyes meet and we both burst into a fit of giggles as the sounds of Madam Usoro’s footsteps gets louder. Trapped as we are, she’s bound to find us soon. Somehow, I’m not worrried. Nothing could ever take Felix from me.

And he knows that I will never leave him.

[joshuas]

the playlist

♫ pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

♫ genre: college/university student!au, slice-of-life, crack (at the end, really), fluff

♫ word count: 1.4k

♫ warnings: Nil of note!

♫ prompt: #You made me a Christmas playlist but it's just Mariah Carey's "All I want for Christmas is you" and I can't tell if you're hitting on me or if it's a joke. - if anyone is aware of the owner (?) of the prompt, please let me know so that I can credit appropriately :)

♫ a/n: The first addition to my Christmas drabbles! Enjoy this lowkey chaotic fic!

♫ skz christmas drabbles: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

[16:23] 10th Dec.

Entering the cafe your friend Chan was working at, you sighed contentedly, inhaling the smoky aroma of freshly ground coffee. “I need caffeine like right now.” You slumped against the counter dramatically. “Exams were that bad, huh?” He smiled sympathetically, starting up the espresso machine. “Not bad. Tiring, but not bad. I’m honestly just erasing any memory of them as we speak.” You sighed, propping your chin on your hands. “Well, regardless, I did make you something as a gift for completing those... things that you’re currently forgetting.” “You did? I mean you didn’t have to.” Your eyes lit up though, negating any attempt at masking your excitement and curiosity. “Okay, well I should clarify. It’s nothing big. My professor set us a task to make a playlist for someone, basically for the purpose of getting us to consider the audience that we’re making music for... so I chose you. Just think of it as something to relax to after a long week of exams.” He explained, tone slightly laced with trepidation that you payed no heed to. “Well, I’m flattered that my best friend considered me to be their... muse for this assignment? In fact, I’m super curious as to what songs you put on it. Send it to me tonight and I’ll listen to it!” You grinned, grabbing your coffee and waving as you exited the shop. “Yeah, okay...”

“Don’t spill the flour everywhere!” Your friend, Felix, stressed, pushing the bowl of cookie batter closer to you.

“This whole process would be a lot more fun if we could listen to music, as well.” You rolled your eyes at his hotheadedness. “Hey, you’re the one that wanted to make gingerbread for Chan because of the whole playlist thing, which is highly romantic by the way. Also, we all know what happens when you get distracted while cooking.” He smirked, mixing through the batter. “I’m pretty sure friends can make playlists for their friends. Besides, I have you to help this precarious venture not go sideways.” You flashed him a smile, opening up the playlist and pressing shuffle play, before quickly redirecting your attention to to the cookie trays. All I Want for Christmas Is You blasted out the speakers, you laughed awkwardly as Felix raised his eyebrows pointedly at you. Odd song choice, but okay.

Half an hour later, with Mariah Carey playing on loop for almost 10 times, Felix rubbed his temples,

“Either Chan has an extremely unique sense of humour, or it’s an extreme declaration of his undying love for you.” Parcelling the gingerbread away and neatly tying a bow on top, you looked at him, “It’s weird, though. All the songs on the playlist are the same. I don’t think Chan would do that... it’s probably some network glitch or something like that.” You resolved, thoughts whirling as you cleared the kitchen. You had known Chan since childhood. Growing up, the two of you were as thick as thieves, causing enough grief to last both your parents a lifetime. It wasn’t until late high school that you’d started viewing him differently. Every little act of kindness that he did out of friendship made your heart both burst with happiness and twinge at the fact that he didn’t share the same sentiment as you. You hadn’t ever really considered the possibility of him liking you back. You never wanted to venture into that territory, afraid that you’d get your hopes up and your friendship, something you valued more than anything, would be ruined at the cost of your curiosity and feelings. You considered it as too selfish to even entertain the thought. However, some nights you couldn’t help but daydream on how it would feel to have his soft lips on yours, and to be wrapped in his warm embrace every night. Yet, whenever reality dawned on you, you shut down that part of your brain, reinforcing to yourself that the two of you were only friends. “Hey, Y/N? Sorry to interrupt whatever internal monologue you’re having but I’m going to leave now. Regarding the Chan situation, I’m not telling you to read into it too much, but considering Chan, I doubt it was just a joke.” Felix gave you a tight hug, snapping you out of your reverie. Sighing, you shut off the speaker, heading to your bed, your thoughts provoking as you tossed and turned, unable to drift off.

[18:39] 12 Dec. You had actively avoided the cafe and Chan over the last few days, fleeting texts often with one worded answers being the only form of communication between the two of you until you had sort of wrapped your head around the whole playlist situation. You knew it was bad to keep Chan in the dark like that, but you weren’t ready to see him, regardless of what his reasoning was. It wasn’t until Felix had forced you out of the house to give him the gingerbread you had baked that you had to face your fears and him. The door jingled as you stepped into the place, Chan in the same place you last saw him, humming to, wow, he really likes this song, none other than All I Want for Christmas Is You as he wiped down the counter, “Sorry, we’re closed.” He called out, not glancing up as you approached. “You must really love Mariah Carey.” You raised your eyebrows at him as he glanced up at you, startled, “Y/N? You’re alive?” “No. I’m the ghost of christmas past... Of course I am. I came bearing gifts. Particularly Christmas ones since you’re going home tomorrow.” You placed the gift bag in his arms, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you.” He said quietly, putting the bag to the side. “So, about the playlist—“ You both started. He stopped as you continued. “Was it a joke?” You blurted out, silence pursuing as Mariah Carey belted in the background. Santa won't you bring me The one I really need Won't you please bring my baby to me “This is really poor choice of music... anyway. Look, Y/N, you’re my best friend.” Your heart twinged in disappointment as your throat tightened, casting your burning eyes to the ground. He grabbed your hands, “but... it wasn’t a joke. I literally put 100 copies of All I Want for Christmas Is You in a playlist to try and articulate my feelings for you.” “Wait... so you were hitting on me?” You questioned, looking up, incredulous. “I mean. Yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Cool cool cool cool cool.” You stared at each other for a while, eyebrows raised. You surged forward, pressing a quick kiss on his lips, as he gaped at you in shock. “You mean you...” “I don’t know about you, but I don’t go around kissing randoms after they declare their undying love for me, unless I like them too.” He pulled you close to him, his lips moving tenderly moving against yours. Time came to a standstill, the music distantly playing in your mind as you wrapped your arms around his neck, the two of you blissfully enjoying each other’s company. You pulled apart, breathing heavily as a smile spread on both your faces, laughing softly. “You know... your wish did come true.” You remarked. “Wish?” He tilted his head, questioning. “All you want for Christmas is... you know...” You gestured to yourself, as he facepalmed, laughing, “I guess you’re right. All I’ve wanted for Christmas is you.”

+bonus -  high-key crack ((because Felix would never ever do this)) this is lowkey inspired by Chan’s Room: Ep. 69! Watching your silhouettes behind the tinted windows of the cafe lean in to kiss, Felix scrambled out of the car, eyes wide in horror as realisation dawned on him. “No! This can’t be happening! My plan...” He fell to his knees on the sidewalk, his upset tone echoing throughout the almost deserted street. He was in turmoil. He had been the one to orchestrate this whole thing - 100 copies of the same Mariah Carey song on a playlist, even with the concept of a playlist, he was sure you would hate it. However, what he didn’t account for... was that the two of you had feelings for each other. His heart twinged enviously at the possibility of Chan sharing all the pick-up lines customers (cough cough stays) had used on him throughout his day on you instead of Felix. He had to do something about this. This wasn’t the end for platonic Chanlix. He’d get his pick-up lines back.

➳ part two?  |  masterlist!

[capcarolsdanver]

Why Her? (Part 3)

Summary: This fic is based off a request from an anon after some speculations that have been made on my blog. Brie enlists the help of the reader to get a date with a girl that reader knows from class, only for unexpected feelings to be caught. Drama/angst/fluff to come! Pairing: Brie x Reader

A/N: Part 3 is here! Apologies for the slight delay! The next and final part should be out soon! As usual, any feedback is much appreciated, so I look forward to hearing what you think! Enjoy!

Please do not repost my writing anywhere without my permission.

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 4

“Wait, you’ve never seen Star Wars?!”

Brie has to literally shout for you to hear her over the loud thumping of the music that fills the room around you, though her apparent outrage at your new admission is evident. You shake your head and laugh as she continues to look at you incredulously.

“None of them?”

You take a brief glance around to see if anyone else is paying attention to the outburst you’re being subjected to, though none of your fellow partygoers seem to pay you or Brie any mind.

“Nope,” you confirm again. Brie stares at you in disbelief for a few more seconds, almost as if she is personally offended by your revelation. In fact, the longer she stares at you, the more you’re convinced that she does feel personally offended.

“Well, we’re gonna have to fix that, then,” she says with such determination that you’re actually a little worried what she would do if you tried to disagree with her.

Since you had first introduced Brie to Sarah about two weeks ago, you both have attended another two parties together, this being the second. During those two weeks, you and Brie have grown a lot closer, texting each other constantly and even hanging out every couple of days. Of course, you’re still helping her with Sarah, and you have to remind yourself of that every now and again.

It’s hard for you to admit to yourself that Brie is probably the person you are the closest to now when you are highly aware that the reason for that is because you’re trying to help her get another girl. Who knows how Brie views your relationship, and who knows what will happen between the two of you when she does inevitably get that date with Sarah.

You’re pulled from the rabbit hole your thoughts had managed to take you down when Sarah herself suddenly appears in front of you and Brie.

“Oh my god, I’m running into you guys again?!” She exclaims instead of a more formal greeting, a large grin on her face.

“Small world,” you reply, and return the warm hug that Sarah envelops you in, a greeting that you’ve grown used to from Sarah. You watch her then turn to Brie and crush her in a hug too. You would laugh at the sudden shock and panic evident on Brie’s face if it weren’t for the uncomfortable feeling that hits your entire body at that very moment.

Brie is late to wrap her own arms around Sarah, who seems entirely unfazed by Brie’s awkwardness as she steps back again to regard you both. You notice that her skin is flushed, the expression on her face perhaps a little too laidback, and she takes a large sip from the cup that you only now realise she’s holding.

Sarah is drunk. Very drunk, if the slight sway of her body despite her standing in one spot is any indication.

She surveys the space around her, her body dramatically twisting around with the movement, and she looks back at you and Brie with excitement in her eyes.

“Let’s dance!” She proclaims eagerly. You and Brie share a quick look while Sarah downs the rest of her drink and unceremoniously drops her plastic cup to the ground. She grabs you both and drags you towards the overcrowded group of people who appear to be attempting to move in sync to the beat. Although, it looks like most are too drunk, or just simply have no sense of rhythm whatsoever.

Sarah doesn’t give you a chance to protest before she joins the flock of people and starts moving her body to the music. You hazard a glance at Brie, who still looks shell-shocked at the sudden turn of events. You also can’t help but notice the distinct direction of Brie’s gaze, her eyes obviously landing on Sarah’s ass as she dances in front of you, seemingly in her own world. That same uncomfortable feeling washes over you again and you frown at whatever reaction your body seems to be having without your permission.

You purposefully advert your gaze from the scene unfolding in front of you. Suddenly feeling like a major third wheel, you decide that maybe it’s a good time to leave Sarah and Brie on their own. You can’t be a buffer between them forever after all.

Without another glance at either of the two girls, you turn away from them and begin pushing through the thick crowd of people towards a more open space. You noticed earlier that the house has a wrap-around porch. Maybe you can go there for some fresh air now.

On your way, your arm catches on something, or more accurately, someone. You’re pulled to a stop a you let out a deep sigh, getting ready to ward off any unwanted to advances from some drunk frat boy that you expect to find attached to you.

You turn around in a flash, your deep scowl quickly fading from your face when you realise that it’s Brie who has a hold of your arm. You freeze, watching her. Her eyes move over you, her features laced with concern and she tightens her grip on you, leaning her body towards you. She stops once her face is practically right next to your ear so you can hear her.

“Are you okay?” She asks. Despite having to somewhat raise her voice still, her tone is surprisingly gentle. You realise you aren’t actually sure how to answer her question. It’s obvious you’re going through some kind of emotional reaction, though you aren’t quite sure what to make of it just yet.

Brie waits a long beat, and when you don’t answer she leans back so she can look at you again. She observes you for another few moments before she seems to make up her mind about something, her hand dropping from your forearm to your hand.

“Come on,” she says and tugs you to walk with her towards the porch you originally were headed towards.

She pushes the sliding door open and shuts it again when you have both made it outside and you’re surprised by how much the door drowns out the sound of the ridiculously loud music. Suddenly in a much more open, quiet space, you feel like you can actually breathe again.

“What’s wrong?” She asks. She’s still watching you carefully, and you begin to wonder just how fragile you must look given her reaction. Damn your stupid emotions. “Did something happen?”

“No,” you breathe out, shaking your head, willing this rogue feeling inside of you to go away. “I’m fine.” You lock eyes with her in an attempt to convince her. Judging from the expression on her face, you don’t do a great job of that.

It’s silent for another minute when something suddenly crosses your mind. “Wait, why did you come after me? You had Sarah dancing basically on top of you.” This time it’s her turn to drop eye contact and she shrugs lightly.

“I was worried about you.” You’re taken aback by how sincerely she speaks. “I mean, you just up and left.”

In truth, you hadn’t even expected her to notice your absence after you saw the way she was watching Sarah. The fact that she immediately realised you’d left and then followed you to make sure you were okay is actually remarkable to you, considering the circumstances.

“Well I’m okay,” you assure her, squeezing the hand that’s still clasped in your own before letting go and dropping your own hand back to your side. “You wanna go find her again?” You nod behind you towards the door and Brie’s eyes follow, glancing passed your shoulder.

She considers it for a second before shaking her head. “No, it’s okay.” You blink at her, not expecting that. She notices your surprise and jumps back in to explain herself further. “It’s getting pretty late now so I think it’s a good time to go. Besides, she’s drunk. She probably still hasn’t realised we’ve left her on the dance floor yet.”

You laugh at that, figuring that she could actually be right. Sarah did seem pretty out of it. You doubt she’ll remember much of tonight.

You agree with Brie, eager to leave the party as well. Brie walks with you back to your dorm, which is thankfully only a short walk, before you bid her farewell and watch her walk in the direction of her own apartment.

————————

The following Friday, you’re trying to force your brain to pay attention in your morning class when you phone vibrates on your desk, easily pulling your attention away from your professor.

You see a new text from Brie waiting for you.

“Are you free tonight?”

You sigh, expecting yet another invite to a party to help Brie out with Sarah. You personally haven’t heard anything about any parties she’d be attending that night, but maybe Brie had.

“I don’t have any grand plans if that’s what you’re asking”

You don’t even bother to put your phone back down. You’ve learnt by now that Brie is a quick replier.

“Okay great!! Movie night??”

You stare down at your phone for far too long. It definitely had not been the text you were expecting from her. You of course consider Brie at least a close friend at this point, but you weren’t sure Brie considered anything similar about you.

“Where?”

“How about my apartment?”

Again, you’re slightly surprised. Over the admittedly short few weeks of friendship you and Brie share together, Brie had only seen your dorm room once when you had to run back up there after forgetting something before one of the parties you’d gone to. You still haven’t even seen the building that Brie lives in.

You consider your answer for a moment. It briefly occurs to you that this might just end up being another planning session, but the prospect of spending more time with Brie has you agreeing before you really even give yourself time to think too much about it.

“Sure”

————————

You stare at the apartment door, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. Though, it seems to be a more and more common feeling the longer whatever you have with Brie goes on. You step forward to knock on the door and then step back, surveying the hallway while you wait.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary, and you find yourself feeling glad that Brie is living in what seems to be a clean, safe apartment building. You had admittedly been worried when you first arrived, as the building itself doesn’t seem to have any lock or security feature to stop strangers from waltzing into the building whenever they please. Those fears seem to dissipate slightly, though, when you see no reason to worry by the state of the interior of the building thus far.

An older woman steps out of her own apartment a few doors over and notices you, offering you a smile before heading in the opposite direction down the hall. The people here seem nice, too.

The door in front of you swings open and Brie is greeting you with a wide smile.

“Hey!” She pulls you into a hug. You’re not quite expecting it but you happily return the hug. “Come in,” she says and steps back to give you room to walk through the doorway and into her apartment.

It’s not the greatest apartment you’ve ever seen, but it’s a major improvement over the tiny shoebox you call a dorm room. The apartment is mostly one big open space, the kitchen to the left of the entrance and the living area to the right. It looks like there’s a small hallway straight ahead that must lead to the bedroom and bathroom.

“It’s not much,” she says, watching you take in the new space around you.

“I love it!” You reply, shooting a reassuring smile her way before you continue scanning the apartment. You can see that her living room area to the far right is perfectly set up for movie-watching, with a ridiculously comfortable looking couch, a couple of bean bags and some plush throw blankets neatly folded over the back of the couch.

She also has a couple of gaming consoles and their respective games all stacked neatly within the TV cabinet underneath her large television. You smile at the insane amount of Nintendo games you see.

What an absolute dork you’ve managed to make friends with.

“Did you bring popcorn?” She excitedly asks, noticing the bag of microwave popcorn in your hand that you’d bought on your way to her place. She grabs it from you and looks at the bag to confirm what it is.

“Of course,” you nod. “What would a movie night be without popcorn?”

“I like the way you think,” she laughs, dropping the bag on the kitchen counter. “I’ve ordered some pizza too, so once that gets here we can officially start the night!”

You silently thank whatever higher power is out there when you realise that Brie appears to be planning on taking the night off of the whole Sarah thing too.

She walks over to the couch and drops down onto it and you join her, sitting towards the other side of the couch. You’re unsure of the appropriate distance you should sit from her so decide on a relatively safe distance. Not too far but not too close. The couch is just as comfortable as it looks and you practically melt into it.

“So what are we watching?” You ask and Brie hits you with an expectant look, as if you should know the answer already.

“Star Wars, obviously. Duh,” she says matter-of-factly. “I told you I’d make you watch them.” You snort at her how serious she turns at the mention of Star Wars, and raise your hands defensively in front of you.

“Okay, okay. Star Wars it is. I’m too scared to try to make you put something else on.”

Her serious look suddenly brightens and she smirks at you. “That’s what I thought,” she says in a playfully menacing kind of way and you chuckle at her.

Yep, an absolute dork.

There’s a knock on at the door that grabs your attention and Brie jumps up to her feet again.

“Must be the pizza! Gimme one sec.”

Brie hurries off to the door and answers it, chatting politely to the delivery guy on the other side of the door, and a moment later she closes the door again and walks back over to the couch, looking all kinds of pleased with herself over the pizza in her hands.

She throws open the pizza box and eagerly grabs a slice, taking a bite. You grab your own slice as well, just as eager as Brie. While she continues munching on her pizza, she grabs her TV remote and gets the movie ready.

“Are you ready for the most incredible cinematic experience of your life?”

You roll your eyes at her playfully and hold back a laugh at the intense look on her face. “Just play the damn thing, would you?” You say, which does earn you a glare from Brie, but she decides not to retaliate in favour of playing the movie. She puts on A New Hope.

To your surprise, you actually do enjoy the film. Although, you do have to ask a lot of questions throughout the entire thing to understand everything that’s going on. To Brie’s credit, though, she doesn’t seem at all annoyed by your non-stop questions. She seems more happy that you’re actually trying to pay attention and understand it than anything.

“So?! What did you think?” Brie asks when the credits start rolling, turning to you and expectantly awaiting your response.

“I liked it,” you confirm, smiling when Brie grins at you. “But where was the little green guy? Isn’t he, like, one of the main characters?”

Brie’s grin drops so quickly that you almost flinch. “The little green guy?!” She exclaims. “You mean Yoda?”

“Yeah, him!” You light up with recognition of his name. Brie looks completely dumbfounded.

“I can’t believe you forgot Yoda’s name. Everyone knows who Yoda is.” She shakes her head at you, truly looking speechless. “Luckily for you, he’s in Empire Strikes Back.” You blink at her, a completely blank look on your face, and she narrows her eyes at you. “It’s the next movie in the series,” she explains.

You nod your head in understanding, quietly enjoying how frustrated she seems to be getting by your complete lack of knowledge of all things Star Wars.

“Let me go get some popcorn ready and then we’ll put it on,” she says and stands from the couch again. “Do you want anything else?”

“No thanks, I’m good,” you smile and watch her head to the kitchen.

Your attention is pulled away when you hear your phone vibrate on the couch beside you. You pick it up and check your new notification, frowning at the screen.

It’s an invite to some last minute party one of your peers has decided to throw tonight. You do get these kinds of invites a lot, and you know practically the entire student body usually gets sent the same invite, so you quickly click on the link to take you to the event page for the party.

You click on the list of people who have confirmed their attendance and you feel your frown deepen when you see Sarah on that list.

Brie returns to the couch where you’re still staring at your phone and notices the frown on your face before she even sits back down.

“Is everything okay?” She asks.

“Hm?” You look up at her, snapping yourself back into reality. “Oh. Yeah.” You sigh before aiming the phone screen in her general direction. “Turns out someone’s throwing a party tonight.” You try to add some kind of lilt to your voice but you know it falls flat.

“Oh,” Brie says, barely paying any mind to your phone screen before flopping back down onto the couch, closer to you now than she was before. She looks remarkably unbothered by the event page open on your phone.

“Looks like Sarah is gonna be there,” you say, studying her face. All she does is nod vaguely at your words, and then she’s picking up her TV remote again like she doesn’t even register what you’ve said.

“Okay, are you ready for Episode V?” You blink at her for a moment, watching for any kind of rogue emotion on her face, but seeing no signs of any.

“You don’t want to go to the party?”

“Not really,” she shrugs with one shoulder. “I’d honestly rather we just stay here tonight.” Her eyes flick over to you, showing the first signs of emotion you’ve seen since you brought up the party. “Did you want to go?”

“No,” you easily answer, and you mentally scold yourself for answering so quickly, but your answer seems to please Brie. You notice the hint of a smile at the corner of her lips and she looks back at the TV.

“Good,” she mutters. She presses play on the movie and leans back into the couch, offering the bowl of popcorn out to you. You grab some and find yourself leaning back and making yourself more comfortable, too.

You let yourself forget about the party, at least for now. If Brie would really rather stay here watching movies with you instead of dragging you along to yet another party so you can help her talk to another girl, then by all means you’re thrilled to go along with it.

You still have more questions to ask throughout the movie so you can follow along, but you do at times find yourself a little distracted by the gap between yours and Brie’s bodies that seems to be growing smaller and smaller as the movie goes on.

By the time you’re halfway through watching Return of the Jedi, your thigh is pressed against Brie’s and her head is resting on your shoulder, tucked slightly into your neck. You realise she’s asleep somewhere towards the end of the movie, and it’s not long after that you find yourself drifting to sleep too.

————————

You wake up the next morning to sunlight filtering in through the windows, pleasantly warming your skin as it reaches you. You let out a content sigh, stretching your arms out and snuggling further into the throw blanket that’s been draped over you.

Your eyes suddenly open the second you remember where you are. You’re alone on the couch now, lying down, no longer in the seated position you remember being in last night. You sit up, glancing around Brie’s apartment from your spot on the couch.

Everything seems very still, and you wait for any signs of someone else in the apartment, only to be met with complete silence. You stand up from the couch, dropping the blanket back down and take careful steps through the apartment, almost too scared to disrupt the quiet of the morning.

You don’t exactly feel comfortable making yourself at home by walking through Brie’s apartment wherever you like, but you do glance down the hallway, looking through the open bedroom door to find no signs of Brie.

You make your way back to the kitchen counter, hoping for some kind of clue as to where Brie could have gone to. Luckily, you find it; a piece of paper with a handwritten letter that you assume is meant for you.

“Morning Sleepy Head,

Was in need of some coffee so I’m heading to the diner down the street. Come meet me there once you’re awake. I’ll order us some pancakes!

xx Brie”

You assume she’s referring to the diner you and her had previously met up at to discuss the Sarah plan. Now that you think about it, you do realise that the diner is incredibly close to Brie’s apartment. That certainly explains why she likes to go there so frequently.

You smile to yourself as you read over the letter again. Your feelings towards Brie had grown confusing, but they were starting to become more and more clearer. So you can’t help but wonder if the fact that Brie wants to spend even more time with you means anything significant or if you’re just reading into things.

You move quickly, trying to make yourself at least somewhat presentable given that you’re still in the clothes you showed up in last night, and leave Brie’s apartment to head to the diner.

It’s only a short walk, and you don’t even allow yourself to overthink anything before you walk into the diner and start scanning for Brie. You spot her standing near the same table in the far corner that she was at the last time you were here. Only, you abruptly realise, she isn’t alone.

Standing opposite her is Sarah. The two of them are chatting animatedly, laughing among themselves. At one point Sarah reaches out and touches Brie’s forearm mid-laugh, and you can do nothing but watch their interaction from a distance.

The smile that you don’t even realise is on your face drops and you only watch them for another couple of seconds, but that short time makes you second-guess everything. Your heart sinks in such an indescribable way that you almost start worrying that you can’t breathe for a moment.

Without even thinking about it, you’re already turning to leave, just at the same moment that Brie looks your way and notices you. She goes to wave at you but instead her brows furrow as she watches you turn and hurry towards the door you had only just entered through.

In the back of your mind you register her shouting your name, but there’s only one thought that demands every ounce of your attention, repeating itself over and over again.

Why her?

[imagine-that]

Snowball

Warnings: absolutely none, just a super cute, fluffy, wintery fic

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

AN: this is for @potterverseimagine ‘s 300 writing challenge, I used prompt #11 “You look freezing. Let me warm you up.” This is honestly one of my favourite ones I’ve written so far so I hope you guys like it too. Also, Fred is one of the main loves of my life right now so I kind of write a lot of him (yes all of them are fictional.)

As class is finally dismissed, you run through the halls, quickly making your way outside to the courtyard where your boyfriend had asked you to meet him.

Then again, when you really thought about it, he hadn’t so much asked as he’d told. From what you remembered, which was most of it, it was more like he’d said “You, me, the courtyard after class.” And winked in an overdramatic manner, his typical move.

Obviously you’d agreed, your curiosity getting the better of you.

As you spot his red locks of hair, you quietly tiptoe through the snow behind him, putting a finger to your smiling lips as one of his brothers notices you. You excitedly put your hands over his eyes, suppressing your giggles as his brother watches in amusement.

“Guess who.” You sing song, masking your voice awfully.

“Hm I wonder who it could possibly be?” He says sarcastically, a grin on his face. “Could it be y/n?” He asks thoughtfully, making you giggle.

“Afternoon Freddy.” You greet, confirming his suspicions as you peck him on the cheek and he removes your hands and turns around, grinning proudly at you.

The snow is falling in big, fluffy flakes all around the three of you in a beautiful manner but you’re too focused on the look across your scheming boyfriends face.

“I know that look... What’re you up to?” You ask with an eyebrow raised, arms crossed over your chest.

He looks over to George for permission to share, though you know he most likely would’ve told you anyways and his brother nods towards you, telling him to continue.

“What would you say if I told you we were going to start the biggest bloody fight Hogwarts has ever seen?” He asks with a mischievous grin, his brother showcasing a matching one.

“I’d say that you’re crazy and need to reconsider your choices.” You respond with a sigh.

They look between each other, both glancing back at you with a shrug and an apologetic smile.

“Merlin... why do I spend so much time with you two gits?” You ask, shaking your head with a smile tugging at your lips.

“Because you love me? And tolerate him of course.” George says, coming over and slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“Ah yes, how could I forget.” You respond sarcastically, laughing and rolling your eyes at his joke.

Fred scoffs in amusement. “As if. We all know I’m the better looking one.” He says, pulling you away from his brother and back into his arms.

You chuckle to yourself, squeezing him in a hug tightly.

“True, true. Now, please explain what exactly you two did?” You ask, almost scared to know what the answer to that question may entail.

“Well...” Fred says, grinning the way he did whenever they were up to something.

Before he can say anything more, students come flying through the doors to the grounds, some on brooms and some on foot, a bit of every house included. They’re all wearing their winter coats and gloves and hats and scarves, clearly prepared to spend time outdoors.

You stare at the students flooding through the doors, completely confused. You obviously knew that the majority of them were meant to be in a lesson, the twins and yourself included. The only reason you’d opted to come and meet him rather than get to class early was because you didn’t take much of a liking to potions.

“For Godric’s sake what did you two do?” You demand, pointing an accusatory finger at the boys.

“Something wicked of course!” Fred smirks, looking around at the chaos.

“Something bloody brilliant!” George adds.

Soon enough, you can hear Filch running anxiously down the hall, if you can call what he does running.

“Students out of class! Students out of class!” He cries to any staff member who will listen.

“We’re well aware you idiotic ninny!” Professor McGonagall exclaims, rolling her eyes as he stops to catch his breath, looking disappointed by the lack of action being taken.

“What’s happeni-.” You start but you’re quickly stopped as a ball of white goes flying past you, smacking Cormac McLagen directly in the face.

His face contorts in shock, clearly having not expected it.

A second later, another few whip through the air, one hitting a younger Slytherin boy and one hitting Cho Chang on the shoulder.

Everyone starts frantically forming balls out of the snow, tossing them at their friends and foes. The air fills with laughter as students get hit and dodge.

“Now I see what you mean by fight!” You shout at Fred, smiling from ear to ear as you throw one of your own at Fred. To your dismay, he easily dodges it and the ball instead hits George.

He gives you a look that makes you instantly regret the toss.

“Oh no....” You squeak, running over to Fred and hiding behind him, holding on to his arms to keep him there. “Protect me Freddy!” You order, squealing as you start getting pelted with them at least three or four at a time.

“Oi! I thought we said no wand tricks!” Fred says to his brother with an eyebrow raised teasingly.

George merely shrugs in response, continuing his previous tactic.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you love!” Fred declares, staying his ground in front of you.

Still, George manages to hit you with every last one he sends your way, your hair practically white from all the snow falling into it.

You adjust your hat, pulling it even further onto your head to cover your already rosey ears.

“Harry! We draw the line at the cloak, no one else has one it wouldn’t be fair!” George shouts as one flies at him out of nowhere. Thankfully, no one else around seems to hear him but you laugh to yourself as Harry appears out of midair with a defeated look across his face.

You all spend the afternoon pelting the snowballs at each other, some using their wands to do it in multiples, some flying around in the air on their broomsticks and dropping the snow on unexpecting students on the ground but no matter how everybody is doing it, you’re all having fun. You could swear you’d even seen Professor McGonagall throw a snowball or two, though you knew she’d never admit it if asked.

Even Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy seem to be enjoying themselves, even if they were mostly attacking the first years. Seeing as it was only snow, no one seemed to care.

The one time anyone almost gets in trouble is when the twins throw a snowball each at Filch, in nearly perfect sync with each other, both of them landing on their target. He grumbles on and on about detention or expulsion but professor Dumbledore winks at them, waving them back over to the fun.

Some students grow bored of the snowball fight but no one heads in, finding other ways to enjoy the beautiful winter day. You catch glimpses of snow angels, watch the younger students use anything and everything the can find to go tobogganing with, shooting down the hill at high speeds and several others figure out fun games for everyone to enjoy.

As the sun begins to set and the sky grows darker, more and more students make their way inside, all either tired of the snowball war or too cold and hungry to continue. Only when professor Snape is hit across the face by one thrown by one of the Gryffindor quidditch team members on their broom are students ordered back into the castle, of course by the potions teacher himself.

But that isn’t before Oliver Wood, fly’s overhead, dropping an oversized ball of snow directly over you. You shriek as the rush of cold hits your body, soaking you even more than every other one combined.

“Wood!” You cry, glaring up at him.

He shrugs with a playful smile. “It was requested.” He says simply, waving and flying off before he has to face your wrath.

“Let me take one guess who requested that...” You say as you turn to face Fred, the two of you happening to be two of the only ones left outside apart from the odd Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw passing by to get to their dinner.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He says innocently, coming closer to you and playfully tugging your hat down over your eyes.

You scoff, leaning into his chest and wrapping your arms around him, using one hand to push the brim of the hat back up.

“Mm you smell good.” You murmur into his jacket.

He chuckles, gently pulling you off of him.

“Let’s go back inside you nut.” He says, holding your hand in his contently.

As others file into the great hall, famished from the afternoon of fun, you and Fred push your way through the crowd and he gently pulls you along behind him as he says the Gryffindor password, only having to repeat it a few times as the lady insists on singing even louder. Finally she gives up and lets you two inside.

“You and your brother sure know how to make a scene.” You tease, grinning over at Fred as he smirks.

“Yes, yes we do. And we have bloody good fun doing it.” He responds.

You laugh. “And how did you come up with this particular idea, might I ask?” You question, head tilted to the side as you wait for an answer.

“Figured everyone could use a way to enjoy themselves before their O.W.L.S and their N.E.W.T.S. Or at the very least, make a few people laugh when we get the chance to hit professor snape or filch in the face with a snowball of course.” He explains.

“I don’t think I even want to know how you managed to pull it off either.” You say with a grimace.

“We partially got Dumbledore’s permission! That should count, even if it is only partially.” He counters, letting go of your hand and walking over to the boys dormitory entrance.

“Wha- hey! Where are you going?” You ask, your brows furrowed and your lip jutted out in a dramatic pout.

“Y/n, I don’t know if you realize but I’d rather not eat in soaking wet robes.” He laughs, smiling at your slight neediness.

“But Fred!” You whine, giving him a look you hope is just adorable enough to work, your y/e/c eyes twinkling hopefully.

He chuckles, giving you a sympathetic look. “I’ll be back in just a moment darling.” He promises. Before you can protest even a little bit, he’s walked away to his dorm, leaving you with your mouth wide open in shock.

You sink into the couch, waiting for him to return. A moment later, he hops into the spot next to you, coming to wrap his arms around you but immediately pulling away as he notices your overly rosey cheeks and your chattering teeth, your figure shivering heavily.

“Merlin y/n, You look freezing. Let me warm you up.” He exclaims, using a simple fire charm and starting a roaring fire in the fireplace in front of you, the lights dancing around in the darkened room.

You try to argue but he ignores you, pulling off his sweater and forcing it over your head.

He stares at you admiringly for a moment, making you smile like an idiot.

“What?” You ask through giggles.

“Nothing just that I think I might need a new sweater because that one is clearly better on you.” He compliments and your lips curl upwards, his words making you feel warmer already.

He runs back into his dorm before you have the chance to actually tell him so though, and comes back with his entire comforter trailing across the floor behind him.

He goes behind you, draping the blanket over your shoulders and wrapping you up in it in a hug from behind.

When he finally sits back down, he wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you over to him and onto his lap, blanket and all

“There. You don’t look nearly as blue as you did. Only a hint of the colour that I can see.” He says, grinning as you give him a pointed look, still shaking from the cold. “Might just help if you changed out of these sopping wet clothes love.” He adds, knitting his fingers in and out of your own.

“Oh fine.” You grumble, standing up and trudging off to your own dorm, quickly peeling off your clothes from earlier and changing into a fresh set of robes, pulling Fred’s sweater back over your body once you’re finished.

You eagerly head back, jumping into his arms and snuggling up to him in his lap.

“You were gone for a moment!” He states with a laugh.

“Yes but it was a moment too long.” You murmur into his chest.

“Ah yes well, I suppose a moment away from me must feel like an eternity.” He responds and you gently jab his shoulder with a roll of your eyes.

“Yeah yeah. I love you you idiot.” You giggle, moving your head up and placing your lips on his, kissing him deeply.

“I love you too darling. Really missed me that much though eh?” He teases with a grin and you laugh again.

“Always.” You whisper, resting your head back down on his shoulder. He pulls the blanket over both of you, pulling you even closer to him, your body pressed up against his chest.

“I suppose this is one good way to warm up.” He jokes in a hushed tone, the feeling of his breath tickling your ear.

“It’s the perfect way to warm up.” You correct softly, nuzzling your head up to him even closer and shutting your eyes.

Even though neither of you had eaten anything since lunch, you both drift off blissfully in each other’s arms, staying warm and cozy by the firelight of Gryffindor tower with wide and content grins practically etched on your faces.

[prettybirdy979]

Prompt. Crowley shows up at the bookshop and tries to get Azi to clap him on the back to help loosen all the lung-gunk from the chest cold. It would probably have helped if Crowley had actually mentioned either of those two things though. As opposed to what actually happened. 1/2

What actually happened was that Crowley just showed up and tried to get Angel to hit said demon on the back with as much preamble as “DUCKS!” Naturally, Azi responds with the level of dramatics and offence-taking one would expect from him given this situation. 2/2

Sure... This is a bit longer than my usual prompt so please keep it to one ask next time. Feel free to send me any prompts. More of my fics here

Crowley dashing into the bookshop is not completely unusual. In fact, since the world didn’t end, it’s become something of a regular occurance, especially once they both realised how much a man running in yelling drives customers away - Crowley enjoys yelling, Aziraphale enjoys not having customers. So the haste and volume of his entry isn’t unusual.

What is is what he’s saying.

‘Hit me!’ Crowley cries as he bounds into the thankfully empty shop. ‘Angel I need you to hit me.’

‘I most certainly will not!’ Aziraphale huffs, feeling his feather raising on another plane. 

Crowley pouts at him. Actually pouts! ‘I need you to! Just a thump on the back, one or two quick strikes.’

‘I will not.’ Aziraphale grabs the book he was reading, walks to the shop door to lock it and close up - since this is looking to be a thing that might take a while to resolve - and moves to his favourite chair. He settles in for a long time of ignoring Crowley until he gets some sense into him.

Unfortunately Crowley is not so easily ignored. ‘Come on angel, it’ll help.’

‘How on Earth will me striking you help anyone?’

Crowley rolls his eyes. ‘Humans do it all the time! Fixes it up nicely.’

‘Then go ask a human to strike you!’ Aziraphale snaps. ‘If you’re so desperate to hurt yourself.’

A frown from Crowley. ‘Wait, why would it hurt?’

‘Because it’s being hit?’ Aziraphale frowns and puts down his book. ‘Did you want me to gently strike you then?’

‘Yes!’

Well that’s slightly more sensible but really. ‘Why?’

Crowley collaspes into his usual chair with a wheezy huff. ‘Humans say it helps get the gunk out of your lungs. You know, when you’ve got colds and such.’

Aziraphale frowns. ‘Is that a modern thing? I can’t recall it ever being in my books. Not that I have too many on modern medicine...’ 

He trails off as something occurs to him. ‘Crowley, this is for humans with colds.’

‘Yes?’

‘Do you have a cold?’

‘Yes!’ Crowley huffs and oh yes, he does sound a little off. 

But... ‘Why didn’ you just miracle it away?’

Crowley stares at him, mouth opening and closing with no sounds coming out. Then something like awareness creeps into his eyes at the same time a blush creeps across his cheeks. 

Ah. He forgot.

Aziraphale snaps and Crowley’s cold vanishes, defeated by an angelic miracle. ‘There you go dear,’ he says, moving over to sit beside Crowley so he can - gently - pat him on the back. ‘No strikes needed.’

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Can we get angsty fic of Yvette and Vuz-ass make a deal for curse removal? Yvette isn’t aware of the catch. Vuz took MC’s humanity away at the same time as Yvette’s curse removal. Mc joins Vuz and make deal with demons for powers.

Written by @an-awkward-ghost

“It is always a pleasure to see you, my child.” The greeting was raspy, amusement coating it like honey. Vuzgamad never felt truly threatened by Yvette, no matter what she did or what she said. It was all a game to her, like an owner who didn’t expect their dog to bite them, and only watched fondly as it growled and whimpered and barked.

But Yvette did know how to bite, and she would draw blood when she did. It was only a matter of time.

“You said you wanted to make a deal.”

Years of experiences had taught Yvette everything she needed to know about deals. It was similar to a battlefield, where each party needed to plan their movements and proposals to the full extent. They couldn’t allow their opponent to have an unfair advantage. Quite ironically, however, they were willing to go to any lengths to cheat the other party to gain said unfair advantage – so long as they weren’t caught, anyway. Yvette wasn’t planning on letting anything slip past her, because there was no doubt Vuzgamad wanted to cheat her.

The day the demon did one thing even the slightest bit truthfully, would be the day hell froze over.

“Straight to the point,” She hummed, making a small tsk sound right afterwards. “That impatience will do you no good, girl. Don’t you want to chat a little?”

Yvette gave her a fulminating glare, blue eyes glinting dangerously. “If it doesn’t regard whatever deal it is that you want to make, I have nothing to say to you.”

“So ferocious. So brash. Well, it is to be expected, I suppose…” Vuzgamad finally, finally turned to look at her, a small smirk playing at the edge of her lips. She got the gesture and movement right; if Yvette hadn’t known she was a demon, if she hadn’t been able to see marks and the hollow eyes, she would have thought it was just another human, if a little awkward.

Vuzgamad had learnt too much about human behavior recently. It set Yvette on edge.

“Simply put, your curse has reached its peak. It’s about time to remove it.”

“…Excuse me?”

She must have heard the demon wrong. She fought to keep her breathing steady, to avoid giving Vuzgamad the reaction she wanted, but she could feel excitement bubbling inside her all the same. She schooled her expression – no, no, she couldn’t dare to hope. She couldn’t dare to believe her, not when she had been the one to curse her in the first place.

She couldn’t let her emotions override her logic. She needed to keep her yearning in check. She needed to. She needed to. The disappointment would crush her otherwise.

For a second, Vuzgamad’s eyes flickered from her expression to her hands, scanning for the slightest twitch. Her smirk stretched.

Then the demon feigned disinterest, turning to whatever she was writing. Yvette felt eerily like a child that had stumbled into their parent’s office and interrupted their work. The sensation made her shudder with disgust.

This demon was not her mother. She would never be, because Yvette had left her real mother – and any chance she had at a normal life – behind when she had decided to run away from home.

“The power your curse provides can be harvested, so that’s what I will do. Take it away.”

Her heart leaped. Yvette worried for a second that Vuzgamad could hear it. She cleared her throat, trying to crush her rising hope. Focus. She had to focus. “There must be a catch of some sort.”

“Isn’t there always, dear?” Then, silence. She was enjoying this – perhaps she wanted to see Yvette fidget? She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. She wouldn’t – couldn’t – play right into her hands.

“I do not trust you, Vuzgamad. I will not accept your deal.” She intended to say this with conviction, but her voice wavered. Vuzgamad huffed, rolling her eyes.

“I have not finished speaking, child.”

“Could have fooled me…”

“Oh please, it was a dramatic pause. You know all about those, don’t you?”

“You were doing an excellent job at getting straight to the point.”

“Ah, so you are the only one who can have a dramatic flair?”

Yvette’s scowl deepened. “Stop. Wasting. My. Time.”

“So brash! Where did your manners go, child?” Another tsk sound. Vuzgamad turned the paper over so she could continue writing. “Yes, yes, there is a catch. The energy I harvest from you – your curse with it – will be used to bring about the end of the world. You must have known that already.”

“I hardly doubt you could destroy the world with-”

“Do you honestly think I’d have wasted years for a plan I wasn’t quite sure would work?”

Yvette bristled. With a quick movement of her hand, her cane snapped into existence. She twirled it artfully, a warning. “I do not accept.”

“Really.” The demon’s voice drips with sarcasm. “Do keep in mind there is no other way for you to get rid of that curse, save for that girl’s ability to love. We both know you won’t choose that option,” another brief, amused look, “or you could kill me, but I hardly doubt you’ll have much luck this time.”

There it was, that overwhelming desire. To be free. To be normal. To have the one thing she’d wanted almost all of her life. And it was locked behind a word and a sense of duty to her Assassin Title. If Yvette accepted, then…

Then… what?

Vuzgamad was sure her plan would work. Yvette knew it would fail.

Whatever it was that Vuzgamad believed, her curse didn’t feel powerful enough for the feat she was suggesting. Yvette was quite used to keeping the energy in check, after all. She would know better than anyone if her curse was truly at its peak.

Now this was the perfect opportunity to cheat her opponent. Yvette put on an act, refusing at first, to keep Vuzgamad from realizing what she was trying to do, before she finally agreed.

She could shoot two birds with one stone.

…

“Sounds like quite the big catch, though. Are you sure about this, Yvette?”

“I’m aware of the danger. Vuzgamad doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Vinca gives her a sidelong glance, wary. “Is it tonight?”

“It is.”

“And I probably won’t be able to talk you out of this.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Does the pipsqueak have a better chance?”

The corners of Yvette’s lips quirk upwards at the mention. “Not any better that yours.”

Vinca moves to touch her gloved hand again, giving the interaction with Vuzgamad a few days ago another look. “I guess it’s worth a try. If she does anything, we can just gut her.”

“Assuming we’ll manage this time,” Lazareth mumbles, looking just as uneasy as Vinca is. Yvette ignores them both, fiddling with her phone to get in contact with MC. She can’t wait to share the news.

…

“You brought company,” Vuzgamad notes, drily.

“What is it that you always tell me…? The more the merrier, was it?”

Vuzgamad laughs. It’s an awful sound, like a claw scrapping metal, inhumane and atrocious. Yvette winces. Vinca glares daggers at the demon, hands twitching towards the tiny knives on her dress, though she grits her teeth and makes no other movement. Lazareth casts the room a quizzical look, obviously on the hunt for a hint regarding whatever ritual Vuzgamad was going to use.

MC stood beside them, the very definition of calm. Yvette smiled to herself, knowing MC had taken her lessons about how to school her expression to heart. Having everyone by her side meant the world to her, emboldening her, giving her the strength she needs to face Vuzgamad and emerge victorious.

The thing is… nothing went as planned.

The curse removal was less painful than she expected it to be. Energy swirled out of her and into a device Vuzgamad had prepared, a small gray stone which quickly turned into a bright, pulsing orange. It was an odd sensation, not having to subconsciously keep the curse in check. Yvette felt almost hollow, but she quickly shrugged the feeling away.

She felt cold. For the first time in ages, she felt cold.

The chill of the wind bit into her skin like tiny knives laced with a numbing substance. Vinca moved to her side, watching her worriedly, her hand hovering over Yvette’s elbow and sending a shock of warmth through her system.

The curse had been blindingly hot, never warm. Yvette half-expected it to be scalding, but this warmth was soothing. Yvette found herself unconsciously leaning into it.

Smiling, Yvette looked up to meet MC’s eyes. And her whole world shattered when she saw none of the loving support MC had always given her, just stony indifference.

MC then walked towards Vuzgamad, who gave her the stone without a word.

Lazareth bristled at the sight. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

They glare at each other, the tension skyrocketing by the second. Yvette blinks. Blinks again. Blinks once more, trying to comprehend what’s happening, trying to understand why MC is standing beside Vuzgamad and not her. It doesn’t make sense. It is unexpected, and for a second Yvette feels a different kind of cold – it descends on her with a rush of panic

Vinca steps in front of her like some sort of human shield. Yvette can’t see the blonde’s expression but she can easily imagine it, all furrowed eyebrows and stormy blue eyes.

"You have one minute to explain before I gut you out. Both of you."

Vuzgamad chuckles. She turns in MC's direction with a maniac grin. "Yes MC, do explain to my child and her friends your decision." The glint in her eye reminds Yvette of the day she has first meet the demon, when she had ruined her life with the curse. She looks at it now and immediately understands her life will be ruined yet again.

MC shrugs. "Helping you was kind of pathetic. I decided to join the winning side."

"Pathetic?" Vinca repeats, her voice like acid. "I don't know if you hit your head or something, pipsqueak, but the only pathetic thing around here is your existence. Are you trying to shy await from that fact? Or are you just too delusional to-"

"MC." Her voice wavers, but it still rings sharply through the room. Vinca stops talking, choosing to seethe in anger while Lazareth gives them both one long, worried look. Yvette ignores everything - Vuzgamad's amused stare, MC's own disgusted one - and focuses on the woman she remembers MC to be. The woman she fell in love. The bike mechanic in front of her is a stranger, an illusion. "It's a lie. S-some sort of joke in very poor sense. It must be."

MC smiles. "The only joke around here is you."

Everything she is feeling is replaced by anger. Anger at Vuzgamad, anger at herself, anger at the world. The thing she desires the most slips through her fingers once more, as it seems destined to do.

The person she trusted above everything else. The person she can't believe is turning her back on her like this. The person she had given everything for, standing before her, letting all those precious, precious memories rot at the edge of her consciousness, not showing any remorse at all.

Yvette's first thought is that she is possessed. One look into her eyes confirms she is not.

The cold is but a distant memory, her pure being enveloped by the heat of her frustration.

Vinca gasps, taking a few steps back. "Yvette, your eyes!" Her eyes open wide, "your curse!"

Lazareth brandishes his weapon, bewildered. "The ritual was a hoax."

Vuzgamad bats his words away with a hand, still chuckling. "Hardly. I merely gathered enough energy for the curse to weaken, not to break. Yvette's conflicting feelings have strengthened it beyond comprehension." She pauses to bark a small laugh when Yvette's eyes snap towards her, blazing. "Child! What did you take me for? Did you think I didn't know your curse wasn't ready for harvest yet? It would have taken another decade, probably, but this little event speed the process up. Isn't it glorious?"

Yvette took a deep, calming breath. She could feel the curse's energy replenishing, fueled by her anger. It wasn't close to its usual amount, but Yvette could feel it nonetheless. The curse was stronger. One slip and everything would burn.

 "Where are the tears, Yvette?" MC asked. "I was expecting some serious waterworks from you! Too bad."

“Oh, that is it!”

Vinca’s knives flash. The realization MC has turned into an enemy – an enemy she will have to fight – locks Yvette in place. She can only watch as the knives soar through the air, directly towards MC’s shoulder. Ah, Vinca wants to paralyze her. Maybe so they can focus on Vuzgamad first. Yvette can get behind that plan, she wants to interrogate MC further.

But her thoughts quickly dissipate when the knives stop in mid-air. MC smirks, tapping the side of her head with a lazy, confident motion.

Lazareth grunts. “Telekinesis?”

“Isn’t it cool?” She asks. A flicker of her wrist, and the knives turn.

Yvette summons her sword with a trembling hand. Its weight offers some semblance of comfort, of control, but a quick look around reveals they are at a disadvantage. Eyeless demons are pouring out of the shadows in one big, crazed mass of bodies. They could probably take them on with little to no problem, but Yvette doesn’t think she’s in a good emotional place to endure the fight.

Her concentration spills into reality, turning it into a distraction that won’t last more than a couple of seconds.

It’s enough time to escape.

And so, she meets Vinca and Lazareth’s questioning gaze and orders a retreat, gritting her teeth, wondering how and why everything turned out the way it did.

She should have never assumed she could cheat Vuzgamad.

[zeppelin-and-unicorns]

15 and 18

15 - If you write OC’s, how do you decide on their names?

Just answered that one here!

18 - Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

Oh my God, I have so many!! Beware, this is going to be a very long answer. Click on the thingy to read more!

Last year, back when I first started writing fanfiction, I had a lot going on in my mind, and at one moment I had to choose which stories I would actually work on, and which ones I would have to drop it for now. There were five stories in total, and I dropped three of them.

Two of those five stories evolved and they became When The Levee Breaks and Map of the Problematique, the other three are still unnamed and undeveloped.

I'll give you the main summary of them, because why the hell not?

The first story is a pretty fluffy one, I've abandoned it because there are already a few stories like these in the fandom and because I got too invested writing my other stories. Also, a huge chunk of it is written in the first person, because I started writing it at the beginning of the last year, and I've learned that I don't really like writing in first person anymore... Writing WTLB is hard enough already lol.

This story would narrate the beginning of Jackie and Hyde's relationship while Donna and Kelso were still in California, but there are a few twists: Eric doesn't mope around in his room most of the time, and he develops a really nice friendship with Jackie (that friendship would turn into a small crush later), and Eric and Donna would not be endgame.

There's a lot going on at first, in this story, Hyde actually plans on "wooing" Jackie once he's sure she's over Kelso, they flirt a lot and he's aware that he's going to make a move on his best friend's ex. Jackie's also very interested in Hyde, but for a while, she thinks he'd never be interested in her.

Their flirting wouldn't last long though, I had planned on making them get together at the beginning of the story (I think it was in chapter five?), the rest of the story would narrate them hiding their relationship from their friends and how close they are getting to Eric and Fez.

I've planned on writing lots of sweet friendly moments between Jackie, Hyde, Eric, and Fez. In fact, there are quite a few scenes written out already, and in one of them they're all in a circle and it's the first time Eric realizes that Jackie's not as bitchy as he thought she was. Here's one of the circle scenes I've written:

"You know what?" Jackie announced, ignoring Fez's sobs and passing the joint to Hyde, thanking God that he was probably too high to notice how goosebumps rose all over her body when his fingers brushed against hers "I hope Michael gets syphilis from a random beach whore and goes blind."

"Odds are pretty good of that happening." Hyde nodded as he took another hit "Of him getting an STD, I'm not so sure about becoming blind, but I'm sure once he gets back to Wisconsin we can convince him to stare at the sun long enough for that to happen"

Eric snickered "Yeah... I hope Donna just... Never comes back, I hate her... Yeah..."

"No, you don't," Jackie said flatly to him "You'll probably marry her if she ever does come back."

Eric stared at Jackie for a few seconds before sighing dejectedly "... yeah, you're right..."

"But, hey, we can bash on Michael some more if you like, it's fun!"

"You're right, it is fun! " Eric nodded, smiling at the petite girl sitting next to him on the couch and wondering when did he start to actually enjoy her presence.

The whole google doc for this story has over 7k words of random dialogues and random moments I came up with. I'm not going to lie, it has potential, lots of it actually, but I don't have the time to work on it now.

The story would be overall a light read, it would've been M-rated because I did start to write a sex scene, but it would be overall something funny and cute. For example, one of my favorite moments is this one where Eric almost catches Hyde and Jackie:

"Oh my God…" Eric muttered in awe, glancing at the two very guilty-looking people sitting on the couch.

Hyde and Jackie exchanged a look, they were caught. Crap.

"Is this what I think it is?" Eric said

"Look, Eric…" Jackie started to explain, but stopped when she saw the huge grin forming on Eric's face. She looked at Hyde and apparently he was just as confused as she was.

"You're watching Star Wars!" Eric said in glee "You're geeks!"

"What?!" Hyde protested and looked at the TV, where he could clearly see Leia and Luke kissing on the bridge "We're not geeks, you're crazy"

"Steven, stop," Jackie said "Fine Eric, you caught us, we like Star Wars"

This story would end in a nice place, but... well, there would be a lot of changes.

Here's the thing, I was kind of really hating Kelso (and Donna too, a little bit) when I started writing this, so I chose to write something that might be a little weird for a few people. In this story, Donna and Kelso would have a fling in California, and Eric would catch them on the spot when he arrives to get Donna back.

It's not something Eric would be able to forgive. And even after a lot of talking, he wouldn't be able to get back together with Donna after seeing her with Kelso.

Coming back to Point Place, Eric would try to make a move on Jackie, he would kiss her for like, two seconds, and she would've pushed him away and blurted out that she's in love with Hyde. Hyde would arrive at the basement a few moments after that, and Eric would be completely freaking out. It's a funny scene lol.

Things would get messy for a while, but in the end, Jackie and Hyde would go public and have the happily ever after they deserve, Eric, Fez, Hyde, and Jackie would continue their friendship, Donna would move to California for good, and Kelso wouldn't hang out with them anymore.

There are a few stories that are somewhat similar to this one, like Summer Lovin' by leoasc, One Difference: Donna and Kelso Have a Fling by MistyMountainHop, OPERATION: REBOUND by ShanghaiLily, and there are probably a few more that I can't remember the names right now.

The second story is a heavy one, like, really heavy.

I got the idea of writing this story when I was watching a Grey’s Anatomy episode, so yeah, its a dramatic one lol.

The episode that inspired this story is the one where Richard is in between life and death, and Meredith is the one he chose as his next of kin. Which means that she’s the one the doctors report to, and she’s the one who decided how he was going to be treated. Meredith took some risky decisions and they’re literally the reason why Richard is alive.

I remember that when I saw this episode, I was also reading a fanfic... Being more specific, I was reading The Right Road Lost by zpplnchick, and an idea just popped into my mind... What if Jackie was the one with the memory loss? How would Hyde deal with that in a post s8 universe?

I know there are a few fics that deal with that subject, like Steven Who? by kezztip and Redemption Road by SkittlezLvr79, but believe me, my story would’ve been waaay different than these ones.

Here’s the main plot: Jackie and Hyde talk things out, and Hyde asks Jackie if she could ever take him back, promising her that he would never, ever give up on her again. She says no, because y’know, she’s a freaking self-respecting woman, but this talk would make her think, a lot, because she can see that he actually meant it every word, and she has never seen him this determined before.

As she was driving home, she would crash her car, and things would get pretty serious pretty quickly.

Her situation would be very critical, I planned on making Hyde suffer a lot in this, guys. I’m just downright cruel to him, because I believe that nothing would hurt him more than seeing the person he loves the most going through absolute hell.

Decisions would have to be made, and that’s when they find out that Jackie’s next of kin is no one other than Hyde. After her mother left her and her father went to prison, Jackie asked her father’s lawyer to provide her with a few papers that put Hyde in charge of her well-being if something ever happened to her. She forgot about it after they broke up, and well... She is going to be very thankful for that later.

Hyde’s shocked, but very pleased to find out that he’s responsible for her, especially since everyone seems to think that her death is inevitable and that they shouldn’t prolong her suffering.

After a very enlightening conversation with Mrs. Forman, Hyde decides that he’s not going to let anyone tell him what to do, and that he’s going to follow his gut.

The next few months would be complete hell, Jackie’s situation is very critical, she would go through a lot of complications and Hyde would’ve been a complete mess. He would watch quietly as Donna, Kelso and Fez stopped showing up to see Jackie, disgusted at how quickly they just gave up on her. He would listen as Donna rambled about how what he was doing to Jackie was torture, and that he must really hate her if he’s not willing to just let her go (which would end up causing a major fallout between Donna and Hyde), but he would never question his decisions. He just knew that he was doing the right thing, and no one but the Forman’s seemed to understand that. 

Hyde showed up to see her at the hospital every single day for months. The whole hospital staff knew him as “the Sleeping Beauty’s prince”, and he hardly ever left Jackie’s side.

After a few months, she wakes up, and he’s right next to her when that happens. It’s honestly a pretty touching scene, he’s just so happy and so relieved to see her awake after everything she went through, and they have a beautiful moment.

Seriously, I cried hard when I wrote that.

They would both cry, share “I love yous” and a few kisses, and it would’ve been beautiful, but the magic’s killed when Hyde realizes that Jackie thinks that they’re in 1978. She doesn't remember the nurse, the “get off my boyfriend” incident, Chicago or Sam. The last thing she remembers is him driving her home after they emptied her family’s ski cabin.

Hyde is divided between telling her the truth and losing her, or not telling her and being with her again.

He would let her think things were okay between them for a couple of days, until Eric shoves some sense into his head and he comes clean about everything. After telling her everything that happened, he also tells her that he loves her and he wants to be with her, but that he completely understands if she never wants to see his face again.

It’s safe to say that Jackie’s absolutely crushed. This breaks her, but she had the Forman’s by her side to help her go through everything, and Hyde also never leaves her. Sure, he gives her some space, but he doesn’t stop checking up on her, and slowly, they begin to form a nice friendship.

He takes her to her physical therapy appointments, and her doctors appointments, he helps her in every possible way he can, and she falls in love with him all over again.

The story would end with her making a full recovery and giving them another chance.

I've abandoned this story for three reasons, reason number one being: I was at a point where I really disliked Donna, and her character is not a nice person at all in this. Now that I understand Donna's character better, I refuse to publish a story where she behaves the way she did in this one. I could've changed her behavior, but the whole point of the story is "Hyde is the only one who hasn't given up", and having Donna acting like herself (nice and supportive) would kind of kill part of the plot.

Reason number two is: There’s already too much drama in Map of the Problematique, working on this story along with WTLB and my other WIP’s would drive me nuts.

And the last reason is... I didn’t know if people would like reading a story like this. I was afraid that some people might think that all of this determination is extremely OOC for Hyde, and I can kind of see why they would think this way. 

The third story would’ve been an angsty one, and I started writing it after I finished watching the first episode of season 6. You guys can probably already guess why I was inspired to write an angsty story after that episode...

Here’s the thing: I absolutely HATE the way Hyde treated Jackie in the first two episodes of season 6. I hate that he cheated on her and had the audacity to be offended that she didn’t take him back right away. I wanted to kick his ass for acting the way he did, it was truly disgusting of him and he did not deserve to be with her again after everything he’d done.

I do like that Kelso was the one that brought them back together, but the rest of that storyline is just... yuck. I truly hate it.

I wanted to fix that. I wanted to give Jackie a very girlboss moment, and I wanted to see Hyde groveling to get her back, so well... I came up with a story idea.

The story would be a short one, it would have 10 chapters, 15 if I got too inspired, and it would consist of Hyde groveling while Jackie didn’t give him the time of her day.

Sure, Jackie and Hyde would be endgame, because it’s me and I would never write a story without a happy ending, but Hyde would have to fight for it, a lot.

@snookstheallmighty is currently writing a story that is very similar to the one I was working on. It’s called “Friday I’ll Be Over You”, and it’s pretty great! You should totally check it out later! I’ve sent her a few parts of my story draft a while ago, and I gave her full permission to use it on her story!

I think this is pretty much it... I have plenty of story ideas and many, many google docs with random drafts and dialogues that popped up in my mind out of nowhere, but these are the ones I’ve fully abandoned and will probably never work on again.

[likeshipsonthesea]

hi could you do "but you don’t know the hell you put me through; to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you" for the geraskier prompts? also i really love your writing! thanks :D

from this list, thank you so much for the prompt! anyone else who would like to send one in, feel free! trying to get into writing the witcher fic but turns out it took me 4 years to get comfortable writing cp! characters and i Am Lost. still, i think this turned out p good and i hope y’all like it :)

from Hozier’s “To Be Alone” geraskier for “but you don’t know the hell you put me through; to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you” i used inspo from the whole song, not just the one lyric, but yeah. it fits i think

warning for some mild blood, gore, & violence (typical to the show)

           The worst part, in Geralt’s opinion, of walking back into town covered in the remnants of a ghoul’s last meal isn’t the stench of half-digested rotting flesh, the itch of blood drying against his skin and beginning to flake off, or the too-bright light of the sun unmarred by a canopy of trees. The worst part is most definitely the roaring chatter of voices, whispers sharp and breathy, gasps pinpricks against the back of his neck.

           A ghoul shouldn’t have made him this “touchy,” as Jaskier liked to call it, but, Geralt allows himself, it was not just a ghoul.

           “Not that the scent of death isn’t a lovely complement to your usual brood, but must you always bathe in the innards of your monsters once you slay them?”

           Geralt rumbles, stepping towards Jaskier’s voice. He can’t see him through his blinking, through the crowd, but he can hear his heartbeat louder than the townspeople now that he’s announced himself and Geralt can focus on him.

           Jaskier pushes through the crowd in a moment or two, frowning deeply at Geralt. The sight of Jaskier sends a shudder through Geralt. Fucking ghouls, Geralt growls.

           “No need for dramatics,” Jaskier says, taking Roach’s reins from Geralt. “Your coin is waiting in the inn and there’s bathwater being boiled as we speak.”

           Geralt stares at Jaskier, his own head tilted down to block out the sun. Jaskier’s turned his attention to Roach, petting down her nose, murmuring something like, “Darling girl,” under his breath. Geralt clenches his hands tightly, shakes them. Jaskier looks up and frowns again.

           “I’ll see to it that Roach is cared for,” Jaskier says. He smirks in his charming way, something that should be irksome but somehow – isn’t. “Go collect your spoils, Geralt.”

           Geralt.

           The sorcerer’s magic must have been waiting for a very long time, biding its time, building. It had accounted for nearly every detail, every crinkle of smile, every lilt in his voice, every casual touch, except for that, except for how Jaskier said his name. Jaskier could be annoyed with him, enraged with him, pleading or teasing or charming, but every time he spoke Geralt’s name – not Butcher, or White Wolf, or Witcher – every time, his heartbeat aligned with the syllables and his lips twitched, not necessarily up or down, just – acknowledgement.

           Geralt nods, jerky, and turns towards the inn. Magic powerful enough to trick a Witcher, and yet Jaskier was still unmatchable.

           The inn’s owner seems grateful for Geralt’s services, if not his scent, and hands over the coin with little fanfare. The room he directs Geralt to holds a bath with steam rising from its surface. Geralt removes his armor, then his clothes, and sinks into the water with a deep sigh.

           If he closes his eyes, he can imagine he’s still within the magic’s grasp. Geralt assumes the spell was meant to trap one within their own paradise, or something to that end, so of course Geralt’s had included a bath.

           “Is it a Witcher thing or a you thing?” the fake Jaskier had asked, voice close, just behind Geralt’s head. Geralt had rumbled a questioning noise and the mirage had continued. “Your fondness for baths. Is that the Path, or just you?”

           Geralt had growled. Jaskier had laughed.

           “Just you, then.”

           Geralt hadn’t responded, but Jaskier hadn’t seemed to need confirmation. The water had remained hot, scalding, through the long moments of silence, as Geralt had laid with his eyes closed, listening to Jaskier’s heartbeat. Then, without warning, Jaskier’s hands had fallen into Geralt’s hair.

           “What a mess you make of this glorious mane,” Jaskier had sighed, deft fingers careful as they untangled knots. Geralt had hummed, leaned back into the touch. When all the knots were gone, Jaskier ran his fingers through Geralt’s hair, pressing into his scalp, tender. With a soft tug, he’d brought Geralt’s head back against the lip of the tub, eyes closed, neck exposed.

           “Do my eyes deceive me,” Jaskier had whispered, teasing, “or is a relaxed Witcher sitting before me?”

           Geralt growled, but he hadn’t moved.

           Jaskier’s voice suddenly became nearer, above. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” he’d murmured, just before his lips came down on Geralt’s forehead. Geralt had inhaled, sharp, but hadn’t moved. Lips drifted down, pressing over one eyelid, then the other.

           Geralt remembers that it hurt. The softness. Against the delicate skin of his eyelids, Jaskier had pressed with the barest of pressures, lips curved into a smile. Dangerous, Geralt had thought. To be held as a soft thing, even fleetingly, would cut him deeper than any monster he could encounter.

           Geralt’s slow heart had begun to tap. One of Jaskier’s hands released from Geralt’s hair, sliding down his chest to rest over the thump. “It’s alright, Geralt,” Jaskier had said, sweet, against Geralt’s ear, and Geralt’s heart had begun to slow.

           Jaskier’s lips hadn’t twitched.

           “Well, you didn’t waste much time,” Jaskier says, laughing, as he enters their shared room. Geralt opens his eyes. He watches Jaskier move about, settling, undoing the buttons of his doublet in the steamed heat. His hands move quickly, practiced, and the smooth roll of his shoulders as he shrugs out of the garment steals Geralt’s breath.

           Jaskier, oblivious, takes his seat on the bed, facing Geralt. His eyes, expectant, settle on Geralt, and he must stifle the shudder growing under his skin.

           “You promised details,” Jaskier says, pointing accusatorily. “I was a very good bard and stayed back as requested. So be the noble man I know you are and hold up your end of the deal.”

           Geralt huffs. Noble.

           Jaskier throws his hands up. “You were gone for a whole day more than expected, there must be something interesting that occurred.”

           Geralt returns his gaze for some moments, Jaskier unwavering. Geralt looks away. “There was a mage.”

           Jaskier sits up straighter. “Someone we know?”

           Geralt shakes his head. “Long dead.”

           Jaskier deflates mildly. “Oh.”

           “Ghoul meant to make a meal of the corpse. I tracked it to the mage’s home.”

           “A single ghoul?” The skepticism is tart in Jaskier’s tone.

           “The ghoul was simple.” Geralt looks back at Jaskier, his pursed frown. “The magic… less so.”

           Jaskier’s brow wrinkled. “Magic? How was there any magic left with the man dead for so long?”

           Geralt sighs. “Spells can outlive their casters, given the right conditions.”

           “So you were hit by a spell?” The alarm arises quickly, tainting the air with a metal taste. “We must get the healer or—or the town’s mage, what if it’s still in effect, what if—”

           “Jaskier.” Jaskier ceases his rambling, if not his panic. “The spell took effect, but it has passed.”

           “What was it? Did it – hurt?”

           “It created a dream. Of what I want most.”

           Jaskier’s eyebrows dance, his expression lightening. “I thought Witchers wanted for nothing,” he says, teasing.

           Geralt returns his gaze to the wall. Of all the things he wants for and refuses to name – good ale, good food, treats for Roach, silence, a regular bath, money – he knows not why the magic chose Jaskier. He tries not to be self-aware, if he can help it, but the answer looms on the edge of his mind and he refuses to look at it long enough to let it materialize.

           To end the dream, once he’d realized what it was, he had tried to wake himself up, with pain and shock. He ran about the fake room looking for items to prick himself with, the fake Jaskier following, worried. “Sit down, Geralt,” it kept saying. “Relax, please.”

           “You’re not real,” Geralt had growled, stabbing himself with a shard of broken mirror. He hadn’t dreamed himself a sword, otherwise he would’ve tried that.

           “Of course I’m real, Geralt, really, stop with this ridiculousness,” the mirage had said, and Geralt had been so – angry. With the mage, the magic, with himself, and he’d turned and slit the throat of the pleading dream, and he’d woken on the floor of a room, a dead ghoul and a dead mage flanking him either side.

           Danger looms on the edge of his awareness. The dream, for all its lies, had felt as real as anything, the blood warm on his hands, the wide shock in Jaskier’s eyes as he’d gasped, sound ringing in Geralt’s ears.

           He waits, now, for Jaskier to ask, prepares himself for stoicism. He will not tell Jaskier. He will not describe this for a ballad to be sung for drunken humans looking for bravery and heartbreak, vicarious. He will be silent, as he should have been before.

           “A mage certainly makes things interesting,” Jaskier says, humming. He drums his fingertips against his lips. “I could use something upbeat. It’s been so cold as of late, people need something to dance to.” He stands from the bed to retrieve his lute and begins to strum some notes, humming to himself.

           Geralt watches, silent. He slows his breathing until the only thoughts remaining in his mind are of the heat that remains in the bath and Jaskier’s soft singing. He sinks deeper into the water, closing his eyes. He allows himself one more thought before drifting far enough for silence to enclose his mind. This, he thinks, this is good.

[bigskydreaming]

I’m literally in love with the way you write Dick and Jason’s dynamic

Thanks, glad to hear that! Personal preferences aside, I honestly do think it just opens up SO many more potential stories if you go with the idea that they did have a brotherly relationship before Jason died, just they didnt get together around Bruce because Dick was still hoping Bruce would make the first move in reaching out to him. Rather than just stick with the usual assumption that because it wasn’t seen on the page, they had barely any interactions and both resented each other for various reasons.

But those reasons all trace back to Bruce, and if you look at them as two people who are united by the common experience of being fish out of water, adapting to the same environment after coming from DRAMATICALLY different origins, able to connect over that and understand each other in a way nobody else really can because nobody else has ever really had to straddle two worlds as definitively as Dick and Jason had to in their formative years....

Like, the big sticking point for me in the Dick vs Jason: The Grudge theory was just that....at the end of the day, these are two boys who grew up with very few loved ones to start with, or having had to deal with the loss of those loved ones.....

But one way or another......are these two specific characters really ones that make sense as wanting to reject the possibility of more family?

They’re connected through Bruce, like it or not, that was never going to change even from before they ever met......and the idea that Dick Grayson and Jason Todd would each be content to waste literal YEARS never even TRYING to connect with the person who was probably most like him and who by all accounts was already his brother in most ways just by way of Bruce...not even to see if maybe they COULD actually be brothers? To have family beyond just Bruce and Alfred? 

Me @ every fic or headcanon that says Dick had Only Child Syndrome and resented Jason because of that: right because Dick Grayson of all people is anti-family. He’s full up with that one guy whose legal guardianship of him has been expired for a couple years and who he hasn’t spoken to since long before then.....nah, why would he want any more or any other family beyond that?

I mean, I absolutely believe that Dick was upset and hurt that Bruce adopted Jason while he’d never even offered to adopt Dick......but Dick has never been one to pass around blame instead of focusing it on its true point of origin. That’s his and Bruce’s issue. And honestly, there are TONS of reasons for Dick to be upset about that, without making it about Jason at all. 

There’s literally no reason for Dick to take it out on Jason ever, if his biggest issue or grievance is that like....it feels like Bruce was just so done with Dick and considered him so out of his life, something like “just added a new kid to the family” didn’t seem like relevant information he should pass on to Dick despite the tenseness between them. When you have to find out from the NEWS that your old family unit just full on up and adopted this kid you’ve never heard of before now without even so much as a phone call.....there’s plenty of cause to feel like this is a message that you’re not really considered part of that family unit anymore, so why would you need to know?

Or like, the fact that Bruce didn’t consider hey I’m thinking of adding another kid to my family that consists of me and the kid I’m so afraid to tell I think of him as a son in case he doesn’t feel the same way, that I’ve sat back and let things get this bad between us and fester.....hey maybe before I issue adoption papers for a second kid, I should think about putting in an equivalent effort at fixing things with my first kid first?

Or why not write Bruce thinking: “Hey if I can’t even fix things with the kid I raised for almost a decade and think of as my own no matter how long its been since I talked to him.....what on Earth makes me think I’m qualified to take on a SECOND child?”

Like....Bruce was the one who held all the power and all the options, Dick had no other option but to go along with whatever Bruce decided Bruce was going to do, and neither did Jason really.....so there’s no real reason in my head that should be a point of contention between them or a reason to resent each other instead of just stressing to them the importance of having significant family ties beyond just Bruce because history clearly showed even at that point that best intentions aside, the man is fallible.

If anything, that should have been common ground!

I think there was like, an initial negative reaction of maybe one night, the first time they met and Dick even though he was prepared for it still had to adjust to the reality of actually seeing this stranger he was irrevocably connected to now by both his names, even if neither was technically his anymore....like to actually SEE him standing there in his old role....that’s gonna hit anybody hard.

But he also would have clearly been able to see that whatever else he may have been, this twelve year old Robin was still a kid, and one who hadn’t had a lot of time to ever be a kid in the first place.....which again, instant camaraderie, because boy could Dick relate.....remember, Dick may have had a happy childhood with his parents before they were murdered but it was also a childhood where he WORKED. He loves being an acrobat, he loved being in the show, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t WORK, that his childhood didn’t consist of training as long and as regularly as any adult acrobat while everyone else his age was running around playing outside and making friends. And after Bruce took Dick in, most of Dick’s free time was spent being Robin, training as Robin, etc?

Which IMO would have made him take one look at this kid in his old costume, literally standing where he had once stood, stepping into his old shoes.....and I think Dick’s real honest reaction once he brushed aside any kneejerk feeling of pain or bitterness the way he brushes aside all the physical pain he feels when out as Nightwing but refuses to let get in the way of him doing what he has to, doing what’s right....

Nah, Dick would have taken one look at this tiny kid full of fire and bravado but also so clearly eager to please, to be praised, to be told he was doing a good job and even without that he was worth something, his life had value, the world was better just because he existed......

And I think Dick’s bitterness about the situation would have crystallized into him resentfully thinking well B’s not exactly the best about dishing out affection or praise so I’m gonna make sure this little Mini-Me standing there in my old colors looking just as young and small as I must have looked then even if I didn’t realize it at the time....I’m gonna make sure I keep him supplied with a steady diet of “Nice Words and Gestures That Kids Should Grow Up Receiving Regularly.”

Dick has always been a firm believer that the best way to make sure something gets done is to do it yourself.

So yeah, I honestly do think that back during those days, Dick and Jason were thick as thieves when their schedules allowed for it, with it being simultaneously painful and unspoken that they had to like....work around Bruce’s presence so Dick could avoid him, but somewhat softened by the challenge and thrill of two brothers scheming to pull one over on the Big Bad Batdad every time the older brother wanted to take the little brother to go somewhere or do something, like, even just to spoil him rotten.

Cuz really....isn’t that a lot more interesting than ‘oh they barely ever even met back then and it wasn’t great, that’s it, the end’? There’s so much you could do with even just that, from them sneaking Jason out for a fun adventure that’s layered with just a hint of poignant angst because of the unspoken why of him needing to sneak out instead of them just saying hey Bruce, we need some bro time, Jason’s hanging with me this weekend? Or you dial up the angst and layer it with lightness or literally anything between those two points on a spectrum.

There’s so much Secret History potential buried back in those years....adventures they had together and never told anyone about, secrets shared between brothers they never shared elsewhere.....maybe Dick opening up to Jason more than he usually likes to, but here felt it might be the only way to get Jason to do the same, with Dick thus offering up some painful tidbit from his past that he never told even Bruce or Alfred for some reason, if he thinks Jason’s upset about something and needs to vent but will just keep insisting he’s fine unless Dick leads by example and goes first.

There’s so much potential for in-jokes that only the two of them know and everyone else is ENDLESSLY curious about, because everyone always forgets that those two have so much history because it was literally kept out of sight, out of mind, so they could keep it free of the friction that was bound to come of adding Bruce to the mix before their father cleared the air with his eldest first.

So its an easy thing to forget about or overlook, especially since it rarely comes up....but everytime it does rear its head via some private joke only they know or a reference to some event back then that everyone else is kept boxed out of having any context for....that’s the kind of stuff that would drive a family of detectives craszy, because they want to know! What’s the joke??

And yet its likely they’d never ask, because as curious as they are to hear about the mysterious missing years of the first two Wayne children, back when there was literally nobody else present to ask for details.....they never can figure out HOW to ask those questions, not when they’re equally aware of the swiftly hidden expressions of pain or bitterness that flash across the two eldests’ faces after each unearthing of some long-buried treasure they shared between them. Unable to ever escape the fact that each of those treasured moments would forever be followed with an inevitable reminder of why there were so few of those moments, in the end. 

Why those years ended far earlier than they should have, and why their reunion upon Jason’s return was hindered and complicated by Dick’s obligation to other siblings Jason hurt while dealing with Pit after-effects and the lack of a strong support system while swayed to League sympathies...

And of course, ultimately there’s the reality that after the Adventures of Young Dick and Tiny Jason were cancelled far ahead of schedule, and that several year long intermission....by the time everything else was gotten out of the way, the stars of those earlier adventures were as long gone as the adventures themselves. Dick and Jason were both entirely different people by now.....still containing within each of them enough of who they were back then that those memories are kept carefully protected and hidden away, all the more valuable for how few and sparse they are, and how rarely they’re brought out to look at and enjoy.....

But with those vaults buried deeply enough within who Dick and Jason both are these days, that there’s a lot of blood and loss and pain you have to cut through just to reach that vault. There’s no retrieving anything from it without a cost. A cost worth paying, given that they can’t help themselves from calling back to it every now and then, even though they know the inevitable result is going to be end negative and not end positive. But still high enough to give them pause before actually doing so....holding back sometimes so the toll is doled out sparingly and over time. Getting greedy and trying to bring out/back/up too much too fast is far more daunting than either can afford to pay at the moment.

So that’s how I like to view the two of them and their dynamic back during and because of those early years before Jason’s death. Bittersweet and shaded by nostalgia.....temptation and warning both, in how much they want to revisit it but how much they fear ruining what they’ve managed to cobble together now by bringing the past too much into the light, comparing past and present too clearly and risking that being reminded too strongly of the brothers they were back then, will just make it impossible to ever be content with anything but that bond replicated in full and they’re not sure it can be, are both too afraid too much has happened since then and trying too hard, putting too much pressure on the dynamic they’ve built now could risk shattering the relative fragile bond completely.

Pretty much everything I write with the two of them, unless I specifically state otherwise via context, is generally written through that lens, with me viewing that as the backstory for their dynamic that I’m running with.