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cellythefloshie · 1 year ago

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;; Cruel Summer Dedicated to @snugglyducklingbrewhouse for her birthday bingo

Summary: There was nothing more you looked forward to than summer after a long academic year of studies. You and your best friend are set to hit the road for a cross-country road trip, but with her comes her boyfriend, Jack Hughes, and with him his best friend and college hockey captain Nico Hischier - who just happens to be the bane of your college existence. M's Bingo Card Tropes: Taylor Swift Song AU - Enemies to Lovers - Summer / Off-season - Roommates - College AU - Sharing a Bed Kinks & TW: unprotected sex (are we surprised?) - pull out method (please don't rely on this at all it will fail you), morning sex, casual sex, hook-ups, secret relationship, situationship, drunk confessions Word Count: 7k+ A/N: We haven't been a part of each other's communities long, but you have been nothing but a welcome presence since! I am so happy that I am able to celebrate your birthday with you with this fic! I stepped out of my comfort zones a lot with this one by writing for Nico and using Taylor's Cruel Summer as the main inspiration for the fic. And somehow I managed to roll all of those amazing tropes into one fic! Happy Birthday, Hun! I hope you enjoy! 🎉 I also made a quick Pinterest board for the vibes. Playlist.

With final exams behind you, there was nothing more that you were looking forward to than summer. The warmth of the sun, the carefree freedom that was already ready to consume every bit of you as you left all your responsibilities behind you. There was nothing better than the summer vacation after a hectic academic season, especially after the stressful junior year you had. The stress of your studies aside, you could have considered it to be a great year, that was if it hadn’t been for your roommate.

At the beginning of the term, you and your best friend had decided that you wanted to live off campus. Tired of the dorm life there was nothing more exciting than having your own place, but that came with a great cost - which meant rooming with more people than just your best friend. The three-bedroom duplex apartment you have been able to secure not far from campus was perfect, especially since your best friend had gotten her boyfriend, Jack Hughes, to room with her - but that had left a spare room to be filled. And Jack had taken the liberty of offering it to his college hockey captain: Nico Hischier.

This hadn’t been an issue at first. He was easy enough on the eyes that you didn't complain, but it quickly become clear that the two of you weren’t going to get along. He seemed to know how to press all of your buttons, your days starting and ending with snide comments or heated arguments that left you both returning to your respective rooms - and you couldn’t wait to put that all behind you.

With summer, you could leave that animosity behind you. You wouldn’t have to see him until you both returned for your senior year in the fall. That thought alone excited you as you packed a single duffle bag, but what excited you more was the trip you and your bestie had planned to take. You had been looking forward to it for months. The two of you had rented a van - one of those ones with the small bed and kitchen in the back. You were going to travel the country together, take in the sights and monuments the great country of America offered you. But the excitement quickly faded as you threw your bag over your shoulder and made your way down to the van that waited in the driveway.

You wore a smile as you spotted your best friend throwing her back into the back, but then it wavered as she tossed in one bag and then another. Your lips parted to call out to her, but your throat was left weak at the sight in front of you. The devils and angels had been gambling with your happiness as with your bestie came her boyfriend Jack and with him Nico. Your biggest college nemesis would be joining you on what was supposed to be your greatest escape from him.

Most nights, the four of you piled into the back of the van. You would all sleep stuffed into the cot, elbows bent into backs and uncomfortably hot as you found yourself venturing into the southern states. It left tensions high, and you constantly on edge, especially when Nico tested the boundaries of just how much room he was allowed to take up on the bed. He was by far the biggest of the four of you, standing at 6’1 - a whole 2 inches taller than Jack - and broad with muscle he seemed to take up more and more room as the nights went on. It sent your blood boiling as you fought him on it, as it sent Jack closer to the center of the bed, and your best friend further into you, and in turn you were forced closer to the wall of the van. It left you claustrophobic and struggling through sleepless nights so finally after mere days of driving the four of you agreed to check into a motel for a proper night of sleep.

What the four of you couldn’t agree on was the sleeping arrangements. With your best friend dating Jack she was quick to state they would be sharing a room, but you couldn’t afford a room all to yourself and that only meant sharing with Nico. You were far from interested in that.

“We could share a room, and the boys could share a room,” you insisted, your arms coming to cross your chest as you leaned up against the van, “it’s not like they haven’t shared a room before - and we used to share a bed all the time-”

“Tell us more,” Jack was wearing a wide grin as he grabbed his bag from the back, earning a displeased groan from your lips.

“You wish Hughes,” you scoffed at him and looked at your best friend with pleading eyes. She had to be able to see this from your perspective. She had to understand why you couldn’t stand to spend another moment with Nico never mind having to share a room with him. “Do me a solid, just this once-”

But her mind was clouded by one thing, and one thing only. Sex. You could see it on her face as a blush crept up onto her features and her words became a soft, unapologetic, “sorry.” And you couldn’t blame her. The pair of them were like two love-sick puppies that fucked like rabbits, and they hadn’t been able to fuck since the four of you had left Newerk - though you were sure Jack had finger-fucked her at least once when they thought you were asleep in the passenger’s seat during Nico’s turn to drive.

As much as you wanted to protest, to stop your foot and throw a tantrum because Nico wasn’t even supposed to be on this trip you conceded and pointed a finger at Hughes and narrowed your eyes, “You owe me one.”

“We’ll make it up to you,” his smile didn’t waiver as he tossed your bag at you, and locked up the back doors of the van before the couple ran off to one of the two rooms Nico had gone to the front desk to secure.

They left you both to stand in the parking lot, a standoff of sorts as he held up the remaining key. “I’m about as excited about this as you are.” Which meant he was dreading it fully, with his entire being. He’d rather die than have to be rooming with you on the road, and yet you both stood there, full of life but seething.

“One room?”

“Yup.”

“One bed?”

“Yup,” Nico answered again, and you could have sworn you saw the corner of his lip threaten to curl up into a smirk.

“Fuck me,” you groaned out as you reached out to snag the key from his hand, but he pulled it back, just out of your reach. Hearing your words sent his smirk blossoming into a full grin now.

“Keep dreaming,” and when he said your name, you were on the verge of letting out an annoyed scream.

“I wouldn’t fuck you if we were the last people on the planet and the fate of humanity was solely up to you and me,” you assured him.

“If we were the last people on the planet, it wouldn’t be long until you were the only one left-”

Your lips curled up into a smirk of your own as your stepped forward, “Let’s play a little bit of pretend, shall we? Our planet is the hotel room, and it’s just you and me alone on that planet - so why don’t you just fuck off, sleep in the van and let me enjoy the bed.”

“Not a chance,” his eyes narrowed, “if you want the van, go right ahead but I’m not missing out on sleeping in a bed even if it means having to share it with you.”

You had dipped into your saving to be able to cover your share of the room, you weren’t going to concede for a second time. “Just get us in the room for fuck sake, I want a real shower.”

In an instant, you knew you should have bit your tongue as Nico’s dark gaze had risen to meet your and there was a flicker of light in them that sparked like the ignition of a flame. A shower. A real shower. No one had one in days. You were sure you stunk. You knew he did. And now you would be fighting him for it.

You couldn’t fight Nico for the key. Not with how he towered over you, and not with how the strength of his hands had fisted the key in his palm for safekeeping. Holding it down by his side, he stalked off in search of the room, but you never let him get too far out of your reach. For as soon as you heard the lock of the door disengage you had thrown a shoulder into his chest in a desperate attempt to shove him out of the way. Yet, he barely budged. Hell, you hadn’t even thrown him off balance. The only thing you had managed to do was coax a smile onto his lips as he leaned into the door, the heavy weight of him easing it open.

Stumbling in after him, you reached your hands out to give him a good shove. Your palms met the plains of his back, your breath catching in your throat as you felt the strength of him flex beneath your touch. It was almost enough to have you conceding, your mind suddenly clouded when it shouldn’t have been. You had lived with each other for the entirety of a semester. You knew how strong he was. You had seen it when he had worn a tight t-shirt to class or had caught a glimpse of him as he made the short walk from the bathroom to his bedroom in nothing but a towel when he was sure no one would notice - because if there was one thing he was that you didn’t really mind, it was that he was modest.

He didn’t flaunt himself around the house or the campus like the other players seemed to. His appointment of being the team Captain didn’t go to his head either. He respected his position and accepted any and all responsibilities that came with it. He didn’t even use it as a way to get girls to come back to the house - hell, had you ever seen him bring a girl home at all?

It was a thought that left your brows furrowed as you battle him along the path towards the bathroom. You would push him, and he would shove you back - but his hands were careful, calculated in just where he touched you. Finding your waist at its curves or against the back of your shoulder as he tried to move you out of his way. But neither of you would concede. Not even as you both tried to jam your way through the bathroom door. Your bodies collided, pressed firm together at your sides and earning an exasperated sigh from both of your lips.

Groaning you let out a sigh as you turned just enough so that your back was pressed against the cold frame. Nico did the same but stretched an arm across the doorway to grip at the frame as he tower over you. Suddenly you felt claustrophobic and small as he looked down over you, his dark hair hanging into his eyes and his smile crooked - conniving.

“Hischier,” you swallowed hard, challenging him with nothing but his name. What was he thinking?

Whatever it was, you didn’t wait long enough to find out. You wanted to shower, and you were going to be the first one to indulge in it. Even if that meant stooping low. Easing away from the door, you inch dangerously close to Nico, giving yourself just enough room to reach down and draw your shirt up over your head. Then you reached down to your shorts, thumbing the button free before letting them fall to the floor before you were standing there in nothing but your bra and panties.

You watched as his face softened, his dark gaze raising just enough for you to know you had some kind of effect on him. Cocking your head, you smiled, pressing up onto your toes just enough to mutter up to him, your words hot against his cheek, “I’ll try to leave some hot water for you. Now, be a gentleman and shut the door.”

Ducking under his arm you sauntered off into the bathroom with your bag in hand and a bit of a hop in your step. You would celebrate every single one of your little victories.

With Nico’s silent surrender, you heard the door close behind you and you let yourself undress and relish under the heated embrace of the water - but you did keep the shower quick. It was the least you could do when he was nice enough to concede when you challenged him.

Exiting the bathroom, you were dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of barely there shorts. You had hoped that you would be able to sleep without pants for the first time in days but there was no way that was going to happen now. Nico wasn’t about to get a free show, not from you.

“There’s still hot water there for you,” you told Nico firmly as you moved for the bed and crawled up onto the side of the bed that was left for you.

It wasn’t the side you normally slept on, but you weren’t going to fight him on it. You had gotten to shower first, so he could have his preferred side of the bed. You settled into the bed, it was stiff and the sheets a bit scratchy but it would do. Anything was better than sleeping in the van at this point.

You had hoped to be asleep before Nico had come out of the shower, but the rush of the water in the next room was all too loud and you couldn’t get comfortable. Worst of all, when the tattooing of the water against the tub had seized, your discomfort only intensified when Nico had come to bed. You could feel his heat radiating across the safe distance you had both agreed upon - a good foot of mattress that left you both sleeping on the very edge - and to your distaste he had decided to sleep shirtless.

Every opportunity you felt sleep had to take you, you ruined it with one accidental glance over at Nico who fell asleep all too quickly at your side. You would catch a glimpse of his soft features, or the flex of his all-too-impressive muscles and it would leave you tossing and turning in bed in a desperate attempt to get comfortable. But your mind continued to haunt you: How unfair it was to have someone so irritable look like that?

Scoffing to yourself you curled up with your back to him. You thought of literally anything else but him in an attempt to bring yourself to a state where maybe, just maybe you would be able to fall asleep - but Nico had found yet another way to keep you awake. He was talking in his sleep.

You let out a long, agonized groan as you took your pillow and shoved it over your face. You would have to go out and sleep in the van at this rate.

Rolling over you contemplated waking him up, but the shimmer of sweat on his skin and hardening of his features was almost enough to leave you concerned. Was it a nightmare? You leaned in, encroaching on the space between you both, a careful hand coming to rest on his shoulder - it was then his lips parted, muttering an almost silent word before you heard something all too familiar: your name. Nico was dreaming about you. You swallowed hard, your eyes widening in shock before falling back into their heavily lidded state. That had to be a coincidence. Maybe you had heard him wrong.

That was what you told yourself as you settled back into your place in bed. And with a final huff sleep crept on you, one final thought on your mind: If he was dreaming of you, you hoped it was a nightmare.

Come morning, the space at the center of the bed no longer existed. Your bodies had both moved inwards on the surface to avoid tumbling over the edge in the night - and with that, your bodies had become intertwined. You could feel Nico against your back, his legs tangled with yours, and you could feel the stiffness of his cock pressed up the back of your thigh. For a moment you almost forgot that it was Nico in bed next to you, a faint smile on your lips as you wiggled your hips back into his cock. His cock was impressive, to say the least, the outline of it felt so clear as he snuggled a little closer - but as Nico cuddled in close you caught a breath of the unique scent of him and it sent your heart plummeting.

This was the worst-case scenario - and you hadn’t even thought once that it might happen. You couldn’t hate yourself more than you did at the moment as you shifted just enough to press your ass into the girth of his cock. And you chastised yourself for it, disgusted with your own actions as you wiggled and pressed yourself against Nico to feel all of him. He would notice, he was still asleep - and with how carefully and subtly you moved you hoped in the off chance that he did wake up that he would think you were still sleeping too.

But then you felt a hot, heavy breath blossom out and over your shoulder and the strength of his arms was coiling around you like a boa constrictor. Nico had been awake the whole time. You should have pulled away at the realization, but instead, you were frozen, petrified as he leaned in and nuzzled his face into your hair. Then, with sleep still heavy on him, he leaned in and placed a lazy kiss on your neck. And when he finally spoke you could hear the amusement in his words, “I won’t tell them if you don’t.”

For a moment, you think it might be some kind of joke. Something that will end with him peeling away from you with laughter at your willingness if you were to agree with him. A cruel joke for him to play, but then you feel his hips as he presses his hips up against your ass as if you hadn’t felt his hard-on already. It was that action, that really had you entertaining the idea of letting him fuck you. You really should have, not with how much you loathed him, and not with how much he loathed you. He was all around intolerable, you knew it. Everyone knew it - and yet, when he shifted just enough to ease his cock from his boxers and ease it into the small triangle of space between your thighs and clothed cunt you were caving.

“For fuck sake, Nico,” you groaned out, using his first name for the first time. It felt foreign as it slipped off your tongue, having only exclusively addressed him by his last name until that moment as he slowly fucked that space between your thighs and your judgement waivered.

“Is that a yes?” he spoke against the sensitive skin of your neck, his voice low, sultry hum that left your arousal puddling between your legs.

Your head cocked, “You won’t say anything?”

“Not a damn word,” he promised, angling his hips just right to press the head of his cock up against the sensitivity of your clit as thrust lazily.

You had to bite your lip to combat the shutter that threatened to crawl up your spine and the soft sound that would have left your lips with it. Fuck, what an embarrassing thing it was to be so desperately wet for him - but he was hard for you, and something now was telling you that the dream that left him muttering your name in the night was no nightmare, but a sex dream. You almost smiled. Almost. But you didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. This was nothing but an agreement of convenience.

“Then stop teasing me and fuck me properly, or did you need me to teach you how to do that?” Even in bed, you wouldn’t let your rivalry wouldn’t subside.

Drawing back, Nico was free of the space between your legs and he had given you just enough room to roll over and push the flimsy fabric of your panties down the length of your legs. You didn’t even think to discard your shirt until you were climbing into his lap, taking the dominant position on top of him, and meeting him at the mouth.

You had never considered kissing Nico. Not once, not ever. But now as you were, feeling his soft lips against your own, and tasting his morning breath - which really wasn’t all that bad - in your mouth you started to question why it had never crossed your mind. He was a very attractive man after all, and he was very, very good at it - not that you could have predicted that when you seemed to do nothing but challenge and throw childish insults at one another.

The caress of his tongue against your own left you melting into him, your hands exploring the shape of his body - something you hadn’t done so much as catch glimpses of before. You could feel every ripple of his muscle as his hands moved to hold you just right, and every twitch of his cock as you let your hips roll up and down the length of him without taking him inside you. It left his coated in the slick of your arousal, sending tingles down to your toes, but you were impatient - and your best friend would be too when they would be kept waiting on the both of you.

Reaching down between the both of you, you took hold of his cock in your hand and stroked it slowly. Nico let out a soft sound against your lips, coaxing a smile onto your lips as you guided him to the entrance of your cunt and eased yourself down onto him. His cock stretched out in all the best ways, sending a burn of pleasure to spread throughout your body in a heatwave as you rode him in a steady rhythm.

For a time, you thought Nico was just going to fall into submission. That he was going to let you ride him hard and steady as you would your fingers into his messy hair and relish in how you tugged it - but you could always count on Nico to challenge you. His large hands spread over your hips, lulling you into the false sense that he was going to help guide you up and down the length of his cock but he was only trying to find his leverage. Soon, he was holding you firmly in his hands, flipping you so that your back was against the bed - and not once had his cock left you to feel void.

You could feel every inch of him with every thrust as his large hands guided your legs up to wrap around his hips. The simple action had left your lips parting to protest him - there was something too intimate about missionary, the last thing you wanted was to be looking him straight in the face as he fucked you - but your words were silenced completely by a moan. He was bringing pleasure to you that the frat boy hookups you had collected during your time in college could only dream of bringing you.

It left you reeling against the mattress, your head thrown back into the pillows as you reached out to grasp at anything to ground you. The mattress, the T-shirt that still hung off your body, and Nico. You clung to Nico as if he was the very source of your gravity. Your hands found his shoulders, clutching at his strength desperately as your legs wound around his middle. Heels pressed into his back and the pressure of his weight against your inner thighs as each deep thrust tested the depth of your flexibility but you were desperate to take him to your limits.

It left your head spinning as the pleasure of him fucking you - and not just fucking you, fucking you hard. His every thrust fueled with every ounce of animosity the two of you had held since September - threw you into ecstasy, your mouth agape with a silent moan as you refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing you - and you could not risk anyone hearing you both from outside the motel door.

But Nico wasn’t as discrete. His lips parted in a soft moan that had you drawing him into you to place one last hungry kiss on his lips before he was pulling back and pulled out of you. His face was soft, completely and utterly relaxed as he took hold of his cock and stroked it until his cum had shot out over the thin fabric of your oversized t-shirt.

It left you cursing. You slept in that shirt more often than you would like to admit, and now it was going to be a mess you had to hide - but at least he hadn’t cum inside you.

Pulling off the shirt, you stepped into the bathroom to clean yourselves up in silence. You shared nothing more than careful glances as you dressed and you didn’t speak to one another until you were both standing at the motel room door, staring at it as if it were going to open itself.

“This never happened?” You quirked a brow up at him.

“What never happened?” he met your gaze, his face expressionless but you could see the playful smile that lingered in his dark eyes.

“Exactly,” you breathed out and reached for the handle.

You were both hit with the blinding light of the morning, your eyes squinting before you could pull your sunglasses down to shield them. You tried to keep your head down, to make your way to the van with the hope that Jack and your best friend had yet to finish up your own fun - but it was that very pair that greeted you, her voice all too chipper for you to be happy about so early in the morning, “we were starting to think you killed each other-

Groaning, you opened the side door of the van and tossed your bag into the back. It wasn’t abnormal for you to be irritable in the morning, you were in no way a morning person, but the last thing you wanted to talk about was Nico. Especially when you could still feel the ghost of his touch on your body, and the heat of him as he trapped you between his body and the van as he reached around you to toss your own bad inside. Sure, you could pretend he hadn’t just fucked the life out of you, but it wasn’t going to be something you forgot about. Not when your legs were still on the verge of trembling and not when you could feel Nico’s eyes dragging over the curves of your body - undoubtedly admiring how you looked in the little sundress you had put on.

He would have to get better at hiding that stare of his. Climbing into the back of the van you let yourself glance back at Nico, your eyes meeting his as your lips pressed into a firm line to suppress that smile you wanted to give him It was then you finally answered your best friend, “Yeah, well, there’s still time.”

The rest of the summer had been cruel. Both June and July had been heated, and not just because of the rising temperatures. As you travelled from state to state you teetered on the tightrope walk of secrecy you had created with Nico. Since the two of you had shared the bed back in at the cheap motel there was no ignoring the magnetic draw you had towards one another. Don’t get it wrong, you still hated him - or at least that’s what you told yourself as you travelled across the country with him, your best friend and Jack.

The two of you would start fights just for the hell of it. The arguments were mundane and heated to distract your friends and yourselves from the lingering glances the two of your found yourself sharing, or the lingering of his hand against your thigh as you both sat in the back seats and you were sure your friend and Jack couldn’t see a damn thing - and not once did they think anything was going on between the two of you because on the surface nothing had changed.

It was in secret, between breaths and late nights that you and Nico had stolen your moments. Time in time again the two of you would sneak away - sometimes it was Jack and your best friend that left you alone when they would sneak off for some shameless fun of their own - to break the tension that would build in the hours, minutes and seconds from the last time you would have indulged in one another. It was a whirlwind of emotion to go from fighting one moment to having Nico’s hands on your body the next. It was an exhilaration you chased right down to the very last day of your trip.

You relished in every moment of no-rule, no-strings-attached affection the two of you indulge yourselves in over your 100 days of summer. Even now as you sipped back your drink in the dim light of the dive bar you frequented on campus you struggled to forget the hookups and makeup sessions that had been the highlights of your summer fling.

Shutting your eyes, you sighed out, the memories so clear as you let your mind wander. You could remember so clearly how the two of you had stood in the warm embrace of the van’s bright headlights, your silhouettes stretching out over the motel’s brick walls. You were mere feet apart, the spotlight on you keeping you at bay as you exchanged subtle glances. His dark eyes left you melting, your heart racing with excitement as your best friend and Jack had already run off to their motel room. You and Nico had put on your usual charade, protesting about having to share a room with one another again. It had become a version of foreplay more than anything as when the van’s headlights dimmed, and his features were left aglow from the buzzing light that flickered above the nearby vending machines there was no stopping the two of you.

His gaze had dropped, his lips curling up into the cocky smirk he often found himself wearing when it was just the two of you before the space between you was stolen and he was pressing you back against the hood of the van and kissing you. The kiss had been far from chaste. There was always an insatiable hunger the two of you shared, one that could only be combatted by the touch of his hand against your skin, or the taste of his tongue in your mouth. You remembered it all so fondly, and you wish you hadn't because it left you to drown your longing in your drink as you watched Nico as he leaned up against the bar. His features were illuminated by the neon glow of the neon bar lights. He was entertaining the attention of a pretty girl, one that had been shamelessly flirting with him for the last 45 minutes - not that you were counting or anything.

Upon arriving back on campus after your summer-long adventure together your secret summer fling had been left behind. It was easier that way, at least that was what you told him. You needed to focus on your studies, and he was juggling his college hockey career and maintaining a high enough GPA not to get kicked from the team. With your responsibilities aside, it had been a relationship of convenience, you had been stuck with him all summer, so it just made sense. Right?

That thought didn’t make the jealousy any less tolerable as your empty glass met the tabletop and you excused yourself to get some fresh air. You had thought the crisp autumn breeze would have been enough to calm you. That it would ease the race of your mind and draw you from the void you felt aching deep in your chest. But the chill only brought attention to how you missed the warmth of his body against your own and it left you sinking to the ground, your head in your hands as you sat on the curb as you let out a sob.

As much as you tried to hide it, the crying drew the attention of those outside taking long drags of cigarettes and those coming and going from the bar. There was a time nobody would have given a damn. When they would have just passed you without looking twice, but you were best friends with Jack Hugh’s girlfriend and no longer got to slip beneath the radar.

It only took a few minutes for your best friend to come running out of the bar, her face blanketed with concern and Jack in tow. Even he, who seemed to be the embodiment of smiles and sunshine, had let his face go soft. They had never seen you like this before. Your name was a mere echo in your mind as your best friend’s voice echoed in your mind.

“Hun, what’s wrong?” she spoke out to you in a soft tone, her hands on your shoulders as she tried to get you to look at her, “did something happen?”

“No, no,” you shook your head, your hands raising to wipe your cheeks free of your tears, “I’m fine, really.”

It was a lie. You knew it. They knew it, but you refused to tell them the truth. You couldn’t exactly tell them that you hated seeing Nico with someone else. Not when they thought you hated him - not while you were still trying to convince yourself you hated him too, but there was a very thin line between love and hate and you had broken it.

Through vision blurred by your tears, you watched as Jack and your best friend exchanged worried looks, and without exchanging a single word they had reached a decision. “Com’on let’s get you home,” your friend sighed, her arms wrapped around your shoulder to help you into a standing position, and when she spoke again you almost vomited, “Jack, go get Nico-”

“No!” You blurted out, your eyes wide and your stomach in knots.

And they don’t question it, because why would they? To them, you hated Nico and leaving him behind had always been something you had been advocated for - especially since that often meant you had more time away from him. Yet, it didn’t stop Jack from going back into the bar as your best friend helped you into the back seat of the car where she would sit with you for the duration of the ride home. Her hand stroked over your hair, her arms keeping you pulled into her as you couldn’t shake the cries that consumed you.

You choked back each sob, your face burying into your friend's shoulder as Jack, who was always your designated driver, drove through the campus traffic and back to the house. But it didn’t stop the tears from leaving the hot trails down your cheeks and you couldn’t ignore how Nico’s stare had been fixed on the rearview mirror that was angled just right for him to take in the sight of you. With just a single glance at the mirror, you were left to fight a shiver that threatened to travel up your spine. You didn’t like the way he was looking at you. It wasn’t with annoyance, frustration or anger for pulling him away from the nightlife, but instead, he was looking at you with concern.

Feeling the heavy weight of his stare on you for the duration of the car ride, you were quick to get out of the car the moment it had been thrown into park. Your limbs felt numb, and your heart was racing. Your tears had seized, but you had been thrown into a flight response. Quick steps carried you up the driveway as you pleaded with your friend. Your words assured her that you were fine as you abandoned them in the driveway and disappeared through the gates of the garden.

You were welcomed by the garden that had already welcomed the embrace of autumn. Flowers wilted, and leaves began to change into brilliant shades of red, orange and gold before tumbling to the ground with the gentle embrace of the breeze. It sent a chill through your body as you settled yourself down on one of the garden benches, and it left you contemplating about going inside and locking yourself in your room but you needed the distraction. You needed to hear the rustle of the leaves. You needed to smell the unique scent of their decay. You need to feel the change of the season, the changes that came with life that you would be forced through and accept. In that you found your calm, one that was challenged in an instant as you heard a pair of footsteps against the cobblestone path that wound its way through the garden.

Looking up, you had expected to welcome your best friend, she had never failed to make sure you were taken care of and yet it wasn’t the sight of her that greeted you. Somehow, some way, Nico must have convinced her that this was a job he was suited for and it left you sick to your stomach.

“Can I help you with something?” you didn’t mean to be so polite, you should have bit out some kind of snarky remark at him, but your voice was weak and you didn’t have enough energy for a fight.

Nico was silent for a moment as he came to sit down at your side on the bench. He didn’t meet your gaze, his hand folded in the hold of one another as he fidgeted with his fingers. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he looked down at the ground, his dark hair falling down into his eyes as his lips parted in an uneven breath. “No, I ah-” he rambled out gently, you had never seen him as such a loss for words before. Nico had always been so quick to counter you, to challenge you and you so quick to do so in return and yet you both had been reduced to tiptoeing around just the right words to say, “I just, wanted to- Are you okay?”

You answered with a stiff; “Ha!” Your gaze cast to the side as you rolled your eyes, “as if you care.”

Your words left him wincing, his head cocking to the side. You had his full attention now as his jaw slacked, and his mouth was left gaping as if to say, did you really just say that to me?

“Of course I fucking care,” he bit out, your name followed after, his voice raised. Offended.

You could only scoff again, “Why would you?”

“Why would I?” he echoed you, a thick brow raising up, “you damn well know why. So why don’t you tell me what happened, and whatever asshole did this to you is going to have to deal with the entire hockey team-”

You near groaned, he would never understand. There was no one to punish because the person who did this to you was yourself. You chose to push Nico away after returning home. You chose not to sneak around anymore and that meant you couldn’t have him. Then, the protectiveness of his tone dawned on you and you almost laughed. He had no reason to be getting that way. Not when he had no claim on you, not when you had both agreed to act like what happened during the summer didn’t happen - and yet your heart still ached for him, and it seemed he struggled to put it behind him as well. But if his words were enough to lull you into a false hope that maybe he had fallen for you too, you couldn’t let yourself admit it to him - you hadn’t even fully admitted it to yourself either. Pushing up from your seat you began to walk away from him, your hand waiving him off carelessly.

“Just as I said earlier, I’m fine,” you did your best to assure him as you tried to leave him at the centre of the garden, but in one rushed stride and he was close enough to reach out for your wrist.

“For fuck sake, talk to me,” he demanded, his voice raised as he tugged on your arm just hard enough to turn you back around to face him.

You didn’t know if it was his tone or the way his skin felt against your own but it felt a rage inside you, one that wasn’t quite an anger, and not quite desire, but it left you to shout, “I love you” before you could stop yourself. Then your eyes went wide with the sudden realization of what you had just let yourself say. Then your words fell into a scoff, your head shaking as if you were talking to yourself and yourself alone, “Ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

Your words had sealed your fate, leaving your heart racing as Nico had lost every sense of hesitation. Shoving your hand to the side he stepped in to steal the air between your breath and took your face in his hands. And as his name was but a mere whisper on your lips he was guiding you in, his lips coming crashing down onto yours. Your cruel summer may have ended, but autumn was just the beginning for Nico and you.

#nico hischier #hockey imagines #hockey rpf #hockey smut #nhl rpf #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #M's Birthday Bingo #aestethic

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h-c-u · 1 year ago

Text

No Longer a Secret pt 6

Summary: The one with A LOT of planning and phone-calls.

Pairing: Toto Wolff x fem!reader

W/C: 7.1k

Rating: PG, age gap

TWs: none

A/N: So... I honestly wasn't planning on writing it today, but welp - it kinda spilled, so here we go... There is not a lot of action in this one, but a few Original Characters were very briefly introduced. Most of them will become a part of this story, so if you have any questions about them - please feel free to ask. One day, when there will be more of them included, I will most likely make a separate post dedicated to them, but for now - there are comments, asks, and messages :)

Taglist: @crimeshowjunkie, @omgsuperstarg

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | List of tags | Playlist for the series

Of course, there was a party after the race. Your first one with the team... And you seriously considered it being the last one, because currently you could hear the grass growing with your whole body and it hurt like a motherfucker. How the rest of the people on the jet weren't hungover? You had no idea. It must have been witchcraft. Because you couldn't explain it any other way, since you were the youngest of them all.

There was some light teasing, but after they realized how genuinely miserable you were, they stopped, and someone even brought you another alka-seltzer, a bottle of cold water, and chewing gum, for which you were extremely grateful because without it you would have definitely thrown up when the plane was climbing to the higher altitudes.

When it was safe to unbuckle the belts, everyone started moving and making conversation. Still, you were definitely not in the right state of mind for any of that, so when Toto motioned you closer to him, you gladly did just that and sat across his lap, with your legs over the soft armrest. He reclined the chair, so you would be more laying on your left side than sitting, which helped relieve the heartburn almost instantly. He was so gentle with you, that you almost melted into his soft shirt that smelled faintly of the detergent he used at home. With his one arm supporting your back and the other resting on your thighs, you felt much better.

You could see the other people trying to hide the surprised looks on their faces at the sight of you two cozying up because even though your relationship was no longer a secret, it must have been a little bit weird to witness the casual physical affection for the first time. But if you were completely honest, you didn't mind. You were all still getting used to the new dynamic between you and them, so it was only natural that it might take some time. And they weren't exactly weird or uncomfortable either, so you knew that sooner rather than later all the wrinkles will iron themselves out.

- Schatzi, we were supposed to decide on who should do the interview... - Toto said quietly, gently rubbing his thumb over your thigh. You honestly forgot about it, so you were glad that he brought it up. - But if you're not up for it now...

- No, I'm good, I'm good. - you said with a weak smile. - But after running it over and over in my head, I honestly think that Laura would be the best choice. - you stated, and when normally you would look up at him, this time you kept your head on his shoulder and kept your eyes closed.

- The talk show host? - he knew who Laura was from your stories, but he still made sure.

- Yes. In the past she had a few special episodes dedicated to interviewing one person when the topic was hot, so we could fit into that category. - you started explaining, and your warm breath tickled Toto's neck, which made him scrunch his nose and smile. - She's known for not taking any bullshit, so she definitely wouldn't go easy on us, but her reputation and the fact that it would air on BBC would give it more weight. - you explained the reasons behind this choice, and Toto only hummed in agreement.

- Don't you think we're a bit too low on a food chain to appear on her show? Doesn't she host celebrities? - those questions were genuine, and under normal circumstances, you would have agreed. But you two unintentionally became a sensation overnight and even people outside of the racing community were interested in you as a couple.

- She does, but right now... Let me show you, it will be quicker. - you mumbled and reached for your phone, but it was in your bag, so instead you took his from the table, unlocked it, typed his name into the browser, and showed him the screen with numerous headlines. "Toto Wolff is a spoken man and ladies are howling", "19 things surprisingly younger than the age gap between Toto Wolff and Y/n Y/ln.", "What do we know about Toto Wolff and Y/n Y/ln?", "Y/n Y/ln - from a respected reporter to a WAG of Toto Wolff" and many, many more.

- I see... - you could tell he wasn't exactly enjoying this type of attention, but you couldn't do anything about it right now.

- I'm sorry, I could have planned it better... - you mumbled quietly and put your head back on his shoulder.

- It's not your fault, Schatzi. - he squeezed your body a little bit tighter and placed a soft kiss on your temple. - I just wasn't expecting it to blow up to this degree. But we'll get through it together. - you could hear a smile in his voice. - So. Laura? - he circled back.

- Yes, Laura. She'll be tough, but if we ask her to avoid specific topics, she will. And that reminds me... Our families. - you sighed. Because you were so caught up in the heat of the moment, and then the race, that you didn't fully grasp the number of things you haven't thought about. - My mother is one thing and I will deal with her, but your kids... At the party, you told them you were going to call them back. - you reminded him, because you weren't exactly sure how much of last night he remembered, and his son called him rather late.

- Thank you, I'll do that when we land. I would also like you to officially meet them sooner rather than later if that's ok with you. - you weighed his words for a short moment in your head, considering if Toto having some time alone with them first wouldn't be better, just to let all the possible emotions out, and answer all the questions without an outsider present, but on the other hand they could read it as him trying to hide you from them.

- Of course. Let me know when, and I'll make the time. - from what Toto told you about them, it shouldn't be that hard, and you hoped that seeing with their own eyes exactly how much you loved their father would help, although you felt like you were starting from a weak position. Fortunately, Toto already told them that he was seeing someone around half a year ago, but he hasn't told them specifically who. So, finding out from social media or worse - their friends might have been hard.

Even though his face was donning a gentle smile, it wasn't hard for you to notice that he was in a sour mood, but you also knew it was temporary. He liked to have everything covered, and the whiplash of your announcement wasn't something he predicted. And you were no better because even though you knew people would be interested, you would have never thought that it would be such a giant sensation.

- We have a lot of fires to put out. - you chuckled quietly and closed your eyes again. - I'll call Laura when we'll land and hash out the details, but if we don't want to wait till next week, we should be ready to do this on Wednesday. - you put your hand over his heart just to feel it beat under your fingers.

- What about the guests she's supposed to have? - you could feel the vibrations of his voice under your hand even through the material of his shirt.

- Let me worry about that, Dashuria Ime, you already have enough on your plate. - you replied, rubbing your cheek on his shoulder and it was his time to laugh, unintentionally grabbing the attention of the rest of the plane, but seeing you two cozied up and clearly talking about something, they didn't interrupt. Although you suspected that they would start listening closer to what you were saying, and they were in for a treat. - I was also thinking about our conversation from Friday... - you started quietly, and you could feel him perk up under you.

- And...? - he asked after your intentional pause.

- And considering the race schedule and the fact that most drivers will stay in the UK, I'd like to start the company and recordings as soon as possible... - his shoulders slumped just a tiny bit, but the smile on your face didn't go away. You knew he was expecting to hear something else, so you stalled on purpose just to tease him. - And to start the recordings, I'm gonna need a studio. And to have a studio...? - you left the end of the sentence hanging in the air and Toto laughed out loud again.

- You will need to move out...? - he finished for you, even though he didn't have to, and you could almost hear the others getting quieter, sensing something interesting, almost like piranhas. Although they were significantly less bloodthirsty.

- I will need to move out. - you confirmed, and the others were no longer pretending to talk, now openly listening to your conversation, and you didn't even have to open your eyes to know that.

- So I'm guessing that... How did you say it...? "I'm not just gonna move all my stuff in one day"... - he imitated your accent surprisingly well, and you couldn't hold the laughter. - ...was a lie? -

- Wait, are you guys moving in together? - Lewis was the first one to jump on the topic and the excitement in his voice was very clear.

- It looks like it... - you finally opened your eyes again and rested them on Lewis’s bright smile.

- Congratulations! - he immediately wanted to get up to get closer to the both of you, and ask more questions, but this was the moment when turbulences hit, and just as he was standing up, he fell back into his chair, and the whole plane's attention was on him. Partially to make sure that he was ok, but mostly because he made a funny sound when he fell over, and now everyone was either openly laughing or trying to hide the giggle. - Hey! Not my fault! Anyways, what do you guys want as a housewarming gift?

- Some damn peace and quiet would be nice... - Toto mumbled loud enough that everyone could hear him, still a little bit hung up on the whole media hurricane.

- We'll worry about that on the ground. Let's just have a few more moments without that, hmmm? - your voice was soft, and he couldn't help but agree; there was nothing either of you could do right now, and your hand gently placed over his heart made him take a deep breath and then let it out, which you instantly recognized as him banishing the thought from his head. - And, Lewis, we don't need anything, but the thought is appreciated, thank you. - you smiled at the driver, and he just nodded in response, but you had a sneaky suspicion that one day there will be a package waiting for you on the doorstep.

- By the way, we were talking with Valtteri about something... - he started, and you looked at the Fin, not even trying to hide the curiosity. - ...how we, as drivers, could help you guys with the media. And I had a rather radical idea, so I wanted to run it by you before implementing it. - you nodded your head, urging him to continue. - Because as you said, there is no way you'll be left alone for a while, and there is a high chance that we will be asked about the two of you as well. So, I thought that we could just... Thank them for the interview, end it, and walk away without saying anything more. - he explained, and you couldn't help but wonder when exactly they found the time to discuss it between the party, sleep, and all the hecticness of the morning.

- This way it'll send a clear message that we're sticking together as a family. - Valtteri added and you took a moment to contemplate their words. You looked up at Toto, trying to gauge what he thought about it, and he didn't have to say a word for you to know how he felt.

- As much as I love the idea, I think it should be run first by your PR team. There might be a clause somewhere that you're obligated to do a certain amount of media time, during race week. - you started carefully. Now, that you realized what a clusterfuck this whole situation was, you thought about everything in a much more professional and calculated way. - Plus, I wouldn't want you to face additional heat because of us.

- Neither of us would. - Toto echoed, and you could hear a smile in his voice.

- I don't think we... care about that...? - Lewis looked at Valtteri with a question in his eyes as if he wasn't sure.

- No. - Fin added with a smile - And we want to take the stand. - it wasn't rare to see them agreeing on something, but it still felt nice - knowing that they had your back even though they found out just a couple of days ago.

- Yeah, because the longer it goes, the longer all of us will have to deal with it. And it's just not right... - you couldn't help but sigh at his words, because he was 100% right. - But of course, as you said, we will run it by PR first.

- Thank you, guys... And I really appreciate it. It means a lot. - you gave them both a gentle smile. - And we will do an official interview, so hopefully, it will satisfy the public at least a little.

- Oh, you're doing one? When? - Lewis was much more interested in that than Valtteri, who went back to reading his book.

- We're still a little bit fuzzy on the details, but if it goes our way - Wednesday. - you answered, but before Lewis managed to ask more questions about it, the pilot said over the intercom that you'll be landing soon, and everyone should take their seats and fasten their belts. Before you got up, you wanted to place a quick kiss on Toto's cheek, but he turned his head and intercepted your lips with a cheeky grin.

Eventually, you were back in your chair, and it wasn't long before you were steady on the ground. It was the first time you flew on the private jet, so you weren't exactly sure what was the customs procedure, however, you definitely weren't expecting an officer to board the plane and process you right then and there, but you were grateful for not having to deal with the crowds of the airport.

Before Toto even started the car, you gently touched his shoulder and mouthed silently "Your Kids" while you waited for Laura to answer. He smiled as a thank you and left the car to call his children and explain everything in more detail, while you went off at the speed of light as soon as your best friend picked up the phone, explaining your plan and overall situation, at the same time confirming that she will have exclusivity on the interview. You knew that appearing on Laura's show was coming with risks and exposing you and Toto to an even wider audience was one of them, but it was a risk you were willing to take. You quickly bounced the ideas for the placement, set, wardrobe, and everything else, and because you knew each other so well, something that usually took at least a few days and a bunch of emails, took you around 15 minutes.

Toto was still outside, talking with his children, so you also shot a message to the other potential interviewers, thanking them for being willing to take that opportunity and rescinding your offer. You also quickly realized there was not a chance in hell you would be able to handle everything by yourself during the next week, so you took two deep breaths and started compartmentalizing and finding possible opportunities to delegate.

First - you shot a message to Mellie, asking if she could talk, and almost instantly after you click "send", she was calling you back, which didn't even surprise you.

- Hey Mells, are you free this week? - you asked, without even exchanging pleasantries, because in the type of friendship you had, they were simply not needed.

- Do you really have to ask, hun? - her laugh sounded like delicate chimes. You could almost imagine her lounging next to her pool while a professional chef was somewhere in the background preparing breakfast.

- I know, I know, but I wouldn’t be myself if I didn't ask. - you chuckled. - So, I'm gonna need someone to oversee the renovation of my apartment into a recording studio, and since you are elbows deep in real estate and you know my taste pretty well... - you didn't even have to finish.

- Say no more! I was bored anyway. What's the timeline? - she asked with pure excitement in her voice. You knew she liked to help her friends and had both the means and the time to do so, but you still felt a little bit bad asking her for such a huge endeavor.

- If we'll pack and move everything tonight, you could start tomorrow. Do you think you'll be able to finish by the end of the week? - you asked.

- Honey, with the right equipment I can finish in less than two minutes. - she laughed and you couldn't help but chuckle. - But in all seriousness, if I'll be able to get the crew there tomorrow, everything should be ready on Friday. - it was much sooner than you expected, but you also knew she had her tricks.

- Even if I wanted to build a wall separating my current office upstairs from the downstairs? Because I would like to put the recording studio there. - you made sure.

- That won't be a problem. It will be enough time for the wall to dry, so you're good. I'm gonna prepare a few sketches before we'll meet in the afternoon, ok? - you could almost hear gears shifting in her head.

- Ok, but just to be quick. Guest bedroom into a quiet place to recharge, my bedroom into an office that can be quickly turned into a conference room. The kitchen and bathrooms stay as they are, but you can of course make changes, I'm leaving it up to you. And the salon should be an office space with 8 working stations. Oh, and that closet next to the terrace into an equipment closet. Just please don't treat the budget as a light suggestion... - you quickly explained. Fortunately, Mellie was at your place enough times to know the layout pretty well.

- The wardrobe on the left to the entry stays as a wardrobe, I assume. And you want to leave two full bathrooms with no one living there? - she asked, already making mental notes.

- Yeah, it stays, and the bathrooms... I mean, I'm not sure about the smaller one, but overall, I plan on having 11 or 12 people hired, so at least two toilets would be nice. I mean, some of them could definitely work remotely on a daily basis, but one bathroom definitely won't be enough. - you said after taking a few seconds to think.

- I can renovate the bigger one, get rid of the bathtub, add a wall or two, and fit two stalls there. And leave the one with the shower as it is. - she offered.

- That actually... sounds amazing. Thank you, Mellie. - you were grateful for the suggestion because you haven't even considered doing something like that.

- You got it. Anything else you have in mind? - she inquired, and you went through your mental list.

- No, not really. I trust you. - you eventually replied.

- Ok, then I'm hanging up and scheduling the crew for tomorrow at noon. Love you, Boo. - she made a kissing sound over the phone, and you laughed.

- Thanks again, Mells. - she was the one who hung up, and you took another deep breath, deciding what to prioritize next, but just as you were about to make another call, you saw a message from Laura, sent from her business email, which meant it was an official BBC business. The message included a very lenient but still long contract, and you didn't have the time to go through every point, but just as you were about to ask Toto if you could steal Mark again, you got a private message from Laura.

"I've fought for it, it's good, but you can still run it by your lawyer. Both of you can sign it before the photo shoot."

And a few seconds later you got another email from her, this time containing the exact schedule for Wednesday, and extensive details about the photoshoot that - if you agreed - would take place in about two hours. Laura also compiled a file with the names of the photographer, stylist, make-up artist, and hair stylist, their previous works, and a few proposals of what they had in mind for you and Toto. Sometimes you forgot how quickly your best friend could work, and how detail-oriented she was, for which right now, you were extremely grateful. You could see that she definitely included herself in every part of the process, judging by what options were prepared for you.

Just as you were about to look closer at the proposed wardrobe, Toto came back to the car and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek.

- Everything went ok...? - you asked, still scrolling through the file. Usually, he had your full attention, but right now, there was no time.

- Yes. As it turns out, you are Rosie's favorite reporter on the grid, so you helped me score some points back, because she - indeed - found out from one of her friends. But they both can't wait to meet you in person. - he gave you a warm smile when you quickly glanced up from your phone. - And how are things on the battlefront? - he asked as he started the car.

- Hectic. The interview will be live on Wednesday at 21:00, but we will have to be there at 19:00. I already have the contracts, and Laura assured me that they're good, and I trust her, but we can still run them by a lawyer. - you looked at Toto with a question in your eyes.

- Forward them to Mark and add P1 before the title. That way he will look at them immediately. - he smiled, and you quickly did what he asked, while you were slowly rolling out of the parking lot.

- BBC also wants to do a quick photoshoot for promotional materials, because right now they have nothing to run an announcement with. - you added, sparing him all the specific details. - In the main studio at 11 if we agree of course.

- Wow, you are really quick, Schatzi. - he chuckled. - And the sooner we get it over with, the better.

- That was actually Laura. But we have about an hour to freshen up in my apartment before we go. - You quickly replied to the second email that the photo shoot is a go.

- A lot can be done in one hour... - he said in a teasing voice, but he immediately realized, that you had other plans, so he dropped the topic. What was happening right now, was your domain, and he intended to put his full trust in you. - Is there any way I could help? - he asked sincerely.

- Actually... Could I borrow Mark for a few days? I will need help with registering a new company, trademarks, and the first few contracts. Just until I find my own lawyer who I could trust. - you asked, with your eyes still glued to your phone. - And do you want to choose your clothes and hairstyle for the interview?

- Of course, you can. I have him on retainer, and I never used his full hours. And – just an idea - you can stay with his company, I'm sure he will find someone who will suit your future needs. But for now, I will let him know that he should expect a bigger workload from you. - you were extremely grateful for that because everything was happening so fast. You landed in England not even an hour ago, and you already had your next few days fully packed. - You have a much better sense of fashion than me, Schatzi, so I’m leaving it up to you... - he answered the second question, and gently placed his hand on your thigh, seeking the physical touch that brought both of you comfort. You quickly chose the hair, make-up, and clothes for the photo shoot, sent it in the reply to Laura's email, and took another deep breath, holding it for a few seconds in your lungs. So many things were happening at the same time, and you had to keep yourself in check because if you didn't, you would be crushed under the weight of all the decisions. And after analyzing everything, you came to the obvious conclusion - you needed more help if you wanted everything to be done on time, but that had to wait a moment because you just arrived at your apartment.

Toto took both his travel bag and your suitcase from the car and carried them into the building, while you wrapped your hand around his waist and hid under the pleasant weight of his arm, where - at least for a moment - the outside world couldn't reach you.

You didn't have to tell him where anything was, because by now he was here enough times to get familiar with not only the layout, but also with where you kept the extra bag of flour in the kitchen, or in which drawer you kept your fresh linen.

- I'm going to take a shower and make breakfast... You do you. - he stated, anticipating that you will be much busier during that hour than he will be. He was right, of course, and you were extremely grateful that he was willing to help.

- Thank you... - you gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before he brought your bags to the bedroom. While he was under the shower, you started scrolling through your contact list, searching for potential future employees. You needed trusted people, people who you worked with in the past and you knew from experience that you worked well together. So, when you spotted a familiar name almost on the top of your list, you immediately dialed her.

- Hey Lynn. It's Y/n Y/ln. - you introduced yourself because you weren't sure if she still had your number. - You were interning under me around a year ago when I was interviewing David Coulthard and you helped me with some research.

- Yes, of course, I remember. It's good to hear from you. - a soft, soothing voice replied, and you could almost hear the smile in it.

- I'm calling to offer you a job... - you started bluntly because you didn't have time to dance around the topic. - For one month as my assistant, and after that - as a full-time researcher, mostly into things related to F1. - you took a quick breath - I'm not gonna lie, the first month would be brutal, but I promise not to bother you outside of working hours. Starting pay is 3k, but it will be changed as your title will change, to reflect your new position. Insurance, private medical care with dental, and all that legal shabang will, of course, be covered. For the first month, I would need you with me in London, but after that - the job can be performed remotely, and the equipment will be provided. - you quickly hashed out the details. You didn't have everything mentioned lined up yet, but you thought about it a lot yesterday, and you knew you wanted to be a good employer, and from experience, you also knew what most people needed from a job to stay happy and loyal, and that's what you were aiming for.

- What's the catch? - she asked in that smooth tone.

- You would have to start tomorrow. And like I've said - the first month will be brutal. - you replied, slowly suspecting which way she was leaning, but you still gave her a few more moments to analyze the pros and cons.

- Since your departure from the Network was rather public, I assume it would be for some other project? - she quickly deduced.

- Yes. I'm starting my own company, and I'm piecing together a crew for it. It will focus on long and extensive interviews. First with current drivers, and if it will catch some winder under its wings - hopefully we will expand. - you replied.

- Independently or for a streaming service? - she dug a little bit deeper, and you couldn't help but admire just how quickly she was able to connect the dots.

- Fully independent.

- I'm in. - she replied as soon as you finished saying the last word.

- That's awesome! Thank you. I will send you the contract either today evening or tomorrow morning. And if I'll know that I won't be able to send it to you today, I will let you know so you won't be pointlessly waiting for it. But for now - do you have any more questions? - your heart honestly felt lighter than just an hour ago.

- What time do I start tomorrow? And where do we meet? - you couldn't help but laugh with relief.

- 9 AM. But you can start from your own apartment. I'm gonna need you to compile a list of external HR companies that also handle accounting, with the best independent reviews, not that bullshit point system from the most popular websites. I want someone legit who won't take bullshit. And since I already know you're good at what you do, the top 3 would be enough. And if you will have enough time after that - I will also need a company that offers both web and graphic design services, with a focus on quality and time; budget right now doesn't matter. - you explained and just as you finished, you felt your phone vibrating with yet another notification.

- HR. Web and Graphic Design. - she repeated.

- I know you're already confirmed, but I'm gonna ask once more. Are you sure you want this job? - you asked because yet again - you got this feeling that everything was happening with the speed of light.

- I'm sure. To be honest, I've somehow landed in a stereotypical corpo-job, so I'm taking your offer as a sign to stop slaving away. - she laughed, and you joined her. - Plus, I know you keep your promises, and you wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t serious.

- And you won't have any problems with resigning on the spot? - you made sure.

- Not with the contract I have with them. - she soothed your worries.

- Ok then. I'll speak to you tomorrow. Oh, and send me your personal details, including the current address for the contract and the courier. I'll try to get a new phone and computer to you by tomorrow, and if you have any preferences for your set-up, please include that in your message. I honestly want you to be as satisfied with everything as possible.

- Do I have a set budget? - she asked quickly before you managed to hang up, and you had to think about it for a moment.

- Don't make me regret it, but... no. Just be sensible and don't order something with i9. - you both laughed again. - Thank you, Lynn.

- You got it, boss. - she laughed and ended the call. You quickly checked the notification that came during your conversation. It was an email from Mark giving you a green light to sign the contract with BBC and asking how you managed to negotiate such terms. You quickly replied and asked if it would be possible to talk over the phone. And yet again today - he was calling you almost as soon as you send the message.

- Hi Mark, I hope I'm not interrupting you too much.

- Hey Y/n. Not at all, I cleared my whole week for you, per Toto's request. - you made a mental note to thank your wonderful partner for helping you so much. - From what I understood, you will need help with registering your company and you would also like to find our own lawyer, is that correct? - he was godsent. And someone definitely was watching over you, because considering how hectic everything was, it was impressive that - at least for now - everything went so smoothly.

- That's right. I will also need help with drafting t first few employee contracts. - you added, as you got up from the couch and started walking around the apartment to focus better on the conversation.

- That's understandable. I assume Ltd? - he inquired.

- Yes. How long does it usually take?

- I will send you a form to fill out and a list of documents you will need to provide. If you'll be able to send it back to me before noon, the company will be registered by the end of today. - his voice was confident.

- You're joking... - you couldn't believe it.

- I assure you, I am not. It usually takes 3 to 5 hours to fully register and process a new Ltd. - he replied, and you were stunned because suddenly everything started to feel a little bit too real. You took one deep breath to ground yourself and closed your eyes.

- Ok then. - you finally replied after a moment of silence.

- Would you mind if I asked you something?

- Ask away. - you chuckled and resumed your walk around the apartment, just as Toto was leaving the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his hips, and you couldn't help but smile.

- Do you already have someone in mind for your permanent HR position? - you stopped again because you weren't expecting that question.

- I have someone looking into external companies to hire from. Why...?

- If you wouldn't mind some good old nepotism, I would like to send you a CV of my daughter. She specializes in employment law and just got her undergrad degree in business management. She has 2 years of experience in a similar position in a tech startup. I can also include her references. - he stopped for a moment, and you honestly needed a minute to process what you heard. - Just a CV. And if you'll like what you see, you could set up a proper interview. I'm not trying to force anything here. - you took a moment to think as you resumed your walk around the apartment at a little bit faster pace.

- Can you send me her CV now? - you requested, because honestly - you wanted to ride that wave of green lights and squeeze as much good luck from today as you could.

- I'm asking her to send it to your email right now. You should have it in a few minutes. - you could hear him smiling on the other side of the line.

- Ok, I will get back to her before 10:30. - everything was going so smoothly, that you were honestly starting to get suspicious, because life was never that easy, and some part of your mind was waiting for the other shoe to drop. After that, you quickly went through the possible private medical packages, sports cards, and the terms of employment you would like to offer your employees, which included a small budget every month for self-improvement, which could be spent either on learning new skills or improving your mental health by relaxing. You also went through the terms of NDAs, and something that popped into your head when Lynn asked you about the equipment - a payment plan to buy it out from the company by deducting it in installments from the pension. By the time you ended the call, it was almost 10, and Toto finished making simple 3 ingredient crepes, which were his specialty, but you weren't done just yet.

You opened an email from Mark's daughter that included a letter of recommendation as well as her CV, and you recognized one of the companies she was working in around 3 years ago because one of Sammy's sisters worked there. So, you quickly called your friend.

- Hey Brocksby... Can you send me Lizzie's number? I have a quick question.

- I mean... I could... but I'm at home and we're eating breakfast, so... you know... I can just pass the phone to her. - you laughed.

- Thanks, Love... You have my gratitude. – you waited a moment until you heard a familiar voice. - Hi Lizzie, sorry to bother you with such a random question so early, but by any chance, do you know Charlotte Zane?

- Hey Y/n! Not a problem at all... And of course, I know One-Fear-Charlie. - she laughed.

- One-Fear-Charlie? - you inquired with a slight smile.

- Well, yeah. Do you know that meme in a form of a comic panel? The one with a guy in a t-shirt that says, "No Fear" and then it changes to "One Fear"? - she asked, and this time you laughed.

- Yeah, I know it.

- So, she was that one fear. - Lizzie explained further

- Was she that bad? - you already started working on a gentle way to reject her CV, but your friend’s sister continued.

- Not bad, just... Strict, I guess? I mean - she knew how to have fun, but when it came to work - everything had to be absolutely perfect and every scenario had to be included in writing, so when you got an email from her - you knew that something was missing from your work, and you basically fucked up. She wasn't a bitch about it though, and she was really patient with new people, but you know...

- She was really good at finding imperfections? - you offered before she found the right words.

- Yeah.

- Did you like working with her? And her as a person overall? - you asked, slowly erasing that speech to gently turn Charlotte down.

- I mean - like I've said - she wasn't a bitch, and always gave you the opportunity to correct your mistakes before someone higher got a chance to see them. She was strict but definitely fair... And personally...? We weren't super close, but she seemed ok. She mostly hung out with paralegals, not us in the bottom of the barrel, but she was always kind to us on breaks and stuff. She had a really dry sense of humor though... You know, cheesy dad jokes and wordplay. - she offered.

- Thank you so much, Lizzie. And sorry again for bothering you. Say goodbye to your brother from me.

- No problem. And take care, Y/n! - you quickly hung up and sighed.

- Eat. You have 20 minutes to take a shower and eat something before we have to leave. - Toto quickly intercepted your phone before you got the chance to do anything else with it and pushed a plate with crepes with plum jam under your nose.

- I need to reply to an email... - you groaned, but despite your words, you started eating.

- Dictate then. Just don't choke... - he smiled, and you chuckled as he placed a small kiss on the top of your head.

- In reply to Charlotte Zane - Could we meet today at 2 PM in Saint Luke's Garden? - you swallowed a bite as Toto typed on your phone. - My signature... - another bite. - …and in PS "Not an official interview, just a walk, so dress in whatever you feel comfortable in. Preferably no business attire. - you continued with a piece of a crepe in your mouth. - Add a smiley face and hit send. - he did as you asked.

- You have a message from Mellie asking if she should include computers in the budget. - you nodded in reply, and Toto passed that in a message form. - And another one from Laura, telling you not to wash your hair or wear any make-up because everything will be done on set. - you were almost inhaling your breakfast, so instead of speaking you just showed him a thumb up, and she sent said emoji in reply. You looked at the clock, took the rest of the crepe in your hand, and almost ran to the bathroom because you had less than 15 minutes.

After the shower, you quickly chose fresh clothes, but before you got dressed, you quickly started applying lotion to your body.

- Hey, could you open the last email from Mark, and download the attachment? - you yelled loud enough for Toto to hear you in the kitchen, or wherever he was. Instead of yelling back, he came into the bedroom and leaned on the doorframe. He was watching you as you finished moisturizing your skin, and you gave him a small smile when you caught him. - The attachment. What information is needed? - you asked, while you put on your underwear, but he didn't reply immediately, instead letting his gaze linger. Only when you looked at him for the second time, he unlocked your phone and started reading the form. Fortunately, most of the information you could provide from memory, or you could find it on your phone, so at least you didn't have to dig through your apartment in search of any documents, and you could fill out that form in the car.

You were ready exactly four minutes before 10:30, but before you left the apartment in a hurry, Toto gently grabbed you by the arms and stopped you from moving anywhere for a moment, and your gaze almost instinctively found his eyes.

- Breathe. Relax your shoulders. Unclench your jaw. Close your eyes... And for one minute just... breathe. - he said. You wanted to protest, because you had to leave, but his grip on your arms told you that it would be futile, so you did as he asked. With every slow breath, your racing mind started to slowly calm down. All the things that you had to do today were still there, but they were slowly stopping to fight for the place in front of the line.

After the full minute, Toto released your arms, but instead of running out of the apartment, you wrapped your arms around him, rested your face against his chest, and stayed like that for one moment longer.

It was easy to get lost when the pace of the day was so rapid, but you were fortunate to have someone who understood that and was able to help you find yourself again.

- Thank you... - you mumbled against his shirt, and he just pressed a soft kiss to your temple in reply. It was his time to be your rock, just as you were his yesterday.

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :) Love, G.

#my writing #Toto Wolff fanfiction #Toto Wolff x reader #🖤#📏#No Longer a Secret by G.

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keldae · 6 months ago

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Tagged by the incomparable @dingoat -- thank you! <3

3 ships

Right now, to nobody's surprise, Gale/Devi is eating my soul. On paper, they shouldn't work -- he's an educated, wealthy, powerful mage (who makes very poor life choices), and she's a much-younger-than-him thief who grew up as an urchin on the streets of Baldur's Gate, whose only "acceptable" skill is playing a violin (apparently pickpocketing and stabbing people aren't considered widely acceptable or desirable skills?). But in all the ways that really count, they are compatible -- they're protective of each other and their friends, and Devi's street-smarts balance out Gale's book/arcane knowledge, and her feisty-ness is another counter to his more balanced way of dealing with things (read: he's 90% of her impulse control). I suppose opposites DO attract! ;)

Theron/Xaja has lived in my brain ever since Shadow of Revan dropped, in canon-verse and in at least two AU's. Theron definitely brought out a side of Xaja that isn't necessarily a proper Jedi side to show, but it's definitely her -- she's also feisty, and protective, and she's got a snarky streak to her that sings to Theron's soul. And she loves Theron's devotion to the cause, and his intelligence, and his wit.

(also, looking at Xaja and Devi... apparently I've got a TYPE when it comes to my main characters in RPGs. You should take a look at my canon Warden from DAO sometime, Lynaen... who ALSO is a redheaded dual-wielding rogue with a healthy dose of snark. At least she was raised a Cousland and didn't spend time learning how to pickpocket on the streets like the other two? #roguelifeFTW)

And I gotta talk about Reanden/Mairen too. They started on a bit of a whim when @andveryginger and I decided to throw them together for a couple of one-off kiss prompts, annnnnd now they run a good chunk of our respective brains (Reanden likes to hang out in Ginger's head a lot). Mai (Ginger's) loves Reanden's intelligence, and his dedication to his kids and the Republic, and the compassionate, caring streak he has under his sociopathic facade. And he's got a type for snarky redheaded Corellian Jedi ladies -- the fact that Mai loves his kids like they're her own, and doesn't think less of him for his rare moments of vulnerability, means the galaxy to him.

First Ship

Oh man -- my very first OTP was Faramir/Eowyn from LOTR, ever since I first read the books at the ripe old age of 12 years old, and it's STILL one of my favourite ships. I think, even 20 years ago, I was seeing myself in Eowyn (as a female character, as one who wanted to fight and seek out renown, as one who, as I would discover later on in my own life, had a bucketload of mental health problems to the tune of depression), and wanted my own Faramir (gentle, noble, compassionate, intelligent). So a bit of projection there? ;) The first ship I wrote... well, I'd started a girl-falls-into-Middle-earth fic in high school, and the endgame goal was my OC with Legolas, but looking back on it now, I think my OC may have had more chemistry with Boromir. Either way, that fic has been abandoned for like 15 years -- I ain't bringing it back out to resurrect it. ;)

Last Song

According to Spotify, "Master Of Illusion" by Battle Beast! If/when I come up with a Gale playlist, that song's going on it.

Currently Reading

"Tress of the Emerald Sea" by Brandon Sanderson. I'm not too far into it, but so far I'm enjoying it! (Also, I LOVE Sanderson's writing style, and the little bits of snark he peppers in there. Current favourite line: "... he had a jaw so straight that it made other men question if they were.")

Last Film

In theatres -- "Argylle", which I enjoyed! I wouldn't class it as a "favourite" movie, but it was fun! At home (read: at Chez Boyfriend), it was "RED" -- that's one of my favourites. Bruce Willis and Karl Urban snarking at each other... =D (Karl is also my faceclaim for Reanden, and that movie was a big inspiration!)

Currently Craving

Nothing at the moment! I have my coffee and I have a big-ass Costco-sized muffin that I'm working on before I go for my tattoo appointment. (Also, Part 1 of my tax return came in last week... I could get ALL the groceries, thank God! Part 2 is dropping on Thursday, for all the backpay after the CRA applied the ADHD disability credit to my previous years... I legit cried when I saw that number. I can afford to get my car fixed, AND get this new tattoo, AND a haircut, AND maybe, I don't know, throw something into a retirement fund!)

Tagging, if you wish: @greyias @storyknitter @nayci @elveny @abysskeeper @auroraesmeraldarose

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ussgallifrey · 2 years ago

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Dagger Squad Headcanons | Part 2

LOGAN "YALE" LEE

Originally from the Bay Area (San Francisco), he got into Yale (his first college choice) when he was 17. He was set to study in the medical field.

He saw the Blue Angels perform when he was home during his summer break and immediately thought: I wanna do that, I can do that.

He finished his senior year and earned a Bachelor in Kinesiology and immediately enlisted in the Navy as an E-4. Going right to officer's school for flight aviation after his first deployment.

He's the youngest child in his family with three older sisters.

His oldest sister, Ashley (Ae-cha, 애차) is a cardiologist. His middle sister, Chelsea (Chung-ha, 김청하) is a professor at Berkley. And his other sister, Hanna (Ha-yoon, 하윤) is a concert violinist.

His Korean name is Seo-jun (서준), which means naturally talented.

The reason he picked Logan as his English name was because he was absolutely obsessed with X-men growing up. He dressed up as Wolverine two years in a row for Halloween.

He loves the Golden State Warriors. As a kid, he had dreams of becoming a point guard for the team but ultimately lost his drive for a basketball scholarship around eighth grade.

Do not get this man started on Steph Curry. He will not shut up about him.

In his off-time, he does trick shots on the court. He dominates games of Horse and will literally decimate the competition.

He also enjoys spinning basketballs on his finger - it took him all summer when he was nine to figure out that trick.

He was known as DJ Lee throughout middle school because he was constantly burning music onto CDs from Napster for his classmates. He ran the underground music market at the time and saved up enough money from the illegal sales to buy his first flip phone. His parents still have no idea about his young enterprise.

This man is obsessed with banana milk. He drinks at least, bare minimum, two a day.

He swears by eating ginger rice before he flies because it'll settle his stomach better than anything.

His rotating music consists of a lot of classic west coast rappers (Tupac, Dre, Snoop, Easy E, etc.). But he definitely has a secret playlist dedicated to Ariana Grande.

If he has a fully choreographed dance routine for "Dangerous Woman", that is strictly between him and his bathroom mirror, okay?

BRIGHAM "HARVARD" LENNOX

If it wasn't obvious from the name, Harvard is from Utah.

The family farm consists of twenty acres of rolling hills and goats. Just so many goats.

He is the second oldest out of his eight siblings - five brothers and three sisters. He's closest to his sister, Jocelyn who is two years younger than him.

He was a band kid (third trombone). He joined because his fifth grade teacher asked if he would be auditioning for it and he just went yeah, okay.

Also a swimmer on the high school swim team. His best friend at the time asked if he'd be trying out and he just went yeah, okay.

He broke the school record for the backstroke and the butterfly. He's the reason the team made regionals.

This may surprise people, but he has a really amazing singing voice and performed in the spring musical each year. He played both the Beast in Beauty and the Beast (junior year) and Danny from Grease (senior year).

Jocelyn asked him if he'd be putting that shower concert singing to any good use and he just said yeah, okay and he became a theater kid.

The drama/economy teacher told him to put in his college apps to more than just one university, since his parents really wanted him to go to BYU, and he thought just the one application would do.

No one expected Harvard to extend the invitation for him to attend in the fall, least of all Harvard himself. But his grades were all there and he had the stunning recommendations to match, so... to Harvard he went.

He earned a Bachelor in Engineering Sciences.

At the end of term, there were army recruiters just about everywhere within walking distance of campus. Lo and behold, Harvard crossed paths with a Navy recruiter who asked if he ever considered serving his country. He just looked at him and said yeah, okay.

Joining the Navy as an E-4, he served for barely six months before his CO recommended him for officer's school.

Look, people think Harvard is a simple guy. But he's just overly polite and eager to please. He went to Harvard University, after all. And he graduated from the Top Gun program when he was 26. He is very good at what he does.

He doesn't drink. Okay, he let's himself have one drink when he's out with the squad. But he's usually a designated driver.

He dominates at strategy games. Back home, he has a cupboard full of board games that his family almost flat out refuses to play with him because he's just that good. Do not let this man near a Monopoly board.

Absolutely loves chili cheese fries. Even the bad ones they serve in the mess hall. He will literally never turn down a basket of them.

He has a watch collection. All with different purposes (formal events, hiking, first date, etc.). And he usually spends a good chunk of his pay on a new purchase.

His Spotify consists of a lot of musical theater numbers, Dolly Parton, and Nirvana (oddly enough).

˚ ✧ more top gun headcanons ✧ ˚

#top gun headcanons #top gun maverick headcanons #dagger squad headcanons #logan yale lee #brigham harvard lennox #top gun fan fic #my fic

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usergreenpixel · 3 years ago

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MALMAISON MEDIA SALON SOIRÉE 11: AUSTERLITZ (1960)

1. The Introduction

SURPRISE! Hi, my dear Neighbors! This is a surprise soirée where we can finally discuss the long awaited topic of “Austerlitz”, a movie directed by Abel Gance (who also wanted to make a series of movies about Napoleon).

I have already seen the 1927 silent movie called “Napoleon” by this very director and I have reviewed it under the Jacobin Fiction Convention tag, but I also quickly found out about today’s review subject so this soirée was only a matter of time. And wouldn’t you know it, the time has come! Yay!

Unfortunately, while researching where this movie can be found, I realized that the English version is only on Netflix so those with subscriptions should be able to find the entire thing there. Russian speakers like myself are a bit luckier because there is a “two voice dub” (basically the one where you can kinda hear the original voices) online and should be easily accessible.

Okay, with that out of the way, let’s begin this party! Also, this review is dedicated to @tairin , @count-lero and @kaxen .

2. The Story

You would think that a movie called “Austerlitz” would depict only, well, the titular battle, but nope. It doesn’t show only that!

In fact, about the entire first half of the movie is spent on setting the stage for the events that would result in the battle. We see Napoleon as consul (later Consul for Life ™️), then there’s his coronation (not actually shown though), his family drama, etc.

Now, initially I thought I would be annoyed by the fact that so much time is spent on something other than the Battle of Austerlitz, but nope! Surprisingly, it wasn’t boring or annoying at all because all of these events give important context and insight into Napoleon as a person, so I don’t think pacing is an issue here. It might be too slow for some people though.

Also I love the fact that we’re not shown only the French side, but actually the prospectives of the Coalition members as well, so there’s no sense of “good French vs. evil Allies”, which is honestly great! It’s good to see multiple points of view.

I will have to admit that the time skips are a bit confusing, especially if the movie is being watched by someone who doesn’t know Jack Shit about the time period, but it wasn’t a problem for me most of the time.

And also, trigger warning because there are scenes with blood, obviously.

3. The Characters

Napoleon here is… complicated.

I dislike him, much like I dislike his real counterpart. He is impulsive as fuck, ambitious, stubborn and at times acts like a total dick, but also has moments of tenderness and kindness to his so that’s nice. Plus his tactics and strategy are shown, but that’s a given considering what kind of movie this is.

His family is also a mess, but they’re minor characters so I don’t have much to say about them.

Fouché and Talleyrand are scheming bastards as always.

Murat is a minor character, but he is brave and flamboyant.

Lannes is blunt, informal with Naps and isn’t afraid to call him out on bullshit.

Napoleon’s valet, Constant, is pretty interesting and shares a few witty quips with Napoleon in the beginning of the movie.

There’s also an old soldier called Alboise who is even blunter than Lannes, witty and all around badass, so he was one of my favorite minor characters.

Honestly, there’s a lot of characters and even more cameos so I can’t name them all, but the cast ends up being almost as diverse as my playlist.

4. The Setting

Love the settings! To me they looked accurate and really well made!

5. The Acting

Everyone is great! Pierre Mondy as Napoleon is something else and I loved his performance in particular.

By the way, a nice touch is the fact that there are multiple languages used in the movie (French, English, German and Russian) so that’s a bonus point for effort!

6. The Music

For some reason I have a soft spot for music in older movies, and this one is no exception. I especially love the triumphant music in the end and the fact that we have our soundtrack in moderation so it’s not annoying.

7. The Conclusion

Honestly, I’m glad that Abel Gance returned to Napoleon again in a way, even though his original plans of a multiple part saga didn’t work out.

I found the movie well done and I liked almost everything about it, except the time skips and some of the scenes depicting soldiers with injuries (I’m a bit squeamish).

Definitely recommend it! Great movie!

But with that, let us finish our surprise soirée at the Malmaison Media Salon. Stay tuned for updates, dear Neighbors!

Love,

- Citizen Green Pixel

#history #napoleonic art #napoleonic media #napoleonic movies #napoleon bonaparte #austerlitz 1960 #napoleonic wars #battle of austerlitz #malmaison media salon #marshal lannes #marshal murat #i still refuse to make a fouche tag #talleyrand

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soobmint · 4 years ago

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paper hearts | choi soobin [f] ; [c] 80s! au, 9.6k words

s u m m a r y ; if there was one thing you wanted to avoid on valentine’s day, it was running into your ex best friend, choi soobin. but when a series of unfortunate events involving too much purple eyeshadow, drunken punches, and one stolen bicycle leads you right back to his side, you begin to realize that maybe you truly belonged with him all along.

c o n t e n t s ; soobin x fem!reader, 80s! au, valentine’s day, ex best friend! soobin, rich boy! soobin, but he’s a major dweeb and the biggest softie, yeonjun is a major prick (i’m so sorry junnie), reader is a part time worker, soobin is best friends with lee felix of stray kids, some themes of social classes, roughly inspired by the 80s movie “pretty in pink,” mentions drugs, alcohol, and single parent households, mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff, with a hint of crack/humor

n o t e ; hello friends! this was a very quickly planned, last minute valentine’s day idea, and it’s actually a collab with one of my dearest friends, @chanluster ! she posted her piece of the collab as well, you can check it out by going to the collab masterlist here! this was so much fun to write and i think that 80s! soobin was just too good of a concept to pass up! anyways, happy valentine’s day, i hope you enjoy this oneshot! do leave a like, reblog, or comment if you could, it really helps so much <3

[back to my masterlist] [oneshot playlist]

IF ONE MORE CUT-OUT, CRAFT-PAPER HEART HIT YOU IN THE FACE, YOU WERE GOING TO QUIT YOUR JOB.

Of course you would never actually quit. With your mother out of the picture and your father working nonstop overtime just to barely have enough cash to put food on the table for the both of you, you had come to rely on your minimum wage part-time hours more than you liked to admit. However, the handmade strings of paper hearts that hung from wall to wall throughout the entirety of the record shop you were employed at was enough to make you consider it; not to mention the Phil Collins record that had been spinning all day, filling your ears with melodies embodying the very air of romance, and the embarrassing pink sweater your boss had forced you to wear. You mumbled curses beneath your breath as you pulled at the collar, itching away at your neck.

When you made a step towards a crate full of records, ready to tidy it up after a customer had rummaged through it leaving it a mess, you were met with another face full of cheap red construction paper. With a large growl of exasperation, you swatted at the hearts and accidentally caused the entire string of them to fall to the ground. You cleared your throat, glad that no customers were present to see your little outburst.

Your boss, Jen, still saw it all.

“That’s not very festive of you, kid,” She said, taking a drag on her cigarette. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Lighten up.”

“Ah, my bad. I forgot that I was supposed to be overjoyed on the day honoring the execution of St. Valentine,” You said as you gave her a sarcastic smile. “I’ll make sure to smile at the next couple that walks in and ask them how they plan to contribute to the commercialization of a martyr’s death.”

“You must be real fun at parties,” Jen mumbled. She shook her cigarette at you from behind the counter. “You’re just bitter because you don’t have a valentine. I can’t blame anyone for giving you the cold shoulder with that attitude of yours.”

You scowled, picking up the string of hearts that you had sent crashing to the floor. “I’m not bitter, and I don’t want a date. Also, I told you to stop smoking inside! It smells awful.”

“Last I checked, this was my shop, not yours.” You rolled your eyes as you approached the counter, handing the discarded string to Jen so she could throw it in the trash. “Now you’re making me do chores for you too? You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.”

“Jen, please, I’m really not in the mood for this today.”

Jen shrugged, bending towards the trash can to throw away the string of hearts when she paused and pulled something from the bin. You glanced over your shoulder and gasped when you saw what she held in her hand—a small red envelope with your name scrawled across the front and a pink heart-shaped sticker stuck on the back.

“What’s this?” Jen asked, opening the envelope and shaking out the contents. A single slip of paper fell out, landing atop the counter. You rushed to grab it, but Jen snatched it up just before your fingers reached the countertop.

“Give me that,” You insisted, face growing warm. “I threw it away for a reason!”

“It’s an invitation to a party?” She seemed beyond surprised, glancing back and forth between you and the paper several times. “You got invited to a Valentine’s Day party, and instead of going, you asked me to give you extra hours? Why?”

You looked down at your feet, digging the toe of your sneaker into the blue carpet. There were, in fact, many reasons why you did not want to go to that party. They were as follows:

One: Choi Yeonjun was the one who had invited you. After you had rejected his offer when he asked to take you to a basketball game a month before, you could barely make eye contact with him in the school hallway without feeling guilty. That and the fact that he was one of the richest preps in the school, you knew he had just been asking you out for some sort of prank or dare that you preferred to not potentially fall victim to.

Two: you needed to work as much as you could. Money, as always, was tight for you and your father. There was no way you would sacrifice precious hours to go to a party full of rich kids where nothing but humiliation was sure to await you.

Three: your old childhood friend and the one person you couldn’t bear to see was probably going to be there—Choi Soobin.

You had barely spoken to Soobin in the four years you had been in high school. Crossing paths with him in the cafeteria, turning down the same aisle of books as him in the library, all those tiny stolen glances and accidental encounters were the only bits of interaction you had kept throughout all that time. The worst part was, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was nothing but your own cowardice that had driven the two of you apart, and you were still too afraid to own up to it.

Instead of explaining all of this to Jen, you simply shrugged and said, “I dunno. It just sounds lame.”

Your boss sighed, holding the invitation out towards you. “Okay, I’m letting you off early. Go to the party.”

With wide eyes, you shook your head immediately. “Absolutely not. Why in the world would I go?”

“Well, first of all, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for you. Who knows when your next chance to go to a party will be.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that.

“Second, it’s a holiday! The only reason I even opened today was because you were begging me for hours. I thought it was because you were bummed about having no plans, but clearly it’s because you wanted an excuse to be a recluse.”

“Hey, I’m not a recluse.”

“Clearly.” She shook the invitation at you once more, brows raised. “If you go, I’ll raise your pay by fifty cents for the next month.”

Your ears perked up at that.

“Well?” She asked, well aware that she had hit the jackpot. “What'd ya say?”

Weighing the risks against the benefits, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Make it a dollar and you’ve got a deal.”

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S, CHOI.”

When Soobin heard the sarcastic remark coming from his best friend, Felix, he had to fight back the urge to burst into tears then and there. He still wasn’t quite sure how Felix had convinced him to come, but he was already regretting it. The last thing he wanted to do to celebrate the day dedicated to love was spend it at a house party—or, as Soobin preferred to call them, any outcast high school kid’s version of hell on earth.

With a quick peek between his fingers, which he had used to cover his eyes immediately upon arriving at the site of the Valentine’s party, Soobin caught another eye-full of couples getting all too familiar with one another out in the open. He gulped, letting his hands grip the handles of the bike as he averted his gaze, choosing to cast his best glare at Felix, who was busy adjusting his ever-present beanie.

“Shut up,” he murmured, slowly sliding off the seat of his bike. He dusted off the worn, tearing cushion, glancing around the area. “Now quick, we gotta put our stuff somewhere safe.”

Felix looked aghast, making no moves to help Soobin in his search for a hiding spot. “What are you doing?”

“Tryna find a safe place for my bike?” He thought the answer to be somewhat obvious, but clearly Felix wasn’t on the same track of thinking. “You don’t know today’s world! Anyone is willing to steal nowadays.”

“Soobin, your bike is coughing up oil from its chains. It should be in its own care home at this rate.”

“I don’t wanna hear your slander, skater boy,” Soobin retorted, eyeing Felix’s ebony skateboard that he refused to be seen without. As if on cue, when he pushed his bike forward, the chains squealed, drawing the attention of a pair of particularly passionate individuals who had been wrapped up with one another moments before. Soobin ignored their annoyed stares, feeling his ears burn from embarrassment. He glanced back to Felix. “Help me find a hiding spot.”

Felix was anything but enthusiastic, but he began to help Soobin search nonetheless.

“Slide it in here, Soobs,” Felix called a few moments later. He was pointed to an empty space between the home’s perfectly trimmed bushes. Soobin pursed his lips together, pushing his large glasses further up the bridge of his nose—a nervous tick of his. Felix groaned, rolling his eyes. “Or you can leave it out in the open so it’ll spit more oil on the passersby? Is that what you want?”

“Fine, fine!” Soobin huffed, wheeling his bike over to the shrubbery, chains squeaking all the way. He carefully laid it beneath the brush and moved a few branches to cover it up nicely. He stood up straight, dusting his hands on the front of his loose blue jeans. “What about your skateboard?”

Felix gave the board a pat, awarding his most prized possession a dazzling smile one would expect to see a proud father giving his beloved son. But in reality, it was the school’s stoner grinning ear to ear at his old, dusty skateboard. “Nightrider stays with me.”

Soobin scrunched his nose, cringing on instinct. He still calls that thing by that stupid name?

Felix clapped him on the shoulder before he could make a remark, catching him off guard when he said, “Right. Let’s go and get your girl.”

There was nothing Soobin could do to stop the flush that rushed to his cheeks right away. Images of you, his ex-best friend and the only reason he had even come to this party in the first place, flashed through his mind. Had he not overheard Yeonjun invite you earlier that morning and then casually mention the encounter to Felix, there was no way he would have even stepped foot out of his house that night. Part of him was peeved, wishing he had never uttered a single word about you to his overbearing friend. Yet, deep down, there was hope within him—the tiniest sliver.

If there was even the slightest chance that he could talk to you that night, he would do anything. Even if it meant dealing with a stupid party, and the never-ceasing teasing he was bound to continue receiving from Felix.

“Don’t even say that,” He said, emphasizing each word as they walked up the front steps. Soobin had to glance down at his much shorter friend to see the devious grin on his freckled face.

“Say what? That she’s your girl, your woman, your one and only?”

The blush must have been creeping to his neck by that point. He could feel it. “I. . .” There were many things Soobin wished to say; angry words that would hopefully shut the blonde skater boy up real quick. But he couldn’t bring himself to say a single harsh word, so he sighed in defeat. “I can’t even say it.”

“That you hate me?” Felix only grinned even bigger, and Soobin couldn’t help the tiny defeated smile that slipped over his features. “Oh, I know. It’s because I’m too good of a best friend.”

They stepped into the house then, instantly being overwhelmed by loud music, boisterous laughter, and drunken yells echoing throughout the halls. Soobin latched onto Felix right away, gripping his friend’s sleeve as someone stumbled into him, a bit of beer spilling from their cup. He pushed his glasses up, only for them to slide right back down as he began to sweat.

“Maybe we should go home, Lix!” Soobin shouted to be heard over the noise as they travelled further into the house. “We can always try next year!”

“Stop being a scaredy-cat!” Felix shouted back, and Soobin thought he might actually begin to cry as they squeezed their way into the living room. Soobin nearly gagged at the strong smell of alcohol as it burned in his nose. The scene was nothing short of a nightmare to Soobin—loud voices, smoke rising in the air, vodka assaulting his nose and sweat beading on the back of his neck. He had never been one to drink, and he didn’t plan on starting that night; but he was beginning to understand what Felix meant when he had once told him it was nearly impossible to get through one of these parties sober.

He was about to make another complaint and beg to leave when someone from the crowd hollered his name, causing him to wince when he recognized that voice as the one that belonged to none other than Choi Yeonjun.

“Soobin! Where you been?”

Soobin smiled nervously at the school’s heartthrob—and textbook snobby rich kid—before he turned back to Felix. He didn’t want to leave his friend, but he knew that he would never hear the end of it if he ignored Yeonjun’s persistent calls. “I’ll be right back,” He promised Felix, still holding onto his sleeve.

“No, no,” Felix assured. “You go. You’ll probably find her around that place anyway.”

Soobin wasn’t so sure of that. You were definitely not of the right social standing to be caught amongst the circle of the school’s rich boys—which was why it had surprised Soobin that Yeonjun had invited you to the party in the first place. Your high school had its own caste system, and you were near the bottom of it.

And, as much as it pained him to admit it, Soobin was stuck at the very top with all the other rich snobs who cared about nothing more than their daily allowances that came straight from their daddy’s bank account.

“What about you, buddy?” He asked Felix, desperate for any excuse to remain by his friend’s side. He would have tried to bring Felix with him, but his friend was in an even worse social standing than you were—he was poor, and he was most known for being the school’s pothead. There was no way Soobin would willingly drag him into a situation where nothing but slander and torment awaited him.

“Me?” Felix shrugged, gripping his board tighter. “I’ll just smoke away the night.”

Soobin pouted, glancing back at the group of preps as they called for him once again. He sighed, clapping Felix on the shoulder. “Just make sure you won’t smell too much of it when I come back.”

Submitting himself to his doom then, he turned on his heel and slowly made his way to where the group of boys sat near the sofa, giving them a half-hearted wave.

“Why were you hanging around that Felix guy?” Yeonjun asked once Soobin had reached their circle. “Did he blackmail you or something?”

Soobin frowned, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “He’s my friend.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, brushing a hand through his perfectly-straightened ebony locks. “Sure he is. Tell me, do you see every kid you find on the streets as some sort of personal charity project? Or is it just Felix and—what was her name—” He snapped his fingers then before he said, “Y/N, right?”

Soobin didn’t respond—well, it was more like he couldn’t respond. By nature he was a very passive being, but nothing drew him closer to bouts of anger than when the people he cared about were being insulted right before him.

Especially when it came to you.

Yet, as much as he wanted to tell Yeonjun off or give him a nice shove into the smoke-stained walls, words failed him. They always did. Perhaps this was why you had abandoned him all those years ago. Nobody knew him better than you did, so of course you were able to see what he truly was beneath all the expensive clothes and nervous laughter—a coward.

He figured that he’d probably have left himself too.

“Drink up, buttercup.” The chipper voice that belonged to the other Choi in the small gathering of socialites, Choi Beomgyu, thrust a plastic red cup towards Soobin’s chest.

He shook his head, throwing another wavering smile in his direction. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. Why are you even here then?”

Once again, Soobin chose silence as his only response. He swallowed, patting the front pocket of his denim jacket. As the group of boys began conversing once more, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander around the room, searching every drunken face for the features that belonged to you, trying to hear your name in every conversation, desperate for your voice to break through the blasting music and shouting voices.

“Who ya looking for there, Big Choi?” Soobin grimaced at the nickname. He was skinny, but incredibly tall, and nobody would let him forget that. “Big Choi” was one of his most common nicknames among the elitists. He despised it, but of course, he would never voice that aloud.

He glanced at Beomgyu and smiled nervously again, shaking his head. “Nobody.”

His eyes met Yeonjun’s and he gulped yet again as the latter eyed him with suspicion. It wasn’t as though he had anything to hide, but something about Yeonjun’s calculating gaze made his skin crawl.

He needed to escape. Just for a moment, at least.

“I’ll be right back. Going to find some water.”

He slipped out of the living room then, apologizing profusely to each couple he accidentally bumped into, bowing in remorse to each person’s toes his big feet happened to stumble over. He ached to be by Felix’s side—the stoned skateboarder had become somewhat of a security blanket to the taller of the duo—but his blonde friend was nowhere to be seen.

After snagging a bottle of water from the kitchen, Soobin managed to slip into an empty bathroom. He slammed the door shut and wasted no time in locking it. Letting out the biggest sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door, taking a big gulp of the ice cold water.

He set the bottle on the counter and carefully reached into the front pocket of his jacket, his fingers finding the piece of paper he had been storing there all evening. He pulled it out and let his eyes wander over his middle school creation. It was a big heart, cut out from a scrap piece of red construction paper. Scrawled across it in his eight-grade handwriting were the words, Be mine this Valentine’s! His name was etched at the bottom, and at the very top, delicately printed in hot pink glitter glue, your name was written as well.

He had planned to give this to you four years ago on Valentine’s day. Everything had been planned out perfectly; he was to pick you up on his old, trusty bike. It wasn’t really made for two people, but the two of you had fashioned a makeshift extra seat for you to sit upon whenever you went places together.

He wanted to take you to the Dairy Shack, which was the local ice cream shop where the two of you spent the most time together. You always got a large chocolate shake to share, playing a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who got to eat the cherry on top. He was going to order a shake and specially ask for two cherries that time, and planned to give both of them to you before he would bravely present you with the handmade card he had spent all day working on.

However, when he waited for you outside your house that day, the red dusk turned to pitch black night, and you never stepped foot out your door.

He had even gone up to your door a few times and knocked, but there was no answer. Eventually he pedalled off into the night, back to his house. He was disappointed, of course, but more worried than anything else. He had hoped you weren’t sick.

But when he saw you at school the next day, he knew that hadn’t been the case.

And when you ignored him calling your name as you passed by him in the hallways, he knew that something had drastically changed.

For weeks, Soobin was in great turmoil as he replayed your last few encounters together before you had stood him up. Perhaps you were angry that he had won the last few games of rock, paper, scissors? If he had known, he would have given you all the cherries for the rest of time if it meant you would still talk to him. He didn’t care about them—he cared about you.

He missed you.

And as weeks turned to months, and months turned to years, you still barely spoke to him, and he missed you more and more. The best friend he had wanted to take a step closer to had taken a thousand steps back from him, and he still had no idea why.

But that night, he was determined to find out.

Well, if he could muster up the courage to get a single word out, of course.

He folded the heart back up and stuck it back in his pocket, taking a deep breath as he observed himself in the fogged-up mirror. He fixed his bright blue hair that Felix had helped him bleach and dye, making sure the pieces fell over the corners of his eyes just right. He straightened his white turtleneck and cuffed the sleeves of his denim jacket until he was at least somewhat content with his appearance.

“You can do this, Soobs,” He told himself, adjusting his big round glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “That’s what Felix would say.”

“Hey, rich boy!” A loud scream came from outside the bathroom door, accompanied by harsh knocking that sent Soobin stumbling backwards until he fell in the shower, pulling the curtains down with him.

“Hurry up in there! I’m about to piss myself!”

Soobin let out a shaky sigh, scrambling to his feet as he rushed to fix the curtain he had torn down with his clumsiness. “Sorry,” he mumbled, though he doubted the person on the other side of the door could hear him.

He realized then with an ever growing dread that it would be a miracle if he survived the night long enough to even find you, but it would take the work of God himself for him to actually speak to you.

He figured it was time for him to start praying.

YOU KNEW IT WAS A MISTAKE TO LET JEN DO YOUR MAKEUP.

When she had stopped you on your way out the door with a compact of bright purple eyeshadow, you had turned her down right away. No way in all of creation were you walking in a party with such an atrocious color caked up to your brow bone.

“How can you say it’s gonna look bad if you haven’t even let me try?” Jen had asked.

You had given her a once-over, your lips pressed into a thin line. “If it’s gonna look anything like the way you do your own makeup, I’m gonna have to pass.”

After that snide remark, she had threatened to fire you if you didn’t let her apply the makeup. And so you obliged, though you didn’t have much of a choice.

The booming sounds of the party hit your ears before you had even reached the lawn. Screaming teens—well, there were probably some adults thrown in there as well—and the sound of music spilled through the open windows of the home. Couples and singles alike were scattered throughout the perfectly kept lawn that was now littered with empty cups and other assortments of garbage.

You looked down at your patchwork jeans and pink sweater, certain that you would be underdressed compared to the rest of the partygoers. But from the looks of things, as you carefully squeezed your way through the front door and into the home, everyone was probably too wasted to even notice your arrival, let alone care about your looks.

You caught a glimpse of your face in the hallway mirror, cringing at the sight of your eyeshadow. You had tried to wipe some of it away before arriving, but it simply smudged, giving you quite the shocking smoky, purple eye look. For someone who didn’t even know the difference between a paintbrush and a makeup brush, it was a bold look, to say the least.

If Soobin saw you looking like this, he’d probably have a heart attack.

Soobin.

In the midst of all your frantic preparation, you had nearly forgotten about the main reason why you had planned to avoid this party at all costs. With a quick glance around the room, you realized that he was nowhere to be seen. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t shown up at all. He was never a fan of parties, anyway.

You crossed your arms over your chest and slowly slipped past the couples crowding the hallway with their limbs intertwined, mouths practically swallowing one another whole, until you reached the living room. Surprisingly, it was less crowded in here than you thought it might be. A few minglers were scattered about the room’s perimeter, but they all kept away from the center of the room, which was occupied by none other than Choi Yeonjun and all his brainless, rich-boy worshippers. You quickly scanned the group, not able to make out Soobin among them. When you realized he wasn’t there, you were partly relieved and partly disappointed. If was to be anywhere at this party, it would probably be with these guys.

With a quick turn on your heel, you planned to make your way out of the living room before Yeonjun could see you. The last thing you wanted was for the boy with a bruised ego to see you, regardless of whether or not he had been the one to invite you.

“Y/N? You came?”

Too late.

Plastering a forced grin to your face, you slowly turned to face Yeonjun, who had just called your name. He was eyeing you with slight surprise, but soon, a smirk slipped across his lips as he motioned for you to come over. You had to hold back your sigh, wishing there was some way for you to get out of this situation. It was all Jen’s fault that you had to show up in the first place. You decided you were going to demand an extra ten cents be added to your raise the next time you saw your pushy boss.

“Hey Yeonjun,” you said once you had walked over to him. “I figured I’d stop by for a minute or two, since you were kind enough to invite me.”

He smirked, glancing at a few of his friends. They shared a knowing laugh with one another, but the meaning of it was lost to you. You wanted nothing more than to get away from them, but that wasn’t an option.

“You’re too busy to go out with me to a basketball game but free enough to come to a party, huh?” He asked.

You blinked, digging your nails into your arms. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine, really,” He drawled, swirling his plastic cup of beer in his hand. “You didn’t think I’d be upset or anything did you? I only asked you out because I was dared to shack up with you. But I’m guessing you already knew that, since you’re so smart and all.”

Your eyes went wide, but you managed to control the rest of your expression. It was just like you had guessed—Yeonjun had invited you to the party with the sole purpose of making a scene.

If you survived the night, Jen was never going to hear the end of it.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” He asked, pushing himself to his feet. You could tell by the slight stumble in his step and his hooded eyes that he had quite a bit to drink. He took a step towards you, causing you to back up immediately. Your back hit the wall, and you placed your palms against it as Yeonjun towered over you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know why you’re here anyways.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. “You’re here to see Soobin, aren’t you? Since he’s the only one here willing to waste his time on filth like you.”

Your blood boiled, and you had to clench your fists at your sides to control your anger.

“Don’t,” You seethed, “Call me that.”

“Call you what? Filth? Or sweetheart? Why, is that something good old Binnie used to call you—”

He never got to finish that sentence, because with one big burst of anger, you stomped on his toe as hard as you could with your worn-out platform sneaker.

“What the hell!” He screeched, drawing the attention of several others in the room. His outburst even caused a few of the couples to pull away from each other’s faces long enough to eavesdrop.

Before you could even say anything back, lukewarm liquid was splashed up in your face, burning your eyes and nose. You gasped, running your hands over your eyes to see Yeonjun with his now empty cup of beer pointed towards you.

“Think twice before you act out against me next time, sweetheart. Never forget your place.”

Tears of anger burned in your eyes, and you scanned the room to see several people exchanging whispers and giggles as they glanced in your direction. You pushed past Yeonjun and quickly made your way out the back door of the house, unable to stand the humiliation for a moment longer.

Soobin arrived in the living room just in time to see you leave.

He wasted no time in rushing towards Yeonjun, grabbing hold of his arm. “Yeonjun, was that Y/N?” He asked, eyes quickly taking in the puddle of alcohol on the floor and the empty cup in Yeonjun’s hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty blue head about, Big Choi. I just put her in her place is all.”

Soobin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you ‘put her in her place?’”

Yeonjun laughed, giving Soobin a nonchalant pat on the back. “Just drop it, would you? It has nothing to do with you.”

“What did you say, Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun was growing irritated now. He huffed out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “I said it has nothing to do with you, Soobin. I know you like to hang around people like that pothead Felix, but the rest of us live in the real world, where we’d rather not waste our time with those who have no future anyways. I bet he’s the one that got you to dye your hair that god awful blue, isn’t he?”

Soobin bit the inside of his cheek. He so badly wished to rip Yeonjun to shreds then and there. If he had Felix’s courage, the cocky bastard would have been knocked to the ground ages ago. But if there was one thing Soobin was sure he could never be, it was brave. And so, despite his rage, he remained silent, his eyes practically burning a hole through Yeonjun’s chest from how intently he was glaring.

It seemed as though Yeonjun was about to say something, but his eyes landed on the bit of red that peeked through the front pocket of Soobin’s denim jacket. Before Soobin had time to defend himself, Yeonjun had reached forward and snatched it from his pocket, revealing the large paper heart—his valentine for you.

“So this is why you care so much,” Yeonjun said, laughing as his eyes scanned the glittery words that decorated the page. “You want her to be your valentine.”

“Give that back,” Soobin said quietly, his hands beginning to shake.

Yeonjun instead lifted his eyes to Soobin, gave him a sickly sweet grin, and ripped the heart straight down the middle. He let the two pieces fall from his hands to the ground, and with them Soobin’s heart went also.

“You’re really willing to try and go against me, and for what? For the sake of a girl who can’t even afford a new pair of jeans and a boy that smokes his life away in the bathroom stalls?” Yeonjun took a slow step towards Soobin, his eyes glinting with a sinister determination. “You may be rich, Soobin, but if you choose to lower yourself to their standards, you may as well be dirt poor just like they are.”

With his hands clenched into tight fists, his glasses sliding down his nose, and his heart quite literally in two pieces on the floor below him, Soobin decided that he had had enough.

“I’d much rather be associated with people who are kind and have actual depth to their character than be lumped together with a bunch of pricks like you with no real personality—because that’s something you can’t buy with daddy’s paycheck.”

He had to physically restrain himself from slapping his hand across his own mouth in shock. It was as if the spirit of Felix himself had possessed him to say such harsh things. He wondered where Felix was then, wishing more than ever before to have his best friend by his side as he began to tremble from either the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins, or from fear. Or perhaps it was both.

He didn’t have time to ponder it any longer before Yeonjun’s fist collided with his nose, resulting in a sickening crack as pain echoed throughout his face in tidal waves.

He stumbled backward as people began to shout, raising his hand to his nose and gasping when he saw that his palm was covered in blood.

Beomgyu had his arms wrapped around Yeonjun, who was desperately trying to lunge towards Soobin once again.

“Knock it off, Yeonjun!” Beomgyu shouted, pushing the elder back. “His dad is on the school board! Are you trying to get expelled?”

Beomgyu looked over his shoulder at the still stunned Soobin, who was gaping at the blood that now stained his once white turtleneck.

“Get lost, Soobin,” Beomgyu said, to which Soobin only blinked in reply, his ears ringing.

“Now!”

Head spinning, Soobin picked up the two halves of his paper heart, stuffed them into his jeans, and stumbled out the same door he had seen you go through just minutes before. After checking to make sure his glasses were still intact—they were, thankfully—he shook his head in an effort to clear his mind of the static, eyes scanning the front lawn looking for any trace of you.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to spot you among the now dwindling crowd of partygoers. Your bright pink sweater stood out against the darkness, so he was able to recognize you even with your back towards him. He sniffed, wiping the back of his hand against his dripping nose as he slowly made his way to where you sat on the curb, your feet planted on the asphalt street. He wished that he looked a bit more presentable—when he played this scene out in his head over the years in which he would finally reunite with you, he never imagined himself dazed and covered in blood.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, he supposed.

When he reached you, he simply stood beside you in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. He could tell that you sensed his presence, but you refused to look up at him as you kept your face buried in your hands. He could have sworn he heard a few muffled sobs slip through your fingers, but of course, he wasn’t going to bring that up.

Eventually he decided to slip his jacket off of his shoulders, leaning down to drape it over you. You still kept your head down as he sat beside you on the curb, but he watched you grip the jacket and pull it tighter around your body. He smiled a bit, holding the collar of his turtleneck against his throbbing nose.

“Thank you,” you muttered, wiping your hand across your eyes. You finally looked over at him, and when you did, you couldn’t hold back your gasp. “My God Soobin, what happened to your face?”

“Oh, well, I might have gotten punched,” He said quickly, trying to wave off your concern. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Punched? By who?”

He looked down at the ground, sniffing as a drop of blood hit the pavement. “Yeonjun,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, did you just say Yeonjun? Are you insane? Why on earth would you butt heads with the Choi Yeonjun?”

Soobin didn’t say anything in response, he simply stared at you, eyes wide with beer dripping off the ends of your hair, makeup smeared across your face, your sweater stained down the front. It didn’t seem to take long for you to put the pieces together, as the shock left your face and was replaced with something akin to guilt.

“Oh,” You said, looking back down at your shoes.

“So she knows that I did it all for her,” Soobin thought.

For some reason, the idea of that both terrified and excited him.

A second later, he glanced over to see you ripping one of the hand-sewed patches of fabric off your jeans, leaving a square of your skin exposed to the chilly night air. You leaned towards him, pushing his hand away from his nose so you could use the patch to clean up some of the blood on and around his puffy red nose.

“Y/N, your pants!” He exclaimed, trying to push your hand away. “They’re ruined!”

“I’m not worried about my pants, you idiot,” You said, swatting his hand away as you continued to press the cloth against his skin. “You got punched in the face because of me, this is the least I could do.”

“That was my choice though,” He muttered, although he stopped trying to resist your touch. He ignored the way his heart thrummed harder in his chest, hoping that you couldn’t hear.

“Well, this is my choice too.” Your eyes flicked to his for a brief moment, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “Why did you do it, by the way?”

“Do what?”

“Stand up to Yeonjun for me and get a nasty nosebleed as a result.”

“Oh.” He blinked slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on yours. “Just ‘cause.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because of you.” He blurted, causing your hand to go still against him. He swallowed his fear, braving the best smile that he could. “Just you. That was my only reason.”

You didn’t say anything as your hand fell from his face, the cloth clutched between your fingers. The anxiety he had tried his best to suppress came rushing up all at once, and he was surprised that his ears didn’t begin to squeal like a tea kettle from all the pressure.

“Y/N,” He said, gently placing his hand over yours despite how his fingers trembled. “Why did you pull away from me?”

“What?”

“Four years ago. Why did you stop talking to me?”

You were quiet for a moment, digging into the ground with the toe of your sneaker. Soobin held his breath until you finally replied with, “I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“We were getting older, Binnie,” You said, and his heart skipped at the use of your old nickname for him. “You and I, we’re from very different walks of life. You get to hang out with people like Yeonjun, whereas I get a cup of beer poured all over my face just for existing, and you get a fist to the nose for trying to stand up for me. We’re from different sides of the track, one might say.”

“So?” Soobin asked, his hand tightening around yours. “Did you really think that would affect us that much, Y/N?”

You frowned, glancing down at his hand over yours.

“I thought you’d be embarrassed of me,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Embarrassed?” Soobin’s eyes went wide as he gripped your hand tighter still, pulling it into his lap. “Y/N, I would never, ever be embarrassed of you. Besides, have you seen my best friend? He’s on a first name basis with the principal because of how often he gets written up for smoking behind the school. If I’m not embarrassed of him, why would I ever be embarrassed of you?”

You laughed, wiping the back of your hand across your eyes once more. “I guess I was worried about nothing, huh?” You sniffed, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Soobin.”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand right back. “Don’t apologize. You’re here now, that’s what matters. Do think we could—you know—”

“Pick up where we left off?” You smiled, nodding vigorously. “I’d like that very much, Binnie.”

He beamed then, almost pinching himself to be sure that he was not dreaming, but the pain in his nose was real enough to remind him of that on its own. He jumped to his feet, pulling you right up with him.

“In that case, how about we finally go on that Valentine’s date I had planned all the way back then?”

“Date?” You asked, a brow raised. “Is it really considered a date if two friends are just hanging out?”

He didn’t respond as he pulled you along behind him towards the bushes where he and Felix had hidden his bike. He crouched down and moved the branches aside, feeling his heart drop to his stomach when he realized that his bike was, in fact, no longer there.

He shot up, turning to face you with eyes wide. “Felix—that bastard took my bike!”

You were quiet for a moment, but then, you burst into boisterous laughter, leaving Soobin utterly confused.

“It’s not funny, Y/N!” He whined, shoving your shoulder lightly. “I was supposed to take you to the Dairy Shack on my bike!”

“It is funny,” You said between bursts of laughter. “Only you would get such a rusty old piece of metal stolen from you.”

He pushed his lips out in a pout, sliding his glasses up his sore nose. “It’s a good bike, don’t make fun of it.”

You grinned, interlocking his fingers with yours, which was enough to instantly wipe the pout right off his face.

“Let’s just walk, Binnie. The Dairy Shack isn’t that far anyways.”

You were right; the walk to your favorite milkshake place was very close to the house where the party had occurred. Although Felix stealing his bike had thrown an obvious wrench in his plans, it was a minor hiccup, and one he could most definitely handle. Besides, he wouldn’t have to see Felix until the next day anyways. He could deal with his frustration then.

At least, that’s what he thought anyways, until the two of you spotted Felix at the skatepark on your way to the dairy shack.

Soobin’s eyes took in the deplorable sight before him—from where he stood on the dimly lit sidewalk, he could see Felix and a girl he had never seen before, their faces nearly pressed together, and most importantly, with his bike discarded a few yards away from them.

“Soobin,” You said, tugging on his arm. “They look like they’re busy, let’s just go—”

But Soobin, who had little patience when it came to Felix messing up his plans, didn’t let you finish before he screamed, “Give me back my freaking bike!”

You had to hold back your snort of laughter at his choice of words. Even when he was trying to sound angry, he was undeniably adorable.

Soobin watched as Felix startled, clutching his spliff between his fingers as he glared daggers back at his friend. Soobin gulped, trying not to let his fear show on his face. What did he have to be afraid of, anyways? He was the victim of thievery, and his best friend was the offender.

Felix took a big step towards him, but he paused, his eyes landing on your interlocked hands. Soobin glanced down as well, his face growing furiously warm as he realized the situation he had gotten himself into.

He decided to divert the subject before it could even be brought up by saying, “I can’t believe you stole my bike! All this time I was trying to hide it from strangers, but you, my best friend! I should’ve been hiding it from you!”

Soobin noticed Felix’s female companion step off the skateboard and walk over in his direction, and for a second he felt bad for possibly ruining her night with his best friend. However, his frustration was more prominent in the moment as he fixed his gaze back on his best friend, who had fixed a mischievous smirk upon his face that made warning sirens blare in Soobin’s head right away.

“Now, now, buddy,” Felix said, his voice calm and carefree as ever. It probably had something to do with what he had just smoked, but Soobin didn’t care all that much. “You’re just gonna have to let me borrow it for a little longer.”

Soobin nearly laughed at the audacity of such a statement. “You are gonna give me the bike, or—”

“How about this, Soobs?” Soobin’s lips clamped shut at his friend’s interruption, as the thief in question gestured with his joint to where Soobin’s fingers were locked with yours. “You let me keep your bike for the night, and I don’t tell your dad about you hanging out with the opposite gender.”

Unable to control yourself, you let out a big laugh. Soobin would have felt betrayed, but he was more terrified than anything else at the idea of his father finding out that he was taking a girl out without his permission. He would be grounded for weeks—no, months.

“You wouldn’t.”

Felix’s lips curled up even more into a twisted grin that Soobin wished he had the guts to slap off his face. “God, just imagine the look on Mr. Choi’s face. Imagine him finding out about your premarital hand holding.”

No. Not the hand holding.

Soobin almost felt faint, but he steeled himself to the best of his abilities as he cleared his throat. “One night, Lix,” he warned. “If I don’t see it on my porch in the morning, you’ll be sorry!”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Felix teased. His expression changed a moment later though, when he finally noticed Soobin’s swollen nose and blood-stained turtleneck. “Wait, Soobs, the hell happened to you?”

Soobin, however, had already taken his first steps away from the skatepark, pulling you along behind him. “I’ll tell you later, bud. Enjoy your spliff with that kind girl who you probably don’t deserve!”

“Hey!”

Soobin couldn’t help but laugh as he swung your interlocked hands together, grinning as you let out a laugh as well. The anger that had seeped through him seemed to melt away in an instant as the two of you continued your journey to the Dairy Shack.

“Would your dad really be that upset if he found out about this?” You asked.

Soobin grimaced. “We should probably wait til next year to tell him about this outing. Or maybe the year after that.”

When the two of you had finally reached the Dairy Shack, you waited outside for him while he went in to order your drink. A large chocolate milkshake, with two straws, just like you used to get every time before.

When he had the drink in hand, he walked back outside and sat down beside you on the curb, smiling as you wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders. You smiled back up at him, your eyes creasing from the expression. Your smile had always struck him right to his core; he had missed seeing it every day.

He hoped he could see it every morning and every night from that day onward. There was no way he would let you go this time.

He just had to muster up the courage to grab hold of you first.

“You know what, Binnie, you turned out to be a lot taller than I thought you ever would be,” you said as you took one of the straws from his hands. “You’re actually enormous. It’s shocking.”

“Should I find that offensive? It sounds kinda like an insult.”

“Take it however you will,” You teased, leaning over as he popped the plastic lid off the milkshake. He grabbed the cherry by the stem and held it towards you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, holding out your fist. “We have to rock, paper, scissors for it. Remember?”

Soobin laughed as he shook his head. “I’m giving it to you this time. It’s what I planned to do all those years ago, when I asked you to hang out on Valentine’s.”

You seemed to be taken aback, but you simply shrugged as you plucked the cherry from his hand and pulled it from the stem with your teeth, glancing back over at him. It was silent for a moment, but then your eyes landed on the pocket of his jeans, where you could see a bit of red paper poking out. You leaned over even further, reaching your hand out to snatch the paper.

“What are you—hey! Give that back!”

Soobin desperately tried to take his Valentine back from you, but it was too late. You held both halves of what used to be a whole in your hands, your eyes scanning the words as you pieced them together.

“Soobin . . .”

He held his breath. Had his act of young love left you completely speechless? Were you so touched that you would burst into tears?

“This looks like a middle schooler made it.”

He let out the breath in the form of a long, long sigh.

“That’s because it was made by a middle schooler,” He said as he set the milkshake down beside him. “I made it back in the eighth grade. I planned to give it to you that Valentine’s.”

“Oh.” You ran your finger along the card’s surface, the smallest smile creeping across your lips. “Well in that case, it’s not half bad. Why’s it ripped though?”

“Ah—well, Yeonjun . . .”

You nodded, taking another glance at his swollen nose. “No need to elaborate. It seems you had a lot planned for our Valentine’s Day back then. Is there anything else you wanted to do?”

His mouth went dry at that, and he wished that you couldn’t see his face because he was sure that his expression was quite comical. All the way back then, four years prior, he had in fact planned the perfect, ideal day in his head. Picking you up on his bike, giving you the cherry from his milkshake, and presenting you with his hand made card.

There was only one thing left on his list.

He didn’t move at first, willing himself to have enough courage to even look back in your direction. But when he finally did allow his eyes to meet yours, he felt his shoulders relax and his heart rate became more manageable.

He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against your cheek.

He lingered there for only a moment before he pulled back, daring to pry one of his eyes open to take in the look on your face.

The disappointment was palpable—from the way your brows furrowed together and the way you pursed your lips. His stomach dropped, and he scooted the tiniest bit away from you.

“I’m sorry,” He blurt out, his face growing warmer by the second. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just—”

“Is that all?”

Your question stopped him mid-ramble, his eyes growing wide. “Huh?”

“Is that all?” You repeated, closing the distance between you that he had created. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Soobin. I think we can do better than a peck on the cheek.”

The implications of what you were saying didn’t register with him right away, but when it finally did, he could have sworn his heart began to beat loud enough for the entire town to hear. His hand curled into a fist as he gripped the denim of his jeans. He leaned forward, keeping his eyes open just enough to watch you as he brought his lips closer to yours. He could feel your eyes on him all the while, causing his heart to pound fiercer still within him.

When he was just a breath away, he whispered, “Can you close your eyes?”

“Hm?”

He lifted his hand, gently placing it over your eyes. He leaned closer then, filling the space between you both as his lips met yours. You tasted vaguely of cherry and strawberry slice soda, and he found it quite nice the way his lips seemed to fit perfectly against your own. As the seconds drew on, your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer. He slowly let his hand fall from your eyes, tracing lines with the tips of his fingers down your cheek before he cradled your jaw, letting his lips part just enough to taste the sweet sugar on your lips once more.

He thought in a haze that it was a good thing he didn’t drink anything at the party, as kissing you was proving to be intoxicating enough on its own.

When you finally pulled away, leaving your forehead resting against his, he let his eyes flutter open enough to see the euphoric smile that adorned your features. He grinned as well, gently running his thumb against your cheek.

“I think that back then, I had planned to ask you this before kissing you,” He whispered, “But Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

Instead of a spoken answer, you laughed, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours once again, and that was the only answer Choi Soobin would ever need.

WHEN SOOBIN ARRIVED HOME THAT NIGHT, HE WENT STRAIGHT FOR THE TELEPHONE.

It was kept upstairs at night right outside his parent’s door, to keep himself and his brother from using it in the late hours. Of course, this never stopped Soobin from sneaking it downstairs to his room in the basement to make late night calls to Felix.

And that particular evening, he really needed to give Felix an update.

He grabbed the phone from the small table in the hallway, carefully tiptoeing towards the basement stairs. Before he had even taken the first step down, the bathroom door creaked open. Soobin whipped his head around to see his brother Kai standing there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he raised a brow at his older brother.

Soobin froze, blinking slowly as he realized the incriminating situation he found himself in.

“Please don’t tell mom,” He whispered, his eyes pleading with his younger brother.

Kai nodded, although Soobin wasn’t quite convinced that the boy was even coherent enough to understand what was going on. Soobin offered a rushed thank you, and ventured his first step down the stairs.

Well, he tried, anyways, and ended up missing the first step. He tumbled down the rest of the stairs, landing on his butt at the very end.

He winced in pain, glad to see that the phone was still intact in his hands. He glanced over his shoulders to see Kai staring down the stairway with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock. Soobin quickly put a finger to his lips, begging his brother for silence.

Kai simply shook his head and walked away, allowing Soobin the freedom to breathe out a sigh of relief.

He quickly ran to his bedroom and shut the door, collapsing onto his bed with the phone as his breaths came in ragged gasps as an aftereffect from his tumble down the stairs. He figured he should have dialed Felix’s number right away, but he couldn’t help but brush his fingers against his lips, remembering the feeling and taste of having yours pressed against them.

He was so caught up in his daze that he didn’t notice Felix calling until the third ring.

He picked it up, breathing heavily into the speaker as he rubbed a sore spot on his lower back.

“Please tell me that panting is from running a marathon, and not what I think you’ve successfully tried.”

Soobin nearly gagged, holding the phone away from his face as he coughed, flustered by his friend's crude words. He brought the phone back to his face and said, “No, you sicko, I just fell down the stairs.”

“How the hell did you manage that with those long legs?”

“That’s not important, Lix!” He laid back onto his pillows then, twirling the phone cord in his hands as he stared up at his ceiling, the memories of his adventure with you that night flooding his mind once more. He couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as he said, “Look, I need to tell you something important.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he could hear the smile in Felix’s voice too as his friend replied.

“Well buddy, I got something to tell you too.”

1K notes · View notes

wonjaekook · 4 years ago

Text

Residual Starshine

Pairing: Soccer player!Yuta x fem!reader

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

Word Count: 19.3k

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

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

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

Taglist: @junglewoos @insomni-writing @neowritingsnet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One of our neighbors is a total ass!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, he doesn’t know who you are-”

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

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

“Great morning, isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it?” You lift an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

“Are you coming tonight?”

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

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

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

“What position does he play?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, the whistle is blown.

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Yein, Sowon, Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you stalking me or something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NaYu: Are you at the Ravens game??

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This again?” You say, frowning.

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

“I also help you with your statistics homework.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next Friday, you receive a strange text.

Unknown Number: Hey, is this Y/N?

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

Unknown Number: This is Mingyu from physics

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

Y/N: Hi! What’s up?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could say that.”

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

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

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

His eyes light up. “Are you serious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes flash. “Challenge accepted.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I get it,” you respond, nodding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

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

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

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

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

“Does he keep you a secret on purpose?”

“I asked him to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, the subject you’ve been dreading comes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He misses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it that obvious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yuta, it’s me.”

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

“I came to talk to you.”

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

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

“You can look at me, you know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“These have to come off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm, good. That’s my girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yuta?” You say between shallow breaths.

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

“Do you want to go professional?”

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

“I really think you could do it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re weird and a horndog and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N? Whose shoes are these?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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madswonders · 4 years ago

Text

A Lesson In Romance #11: Actions

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: A little ✨spice✨ and a little ✨action✨

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, brief mentions of alcohol consumption, gun violence, mild (???) dirty talk

Word Count: 2.3k

Plot: Reader keeps getting caught in rom-com situations with Spencer Reid. This time, they pretend to be married.

A/N: I would like to dedicate this chapter to the Classy Restaurant Music playlist on Spotify for capturing the fancy restaurant vibes I needed hahahah

Masterlist | All chapters here!

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"You know, this is not how I imagined coming back here." You said quietly. Next to you, Spencer smiled.

Your eyes were still adjusting to the warm light, a stark contrast to the blue winter evening outside. This was your second time here, technically, but the sensation of his hand on your waist and the cool metal on your left hand made it all feel brand new.

"Table for Mr. and Mrs. Reid." He said to the hostess, calmer than you'd ever seen him before. You didn't miss the way he tugged you closer when he said "Mrs." and despite the truth of the matter, giddy smiles tugged on both your lips.

But it was the hostess' reaction that gave it away for you. When she glanced at your intertwined hands and matching rings with a soft smile, you began to realise why the two of you were chosen for this in the first place. The effect you had on each other was hypnotising.

Sending you and Spencer undercover as newlyweds was probably the easiest decision Hotch has ever had to make. His reasoning came from basic human psychology; people are drawn to extreme events, and while this generally applied to accidents and tragedy, it also applied to marriage and child birth.

In this case, few things would stand out more in a crowded restaurant than a pair of shiny new wedding rings, a large bouquet of flowers, and a bottle of champagne for two. And to top it all off, he had the two of you. Everything else came secondary.

Still, it was strange. Being isolated from the operation only made you more in awe of your team. Even under the duress of three hours, they operated like clockwork; devising a comprehensive undercover mission, building a profile for an unsub they didn't even know, and training an entire restaurant's staff in a handful of hours.

By the time the final pieces fell into place, all that was left was for you and Spencer to carry out the final stage of the plan.

Maybe it was the pressure of having the entire team rest on your shoulders, or this new "character" you had to play, but something felt different tonight. It was like electricity crackled in the air; you felt it when his hand lingered on your back, low enough that you felt a growing warmth in your belly, making you yearn for his touch long after he let go.

Maybe it was the stress from going undercover for the first time that made you trail your gaze down his suited figure, muscled and lean as a side effect of this job. Maybe that's why the image of him standing at the foot of your bed in this very suit couldn't leave your mind, until the physical action of squirming in your seat jolted you out of your own imagination.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Spencer locked eyes with you, his hazel eyes dark under the dim restaurant lighting.

"Just thinking about you." You admitted, placing your hand across the table. He took your hand in his instantly, his thumb tentatively resting on the jewel on your ring finger.

"All good things, I hope?"

"Nothing but good things."

"Well, perhaps I can add to that. You look beautiful." He pressed a soft kiss to your hand, his eyes crinkling playfully when your cheeks turned pink in response.

"How do I know you're not just saying that for our audience?" You whispered, eyes darting to his tie where the mic was hidden.

"If it weren't for our audience, I'd be saying a lot more, love." He replied lowly, and you bit back a thought you didn't want any of your colleagues to hear. You could already imagine them cringing as they listened in on your conversation, and the image made you giggle.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Dr. Spencer Reid?" You accused jokingly.

"When love is not madness, it is not love." He answered simply.

You thought for a moment, before the reference clicked in your head. "Pedro Calderon de la Barca. Interesting choice. You weren't lying about your education in classic literature, doctor." You looked impressed.

"I'm hurt that you even doubted it." He mocked insult, and you grinned.

"No, I'm just surprised."

"Wait until you see my actual surprise." He smiled, gesturing behind you as a waiter appeared carrying two plates in your direction.

"I took the liberty of ordering our food in advance." He explained. When you looked at him in surprise, he simply shrugged. “I figured I should expand my theory beyond breakfast.”

"And here I thought tonight couldn't get anymore exciting." You said, marvelling at the appetisers as they were placed in front of you two.

“You can reserve your compliments for when I guess everything correct, and I will.” He mock bowed.

“You're on." You giggled. "Now, can we finally have some of this champagne?"

Dinner went by smoother than you thought it would, and thankfully for your team listening in, your conversations steered away from thinly veiled flirting to classic films as the food appeared.

Not that it was any easier for you talk about Billy Wilder and Francis Ford Coppola with what was happening in front of you. Spencer had taken to playing with the ring on your finger while you talked, and each time his long fingers brushed against yours, it sent chills down your spine.

But it was when his leg brushed against yours underneath the clothed table that you felt yourself lose grip of your facade. The first time it happened, you even thought it might be a mistake. But after the second and third time, it was clear that Spencer knew exactly what he was doing, even if the innocent expression on his face didn't betray anything.

If you didn't know him better, you would even think that he liked it, teasing you underneath the restaurant table on case, where you couldn't act on it. Instead, you pushed away the thought and allowed your skin to prick with every touch; all the while you sipped on your champagne, taking the chance to observe the patrons around you through the rim of your glass.

Unfortunately, your luck was a little worse in the unsub department, and your concern only continued to grow as your entrées made way for dessert.

Before you entered the restaurant, the team had discussed the best-case-scenario for tonight — identifying and apprehending the unsub quietly before the dinner shift was up. But if you ran out of time, there was always one back-up plan, something that would definitely force the unsub's hand.

The good thing about having two unsubs now was that victimology became incredibly simple to decipher. What you and Spencer had considered inconsistencies at first, were now clear patterns distinguishing each one.

The first one was impulsive but experienced, driven purely by a compulsion to complete his pattern as fast as possible. Despite that, he had the sense to stick to high-risk victims and secluded locations, which made him so hard to catch in the first place.

It was the second unsub that was interesting. He seemed more controlled and calculating, choosing low-risk victims and public locations. The team profiled him as the narcissistic component of the original profile. The more high profile the victims, the more they attracted him.

And now that you’d spent the entire night drawing attention to yourselves, all you had to do was present an easy opportunity for the unsub to pounce — right into the BAU’s trap.

The moment Spencer beckoned you to come closer, you knew something was up. "Listen carefully, love. I'm going to call for the bill, and we're going to go outside. If I'm right about my guess, the unsub is going to be right behind us. Do you understand me?" He whispered into your ear, low and calm.

You made an obvious move to cup his cheek as you leaned back. "Can we go home now, baby?" You cooed. Yeah, you got him.

As you walked out of the restaurant, you intentionally stumbled as you clung onto his arm, letting out a loud giggle. Your gaze fixed adoringly on your date, even as Emily and Hotch called for their bill on your left, Derek and Rossi no doubt already rounding to the front of the restaurant from the back exit.

"Trust me." Spencer murmured as he opened the door for you, and when you nodded, he pulled you into one final kiss for the public. What you didn't expect was for him to move his hand down and squeeze your ass, causing you to let out a loud squeak at the doorway.

If anybody was looking at the two of you before, they were certainly staring now, and the doctor confirmed this with a low whisper. "He's coming."

When he finally caged you against his car, you had to remember not to go overboard for your listening colleagues, but you couldn't help but let out a quiet moan into his mouth as he pushed his leg lightly against your core.

"Sp— Spencer—" You breathed, locking your fingers behind his neck.

"Just hold on a little bit more, love." He muttered, cupping your cheeks with his large hands and stroking your hair. "Just a bit mor—"

You heard the sound of a gun cocking next to you as you broke apart, lightly gasping. A middle-aged man stood in the shadows, waving his gun aggressively. Bingo.

"Get into the car."

The two of you raised your arms warily. "Who are you?" Spencer shouted, moving to shield you from the unsub.

"I said, get into the car!" He yelled. "Starting with you."

"Okay, okay." The doctor conceded, unlocking the car and slowly getting in the backseat. He left some room for you to get in next, but the unsub trained his gun on you.

"Not you, sweetheart. I'm going to finish you right here." He narrowed his eyes at you. "Drop your bag on the ground."

Everything seemed to fall silent as you slowly lowered your bag, and your hidden gun, to the ground. When you stood back up with your hands in the air, the unsub slammed you into the side of the car and you groaned at the sudden impact.

You didn't need to gather your senses to know that his gun was pointed right at you.

"Leave her alone, James." Spencer threatened, already out of the car and levelling his gun at the unsub. All around you, the team moved into the light.

"FBI! James Luther — put the gun down." Hotch ordered.

The unsub looked shocked for a moment as he looked around, finally realising the situation he was in. His expression was unusually calm, and it chilled you to the bone.

"Very, very interesting. Are you a fed too?" He sneered down at you.

"It's over, James. Either you put the gun down, or you don't walk out of here alive." Spencer warned, but the unsub only laughed.

"I should have known that it was too good to be true. It's not often I get such a perfect couple, much less one with a wife this pretty." He drawled, waving the gun in your face.

"Spencer. I'm okay." You ordered through gritted teeth, already knowing what the genius was about to do.

"Look at her, so brave. Are the two of you even married? Or is everything about this fake?"

"I won't say this a second time. Put the gun down." Spencer repeated, cocking his gun straight at the unsub's head.

"T-think about this, James." You reasoned. "If you kill me, they'll kill you, and you won't be able to hear what the press will say about your murders after we expose you. Isn't that what you want? Don't you want to stop living in somebody else's shadow?"

The unsub's grip on his gun slackened. "They're not going to run a story on me. Why would they unless I keep killing?"

"They will if you give us the names and descriptions of all your victims, and we will make sure your face is front and centre for every single one." Spencer added. The unsub looked into both your eyes, seemingly searching for a hint of a lie, but there was none.

"Fine. Looks like the lady lives, this time." He gave up, dropping his gun to the floor and putting both hands on his head.

"James Luther, you are under arrest for the murders of Lucy Patt..." Derek recited his rights while dragging him away. You braced yourself against the car, catching your breath.

"Are you okay?" Spencer rushed over, sweeping you into a hug before you could even reply. You buried your face into his shoulder, tears welling up in your eyes involuntarily as you inhaled the familiar scent of paperbacks and coffee.

"I-I'm okay, baby. I'm okay." You mumbled, not sure if you were reassuring your boyfriend or yourself in that moment.

"It's okay, just let it out. You're safe now. I'm here. You're safe." He repeated, stroking your back as he kissed the top of your head again and again and again until you lost count.

You'd never been so relieved to arrive back at the BAU. Penelope was the first to give the two of you a big hug when you returned, fussing over the small cut on your face and the bruises on your arms, while you reassured her that you'd been cleared by the medics to go home.

"Good work today, both of you." Hotch called out from behind, shooting a small smile at you and Spencer. "Reid, take her home, and take a day off tomorrow. The two of you deserve it."

"You wouldn't be able to drag me into work tomorrow if you tried." You joked, and Spencer chuckled. For the first time, he wasn't about to argue with an order to take a break.

Nor was he about to argue when you asked him to come in to your apartment, or when you asked him to stay the night.

The only thing he wanted after tonight, was you.

---------

Tag List:

@blue-space-porgs @nobutalsoyes @lady-loves-a-lot @queen-flower @agentcarterisgay @totalmess191 @sapphic-prentiss @oops-all-ajs @spottedzebrasinpartyhats @mellowalieneggsknight @kenny-0909 || @averyhotchner @amesandpineapples @willowrose99

#mads fics #spencer reid x reader: a lesson in romance #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm fic #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid x reader smut

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purrincess-chat · 3 years ago

Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH22

And we’re back! Chapters will resume posting on Fridays both here on tumblr and on AO3 (linked below). I hope you’re ready for the second half of this story. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve that are different from last time, so I hope you all enjoy it!

Previous First Next AO3

Chapter 22: Mean

Marinette chewed her lip, picking at the hem of her shirt. She’d been too nervous to sleep, and the coffee she drank on the way to the hotel made her jittery. Clara and her manager flipped through her designs, the silence eating away at Marinette’s composure. Did Clara like them? Hate them? Had Marinette let her down? Why wasn’t she saying anything?

Clara glanced up at Marinette, a smile curling on her lips. She stood up with an amused giggle and took Marinette’s hands. “Oh, Marinette, you can chill. These designs really fit the bill. Choosing you was in good taste. Eloise, send these to my tailor, posthaste.” Clara winked, and Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. “Truly, great work, Marinette. I love them.”

“I’m glad. Thank you so much for this opportunity.” Marinette bowed.

“Although your formality is rather cutesy, there’s no need since you and I are friends, you see.” She spun Marinette around and pulled her in for a hug. “I felt a connection with you right away. If you ever need anything, you just have to say.”

Marinette’s chest swelled as Clara pulled away and brushed her nose with a finger.

“Eloise, write a check for her beautiful mind.” Clara ordered, pacing over to the piano. “I’ve got an idea for a new song that will be simply divine!”

Clara’s manager tore a check from her book and handed it to Marinette as Clara began to pluck at the piano. Marinette did a double-take to make sure the decimal was in the right place, but before she could protest, Clara’s security guard ushered her out.

“Goodbye, my dearest friend. I’ll miss you until we meet again!” Clara blew a kiss.

As the door closed behind her, Marinette glanced down at the check, heart pounding. Clara liked her designs! She considered Marinette a friend! Oh, she’d love to see the look on Lila’s face the day Clara walked the red carpet in Marinette’s dress.

“I’m so proud of you, Marinette!” Tikki said as Marinette tapped the button for the elevator. “You worked really hard, and it paid off.”

“I’m just happy that Clara liked my designs. It’s not about the money for me. I want to design clothes that make people feel good,” she said, stepping onto the elevator. “I can’t wait to tell everyone over tea this afternoon!”

“Will there be cookies at the tea party?” Tikki asked.

Marinette shot her a knowing smile and brushed her kwami’s nose with one finger. “Control that sweet tooth of yours.”

“I want to celebrate your accomplishments!” Tikki shot back indignantly. “If there happens to be cookies there, then so be it.”

“Tell you what,” Marinette said as the elevator dinged on the first floor. “I told everyone to come over at 2. Why don’t you and I celebrate now? Let’s go get some ice cream.”

Tikki perked up, ducking down into her purse. Marinette shut the clasp as she paced out the front doors of the hotel. Pulling out her phone to see where Andre was stationed today, she failed to look up as she rounded the corner and collided with another person.

“Sorry!” she gasped as they both stumbled backward, but upon seeing the face of her victim, her face hardened.

“Finally apologizing for trying to upstage me? It’s about time,” Lila said.

“I’m sorry for bumping into you. Nothing else.” Marinette rolled her eyes and stepped around her.

“So, you’re not sorry for abandoning all of your friends then? For turning your back on Alya?” Lila asked.

Marinette’s hands balled into fists, but she didn’t stop. “Alya made her choice.”

“And she chose me over you.” Lila smirked. “She even got us matching bff necklaces. She’s so sweet.”

“Congratulations. I’m sure your genuine friendship built on honesty and trust will last a lifetime.” Marinette retorted.

“I’m just glad she finally deleted her blog dedicated to that insect. She has so much more time on her hands to do all of my work,” Lila said. “You know, I’m class representative now since you deserted your post.”

Marinette bit her lip hard. Lila was taunting her, and she knew it. How could anyone be this vindictive? Marinette had always known Lila was evil, but she really had a way of one-upping herself. Marinette made a promise with Adrien to stay out of it, but no matter how far she ran, Lila was always right behind her.

Marinette spun around with a sharp retort on her tongue, but a silver limo pulling up to the curb cut her off. She half expected blond hair to pop out, but to her surprise, it was Martin who appeared.

“Hey, Marinette. I saw you walking, so I had my driver pull over.” He flicked his gaze between them. “Do you and your friend need a ride?”

“Ha! She and I will never be friends. I have much better taste,” Lila said.

Martin eyed Marinette, eyebrows knitting together when she shifted her weight.

“Then if you don’t mind, please leave her alone. She’s my friend,” he requested.

“You don’t want to be friends with a loser like her. I’m the great-granddaughter of world-famous piano player, Victor Laurent,” she said, fluffing her hair. Her sinister smile said that she’d taken all of Marinette’s friends once, and she’d do it again.

“Victor Laurent didn’t have any children. He died alone at the age of 72 from pneumonia…” Martin tilted his head to one side. “And anyway, Marinette’s great-uncle is a world-famous chef with his own brand of cookware—my mom loves his knives. Not to mention she knows Jagged Stone and is good friends with Adrien Agreste. She has a lot of connections.”

Marinette stifled a laugh as Lila gasped in offense. Martin blinked in confusion as Lila stalked off with a huff, glaring over her shoulder at them.

“Who was that girl?” he asked.

“One of the worst human beings you’ll ever meet,” Marinette replied. When Martin seemed confused, she added, “It’s a long story. I was actually on my way to get some ice cream. Wanna come?”

“Sure.”

Andre was in Marinette’s favorite spot in the Trocadero—a fitting compensation for the unpleasant encounter they’d just had. They found a bench, ice cream cones in hand, and Marinette flopped onto it with a sigh. Lila was insufferable, but Marinette wasn’t going to let it spoil her day. Clara liked her designs. Nothing else mattered.

“So, that’s the girl who turned all of your friends against you?” Martin asked, and Marinette nodded. “Wow. No wonder you changed schools. I would have changed cities.”

“I thought about it.” Marinette took a spoonful of ice cream. “She’s super manipulative, and if you side against her, she does everything in her power to ruin your life.”

“She sounds like Gabrielle just without the muscle, but at least we don’t have to put up with her now that her family’s bankrupt,” Martin said.

“Yeah…” Marinette lowered her gaze. “I bet you were really happy when you found out about Gabrielle.”

Martin shrugged. “I’m glad she doesn’t pick on everyone anymore, but I can’t imagine losing everything. I feel kinda bad for her… Is that weird?”

“I don’t think so,” Marinette said. “Actually, I feel the same way. No one deserves to go through that.” She pursed her lips, jabbing her ice cream with the spoon. “I’m surprised you of all people don’t hate her. She was the worst to you.”

“I try not to hate anyone,” Martin said around a bite. “I think everyone has good inside them deep down, and with the right influence, anyone can change if they want to.”

“So, you think Gabrielle could be a good person?” she asked.

“Well, sure. Why not?” Martin quirked a brow.

Marinette eyed him, a small smile curling on her lips. She sat up and turned to face him.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Uh, sure. What’s up?” he asked.

“It’s a long story, but Gabrielle and I are kind of friends now. I think…” Marinette admitted. “I haven’t told anyone because of everything, but I think you’re right. Anyone can be nice if they want to be, even Gabrielle.” When Martin seemed stunned, she curled her shoulders and added, “Do you hate me?”

Martin’s face softened, and he shook his head. “Of course not! I could never hate you.” He assured her. “I think it’s good. If anyone can help Gabrielle find the light inside of her, it’s you, Marinette.”

She leaned back on the bench with a smile, the spring sun warming her cheeks. Winter was over, leaving the cold and dreary behind. Nature was turning over new leaves. A fresh start, just like Marinette wanted. She took a deep breath, picturing all of the good things in her life. Adrien, Macy, Eliott, Martin, Gabrielle. Chloe, weirdly. Her parents, Tikki, Master Fu, Chat Noir, Clara. New opportunities. New beginnings.

She exhaled, letting all of the negative flow out with her breath. Lila had no power over her anymore, and after two months of running, Marinette was finally free.

♪♫♪ Cruel Summer ♪♫♪

Marinette hummed jovially, the heat from the tea kettle on the stove warming her arms. Her friends would be over soon to celebrate her presentation. After her run-in with Lila earlier, Martin dropped her off at home, where her dad made special macarons for their celebration. Talking to Martin eased her nerves, and Lila’s empty threats were far from her mind. Today she was celebrating.

It was the first time her new friends were coming to hang out at her house. After seeing all of their extravagant homes, Marinette might have felt self-conscious about her family’s tiny apartment, but her friends never gave her reason to worry. If only Adrien were joining them, but he was busy with a photoshoot. He promised to make it up to her, which had her head swimming with possibilities. Oh, she hoped whatever he had in mind involved kissing. Three almosts was driving her wild. Would she ever get to kiss those perfect lips?

And what were they now? Were they dating? Marinette didn’t know for sure, but they had to be pretty close, right? Adrien was so bold with her lately, complimenting her, touching her face, her hair, her hands… One of these days she’d snatch those lips down to hers if he didn’t kiss her soon. Kissing Adrien—the thought alone made her melt.

She wanted to hear his voice, but did she dare call him? He probably wouldn’t answer since he never brought his phone to photoshoots—always so professional. Then again, she could listen to his really cute voicemail… And she still hadn’t told him how her presentation went. Maybe she’d leave him a message. Girlfriends were allowed to do that, right? Oh god, Adrien’s girlfriend! She’d have to get used to calling herself that. Okay, no more stalling. New beginnings. Marinette wasn’t going to second-guess herself anymore. She was going to charge forward with confidence!

Pressing the call button, she chewed her lip with a giggle. This was really happening! One cute voicemail, then the next time they saw each other, she was going to kiss Adrien on the lips. Then they’d become boyfriend and girlfriend, date throughout the rest of collége and lycée, go off to university and get married, have 3 kids, and a hamster named-

Wait!

What was she going to say in the voicemail? She didn’t know how to be cute and flirty! Every time she tried, she ended up rambling about her toothbrush or falling down stairs. She needed to write a script. Abort! Abort!

“Missing me already?”

Marinette’s heart skipped at Adrien’s flirtatious lilt.

“Adrien! You answered,” she gasped.

“You called me, and you’re surprised I picked up?” he chuckled.

“Well, I thought you had a photoshoot, I was just going to leave a message,” Marinette said.

“I just got done with makeup, so I have a few minutes. I was actually thinking of calling you,” he said. “I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

“No worries. I understand.” She assured him.

“I take it your presentation went well?”

“Yeah! That’s what I was calling to tell you. Clara loved my designs! I’ve never been so happy.” Marinette paced the length of her living room, biting back a smile. “I ran into Lila as I was leaving, but not even she could ruin my mood.”

“Whoa, wait! You ran into Lila?” Adrien asked.

“Ugh, yeah, but it was fine. Martin swooped in before she got me too riled up. She even tried to lie him out of backing me up, but he totally called her out. I’ve never seen her pout so hard.” When Adrien remained quiet on the other end, she added, “I’m fine, really. I’m not going to let her bother me anymore. This thing with Clara could open up a lot of opportunities for me.”

“I guess you’re right. Lila only wishes she were half as talented as you. You’re amazing, Marinette,” Adrien said, bringing a familiar warmth to her cheeks. “They’re ready for me on set, so I have to go.”

Marinette tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, sorry for interrupting. I just wanted to tell you the good news, and…talk for a minute.”

“You can interrupt me anytime. I’m always happy to hear your voice,” he said. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.” Marinette bit back a smile.

“Oh, and congratulations! You deserve it, Marinette.”

Marinette hung up with a dreamy sigh, hugging her phone to her chest. She was going to replay that conversation in her head for the rest of the evening. Before she could get lost in her lovestruck daydreams, the doorbell rang.

“Congratulations!” Macy hugged Marinette’s neck the moment she opened the door. “Oh, I knew she was going to love them!”

“Uh, I think you’re choking her.” Martin pointed out, and Macy let go.

“Sorry! But you did it! A major celebrity is going to wear your designs to an official awards show. That’s huge!” Macy squealed. “Oh! Is this your living room? It’s so cozy!”

As Macy pushed past Marinette into the apartment, Martin presented her with a bouquet of flowers.

“We picked these up for you on the way.”

“Thanks! That’s so sweet.” Marinette gestured him in, moving to find a vase in the kitchen. “Where’s Eliott?”

“He’ll be here soon. He was auditioning for another play today, so he’s running late,” Macy explained. “Your house is so cute! Did you make these pillows?”

“Uh, yeah. They were one of the first things I learned how to sew,” Marinette said, filling a vase in the sink. “My dad made macarons, and I’m making tea if you want any.”

Martin helped himself, taking a seat at the table, but Macy moved over to the bookcase to look at their family photos. Marinette set the vase in the middle of the table and grabbed the cups from the cupboard.

“Are you feeling better now?” Martin asked while she set the table. “I mean, after running into that girl earlier?”

“Yeah,” Marinette said, surprised by how much she meant it. “I’m not worried about her anymore. I’m fine.”

Martin relaxed. “Good. You seem happier now than when you first came to school,” he said. “I could tell how sad you were, even when you were smiling.”

Marinette grabbed the kettle from the stove and pursed her lips.

“I guess I’m not as good at hiding as I thought.” She laughed bitterly. “It’s been hard, but I’m really lucky to have people that support me. I have you all to thank for that.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?” Martin smiled, an expression Marinette returned.

“Right.”

“Marinette? Is this you?” Macy held up a baby picture. “You were so cute!”

Marinette’s cheeks burned, but before she could snatch the photo away from her, the front door flew open. Eliott burst in, hair disheveled and eyes wide with panic.

“Eliott? What’s-” Macy started.

“I need help!”

#mdcspr #my writing

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kozumekenza · 3 years ago

Text

house of memories :: two

:: kageyama tobio x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 2.1k ::

the last you had heard of kageyama tobio, he was following his grandfather’s footsteps and leaving you behind to join the syndicate. a chance meeting throws him back into your life, along with all of the memories.

tw: alcohol, mafia elements, profanity

You’re shivering, the moonlight reflecting off of the tears on your face. You really shouldn’t look this beautiful while crying, he thinks, and immediately admonishes himself for the thought. However, he also finds it fitting. There will be a lot of tears where he’s going; a lot of break-downs, a lot of pain. But still, he doesn’t think it’ll compare to the breaking of his heart in his chest when he watches you turn away from him forever.

---

Kageyama Tobio is known for a lot of things; his cold exterior, his unforgiving nature, his skills with a weapon. He is also known for his unfriendliness, performing his job with a blank face and a calculating mind. He is known for having impenetrable walls and refusing to let people inside them. He is known for his detachment to everything around him; he doesn’t form connections with others, and his emotions are seemingly nonexistent.

Even still, he can’t help but feel devastation and despair when he watches you walk away from him yet again, four years later, slipping from his grasp for the second time.

---

After mumbling a quick apology to the bartender, who you now realize was Kageyama Miwa, you bolted to the dance floor and dragged Hana out of the club. She went willingly, asking next to no questions, her state of intoxication making her follow you with no complaints.

Now, as you half-carry her into your shared apartment, you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you stayed. It was obvious that both of the Kageyama siblings recognized you, although Miwa’s reaction was far better. Hana falls asleep the moment her head hits the pillow, and you leave her with a bottle of water and painkillers for the morning, sighing as you do so. You can only hope that she doesn’t ask too many questions about your quick escape tomorrow. You aren’t ready to dive into your past with Kageyama.

When you finally crawl into bed, sleep evades you. Your night is spent tossing and turning, and when you finally do drift off, your dreams are filled with flashes of navy eyes and raven hair.

---

The weeks pass as the sweltering heat of summer finally comes to an end; suddenly, you and Hana are back to your normal lives as college students. She asks no questions about that night at the club, and you’ve pushed it to the back of your mind, practically forgetting about it.

The beginning of the semester starts, and with it, late night studying and weekends spent partying. Hana’s still going strong with the guy that has the membership, and you’ve finally met him, learning his name is Ushijima. He’s stoic and serious, but his love for Hana is obvious, and their relationship has progressed past late-night flings and one-night stands. You’re happy for her, even when she says that he’s not a college student, but a businessman who works under the CEO of a fairly well-known company. You know that’s true on the surface, but you don’t tell Hana that her newest lover is most likely one of Kageyama’s colleagues, whose job involves more guns and blood than it does numbers and desk work.

All things considered, he treats her well, taking her on extravagant and luxurious dates, picking her up in a Bugatti, and always bringing her flowers. He’s respectful whenever he sees you, and if you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s just a nice, rich man. You know that Kageyama probably told him about you, but you can’t be particularly bothered, especially when Hana’s eyes light up whenever she talks about him.

You start your fourth and final year of university without much fanfare; for you, it’s back to research work in the lab and long lectures on biology and medicine. You’re slightly envious of Hana’s path in nursing; she’s already working in the hospital and doing clinicals. Unfortunately for you, you’re stuck applying for medical schools while balancing your ever-growing list of lab write-ups and reports.

It’s a fairly normal day, a few weeks into the semester, when Kageyama becomes the focus of your mind once again.

You walk out of your final lab feeling exhausted; it’s already eight in the evening, and Hana’s on night shift, so you’ll be alone in your apartment for the night. Normally, you don’t mind, but tonight, all you want to do is crawl into bed without dinner and without completing any of the assignments that are due this week. Hana usually keeps you in check; reminding you of a lab report you have forgotten and keeping you company while you complain about your professors.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you spot Kageyama Miwa, leaning on a black Lexus, eyes on her phone as she waits outside your lab building.

Her eyes meet yours as she glances up, and she waves you over. Grabbing the straps of your backpack, you approach her. You aren’t sure what she’s here for, but you’re assuming it’s you. It doesn’t surprise you that she knows which university you attend and apparently, your class schedule. You’ve always known that Kageyama kept an eye on you.

“Hey, Miwa,” you greet her with a smile.

“Hey, y/n.” She pulls you in for a hug. “We didn’t get a chance to properly talk that night. I almost didn’t recognize you, it’s been forever.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “but I’m pretty sure you aren’t here to catch up.”

She looks slightly surprised and disappointed, and you know that you’re right. “Unfortunately not. Are you busy tonight?”

You shake your head. Homework can wait for tomorrow, and as long as wherever she’s taking you has food, you don’t really care. You’re more curious about why she’s here; what Kageyama could possibly need you for.

“Good.” She opens the passenger door of the Lexus. “This shouldn’t take too long.”

You get in as she goes around the other side and starts the car. “Why do you need me?”

She pulls away and you recognize that she’s heading towards Shadow. “Security issues. Personal files were leaked. Tobio’ll explain more, but he’s concerned for your safety.”

You snort at that. Kageyama Tobio, concerned. Hilarious.

You can see Miwa glance at you out of the corner of her eye, but she remains silent as she pulls down a side street adjacent to the club. A garage opens, and she pulls in. You note the multiple luxury sport cars inside as you follow her out of the garage.

She leads you down a hallway to an elevator, then up to the 30th floor. From what you can tell, the bottom few floors of the building are dedicated to the club, and you can assume that the top floors are for Kageyama’s personal use. You don’t think about the multiple basement buttons and what could possibly be down there.

A ding signals the end of the ride, and you step out into the foyer of a large penthouse. Miwa leads you past a kitchen and living area, up a sweeping set of stairs. You can’t help but admire the modern apartment; it’s truly beautiful, accented in neutral blacks, grays, and browns. For a second, you’re jealous of Kageyama for being able to live in a place like this, but then you remember what he does and the feeling disappears.

Miwa knocks on a door at the end of the hall, and it opens a second later. Kageyama is seated at a large mahogany desk, papers spread in front of him and the glow of a laptop reflecting on his face. The night lights of Tokyo can be seen from the floor-to-ceiling windows opposite the door, and you marvel at the view for a few seconds. You note that Kageyama looks exhausted; the file leak must be really bad. Much to your own disappointment, you also note that he still looks as handsome as ever in a dark blue suit.

He barely looks up when the two of you enter, and Miwa clears her throat. “Bi, she’s here.”

The small giggle that leaves your mouth as a result of Miwa’s continued use of his childhood nickname causes Kageyama to look up at you, carefully assessing you. You know that you look like shit right now, your hair is messy from wearing goggles, and you’re dressed in lab clothes that have stains from previous chemical spills.

“Come sit.” Kageyama gestures to the seat in front of him, and you dutifully obey.

“Do you want something to drink, y/n?” Miwa’s still by the door, doing her duties as a host to Kageyama’s guests, but you shake your head.

“I’m alright, thank you.”

She smiles and pauses with her hand on the door handle. “You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner. We haven’t eaten yet, and I know I probably interrupted you heading home to eat.”

You grin, nodding. “I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

She leaves with an incline of her chin, the door shutting softly behind her.

You look Kageyama Tobio in the eyes, trying to decipher his feelings about you being here. You used to be pretty good; he never had to say anything for you to know what he was feeling. Now, you can tell that the years have made him cold and unreadable.

He sighs and leans back, interlacing his fingers in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. Two simple words not only for the hassle of dragging you here and interrupting your evening, but for the past four years, starting from the second you walked away from him and continuing through the obvious surveillance he’s done on you without your permission. “You do what you have to do.”

He looks relieved to hear you say that, enough that he grabs a file and rearranges its contents, pulling out a piece of paper to slide across the table to you.

“So, as Miwa told you, we had a breach in security. Personal files were hacked from our database, and that included yours. I’m sure you know why you have a file.” You nod. “Yours contained information such as your personal history with Miwa and me, as well as your whereabouts and what you’ve been doing for the past four years. Addresses, emails, phone numbers, and social media accounts were also leaked.” Kageyama sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Under normal circumstances, I would not be concerned. Everyone involved in my business knows the risks and how to defend themselves. You, on the other hand, didn’t ask for any of this. I’m concerned the group that stole the file will attempt something with you, as the file is clear evidence that you’re important to both Miwa and me.”

Awful news so far, but you saw it coming when Miwa mentioned a security issue. “Do you know who stole the files?” Kageyama nods. “Did they take anything else?”

“No, just personal files. Didn’t touch mine, they know everything about me already. They only took yours and Miwa’s, which is why I’m so concerned.”

You nod along to his words. The hackers wouldn’t take such inconsequential information unless they were looking for someone close to Kageyama to use as collateral. Plus, they would normally take business information, not anything personal. Things in Tokyo’s underworld must be bad.

“What are you going to do?”

Kageyama gestures to the paper. “I know you’re in school, so I can’t simply lock you up somewhere until it’s safe again.” His small smile and dry humor makes you brighten up a little. You missed that side of him, with the short quips and ever-present sarcasm. “I’m proposing a security detail. Just two of my men, to keep an eye on things. You won’t even know they’re there. Plus, as you know, Ushijima hangs around your roommate quite a bit, and he’s under orders to keep an eye out as well. This,” he taps the paper, “is simply for your own knowledge. I’ve listed all the information that was leaked, as well as what to look out for if you believe you might be in danger. There’s also information on the two I’ll have guarding you, so you aren’t alarmed in case they make their presence known.”

You take the paper and briefly skim it. “Thank you.”

Kageyama’s smile is brief but genuine. “Again, I’m sorry about all of this. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”

You sigh. “It’s alright. Something like this was bound to happen one day anyway.”

It’s true; you’ve always known the risks, even though you haven’t been associated with Kageyama for four years, before his reign over Tokyo. You knew that even when you left, there was still a chance someone would trace back to you.

Kageyama stands up, his hand held out to you. “Want to go eat?”

taglist: @lilith412426

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avengershumanresources · 4 years ago

Text

blood 2 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, eventual smut (like, wayyy down the line), adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 1 - part 3

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist

2 - a night at the pub

You parted from Stephen the moment you saw Natalia and James in the crowd at the pub. They were sipping from large beer steins, listening to a bard sing a sorrowful song about the death of the great Iron Defender.

When the music ended and the pub applauded, the entertainer switched to something more upbeat to soothe the mood.

“A bit sentimental for you two, isn’t it?” you asked, pulling back your cloak. Stephen had transfigured your overbearing mourning garb into something that would better fit in the village.

“How on earth did you slip out tonight?” James asked in surprise, brows raised to his hairline. “I would’ve though t they’d have had you under lock and key.”

“Everyone’s a bit... distracted, believe it or not,” you replied coolly, taking a seat at their table toward the back of the room.

“So we hear,” Natalia leaned in. “Any news of the next king? I have a wager with the barkeep’s wife.”

“Anthony has an uncle who still lives,” Stephen supplied, taking a seat at your side. “Or so my companions informed me. Until Peter is of age, he would be the presumptive heir.”

“What do we know about him?” Natalia asked quietly, lowering her head conspiratorially.

“Nothing,” you replied with a long sigh. “He’s been at the winter palace my whole life.”

“Nothing suspicious about that,” James shrugged and took a swallow of his drink. “Nat, what do ya think about Asgard this time of year?”

“Stop up James,” the redhead nudged her companion and returned her attention to you and Stephen. “And if he doesn’t give up the job in six months?”

“He is removed,” Stephen replied bluntly.

“Yikes, you’re scary, did you know that?” James murmured.

“I’ve been told,” the sorcerer grunted, flagging down a barmaid for a drink. He could already tell it was going to be a long night.

“Don’t forget, you owe me,” you reminded him.

“Lose a bet?” Natalia asked in amusement, eye rating between the duo.

“I caught him enchanting my tea without permission,” you replied.

“Uh oh, broke the one rule,” Natalia mused, watching Strange for a reaction.

“It was a protection spell, hardly worth mentioning, I cast them over the princess all the time,” he snorted under his breath.

“All the time?” James asked in a voice low enough that only Stephen could hear.

“That’s dangerous conjecture, Barnes,” Stephen warned. “My responsibilities include keeping my student, who happens to be the princess, safe.”

“If we were being honest, if I were kidnapped or traded away, it wouldn’t do much to the kingdom,” you reasoned, eagerly grabbing the first mug of ale before Stephen could take a sip. He waved a hand over the drink, ensuring it hadn’t been poisoned, before you took a long swallow. “Peter is the one who has to stay safe. Who knows where we’d be without a true heir?”

“You know that’s ridiculous,” Nat snorted. “Gods, you’re so dramatic sometimes.”

“My father’s funeral was today, give me a little sympathy,” you huffed in response, taking another swig of your drink.

“To King Anthony,” James stood up, his voice bellowing through the pub. You ducked your head down into Stephen’s shoulder while onlookers cheered and joined in the toast. “May he rest in peace!”

The pub shouted in response, with steins clinking against one another and another song starting up.

“We’re trying to draw attention away from the princess, you oaf,” Natalia muttered tersely toward James.

“Who would be looking for her here?” the brunette assassin shrugged. “Besides, no one would be able to slip past the three of us.”

Stephen snorted under his breath, giving the room a quick glance to ensure any unwanted attention hadn’t been drawn toward them. James did have a point. Someone in hiding would seldom encourage a room to drink.

Besides, he looked over at you laughing over something Natalia had said, you were genuinely smiling for the first time in weeks. The risk was worth a little relief.

He nursed at his drink while you signaled for another round for yourself and your friends. Stephen did well to avoid becoming drunk in your presence, mostly for your protection, but also as a means of avoiding embarrassing himself in front of you.

The last thing he needed was you armed with an artillery of teasing that he couldn’t even recall.

As the booze flowed and the music picked up, James grabbed your hand and pulled you to the center of the room, dancing with some of the villagers to the upbeat song.

Stephen watched, almost transfixed by the way you spun and twirled so lightheartedly to the sounds. As if you hadn’t a care in the world, and your life was back to the simpler time when he’d first met you.

“You’re drooling a little,” Natalia chuckled over his shoulder.

Stephen’s head whipped around, unconsciously wiping at his mouth before scowling at the nosy redhead.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, doing his best to keep his composure under her hard gaze.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed of,” she hummed, eyes falling where you and James continued your antics. “You’ve seen the man I’ve dedicated myself to.”

“You know the oaths I have to take,” he murmured.

“Aren’t you the one in charge of said oaths?” she challenged coyly. “I’d never understood your antiquated ways. I would argue that loving another gives you more reason to stay dedicated to your craft.”

She had a point, Stephen reasoned to himself. The ways he’d worked to ensure your protection, the kingdom’s protection, and the advancement of his knowledge at your urging was beyond any work he’d done on his own at Kamar-Tai.

Still, the distractions. The liabilities.

By the Vishanti, if an enemy were to ever get their hands on you… oaths be damned. He’d burn the world to the ground to ensure your safety, and that was the problem.

“She’s going to marry a prince, and have kings and queens as babies,” Stephen replied coolly. "We have our roles and our duties.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind giving her a few babies,” Natalia smirked up at him, laughing when his face went as scarlet as her hair.

“Regardless,” his voice cracked slightly, adding even more to the embarrassment when Natalia quirked a brow. “I would need permission from the king to consider breaking my oaths and wedding a princess.”

“Oh, you’d marry her? That’s a new development,” she replied, eyes falling behind him while you and James returned.

“I’m going to need another ale,” you complained, staring down the empty mug after chugging down your second drink.

“You’re going to need to watch how much you drink,” Stephen replied. “Remember last time. The hungover elixir only works so well.”

“You have a hangover elixir?” James asked. “Gods, I’d murder a man for one of those. Maybe it’s time I go to Kamar-Taj. Find my true purpose.”

“Don’t look at me,” Stephen held up a hand. “Wong is the one who brews it. He claims it’s an old family recipe.”

“Might have to pay Master Wong a visit tonight,” James stated, sliding a pair of fresh ales toward you and Natalia. “This one’s on me.”

“Are you going to tell me which lord you stole the coin from?” you asked, sipping at the drink before Stephen could check its contents.

“It’s the one with the wart on his nose,” James snickered behind his drink. “I picked him specifically because you mentioned he beats his wife.”

“He’s getting another visit from the Widow in a few nights,” Natalia added with a wicked grin.

“I don’t pity the man-,” you started coughing, trying to clear your throat. “-Ah, excuse me-!”

Caught in a fit of coughs, Stephen’s focus became you. You couldn’t catch a breath, even when he tapped your back, and you hadn’t had anything to eat- the ale. A wave of his hand confirmed the liquid had been tampered with.

“Find out who served that ale,” he demanded the assassins, grabbing your arm and hauling you outside of the pub.

You gasped for air, clutching at your throat while he drew up a portal back to the observatory. If this was what was happening with the protection enchantment in your system, he hesitated to think of the alternative.

Scooping you up, he stepped through and situated you on one of the chaise’s strewn throughout the room.

He thumbed through his collection of vials before finding a generic antidote and opening your mouth to pour the liquid in.

It worked- kind of. You were able to take a few shallow breaths, but your eyes rolled back and you collapsed, falling back against the chaise.

This was literally his worse case scenario. Everything he’d been afraid of, because he’d let you convince him to go out, and because he’d distracted himself with his conversation with Natalia.

He summoned a spell book, fingers finding the page he recalled from his apprentice days. It was written to purge someone of any toxic entities within them, be it poison or dark magic. Moving his hands through the air and reciting the runes, your body was overtaken by a wisp of winding yellow light.

It threaded itself through you, eventually hitting the source of the poison in your chest and pulling the toxic liquid free in a cloud of rancid black smoke. That was peculiar. Generally such a reaction was associated with dark magic rather than a consumed poison.

Poison was usually a dark red or green.

You stirred the moment the spell had finished its work. Taking a deep breath and clearing your throat, you looked to Stephen in wide-eyed horror.

“I was wrong,” you stated, hand to your chest.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m not dying,” you answered quickly. “Stephen, I am so sorry… I underestimated my… wait, Peter.”

Stephen understood your meaning immediately. He instructed you to stay within the safety of the observatory and opened a portal to the outside of the prince’s chambers.

The knights on guard jumped at the sudden appearance of the sorcerer, who took no time for pleasantries.

“An attempt was made on the princess’ life,” he informed the duo. “Have you heard any disturbance from the prince?”

“No one has been in or out since the prince retired,” Sir Samuel informed him, looking to Sir Clinton with a shrug. “He hasn’t made a noise.”

Just as Samuel finished his sentence, there was a loud crash from within the room.

The guards charged in, finding the prince in a struggle with a masked man. The prince was doing his best to fight off the dagger brandishing assassin, kicking him in the chest when he was distracted by the entrance of the guards.

When the assassin realized he was outnumbered, Stephen saw his hands move rapidly to open a portal, and before anyone could intervene, he was gone.

“Your highness!” Samuel rushed to the prince’s side while Stephen ignited the candles in the room with a snap of his fingers. “Are you injured?”

“Sir Clinton, get to the queen and Princess Morgan,” Peter ordered after catching his breath. He looked to Stephen. “And the older princess?”

“Safe,” came the sorcerer’s response.

“You said an attempt was made on her life,” Samuel retorted.

“A what?” Peter glared up at the sorcerer.

“I took care of it, she is safe,” Stephen assured him. “Are you injured, your highness?”

“I’m fine,” he brushed off the two men and stood up. “I want the guard awoken and informed of what has happened.”

He turned to Stephen.

“I want the wards reconstructed around the castle,” he continued. “I don’t trust the foundations of previous Masters. If you must call in sorcerers from Kamar-Taj, we will provide what they need.”

“Sir, your great uncle is due to arrive in a fortnight,” Samuel reminded him. “Shall we inform the convoy of the attempts on the royal family?”

Peter looked to Stephen with a frown. One of the young king’s first major decisions.

“Let’s address the question in the morning,” he decided. “I want to know my family is safe.”

As if on cue, Queen Virginia and Princess Morgan were led into the room by Sir Clinton and Sir Steven.

“Peter,” the queen pulled the prince into a relieved embrace. “Clint told us what had happened.”

“I recommend we reconvene in the throne room,” Steven suggested with a nervous glance around the chambers.

“The wards are strongest there,” Stephen agreed with a curt nod. “I’ll go retrieve the princess.”

He returned to the observatory and found you sitting, staring down at the floor in deep thought.

“Princess?” he called softly. You leapt up at his voice, hurrying over.

“Are they safe?”

“Peter was attacked, but he fought the assassin off,” Stephen informed her.

“And mother? And Morgan?” you bit your bottom lip anxiously.

“Safe,” he confirmed.

You let out a relieved sigh, your hands trembling slightly at your sides.

“Sir Steven suggested we go to the throne room to discuss our next options,” he offered his arm and she took it gratefully.

He hoped she didn’t feel his own tremors. His own panic at the thought of losing her. The aftershocks of their new reality and his worst nightmare.

“I won’t allow this to happen again,” he promised her quietly.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you assured him, your voice was shaky. “I was hurting, and whoever did this, acted on our vulnerabilities. I’d been selfish to hide in the village when I should have been by my family.”

“You slipped up once,” he countered, slowing his pace down the hall. He could have easily drawn a portal to the room, but he figured you both needed some time to manage your emotions. “You’re human. We make mistakes. It just happened we both made a mistake at the same time tonight. I wouldn’t have allowed you to go if I hadn’t been confident in my judgement of the situation.”

Your hand trailed down to his and you gave it a squeeze.

“Thank you Stephen,” you murmured, holding on a moment longer before replacing it on his arm.

He felt his heart give a small throb at the minute action, his fingers left tingling, and not from the damage from the accident.

“Always at your pleasure, your highness.”

(---)

3 - a new day

TAG LIST (Message to be added to this fic or my general tag list!):

@ayamenimthiriel @drstrangely-strange-deactivated @ladynothing @im-a-bi-disaster-help @idkwhatthisislol

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karasuno-chaos · 4 years ago

Text

Recommending Music (Tsukishima x Reader)

What do you think Tsukishima listens to with those headphones of his? 🎵 Also this one’s a bit long and a bit messy, sorry. -Giz

Word Count: 2,381

Fluffvember masterlist

The notebook started in middle school. You’d befriended Yamaguchi almost immediately, but getting to know Tsukishima had taken some time. After your first year, you could usually read the intention behind his snide remarks and hard stares, but you weren’t sure you qualified as a friend yet. At least he tolerated you and allowed you to hang out with him and Yamaguchi sometimes, and you were willing to take what he’d give.

During lunch one day in the middle of your second year, you finally received some clarity.

“If we’re going to be friends, I have a list of songs you need to listen to.”

“You consider us friends?” you asked, feeling a rush of excitement.

“Obviously.” His expression was annoyed, but he wasn’t being aggressive. Sometimes you suspected that his frustration with himself surfaced as frustration with other people.

“Is it your top ten songs, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asked, totally unphased by his friend’s frosty behavior. “Has it changed at all?”

“Not really. Pass me your notebook,” he requested, holding a hand out to you.

“Hang on, I don’t have one handy.” You heard him sigh as you ran back to your desk, but you didn’t know what he’d expected. You didn’t usually bring school work to lunch. You grabbed a mostly-empty notebook from your desk and flipped it open to a blank page before slapping it down in front of him.

“Here you go.”

You opened your lunch and ate while he marked the page with his sharp, precise handwriting. Yamaguchi watched over his shoulder.

“That one’s new,” he said, pointing to the eighth on the list.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry Tsukki.”

This common refrain between them had alarmed you at first, but neither friend was bothered by the words. Like so many of Tsukishima’s remarks, it sounded more aggressive than he meant it to be.

“Here.” He turned the notebook to face you, and you studied it curiously. You’d heard of most of the songs, but some of them were unfamiliar. He’d also written little notes next to a few of them, like “bass line” or “harmonies”.

“So I just need to listen to them?” you asked. “You’re not going to quiz me or anything, right?”

“Why would I bother?” he scoffed, shifting his headphones from around his neck to over his ears. You glanced at Yamaguchi who shrugged with a smile. You looked at the notebook again. Somehow this list felt like a confirmation that you had a place in their small but very close friend group, and it made you very happy.

A few days later, Tsukishima asked whether you’d listened to the songs yet.

“I have,” you replied confidently.

“Just once, or multiple times?”

“Multiple times. You can’t fully appreciate a song after just one listen.”

He blinked at you, and a tiny shift in his expression told you that he was impressed.

“Tsukki had to tell me to try them several times at first,” Yamaguchi admitted. You gave him a sympathetic shrug. You didn’t want to admit that you’d been so thorough in an effort to impress Tsukishima. Despite his confirmation that he considered you a friend, you still felt like you might be on a trial period with him.

“What did you appreciate about them then?” he asked, sitting back in his seat.

“Hang on, let me get my notes,” you said.

“You took notes?” Yamaguchi asked, also impressed. He looked curiously at the notebook when you pulled it out. You’d scribbled your thoughts next to Tsukishima’s concise script. “You really took this seriously.”

“Was I not supposed to?” you asked, starting to feel embarrassed at the effort you’d made.

“Let me see,” Tsukishima said quietly. You handed him the notebook and tried not to fidget too much while you waited for his reaction. You braced yourself for the cutting remarks and cold criticisms you were fairly certain would come.

“What do you mean by ‘trying too hard’?” he asked after a bit, pointing to a note you’d made.

“The singer kept embellishing the melody like she was trying to impress the listener, and sometimes the guitar came on a little strong. It was like they wanted to come across as serious musicians, but instead they sounded desperate.”

“The band was still pretty young when they first recorded this track.”

“I figured,” you said.

“Which is why some of those guitar riffs are so impressive,” he finished with the confidence of someone winning an argument.

“I’m not saying they’re not skilled,” you conceded, “but having the skills and using them well are two different things, and I think they could have done better.”

“Interesting.” He looked at you critically, and there was that shift in his expression again that indicated he was impressed. Your embarrassment left. Maybe your extra effort had been worth it.

He asked you about some of your other notes or particular parts of some of the songs. Yamaguchi chimed in, too, and you could imagine Tsukishima giving him a similar education in his musical tastes. He didn’t speak with particular passion or aggressively impose his views, but he was much more focused than you normally saw him. He was actually interested in what you had to say, and you rather liked having his attention.

As your lunch period drew to a close, Tsukishima flipped the page of your notebook and jotted down another few lines.

“Check these out next,” he said, and that’s how it started. He’d tell you to listen to a few songs, you’d discuss what you thought of them, and you’d do it all again. You ripped out what little school notes you’d had in your notebook, and it became dedicated to your music exchanges After a while, you started recommending songs for him, too. You enjoyed subjecting him to your musical tastes and defending your choices. Yamaguchi participated sometimes, but the exchange was mainly between you and Tsukishima.

You were surprised when it continued through middle school into your first year of high school, but by then you had cemented your place in this little friend group. You were pretty sure your debates over music had helped you win over Tsukishima. At the very least, they helped you understand him better. His song suggestions felt like snapshots into his mood or the way he viewed the world. You wondered if he knew how much he told you through those songs when he couldn’t hide behind snide remarks and sneers.

“Ah, look at this. The hotshot volleyball star graces us with his presence before taking off for the week,” you said in a teasing tone as Tsukishima and Yamaguchi met you at your locker after school. The Shiratorizawa first year training camp started tomorrow, and you were taking every opportunity you could to tease your friend about it. You’d noticed a heightened intent when he went to practice as though his attitude toward the sport had changed somehow. You knew he was excited about his invitation to this camp even though he didn’t say anything.

“Whatever.” There’s a hint of scorn in his voice as he brushes off your jest, but you’re not bothered by it. His “whatever” is the refrain he’s given you, like telling Yamaguchi to shut up. You were used to him hiding his feelings behind his words.

“You’ll be gone all week, right Tsukki?” your freckled friend asked.

“Right.”

“A whole week free of the king of the court and that annoying tangerine,” you said, mocking the way he sometimes talked about his teammates. “I bet that’ll be fun. Though you’ll have to work hard, and you won’t get to hang out with Yamaguchi all day, which sucks.”

“You won’t get to hang out with him or me, so who’s the real loser here?”

“Definitely me,” you sighed, leaning against Yamaguchi. He patted your shoulder consolingly.

“You could always help Kiyoko and Yachi while we practice.”

“I’d rather not work harder than I have to during break.”

“Then you’ll have plenty of time to listen to these.” Tsukishima tossed the music notebook at you. You barely reacted fast enough to catch it.

“Hey, I was wondering where this went.” You flipped to the new list and skimmed over it. “Did you pick any good ones?”

“Obviously,” he smirked. “Come on Yamaguchi.”

“Have fun,” you called as they headed off to practice. “Let me know if you get bored of volleyball and want to hang.”

“Bye Y/N.” Yamaguchi waved before turning to say something to Tsukishima. Your taller friend didn’t turn back or spare you a farewell, but that wasn’t uncommon. You’d message them both later anyway.

You didn’t get around to the new song recommendations until the next day. After sleeping in a reasonable amount and enjoying an easy morning, you flopped onto your bed. You compiled the songs into a playlist on your computer, put on your headphones, and hit play.

For your first listen, you always laid back and stared at your ceiling, letting the music spill over you uninterrupted. The second and third listens were for writing notes and preparing your reviews for the debates. Anything beyond that was purely for enjoyment.

After jotting your notes for this round, you let the playlist cycle into some of Tsukishima’s past recommendations. You enjoyed most of the songs he’d suggested lately, and part of you wondered if he was taking your tastes into account or if your preferences had shifted the more you’d been exposed to his. You flipped through the notebook to revisit the past playlists, laughing to yourself over some of the notes on the pages. It was amusing to see how your handwriting had changed over the years.

You’d run out of blank pages in the notebook soon. You wondered if Tsukishima would want to continue these music exchanges, or if they’d fall to the wayside as high school and activities demanded more time and attention. You began counting how many pages were left when some script on the final page made you stop.

You reread the top line twice to make sure you weren’t seeing things. Songs that make me think of you. You sat up and looked at the page carefully. There were a dozen songs on the list, and from the variance in script and ink color, you knew he must have added songs as they struck him. When had he started the playlist? How long had he been working on it? He hadn’t written any notes next to the titles, so you weren’t sure what his intentions were, but you felt a pleasant squeeze in your chest.

You listened to that playlist four or five times uninterrupted, and each time you felt like you better understood what he was saying through the music. You could feel the blush rising in your cheeks along with a feeling of happiness. You’d been keeping your growing crush on Tsukishima a secret. You never would have guessed he might feel the same, and based on the evidence that he’d been working on this playlist for a while, he’d been keeping his feelings a secret for a while, too.

You spent the rest of the afternoon figuring out how to respond. Even if it was unexpectedly sudden, you knew you needed to act on this revelation today. After dinner, you bundled up in your winter gear, grabbed the notebook, and headed over to his house. You waited nearly an hour, pacing up and down his block, until you finally saw him walking home from the bus stop. He slowed a little when he spotted you, pushing his headphones off of his ears to around his neck.

“Hi,” you greeted, feeling a little awkward but determined to get this over with.

“What are you doing?” He was being careful by keeping his tone neutral, but you could tell he was curious.

“I listened to your playlist.”

“Okay.”

“Both of them.”

“Oh.” You could almost see his guard come up. You understood him so easily, you were amazed you hadn’t noticed his feelings before now.

“I made a playlist for you,” you said, opening the notebook and handing it to him. He took it and looked over your selections, keeping his features neutral. Waiting for him to react was torture, but you let him process the situation at his own pace. After all, you’d just sprung this on him, whereas you’d had all afternoon to acclimate to the idea of sharing feelings.

“There are too many genre jumps,” he said eventually, and you rolled your eyes as he critiqued the flow of the playlist. “It’s like listening whiplash.”

“It’s not about the listening experience, it’s about the message of the songs,” you said. “If I’d expected you to actually listen to it, I would have put in more effort.”

“Maybe I should wait for you to put in that effort,” he smirked, handing you the notebook.

“Tsukishima,” you said. The seriousness of your tone made his smirk drop back to a neutral expression. “I know I’m kind of going out on a limb here, but I think I understood what you were trying to say with that secret playlist. The truth is, I’ve liked you for a while, in a more-than-friends way, and based on the songs you picked, I think you might like me that way too. So I picked a bunch of songs about falling in love and asking someone out to see if maybe you’d like to be my boyfriend.”

The emotional confession left you a little lightheaded, and you almost couldn’t look at him, but you did, and you saw the way his stare softened a little.

“After you redo that playlist,” he said, walking past you to go inside.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no.” He turned back at the door. “Depends on how good the playlist is.”

You knew he was teasing you. He wasn’t shallow enough to make his decision solely based on your musical tastes, but you were willing to play along.

“Fine,” you agreed with a grin. “Tomorrow night, I’ll have the best asking-you-out playlist you’ve ever heard, so be ready to be my boyfriend.”

“Whatever,” he said, but the corner of his mouth lifted in a genuine grin as he glanced at you one more time before heading inside.

#haikyuu!!#hq #tsukishima kei #tsukishima #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!! fanfiction #haikyuu!! fanfic #haikyuu!! scenarios #hq fanfiction #hq fanfic #hq scenarios #fluffvember #music #fluff #tsukki #tsukki x reader

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a-fluffer-nutter · 3 years ago

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The Fox And The Turtle

A/N - Hey guys, this was such a fun fic to write! This was prompted by a lovely anon who commissioned me on my Kofi! To that wonderful anon, I really hope you enjoy and thank you so much for helping me out a bit, my boyfriend and I used the money to buy a celebratory dinner after we got accepted for an apartment! If anyone else would like their own amazing fic, let me know or head on over to my Kofi and let’s get the process started.

This is a Miraculous Ladybug fic featuring Nino and Alya. Please Enjoy.

Word Count: 4,034

The first time was unexpected, an accident really. She never expected to get that close to him, to want to be so close to him.

Alya Césaire had invited Nino Lahiffe to a nearby café to talk. She had arrived early in the morning, wanting to finish some schoolwork and to get started on a new blog post. There was so much she needed to catch her blog up with, especially with what had happened the week before.

Lady Wifi.

She never wanted it to happen, why would she? She idolized Ladybug, most of her blog was dedicated to the hero, but she had been the cause of another fight Ladybug and Chat Noir had to undertake. It all happened because of her.

The autumn breeze rustled the sleepy trees, sending leaves of orange, red, and yellow floating toward the ground. The air was just beginning to have a chill bite at the bare skin of passersby, but this didn’t faze the people of Paris, most of them thrilled that the summer heat was fading, and autumn was taking over again. Kids had just returned to school, most of the teens excited to spend their weekends at the mall hanging out with their closest friends.

Nino was on his way to the café to visit Alya. He hadn’t seen much of her that summer, though had followed her online presence closely. It was hard not to, when Alya seemed to run a major blog in basically every topic. In fact, Nino had been browsing online forums about Donkey Kong a few days prior, wanting to prove some sort of point to his younger brother, when he stumbled upon a Donkey Kong fan blog Alya had made a few years before. Sure, she hadn’t touched it in a long time, but the fact that Nino had accidentally found something made by her had made him laugh at the time.

Humming to himself, Nino danced between small puddles of water that speckled the sidewalk. Staring at his phone, he tried to think of a good playlist for the next school dance. It was that time of year again; the dance wasn’t going to DJ itself.

“Britney Spears or Lady Gaga?” Nino muttered to himself, staring at the blank note page he just opened on his phone. He may have had Lady Gaga playing in his headphones at the moment, but that didn’t mean Britney Spears wasn’t a favorite of his.

A church bell chimed in the distance, Nino looking up from his phone in panic.

“Oh no,” Nino said to himself. He was late to his meeting with Alya. Nearly tripping over a stroller with a screaming toddler inside, Nino jogged toward his destination, still considering what Lady Gaga song would be the best to dance to.

Alya recoiled as she burnt her tongue again. She had just sat down with her steaming mug, her third pumpkin spiced latte of the day. She might have enjoyed making fun of people who drink pumpkin spice lattes, but they were too good for her to resist.

“Ow,” She moaned, her tongue sticking out slightly between her plump lips. She had a habit of just rushing into things, being impulsive. From risking it all to get the next big scoop to instantly taking a drink of something she knew would burn her tongue, Alya had a penchant for impulsivity.

The chime above the door rang, Nino throwing it open with so much force that it startled everyone inside in the café. Giving an embarrassed smile, Nino gave a short wave to the older lady who spilt a bit of coffee down her dress. Looking up from her computer, Alya rolled her eyes at the sight of Nino, though she couldn’t help the smile on her face.

“Hi Alya,” Nino grinned, pulling off his headphones and slipped them down his neck. “Sorry I’m late, I got distracted.”

“It’s fine,” Alya replied, waving her hand, motioning for him to sit.

“Before we start,” Dropping his backpack to the floor, Nino plopped down into his seat, sitting across from Alya. “Do you prefer Britney Spears or Lady Gaga?”

“You can’t choose between the two of them,” Alya let out a laugh, thinking about her fan blogs she has created for both of them in the past.

“You’re no help,” Chided Nino, Alya simply replied by sticking out her tongue, still numb from burning it.

“Anyway, I wanted your help with something,” Alya quickly changed the subject, getting down to business. Nino smiled expectantly, tilting his head ever so slightly. “I need to update my blog about Ladybug, but I don’t really know how to do it.”

“Oh, I thought this was going to be something important,” Nino laughed, laughing harder when Alya shot him a death glare. He lifted his hands, “I kid, I kid. But how can I help you with your blog? You know more about Ladybug than anyone else I know. Wait, this isn’t about Chloe, is it? If so, I’m not helping you snoop on her more. I don’t want to get into trouble.”

“Oh no, I’m definitely never snooping on Chloe again, she definitely isn’t Ladybug.”

“Then, what do you need?” Nino leaned back, glancing up at the drink menu above the front counter. He may have been interested in whatever Alya was talking about, but he was torn between whether to order a strawberry smoothy or a chocolate caramel latte.

“Lady Wifi,” Nino’s eyes shot down at her words.

“Why are you asking me about her, you are her,” His voice dropped, glancing around to make sure no one else could hear him.

“That’s the thing,” Alya looked down at her keyboard, fingers circling the keys. “I don’t remember it at all. I guess that’s good, because I could’ve hurt someone really bad and I would have to live with remembering myself doing that, but I don’t, which is really weird. I just feel bad about battling my idol, like I could have really hurt her! I don’t want to do that, besides, what would I do if I can’t blog about her?”

“Work on your other eight hundred blogs. Or you know, schoolwork,” Nino rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a short laugh when Alya shot him another glare.

“Come on, Nino,” She sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Please help me.”

“Okay, sure thing,” Nino smiled, leaning forward, placing a hand on her knee, giving it a small squeeze. “What do you want to know?”

Instead of replying, Alya let out a stream of giggles, instinctually scooching back in her chair. Shocked, Nino pulled his hand back, lips parting.

That was adorable.

“Don’t tickle me, Nino,” Alya said, rubbing her knee, numbing the area of the ticklish shocks that just jolted through her muscles. “This is serious.”

“Sorry,” Nino rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed by the blush he could feel painting his cheeks, crawling up to his ears.

“Anyways,” Alya went on, ignoring Nino’s discomfort, and went on talking about Lady Wifi. Nino answered as many questions as he could, but he couldn’t stop the image of her giggling face from being at the forefront of his thoughts. Nino wanted to see it again but didn’t know when he would have the chance to.

“Nino!” Alya giggled, attempting to curl into herself.

The attack had come unexpectedly, but there was not much she could do. Fighting back could give herself away, and it wouldn’t be for another few months that Nino would learn the new truth about her. She let him get away with the attack, though with her new strength, it was much harder to hold back.

Nino sat over her, his knees straddling her thighs and hips, putting just enough pressure to pin the legs to the bench without crushing her. He sat triumphantly on her thighs, fitting perfectly between the hem of her jeans and her knees, which happened to be exposed that day thanks to the fashionable tears that came with them. He held her wrists together in one hand, surprised by how tiny her wrists were in comparison, he laughed victoriously once he had them pinned to the wooden bench, her hair messily entangled beneath.

“Something wrong?” Nino teased, his free hand resting on her knee, feeling the short stubbly hair on her skin. Why shave in the winter when nobody was going to see it?

“What are you doing?” Alya asked, voice trembling. The skin on her legs were coated with anticipatory goosebumps.

Nino simply responded with a curt grunt and a slight shrug, then proceeded to squeeze the knee cap. Giggles filled her belly, rising to her throat like bubbles blowing in the wind. Alya bit back the laughter, her teeth pressing into her plump bottom lip, ruby lipstick painting a thin layer of gloss onto her teeth. She managed to hold back the laughter for a bit as he focused on squeezing just the kneecap but lost her composure a bit as he slipped his hand through the hole and hooked his fingers beneath her leg and scratched behind her knee.

“Nino,” Alya squeaked before the vast number of giggly bubbles slipped through her control and turned into one of the most beautiful sounds Nino had ever heard. She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head away so he couldn’t see her smile as well, though she fought the urge to tug at her arms.

“Wow, Alya,” Nino cooed, his short nails still scratching at the skin, his fingers moving swiftly as if helping her scratch a persistent itch she couldn’t reach. “If you’re this ticklish here, you must be super ticklish everywhere else too.”

Letting out a little yelp, Alya continued to giggle as Nino crawled his hands a little further up the leg and lightly traced swirls into the back of her lower thigh.

Alya decided not to give him the satisfaction of conceding at all, of begging. Ladybug had just given her own Miraculous, which hid beneath her shirt, but she wasn’t afraid at this moment that Nino was going to see it. It would have to take a lot of thrashing for it to make an appearance, and Alya knew that wasn’t going to happen. Speaking of her Miraculous, Trixx was still hiding in her fanny pack, which thankfully was sitting next to her backpack on the ground below the bench. Lucky for Trixx, as he would be crushed by Nino if Alya hadn’t taken the fanny pack off before this all went down.

“How about here?” Nino let out a small laugh as he quickly reached forward and latched onto her hip bone. Despite it not being that ticklish of a spot, Alya still let out a giggly gasp and a short kick. She dug the heel of her shoes into the bench, giving her something to focus on, grounding her just a bit.

“Her giggle is adorable,” Nino thought, ecstasy flowing through his bloodstream, her smile and giggle like a drug to him. Though she was hiding her face, he could still see enough of her face to take in the beauty of it all, her lips curled up into a smile bright enough to rival all the stars in the sky.

Needing more, Nino walked his fingers up just a bit to poke at her sides. Each poke elicited a giggle of a slightly higher pitch led Nino to the conclusion that this spot was a bit better than the last. Curling his fingers into a mimicry of claws, he pressed them into the softer flesh and began to vibrate his hand. This turned out to be a great technique.

“No!” Alya nearly screamed, the dam finally collapsing and out flowed her wonderfully boisterous laughter. She let out another kick, then dug her heel back into the bench, trying hard to get control again.

Ticklish shocks resonated through her body, sending surges from her side through her chest and into her throat, which continued to pour out waves of contagious laughter. Despite all this, she still did not tug at all at her arms. This was not satisfactory, not at all, to Nino. He wanted to watch her struggle, to writhe and laugh underneath him, under his ticklish touch. Alya, though, could not let this happen. She was a heroine, after all. A new hero, but still a hero that shouldn’t be taken down by something as silly as tickling. She knew she could fight it until Nino grew bored, she had to.

“This a good spot?” Nino beamed, tempted to pull his other hand down to do the same to her other side, but thought against it. He won’t let go until she pulls free or begs.

Nino didn’t know why he was being so sadistic all of a sudden, but he liked it. He liked seeing Alya like this, so flustered, so adorable...no. He didn’t want to admit it yet, he couldn’t like her like that, at least he didn’t think so. But she was so pretty, with eyes that glowed like gold coins and her lips as beautiful as rubies.

“It tickles,” Alya broke Nino out of his thoughts, bringing out a laugh from him.

“Well, I hope so,” Nino grinned, fingers stilling briefly before walking up to the base of her ribs. “That’s kinda the point.”

Alya let out a squeak as he gently prodded between her bottom two ribs. Nino’s grin spread wider as a devious idea flickered into frame in his mind.

“Do you know how many ribs the average person has?” Nino asked, mindlessly tapping the same spot between the two ribs over and over, enjoying the small flinch each poke provoked.

“Twenty-four?” Alya asked after a moment of thinking it over. Something like this should’ve come quickly, but she was a bit distracted at the moment.

“Yep,” Another poke. “Let’s see if you have twenty-four, too.”

Without a second to protest if she had wanted, Nino scratched at the lowest rib. Alya let out a breathy giggle, turning her head back so she could see him.

“One,” Nino said before walking his fingers up to the next one. “Two.”

“Three,” Alya found herself saying between nearly silent giggles. Nino raised an eyebrow, surprised by her participation. He briefly wondered if she was enjoying it but thought otherwise. Though maybe.

“Four,” Her giggle became a bit more desperate. “Five.”

“Six,” Alya startled Nino again, though pressed her face into her arm, hiding from him as much as she could.

“Seven” Alya cackled, wiggling a bit in anticipation.

The next three were in her armpit, which is standard anatomy. Alya knew this was going to be hard but tried to hold back as much laughter as she could. Unfortunately for her, it was not much.

“It tickles!” She squealed, beginning to hysterically laugh as Nino counted the eighth rib. She couldn’t help but toss her head back, laughter pouring from her widely grinning mouth.

“Nine,” It was hard for Nino to hear himself over her laughter, though he didn’t mind it all that much. That and he knew he wouldn’t be able to count a proper twenty-four. Alya likely didn’t know this fact, or at least Nino hoped so.

Hands tightly balling into fists, her nails dug into the palms of her hands. It took a lot of effort to not struggle, her armpit being ruthlessly attacked by now, Nino having just announced the tenth rib, but didn’t really seem to be attacking it. Instead, he just scratched all five fingers along the exposed area. Nino was lucky that the day had been unusually warm for the end of autumn, as Alya opted to wear a tank top under a light jean jacket today, which she had taken off earlier into their hangout. This left nothing to protect her sensitive bare skin from his dull, scribbling nails raking up and down this one armpit.

“Want me to stop?” Nino asked, wanting to see what she would do. She responded by glaring daggers at him, though due to the current situation, these daggers were more like pencils, not very dangerous, but still hurts a little if stabbed by one.

“Sure,” Was all Alya could say. She wouldn’t beg for him to stop, not wanting to concede. She could take it, but she wouldn’t mind at all if Nino was bored and wanted to stop. This, however, was definitely not the case.

“That wasn’t very convincing!” Nino let out a laugh as he wore a goofy grin. “If you want me to stop, you have to say, ‘Yes, Nino the Great and Wonderful, please stop tickling me!’”

“Never,” Alya exclaimed, then let out a shriek as he suddenly attacked her other armpit. The pads of her fingers teased the shaved skin, the sensitivity of this armpit higher than the last thanks to the long anticipation Alya had to endure. She knew it was coming, but still could not brace herself for it.

“Well, that’s no fun,” Nino pouted, sticking out his lower lip ever so slightly. His fingers stilled for a moment, contemplating his next move. “Hm…how can I make you beg for mercy?”

“You can’t,” Alya chided, stretching her fingers as she breathed heavily, glad to have fresh air circulating through her lungs once more. “You can’t do anything to make me beg.”

“Is that a challenge?” Nino sneered, raising an eyebrow. “Alright then, I accept that challenge.”

Sucking in as much air as she could in anticipation, Alya tightened all her muscles and clenched her fists once again. Her heels dug back into the bench, ready to be a physical support in this endeavor.

“Hm…” Nino poked the tip of his tongue out, contemplating his next move. Her armpits were a good spot, but she would probably expect that. He could sit on her arms and attack both at once, but that wouldn’t give him any other options for tickling her, except for her neck. Her neck seemed promising, but for some reason, he just felt something was telling him not to, like something in his brain nudging him another way.

He glanced down at her stomach, a very easy spot for him to reach in this position, and one she couldn’t defend whatsoever even if she tried.

“Does this tickle?” Nino asked as he reached down as if to tickle her armpit, but then withdrew his hand quickly and went for her belly.

“Yes!” Alya let out a snort after a shrill scream, her heels pounding against the bench. Nino’s hand teased at the softer skin from her hips to right below her naval, poking at just the right spots to make her cackle and throw her head from side to side. “It tickles so much!”

Nino was shocked by how toned her stomach was, the faint outline of abs could be felt through her shirt.

“Have you been working out?” Nino admired her belly, tracing his fingers over the muscles. “I’m a bit jealous. Maybe we can work out together. But oh well, it sure isn’t stopping you from being super ticklish!”

“Shut up!”

“Are you going to beg me to stop?” Nino asked, his nails now skittering over an overly sensitive spot just beneath the left side of her rib cage.

“Never,” Alya repeated, her hands hurting just a bit from how tight she was straining her fists. It just tickled so much; her belly being one of her worst spots. That and… “No!”

“Aw, does Alya have a ticklish little belly button?” Nino cooed, single finger wiggling in her belly button like a worm wriggling around on a fishing hook. Alya’s laughter was loud, likely heard by all who resided in Paris. She flailed her legs, not able to steady or ground herself any longer, her heels bashing the wooden boards beneath her. Her hips bounced as she thrashed and turned, trying to get her wrists free without hurting him, but Nino wouldn’t let go. She still knew she could get free, but she didn’t want to use all of her newfound strength, not wanting him to know that she was as strong as a heroine now.

“It’s so ticklish. It’s so cute!” Nino’s voice was cutesy, adorable, as if he was talking to a puppy. As his index finger swirled around in her navel, his other fingers scratched at her tummy, Alya letting out a howl of ticklish mirth and agony. “How can such a tiny little thing be so ticklish?”

“Shut up!” Alya let out another snort as she shot her retort.

“You want me to stop?”

“I’m not begging.”

“Fine,” Nino grinned, devious plan forming in his mind. Without any hesitation, Nino let go of Alya’s wrists and thrust his hand down under her arm and began to tickle her armpit at the same time as her belly was being obliterated.

“Stop!” She finally let out, bringing her arms down, trapping his hand in her armpit.

“I will only stop if you say the magic words,” Nino laughed, dipping his middle finger into her belly button to help his index finger. Letting out another few snorts, Alya shook her head.

“No,” Alya repeated over and over, smacking his chest, though not very hard. “Stop.”

“Nah,” Nino let out a chuckle as he bent over, his fingers on her belly stopping momentarily to lift her shirt up to the bottom of her ribs. Sucking in the deepest of breaths, Nino planted his lips onto the skin around her belly button and blew the largest raspberry he could.

“Mercy!” Alya tapped her fingers against the bench, tapping out.

“You’re welcome,” Nino winked, thinking his pun was pretty funny. Alya simply responded with a half assed glare. He pulled his hands and face away from her body and looked over her, his head tilted a bit to the side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Alya said as she gasped in more air, her lungs trying to catch up from the lack of oxygen she has had for the last half hour or so, or at least she thinks it was that long. Her current perception of time was definitely a bit messed up. “That was a lot.”

“Sorry,” Nino let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. He lifted himself off her, standing up next to her. “I guess I went a little overboard.”

“You think?” Alya smacked him with the back of her hand, finally feeling like she had the strength to sit back up. She rotated around to face him and put her hands on her hips. “I’m going to get you back, Nino. Mark my words.”

“I’ll remember,” Nino winked, but he didn’t remember for that long.

“You’re so mean!” Nino cackled, his head thrown back, his armpits being tickled by Alya, who was sitting behind him, her legs crossed, wrapped around his torso.

“This is revenge, Nino,” Alya teased, quickly blowing a raspberry against his neck, eliciting a loud laugh.

“It tickles so much,” Nino squeaked, wiggling around, but despite being the superhero, Carapace, he is not nearly as strong as Alya. She has been in the game for much longer, which he had just learned and was amazed that she didn’t literally kill him when he last tickled her. He was incredibly fortunate, but here he was, getting the worst punishment of his life.

“That’s the point, Nino,” Alya grinned, slipped her left hand down and reached forward, grabbing at his knee, and squeezed.

“Stop!” Nino yelled, his laughter louder than ever. “It tickled too much!”

“Well, maybe you should have thought about that when you tickled me first.”

“That was months ago,” Nino wheezed, too ticklish for his own good. While Alya had, quite possibly, the most ticklish belly button in the whole world, Nino was definitely more ticklish overall. Every inch of his body was ticklish, and his knees were quite bad.

“Well, I like to hold grudges,” Alya gave a villainous laugh, now attacking his ribs and thighs.

“I give, I give!” Nino let out a snort, unable to take any more tickling. “It’s too ticklish!”

“Say that I am the best tickler in the world.”

“Alya is the best tickler in the world,” Nino repeated, though thought about being snide, though thought against it. He really couldn’t take much more.

“Good,” Alya said, withdrawing her body from his and stretched. “I think we’re pretty even now. Don’t you?”

“Definitely,” Nino replied, unable to shake the phantom tickles he still felt. “We’re even.”

#commissioned fic #miraculous ladybug #tickle fic

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orbitariums · 4 years ago

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𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟏𝟎)

note: hey y’all welcome back!! the chapter we’ve all been waiting for is hereee honey chile.

jusss so you know there will not be smut this time around. i took y’alls opinions and my own opinions into account and decided it would be best!! sry if you’re disappointed, i promise u will get smut. and since i’ve made my decision n planned it out it will be juicy and perfeeect. for now i hope y’all enjoy this chapter ! <3 it’s the longest yet so buckle up and share your thoughts with me!!! love u.

playlist (always always adding new additions, go check it out n listen while u read!!)

warnings: none

word count: 14.4k

Steve was resisting the urge to pace back and forth in his room that morning. He knew that any minute now, you would receive his gifts, and see the ticket. He was a bit nervous. He just wanted everything to go well. God forbid someone find out by accident and not only ruin the surprise, but discover what you and Steve had been up to.

Or maybe you'd changed your mind — no, you wouldn't, not without talking to him first. He was really just anticipating the moment he knew you'd actually seen the gifts, which he wouldn't know until you contacted him.

He kept looking over at his phone, glancing down and waiting for the screen to light up with your name. But he knew this was unhealthy, sitting around, waiting for your response. He had nowhere else to go, but he'd retire to the kitchen to make some coffee. Granted, it didn't really do anything for him, but it filled in the time, and distracted him from waiting around for your response.

The clock ticked on as Steve waited. Drinking coffee and reading the paper could only take up so much time out of his day. Soon enough, he was back to waiting. And waiting. Until...

His phone seemed to be ringing with more ferocity than he ever remembered, and he practically snatched it off the table in the meeting room, causing several eyes to glance up at him. He blushed, smiling awkwardly,

"Gotta take this."

He accepted the call without even looking to see who it was, hurrying out of the office and into his room in brisk, long strides, speaking hurriedly into the phone,

"Hello?"

"Steve! Holy shit!" it was your voice on the other end, and Steve was relieved to hear it. Now he could stop anticipating, stop worrying. His heart was soaring just hearing your voice, and he knew you'd received his gift. He was hardly listening as you went on and on, not saying much of anything, just shouting excitedly into the phone.

Once you'd opened the envelope again to see the single plane ticket which read DESTINATION: MANHATTAN with the date and time printed elsewhere, your mouth literally dropped open. It was as shocking as the moment Steve revealed his face to you, but the context was oh so different, and so much better, even. Of course you'd been expecting to see him, and you knew it would be soon, but you hadn't expected it to come about in this way at all. No, not at all.

Your heart pounded and you dropped the ticket onto the floor, swiping it right back up like it was a check for a million dollars. And those butterflies in your stomach went wild. Your mind was a blur, but one thing was clear: you were actually going to meet Steve. Maybe your reaction would've been different had Steve done this in a more mundane manner, but he had taken you completely by surprise.

And honestly, you were over the moon with excitement to meet him. So, rightfully so, you were freaking out. You had tripped over yourself trying to find your phone, your hands trembling as you called him.

Steve was grinning from ear to ear at the sound of your voice. He'd never heard you so ecstatic, so happy over something which he was anxiously awaiting your reaction to. And it settled in for Steve too - he was really going to meet you. It was as big a deal to him as it was to you, and the days of waiting only made you both more antsy to meet.

"Oh my god!" you squealed again for a final time. "Are you for real? How long have you been planning this, how — did you know about this before I went out with my parents? How the hell did you pull this together, how did you- oh god, I should let you talk. But, fuck, seriously? You're serious right now?"

"Hundred percent," Steve replied, still beaming, closing the door to his room behind him.

You went off again, shouting expletives and declarations of joy into the phone. You knew you weren't being very mindful right now, but fuck it if you weren't. You didn't get nice things like this often. The fact that Steve had taken you seriously and took the dedication to make this happen when you knew it wouldn't be easy? Your reaction was completely validated.

"You're fucking amazing. You know that?" you blurted, unable to hide your praise, making Steve's cheeks heat up yet again, the curve of a shy grin appearing on his lips.

“You're sweet," Steve uttered out, his heart feeling warm.

“Are you blushing, Stevie?" you teased, and he laughed.

“To answer your other questions. I've been planning it ever since we spoke about it on Facetime, during your party. But I didn't finalize plans until last week. And no, I didn't know about it before you went out with your parents. How'd I pull it together? Well, it was complicated, I had to do a lot of things very discreetly and plan out when I can take time off so I can be with you. But it's not that hard to get plane tickets- granted, it's a private jet—"

You didn't even let Steve finish talking or let that process in your mind before you blurted out,

"Private jet?!"

You thought nothing more could surprise you, but here Steve was, full of surprises. And honestly, you hadn't expected anything fancy. You figured he'd just pick you up from the airport after an economy flight, and that was enough for you. A private jet, though? It was unfathomable. You'd never even been on a plane past standard class.

Steve's eyebrow raised - had he done too much? Honestly, everything that went into this took a lot of internal debate. He didn't want to do too much, and he didn't want to do too little. But, he figured, after all you two had been through, after all you had been through, you deserved a bit of luxury. Besides, that wasn't all Steve had planned — you didn't know it, but you were in for even more of a shock.

"Is it too much?" Steve muttered, and you scoffed in disbelief,

"Hell yeah. Steve, I can't afford to pay you back, I-"

Steve's brows furrowed together as he laughed, realizing why you were reacting this way. He had considered how you might react to the extravagance Steve was planning, but he should've known you'd act like you now owed him something.

"Come on, princess," he drawled, his voice seeming to drop a few octaves unexpectedly. At the sound of Steve's voice deepening and the new nickname he'd donned for you, you felt your face warm up. "You know you're not paying me back."

You took in a deep breath, suddenly finding it a bit hard to breathe, fanning yourself. You liked this side of Steve for sure. But, that didn't mean you wanted to be super spoiled. You were used to getting special treats from customers, sure, but that was different. That was for work. When it came to romances? The last time you'd been "spoiled" was when your ex-boyfriend gave you flowers, and that was hardly spoiling. You realized now that that was the bare minimum.

So, you weren't used to being spoiled, hell, even really being taken care of by people, be it your parents or your romantic partners. It was a part of the reason you had always felt like you had to ask to be loved, a habit you had to teach yourself to grow out of. Steve didn't make you feel like you had to ask for anything.

"Right. I just..." you sighed loudly, pressing a hand to your hot forehead. This was a lot for you to take in, overwhelming in the best way. You couldn't believe this was your life right now. "I don't want you to feel like you have to — I mean, it's just... why?"

Steve laughed, shaking his head. He found it adorable how stunned you were by his gestures. He wanted to fly you out and make it an experience. Steve wasn't usually one to go big, so he even surprised himself in his actions, but he thought it was all worth it. It was so unlike him, so unlike anything the Steve a few months before would've expected of him. Out of anyone he knew, he felt like you deserved it.

"Because you're you. And you deserve it. I just want to make this day special. I figure, why not splurge and go all out? And since you and me both care about the environment, I sent in one of Tony's environmentally friendly jets. Do me a favor, don't push this away. You deserve a treat. You're so hardworking and the gift of seeing you is something I could never repay... but I could at least try."

You felt your heart warm at Steve's words, sinking into your couch with a hand on your chest, feeling your heart flutter as you cooed,

"Steve, you're such a darling. I... this is the fucking craziest and best thing that's happened to me in a long time. But... just promise me this isn't the beginning of a sugar relationship, because that's not something I'm into."

You were half-joking, but you were serious. Steve didn't seem like the sugar daddy type, but in any case you didn't want being with him to mean that he supplied you with your every need and then some. You didn't side eye people who sought that out, but you were so used to being on your own and making money the way that you did, that someone genuinely devoting all their time to paying you just for existing felt unnatural. You weren't the type to sit back and get paid for nothing. While you understood the appeal, you just couldn't feel comfortable doing it. And you didn't want Steve to think he could buy your time, though you knew he didn't think that.

"I know. Don't worry, that's not what this is. Just special treatment for a day, is that alright?" Steve asked.

"It's more than alright," you gave in — you knew Steve had good intentions only, but it was still hard for you to accept that someone would do this for you just because. You were trying to get used to your energy being reciprocated — more than reciprocated, it was overflowed. "I can't thank you enough, Steve. Really."

"Don't worry about it. I look forward to seeing you," Steve said, and the words felt like a relief just to say them, now that he knew it was a reality.

"I'm counting down the days," you trilled, laying back on your couch with a dazed smile on your face.

❁❁❁

"Since when do you have family in New York? Thought your whole fam was California born and raised." Aaliyah quirked a brow, pinching the straw of her strawberry daiquiri.

"Since... now, I guess," you shrugged.

You were lying your ass off. You had to make up some excuse to Aaliyah as to why, in a week, you would be leaving to New York for two weeks.

"Huh," Aaliyah furrowed her brows, running it over in her mind and then shrugging. "Well, I'll miss you. Who else am I gonna get drunk off my ass with in the middle of the day?"

You laughed, squeezing Aaliyah's hand. You felt a bit bad for lying, but it was what you had to do for now at least, until you felt comfortable enough to reveal your secret. So you didn't dwell on it. You weren't hurting anyone, and you were honest with her about everything else but this.

"It's two weeks, not a year."

Aaliyah's eye twitched and she glared at you,

"Two weeks is a year."

"I'll write," you rolled your eyes playfully, and she nudged you from across the table.

"You better."

In the days leading up to your big day with Steve, you stressed about every little detail. What did you need to pack, what could you leave at home? What clothes should you bring? Would Steve want you to bring something in particular to wear, besides the lingerie he'd bought you? Oh of course not, he wouldn't give a rat's ass what you wore. You didn't know it fully yet, but you could wear a t-shirt with holes in it and dusty sweatpants and he'd still see you as a perfect ten.

You packed for a few days, and you talked to Steve everyday since that day. Sometimes you could only text, but luckily you could call most of the time. You talked to Steve about norms, as in just basic rules you both had to follow when you were together. It wasn't meant to be restrictive, it was meant to be smart. Neither of you wanted anything getting out before you were ready, so there were precautions you would have to take. You understood that.

Steve was just as, if not more, nervous than you were about the whole ordeal. He was the one in charge of making sure things went right, making sure you were safe, putting everything together just to see you. He was eager to see you, but you were both full of nerves. Today, you had no time to be nervous — because you were on the way to the airport.

As requested, you updated Steve about everything. Right now, you were in the backseat of the comfortable uber that Steve sent to you. Your nerves were on one hundred right now. You couldn't stop crossing and uncrossing your legs in the backseat of the black SUV, wiping nervous sweat off your palms.

Steve texted you back, reminding you that you'd be alone at the airport besides the staff. And you knew that hours later, at an airport in New York, he'd be waiting for you. The whole ride there, you stressed about what Steve would be like in real life- what he'd look like, how he'd greet you. You were sure he would be just as sweet as he was over the phone, if not sweeter.

But god, did the thought of closing the distance make you nervous. You thought back to the day you and Steve first spoke, how different your life was then, and how this wasn't even something that registered to you. You didn't know Steve back then, didn't know who he really was. There wasn't even a chance that you'd even think about this. And now, here you were, about to meet the man you'd found under such strange circumstances.

When you arrived to the airport, you almost didn't want to look out of the window. You didn't want to see what you knew was right outside — that big, private jet that you just couldn't ignore, darting your eyes towards it once from your car seat and never being able to look away.

"Here you are," chirped the friendly driver, opening your door for you. You were frozen in your seat, hadn't even taken off your seatbelt. The driver looked at the private jet, then at you with a warm smile. "Lucky you."

You refocused, back to planet Earth, and let out a shaky breath. You hadn't even stepped on the jet and already you were going through rigor mortis.

"Yeah," you replied with a bit of a neurotic laugh.

You unlatched the seatbelt and wobbled out of the car— when had your legs turned to jelly? You were trying to contain yourself, trying not to act like a fool over something so material, but God, you thought. Nothing had ever been so majestically presented to you. You'd never been with anybody who had the means to do this, and that didn't matter, because you'd never been with anyone who would make these grand gestures just because. You weren't asking for a private jet, but from the way you'd been treated in your past relationships, you'd think that you were.

"Holy shit," you murmured under your breath, and lurched forward, the driver carrying your luggage behind you. The steps to the jet were already at the floor, and all you could do was stand at the foot with wide eyes. You could see the staff were kindly waiting for you to come in, and you called up to them, awestruck. "Do I just go in?"

"Come on up, Miss! It's all yours," a staff member encouraged you, calling you by your last name like you were some important administrator.

This did something for you. You made a livable wage, and had some leftover for the occasional treat— like selfcare or stuff for your cam shows. But this was the life of a millionaire. And although you resisted initially, the fact that you knew Steve had arranged that you got treated with the utmost respect during your travel made it a lot harder for you to.

You weren't on some sort of power trip, but this once again proved the kind of gentleman that Steve was. It made you feel more comfortable, knowing that you'd be treated like you belonged here, when you felt anything but. He cared about you, and you'd never really had that before. Not like this.

You actually stepped foot inside, and when you saw what was before you, you audibly gasped, brows raising far up your forehead. You'd never seen anything like this. Sleek, modern furniture adorned the interior of the jet, which stretched so far you didn't think it'd be possible to see everything. You nearly panicked — there was no way Steve had done all this for you. No way.

It was basically a mansion, compacted into a private jet — which sounded like the most ludicrous thing you'd ever heard of. Everything inside had a color scheme, cool neutrals and splashes of color here and there. The seats were plush and huge, leaving leg room for days. There was even a big TV screen in the middle of this particular section. Everything about this screamed luxury.

"Welcome! First time on a private jet?" Eliza, an employee, asked, and her presence was a shock to you — you were too busy staring in awe at everything you were seeing.

"Yeah... is it noticeable?" you joked, a hand over your chest.

"I won't say," she grinned, and you shook your head, chuckling.

"This is all so... amazing. I-I've never seen anything like this. It's like, you see it in movies and online but... but for someone to actually bring it to me? Just because?"

"He must really like you," said Eliza— of course, she didn't actually know who he was.

"Yeah," you said tearfully, trying to avoid crying and becoming even more of a mess than you already were.

Thankfully, you weren't scared— just amazed. You were sure you'd settle in at some point, but right now, you were kind of in paradise. You just had to get used to it first.

"Please, sit anywhere! Or I can give you a tour, let you get accustomed."

"Please," you answered immediately. Maybe after she showed you everything, you'd feel a bit less overwhelmed.

You let Eliza lead you through the jet, showing you all of its amenities and rooms. Each time you thought nothing more could surprise you, there was something new up until the end.

For one, there was a kitchen where a team of chefs would work to serve you - some of your favorite things were on the menu, mimosas included. Steve had really been paying attention when you spoke to him about the little things. You didn't realize how much he genuinely enjoyed talking to you, how he died to hear the most trivial things about you and compartmentalized it.

Hell, there was even a bedroom with your name encrusted on a gold plaque attached to the door - ridiculous, you thought, but so amazing. Attached to that bedroom was a full bathroom. Everything was top tier, nothing surprising considering this was Stark property, but still, it was crazy to see. By the end, while you were glad you were familiar with everything on the jet, you still couldn't help but feel floored.

You felt like a princess - adorned with special privileges you'd never even thought of in your comfortable little life in sunny southern California. Steve was opening up a whole new world of options to you, and doing it so gracefully, and just because? It was the definition of being treated like royalty.

You were a logical woman, and you had a good hold of your emotions. You didn't often act "childish", but you felt like you were giving into those giddy girlish feelings that only Steve evoked. But you were still young, still someone who liked to have a good time. You didn't want to be in your feelings over material things, but it was so much more than that. You were grateful you were even getting to experience this, but even more grateful for the person who had given you this experience to begin with.

Eliza could see you were getting emotional, and placed a hand on your shoulder,

"Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. We'll let you know when we take off in a few minutes."

You let out a deep breath. It was all sinking in. Somehow, this was your reality. You took a look around, and shrugged — you might as well take full advantage of it. You slumped your shoulders, dropped all your worries. You were in luxury - you'd act like it, and enjoy it, instead of overthinking for once. You walked into one of the lounge rooms, plopping down on a reclining chair that felt like heaven just to sit down in, sighing as you sunk into the supple plush. Still in awe, you texted Steve, expressing your disbelief and excitement all at once, sending him a video of your lush surroundings.

Steve grinned when he received the video from you, glad that you were enjoying your time. By how you reacted the other day, he was sort of afraid you might feel too overwhelmed and be unable to enjoy the experience. But all Steve really wanted was for you to have a good day, to feel like you were important. He could do that without getting you a big private jet, but if he was going to fly you out, he was going to fly you out. He didn't mind dropping a bag on you- for him it was nothing, Steve hardly touched his money. He wanted you to feel first class. Hell, this was higher than first class.

He texted you back, telling you he hoped you enjoyed and to text him if you needed anything. But honestly, you didn't think you'd need anything more.

You spent the remaining duration of the flight in the private bathroom, finishing your hair and makeup and choosing an outfit. You weren't stressing too hard over what to wear, but you wanted to look good for Steve. You settled on a white sundress with floral decals that accentuated your features just right. You stood in front of the mirror for a long time, checking yourself out. You knew you looked good, but you were just a bit nervous since you were landing in a few minutes now.

You tried to spend the time waiting for the plane to land by scrolling through your phone, but you found yourself switching mindlessly through apps, your mind blank except for one thing - Steve. Then, you heard the announcement saying that you had officially landed. You had noticed the jet getting lower, but you had been too distracted by your thoughts to notice that you were here. In New York, middle of the day, about to see him.

❁❁❁

Steve was just as nervous as you were, standing in the landing area, which again was empty and private, hands in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his toes. He was really going to see you, and he knew you'd be everything he imagined and more. He had been waiting here for a good hour, because he didn't want to miss a thing, and now he knew he'd be seeing you in a few minutes, even a few seconds.

And when the door opened, and he saw the figure of you standing there at the entrance, he froze. Even from afar, you were beautiful. And you were real. Not that he'd had any doubts, but after the amount of time he'd spent talking to you on a screen, it seemed impossible that he would really see you in real life, even as he finalized his plans and the day came closer. It still didn't seem feasible. And now, here you were just a few feet away from him, and his heart stopped. Whatever he was expecting, you were even more, which seemed unimaginable. His mouth went dry, he was at a loss for words, and his eyes had never been more blown.

And you would've froze too, if your heart didn't tell you to run. To you, it was a clumsy, graceless run. To Steve it was cinematic, like you were the heroine running right out of the movie screen and towards him, the flash of you growing closer and closer until you were finally there, jumping up at him.

He caught you with ease as you leaned into him, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You wondered if he could feel your heart beating against his own, or feel your chest pounding from all the nerves, all the excitement, from the feeling of true fulfillment. Because in front of you was your Steve Rogers, nothing less. You were feeling the same feelings of disbelief. After months of talking, weeks of planning this out, finally it had been manifested. Finally it had happened successfully, without interruption, and you were in front of each other.

You buried your face in his neck, taking in his scent - he smelled like fresh air and clean linen, and surprisingly... like home. And in his arms, you definitely felt like you were home. You actually felt comfortable, like you could trust him, like being in his arms was right, like you weren't moving too fast.

As much as you tried to imagine it, your thoughts couldn't come close to how strong Steve actually was, how much his arms wrapped around you with ease, holding you tight and close and secure, how big and powerful his body was against you. Like no matter what, you would mold into him perfectly, and he would just wrap you up and hold you like you were the best Christmas gift.

"Ooh, I wanna see your face," you took your face out of the crook of his neck, though you were quite comfortable there.

You pulled back to see him, your arms still around his neck, and he held onto you still, his entire face beaming while he took a good look at you as well. You let out a pleased sigh, a feeling lifting off of your chest like you'd been waiting for this and it had been hounding you - which wasn't far off from how you felt. You reached out and squeezed his cheeks in your hands, doing it without a second thought. It gave you no greater joy than to know that you could do that to him, that you were the only person who could do that to him.

"Oh, you're so beautiful," you sighed dreamily, looking into his sparkling blue eyes. You'd always loved looking at those eyes over Facetime calls.

You didn't think his eyes could be any bluer than they already appeared on screen. It felt so surreal, being with him. And in the midst of all the surreality, you were filled with an impenetrable bliss. It wasn't shocking, it was more like a dazed feeling, dreamlike. You got what you wanted, what you deserved.

Steve couldn't get enough of you, even with you right here in front of him, legs and arms wrapped around him. If it was possible, he was even more blissful than you right now. And it was a moment of pride for the both of you. Had you continued on in fear, not trusting each other, not trusting yourselves, this would've never happened. It was a huge accomplishment for the both of you.

Steve took in all of your features, and he couldn't deny that the glow you possessed in real life was even brighter than your glow on screen, the same thing that had drawn him to you that very first night. You were glowing, smiling the way you had been before. Just to see you, it was worth the wait. And the feeling of your soft fingers squishing his cheeks had him smiling like a little boy at a toy store.

His eyes drifted down to your glossy lips, which he couldn't wait to kiss, then your bright eyes, and he uttered,

"You're gorgeous, YN. I can't believe I'm finally seeing you. You're everything I imagined and more."

You couldn't believe the feeling that was in your heart, just from finally hearing his voice in real life. To Steve, your voice was like warm honey toast, alluring and adorable all at once. And his voice was music to your ears, that voice you dreamt of hearing. You couldn't believe anything you were feeling right now. It was nothing that you'd ever felt before, and it made tears well up in your eyes once again.

"This is so unreal. You're... here. You're holding me. I just got off a fucking private jet to meet you!" you squealed, recounting the events of the past few hours.

Steve chuckled,

"I'm still having trouble understanding that this is real."

"Doesn't get any realer than this, Steve," you smirked, although you felt the same way, and his knees nearly buckled at the way you said his name.

You slowly unwrapped your legs from his waist, and he supported your hips as he lowered you gently onto the ground. Your arms were still around his neck, and your body was still pressed against his, this time standing on the ground in front of him. Your knees felt bendy from how much you were leaning into him. But you didn't want to ever be any further from him.

He pulled you closer by the hips, as if you could get any closer,

"Mind saying my name again?"

"Hmm, Steve?" you cocked your head to the side as if you were trying to remember his name, and he chuckled, shaking his head as he looked at you.

Your personality was even more than he'd imagined, too.

"That's the one," he replied. He ran his hand along your face, caressing your jaw and cheek, sending tingles down your spine that he wasn't even aware of. "God, I can't get over you."

"Me either," your lips quirked up, and you hummed, incredibly intrigued as you noticed the light bristles of hair forming along his face. "Mmm!"

"What's that?"

“You're growing out your beard, huh?"

Steve absentmindedly stroked the beginnings of a beard that were growing, and you placed your hand over his own, guiding his hand against his chin and jaw. He relished the feeling of your hand over his.

"Trying to."

"You don't have to try. You're Steve Rogers. That beard'll grow like nobody's business," you chuckled, and he grinned at your fast remarks, blushing at the compliment.

"Steve!" you trilled, pleased to see this in real life, your eyes glimmering as you watched pink flood his cheeks. "You're blushing."

Steve bit down, and your eyes followed the place where his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. You both wanted to kiss each other, you both could hardly control the way your eyes lingered on one another's lips for far too long. But you were waiting for the time when it felt just right — after all, you were just now meeting each other. But somehow he knew already that you were just the person he needed in his life - playful, but one of the realest people he'd ever met. You balanced each other out perfectly.

"And you're gorgeous," Steve replied, looking you up and down unashamedly, admiring the way your simple yet pretty sundress clung to your body, highlighting your best features. "And you've been traveling for too long. Let's get you to the hotel, hmm?"

And just like that, you were settling into one another like clockwork, like this was natural despite how amazed you were by one another. He turned around, quick to put his arm over your shoulder to keep you close to him, leading you to the car. Your heart was still pounding hard and fast in your chest, your brain still scrambled even though you felt like you fit so naturally with him. He seemed so majestic up close, so much like the Captain America that everyone adored and revered. He was the walking definition of a picture perfect American Dream, a glint of hope that that dream still existed. You gained a newfound respect for him just by standing next to him, encapsulating all his undebatable glory. And in this moment, you had him all to yourself.

Steve felt a strange buzz, just from the friction of you being so close to him. Both your feelings of excitement seemed to create a high frequency vibration that you could literally feel. You were both anticipating what was next, and loving it because you knew you'd be together.

On the walk to the car, you couldn't help but gaze up at him the entire time in amazement, your eyes sparkling. Steve couldn't deny that he felt your eyes on him, but some part of him made him too shy to simply look down and make eye contact, because he knew he'd get lost in the moment and stare forever. He didn't want to scare you off. Still, that didn't mean that he didn't spare a few quick glances, followed by a quirk of his lip that was almost a smile, pulling you closer under his arm each time.

Steve opened the door for you and helped you up into the passenger's seat. He really didn't have to, but who were you to deny Steve picking you up as gently as he did, then placing you softly on the seat? He got into the driver's seat and started the car.

"Hope travel wasn't too bad," Steve offered- he was honestly trying to have natural conversation, but his nerves forced him to keep it to small talk.

Honestly, all he wanted to do was go on about how beautiful you were, how he was intimidated to even look at you too long, but he knew that would be weird.

You on the other hand, were nervous, but not to the point where you felt like you couldn't find the right words to say. You figured he'd just need to settle in, that he liked you just as much as he did on screen, but needed to adjust. The situation was new for the both of you, and Steve was really putting himself out there. Besides, even though you clicked, you had still just met each other.

The affection was there, but you knew it would take some prodding for Steve to really feel comfortable. You could tell he was sort of doubting himself like he often did, probably wondering if he was even fit for you. And you had no problem reminding him that he was more than fit. You laughed and shook your head, nudging Steve's arm playfully,

"Are you seriously making small talk right now? Also, you put me on a private jet. You tell me how you think my travel was."

Steve chuckled, a grin breaking out on his face as he began to feel more comfortable. Your playfulness, your honest sarcasm, honestly made him feel less hesitant. You joked with him like he was an old friend, and everytime you were sarcastic with him it actually uplifted him, reminded him who he was when he started to doubt himself and you had to give him reminders.

Your friendly demeanor made Steve feel more at ease. He just wanted you to like him. He wanted everything to be perfect, and he kept forgetting everything he'd learned - not to let fear get the best of him.

"You're right, you're right," Steve nodded, and you shook your head playfully, still looking over at him. He stopped at a red light, and finally looked over at you, locking eyes with you and taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"What?" you teased.

"Nothin'," Steve played along, grinning gently.

He jerked back to realization when a car honked from behind him — the light had gone green already and he was too busy smiling at you to notice. You stifled a chuckle, leaning back into your seat and looking out at the road before you while he drove forward, but he glanced at you, smirking because you weren't hiding your smile behind your hand well enough.

"What's so funny?" Steve chaffed, and you feigned oblivion, raising your brows and looking over at him,

"Hmm?"

"You heard me," Steve continued, all in good fun.

"Oh, so this is how we're gonna do this, huh?" you couldn't help but break out into laughter, unable to keep up the act for too long.

Steve shrugged,

"No clue what you're talking about."

"Okay, I'll bite. I think what might be funny is the fact that you can't keep your eyes off me and that's why you just got honked at for missing the green light? I don't know, I could be wrong, but!" you threw your hands up in the air, unable to fight the smile that spread on your face.

Steve blushed — he knew you'd noticed, but being put on the spot so unashamedly for his fixation for you made him feel bashful. Although it was a relief to see that you definitely liked his attention. And you kept him on his feet. Your energy was such a breath of fresh air. He was hardly thinking of his Avenger friends now, and his worries about things going wrong seemed to dissipate with every word you spoke, every glance you spared at him.

"You had to mention it," Steve sighed, and you giggled,

"I was gonna spare you! But you play dirtier than I expected."

You just sat there chuckling together, feeling the positive energy seep into the space. Steve definitely felt less nervous, and the banter opened up more space for developing your relationship.

You looked out the window, pressing your hand against it as you drove past new faces and places. You'd never been to New York before, unless a rest stop on a flight with your parents counted. But you'd never actually explored the city, big and flashy and somehow warm, inviting. Maybe it was because you were with Steve that New York felt comfortable and even homey, but you were a California girl at heart. You could stand being here for two weeks though, at least if it meant you got to be with Steve.

The city started to become less of a blur as you began passing by even bigger, more luxurious buildings and glamorous restaurants and clubs that were just waiting to be lit up come nighttime. Your eyes widened as you marveled at the tall buildings that yet again screamed wealth, and you wanted to ask Steve where exactly this hotel was.

"Think you could get used to New York?" Steve asked, practically reading your mind.

He knew how much you loved SoCal, and he just wanted to make sure this place wasn't too much of a culture shock for you. He wanted you to feel as comfortable as you could going from surfer paradise to concrete jungle.

You looked at him over your shoulder, and just the sight of you like that made his chest pang with desire.

"Oh yeah, New York's nice. You know, I used to think it was true that all New Yorkers were mean. But then I met you," you winked, and Steve nodded,

"Brooklyn kids do it best, what can I say?"

"So this is Manhattan," you replied, and Steve nodded again, pulling into an empty road and heading towards the back of a building which you hadn't seen in its entirety yet. But even looking at the deserted back, you could tell that the building was nice, and expensive too.

"Yep, Manhattan it is. And here we are," Steve chirped, seeming pleased to have gotten to the destination without interruption. He rubbed the nape of his neck, feeling sheepish again. "Sorry about this, we've gotta enter through the back. Less attention."

You could tell he was sort of feeling bad about this and you frowned, your brows knitting together.

"Steve," you said in the sternest voice you could manage. "Quit feeling bad. I literally have no complaints, as long as I'm with you. I get it, really."

Steve nodded, looking down at his lap. He knew you'd understand, you both discussed things like this in advance. But he didn't want you thinking he was ashamed of you at all. Some things just had to be kept secret, for sanity and for safety.

"Got it. I just want you to love it, that's all," Steve said, and his genuinity made your heart warm like it had just settled down and snuggled into a blanket in front of a crackling fireplace.

Steve got out of the car and was on the other side faster than you could even unbuckle, opening the door for you and holding his hand out for you to take.

"You're fast," you chuckled, taking his hand and stepping out, your dress flowing in the wind, an image that Steve kept locked in his mind.

He shrugged,

"Super soldier things."

He took you in through the back and checked the both of you in discreetly with an employee who had been waiting for you two. It all felt so exclusive and secretive, and made you a bit antsy to see the full extent, but you had no worries. You got on the elevator with Steve while a few employees took all your stuff up to the room, watching as all the floors passed by you in the glass elevator. It wasn't until you actually got to your floor, floor 31, that you even realized the full magic of the luxury hotel.

When you stepped out, your jaw dropped. Just the floor was the definition of luxury, and you hadn't even been inside the room yet. It was decked out in marble flooring, large windows all about for perfect lighting and an unbelievable view of the afternoon skyline. The decor was beautiful and the entire floor smelled like fragrant flowers. You weren't sure what was more impressive — this or the private jet. Steve noted how you literally stopped in your tracks, then turned around to face him with almost needy eyes, like you had to know if this was real.

"You're serious?" was all you could say.

"D'you like it?" Steve asked, leaning forward.

"It's amazing! I can't believe — Steve, I feel so bad," you said, your voice growing distant as you wandered the halls, straying away from the room.

He caught up fast, chuckling to himself as he gently grabbed onto your arm and looped it between his own, leading you in the right direction. Then he paused, standing in front of you and towering over you. You felt your entire being softening when he did that, it was like he was both dominating you and comforting you in the simplest of ways. You looked up at him with unintentionally coy eyes, glancing between his pink lips and his ocean eyes.

"Hey. Don't feel bad. I'll say it as many times as it needs to be said — I want to do this for you. It's no trouble for me," he shrugged, and usually you would've made some remark about him implying that he was rich, but the way he was standing over you right now rendered you speechless.

You felt like you had melted into a big ice cream puddle and all you could do was nod slowly and look up at him with dopey, wide eyes and set lips.

"Okay," you uttered, your voice faint, and before you knew it he was leaning over you and bear hugging you, throwing all of himself (not all, because he would literally crush you) into the hug and just wrapping his arms around you.

Even though you'd been close to each other since you met, and onscreen you'd been closer than you could even imagine, this felt like the most intimate you'd been since meeting each other in real life. You felt protected and safe in this moment. You liked how Steve hadn't gotten tired of you despite having to remind you that this wasn't any trouble for him and that you shouldn't feel bad for being spoiled by someone who liked you and wanted to do it for you. You were overwhelmed by his scent and the warmth of his strong body.

When he pulled away you felt weak with endearment, and that ice cream puddle feeling hadn't gone away. Of course, Steve hardly noticed the effect he had on you, and just took your hand in his and led you to the room. This initiation of holding hands had both your hearts pounding — any physical touch did. His hands were big and muscular, and your hand fit in just perfectly.

"And here we are," Steve opened the door wide, leading to the unbelievable room.

It was more like an entire house, actually. A penthouse, to be specific. You were surrounded by glass windows that once again offered a view of the whole city. The suite was the perfect mix of contemporary and minimalist. It was luxurious, but not too stark, comfortable enough that you could actually sleep there and not feel like you were sleeping in in some strange utopia. You couldn't help but explore immediately, trying to see everything, like it was sand falling from between your fingers much too fast.

There was a bedroom with the biggest king sized bed you'd ever seen, a bright and airy bathroom with a freestanding white marble tub and a clear glass shower that faced a window, a kitchenette with a fully set up bar, and a huge living room with a near movie sized TV screen. There was even a balcony with stone flooring, a jacuzzi and a plethora of lounge chairs, not to mention another bar.

Hell, you couldn't keep up with all the things you were seeing, racing around the penthouse suite and trying to wrap your mind around it. Steve had done enough to show you that you shouldn't doubt it or feel guilty about being around such opulence for a day, but you were damn amazed.

Steve just followed you as you raced around, laughing to himself at your reactions to everything and your utter disbelief. It was wholesome, and a reminder of the fact that even though you had a good head on your shoulders, at heart you were a blossoming young woman who had never experienced these things before.

"Steve," you groaned, falling back onto the plush bed, which was perfectly made up. You felt dizzy.

"Yeah doll?" he asked, and you smiled, suddenly feeling eager to hear the nickname again. It made such a difference to hear it in person.

"This is amazing. I could kiss you," you said nonchalantly, then held yourself up on your forearms and looked up at him.

He was too busy being shy again, turning away slightly and kicking at the ground. He knew he looked ridiculous, but you were amused. You knew exactly the effect you had on him, you always had. But seeing it up close and personal was somehow even better. Half the time you didn't even mean to purposefully tease him. He got bashful all on his own, just a reminder of the power he knew you had over him in that sense.

You smirked, just watching him try to get his act together again.

"Ahh, thanks, YN. I'm glad you like it."

You sighed, still laying back and making a snow angel with just your arms against the bedsheets.

"You know, if you do want me to be your sugar baby..." you trailed off, clearly joking.

Steve shook his head playfully,

"You're a handful, you know that?"

"Of course!" you quipped, and sprung up, sitting upright on the bed, dangling your feet above the floor. "So, what do you wanna do?"

"Well, I had a few things planned, but it's really up to you."

"Yeah? Like what?" you chirped, and Steve grinned at your voice and how intrigued you sounded.

"Uh, well. There's a spa on this floor as well. Private, of course. I gotta say, I'm not great at relaxing, or being touched by strangers."

"Steve," you whined, reaching out for his hand and cupping it between both your hands. "You don't have to force yourself to do anything. But you do deserve to relax. This is as much for you as it is for me. I mean, you put this all together, I can't thank you enough. Least you could do is get a massage."

Steve was endeared by your sentiment, and you were right. He needed to relax. He definitely was not as uptight as he was before he even knew of you, but he was still usually in a work mode. You'd only be at this hotel for one night, and it was only right that you both take full advantage of its amenities. After all, it was luxury for a reason. You were here to be pampered and be together.

"Yeah..." Steve looked down at where your hands were cupped over his, and smiled fondly. "You're right. I'm real good at being stressed out."

"I know," you kneaded his hands. "But I can help you relieve that stress."

You bit down on your lip, knowing that could mean so many different things, but here you really had innocent intentions, your face brightening up as you got an idea.

"Okay. So you want to relax, but not while a stranger is touching you," you restated, and Steve nodded with a hum. "I have an idea."

| | |

�� "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Steve chuckled as you flitted around him like a fairy, getting everything together.

About an hour later, once your stuff had been returned to the room and you had both settled in just a bit more, you were practically dragging Steve out of the room and to the spa area where you'd carry out your idea. Your request was simple when you'd called the spa over the phone in your suite: you wanted all the material there, but no employees. That way it'd be more personal — how hard could it be to do the same things that the staff did? It wasn't defeating the purpose if it meant you got to bond alone.

"Uh, I mean I've never done this before but I usually know what I'm doing, so I'm gonna go with yes," you answered, probably more sure of yourself than Steve was.

"I trust you," Steve smiled.

"Smart choice," you smirked, looking at him from over your shoulder. "Okay, I think everything's ready. The question is - are you?"

"I don't know, am I?" Steve cocked his head, eyeing you as you got everything ready, admiring you once again.

"Not in that, you're not," you said, gesturing to the loose fitting t-shirt he still had on.

You said it casually, but truthfully, the pace of your heartbeat was quickening, thinking of actually seeing him take his shirt off. You had a lot more experience than Steve, so it wasn't like it was some new and strange experience, but the thought of seeing even more of Steve made you nervous.

"Oh. Do I just-" Steve gazed up at you, raising his brows.

"Mhm," you hummed quietly, biting down on your lip and watching him.

Steve felt nerves too for the same reason as you, but not because he was insecure with his body, so he lifted his shirt up with ease and placed it on the bed beside him. The silence felt deafening as he looked up at you and gauged your reaction. And honestly, you were just standing there looking at him, your lips pursed and your chest visibly rising up and down as you switched from automatic breathing to manual.

You didn't have a huge preference for body type, but Steve was certainly a force to be reckoned with, big and hulking both with and without a shirt. You noticed the pleased, expectant expression on Steve's face and came back to earth, blinking away all the thoughts that flooded your mind.

"Okay!" you practically gasped out, all the breath you were holding in leaving you at once. "You can lay back. And um, I'll just-"

Steve lay back and you approached the massage table, your breath hitching in your throat as you climbed up quickly and got on top of him, placing your legs on either side of him so you were straddling him. And don't get it wrong, you were confident. You put your body out there almost every night for hundreds of strangers, and that definitely boosted your sexuality in real time. It wasn't hard for you to perform suggestive acts or use your sensuality, but actually touching Steve felt so sacred — like you both wanted every touch to be precise. You had the chemistry online, it was just a matter of how the chemistry progressed face to face, sinking into the reality that felt so surreal.

Steve put his hands on your hips to steady you and your body twitched just slightly, Steve looking up at you with innocent, inexperienced eyes.

It was quiet now, and you focused on the task at hand, Steve's hands dropping to his sides while you diligently went to work. You spread oil on your hands and reached down to touch Steve's face, a small smile on your concentrated face. You were paying more attention to your hands, but Steve was looking right up at you, admiration full in his eyes, a small smile on his face. He was letting you do the work, lightly massaging oil onto Steve's face, keeping your fingers gentle and your pace slow and relaxing.

You were focused, but certainly, you couldn't help but be hyper aware of the fact that you were literally on top of Steve while he had no shirt on (and looked damn good without it). The innocuous yet obvious sensuality of the moment stirred the both of you. But rather than act upon it, you let it stay innocent. Steve cherished the feeling of your fingers lightly tapping and massaging against his face. You may not have been a licensed massage therapist, but you knew what you were doing.

"You sure you haven't done this before?" Steve uttered, his words almost slurred from how relaxed he was.

"One hundred percent," you offered a tiny smile, your face hovering just over Steve's, locking eyes with him. Your voice was gentle and soft. "Close your eyes for me."

Steve was entranced, fully into this experience, and honestly probably because it was you doing it. Had it been anyone else, he probably would've been squirming around, because he didn't know how to relax. But you were his oasis. A smile cracked out onto your lips at the sight of Steve underneath you with his eyes closed, totally relaxed. You'd hoped this would be the result. And you couldn't help but knead your fingers a little extra when you got down to his chest, still mind boggled by his muscles.

"Just let me know if it feels alright," you said, your voice just above a whisper as you placed hot stones carefully on Steve's face and massaged his skin with them. "That okay?"

"Hmm," Steve hummed affirmatively in response.

You watched as his chest rose and fell at a steady, relaxed rate, completely at ease. Every once in a while, he let out a sigh or a quiet groan that made your breath hitch in your throat. But again, you let it stay innocent. It was just Steve's luck that you didn't notice, or feel the tent that was growing in his pants just from the touch of your hands against his face. It was just that good.

When you were done, you didn't have the heart to tell him it was over. He seemed to have no complaints though, although he knew he could stay like this for much longer. His hands gripped your wrists, then he slid his fingers in between yours, cupping your hands together by his sides. You beamed down at him, amused at the way his eyes seemed glazed over and totally blissed out.

"How was it!" you exclaimed, excited to see how pleased he was.

"YN," he massaged his thumb into the nook of your hand. "I think you're actually good at everything you do."

You shook your head and Steve rolled his eyes.

"You're being modest," he said with a wave of his hand. "Now, what can I do for you? Because that was incredible."

"Steve, no way. You're not doing a thing for me. You've done... more than enough."

"I appreciate that, doll, but you do know this is mutual. If you hadn't already gotten your nails done," Steve flopped your hand up playfully, and you giggled, "I would try. I guess it's best that you've already got them done, though. Don't know how accurate my nail painting would be. But I could give you a massage, or try my hand at a facial."

You hopped off of Steve and the massage table, bouncing up and down slightly on the floor,

"Steve, as much as I adore that idea, I'm solely focused on making you feel relaxed right now. Though, if you really want to do something for me, you could... get in the pool?"

You skipped backwards, and pulled off the loungewear you'd changed into for the spa, clad in a bra and underwear beneath. You simply winked while Steve sat upright, eyes widening at the sight of you half naked in front of him. Sure, it was technically the same as a bikini, but just seeing you like that unexpectedly made him start. You couldn't be anymore coquettish right now, flaunting your body with a twirl before you jumped into the pool.

You disappeared for a few moments, then swam back up to the top, pushing back the water that speckled your face with your hands. Steve found his mouth going dry - you were so beautiful and alluring without even trying to be. He stood up and walked over to the edge of the pool, glaring down at you while you gazed up at him with playful, inviting eyes.

"You're gorgeous," was all Steve could manage to utter out, kneeling slightly so he was more at level with you.

You bit down on your lip and gestured for Steve to come closer, enticing him with your beguiling eyes. You placed your hand on his face, wet hand against his firm jaw, and pulled his head closer as if—

Then, a loud splashing sound and the feeling of being submerged in water as Steve fell in. He swam back up to the top easily, pushing his hair back and wiping water away from his eyes as he regained his bearings. The accomplished grin on your face told him all he needed to know, and he lunged forward, grabbing you in his arms with ease and lifting you up, your back against his chest.

"You're gonna pay for this, you know that?" he scolded you playfully, and you laughed giddily, your vision blurred as Steve spun you around against him in the water, unable to withhold your delirium.

"I knew you wouldn't get in unless I forced you in! You think I don't know you by now?" you cackled, trying and failing to free from his grasp.

He let you go, but that didn't mean he wasn't right up on you, looming over you in the pool and pressing up against you, your bodies flush with one another. You were still laughing, but that feeling was coming back again, that feeling that you were melting once more.

"I'm not gonna forget this," Steve warned, pursing his lips in a triumphant smirk.

"If I could dunk you, I would," you narrowed your eyes at him, pressing your finger into his chest.

"Oh my god, would you look at that?" Steve questioned sarcastically, picking you up by the waist without trouble and placing your legs around his neck, falling back deep into the water as if you had actually dunked on him.

You managed to open your eyes under the pool water, blinking excessively but catching a long glimpse at Steve, who was pressed beneath you. You grinned and swam up to the surface, Steve following short after.

"Why, I never!" you pressed your hand against your chest, gasping dramatically. "Steve, you slick debonair. Did you just use that as an excuse to have my legs around your neck?"

Steve, who had thought nothing of it, was now wide-eyed and gulping, his mind traveling to a sinful place — particularly, the place between your thighs.

He handled it with grace though, raising a brow and cocking his head,

"Don't think I'll need an excuse."

This time it was your turn to react, your mouth dropping open into a small o shape. Steve had even shocked himself. But you were really getting comfortable with one another, and he was just catching up to your pace.

"I..." you didn't even know what to say, because just like Steve you were lost in thought as well, blinking and smiling blankly. You glared at him in a lighthearted manner. "You win that one. But you're a bad man."

"Am I?" Steve chuckled, his voice deep and playful.

"You're a bad man who puts me on a private jet and takes me to a very bougie hotel. Honestly, you're horrible," you joked.

"You're right. They should take away my shield."

You spent at least an hour in the pool, fucking around and just having fun, Steve placing you on his shoulders and swimming as fast as he could from one end of the pool to the other. You continuously tried to dunk and or splash each other, and you kept getting closer than any of you two could handle, then not actually doing anything about it.

You were beginning to prune up though, so each of you quickly rinsed off using the shower at the spa, then walked back to the room, wrapped up in towels. But you realized that you hadn't seen anyone else, not even in passing. When you asked Steve about it, he very nonchalantly mentioned that he had the whole floor blocked off for them specifically to guarantee maximum privacy and comfort. Yet another thing he did that was so mind blowing to you.

"You hungry?" Steve asked. "I ordered room service for dinner."

It was getting darker outside, you had noticed, and nightfall was quickly approaching. Your mind wandered to thoughts of a romantic, private dinner with Steve, and you sighed in ecstasy. This day was literally perfect. You were more rejuvenated than you had ever been, and back at home rejuvenation and selfcare was a mighty big investment of yours. The fact that Steve could top that just by being him, was astounding.

"I could eat," you grinned, sitting down on the bed at peace. You had changed back into your loungewear, and Steve still stood in front of you without a shirt on.

He felt your eyes on him and his cheeks flushed, his jaw ticking.

"I'll go put on some clothes," he decided, and you sprawled out on the bed, starfishing.

"Oh, you don't have to," you joked lazily, closing your eyes.

"Ha-ha," Steve bleated, changing into a shirt anyway.

By the time Steve changed, room service was knocking at the door. You watched as Steve led them outside and set up himself. Although you insisted that you help, he practically commanded that you stay inside. And when he used that voice, he didn't have to tell you twice. You pulled out your vanity mirror, checking your appearance while you waited for Steve, and you frowned because you hadn't thought to change into nice clothes and put on some makeup for dinner. You figured it was principal, and you always wanted to look your best around him anyway.

Steve came back inside and caught you frowning at yourself in the vanity mirror. Without even thinking he commented,

"You look amazing."

You raised a doubtful brow and looked over at him,

"I think I still smell like chlorine."

Steve shook his head, a smile appearing on his lips. As confident as you were, you were being so critical of yourself right now. He didn't care what you were wearing - as long as he got to be with you, he didn't mind.

"Chlorine just happens to be my favorite fragrance. Come on," he nodded towards the doors that opened up to the balcony where he set up the dinner for you.

You got up out of bed, tugging down your loose cotton shorts, and walked over to Steve, who immediately put his hand around your waist and guided you to the dinner table. You glanced up at him, pleasantly surprised yet again. The set up was simple, the table decorated with small candles and a vase of roses as the centerpiece, a bucket full of ice and a bottle of Moet at the edge of the table. And of course, a plate of your favorite food on your side. Jazzy music played softly in the background.

You turned up to face Steve, snuggling up to his body and placing your hand on his chest.

"Steve, this is so beautiful," you cooed, then glanced back at the table — he could've easily had this all set up by staff, but all he did was have them bring the food, the rest he set up for himself.

"You like it?" he asked, his heart beaming all because you were happy with it. Steve may not have been the kind of guy to go all out very often, but when he did, he did it right. This had just the personal touch that it needed.

"I love it," you broke free from his grasp and skipped over to the roses, your fingers softly grazing over the petals.

You had been close to crying a couple of times today, but now you were dangerously close, and you couldn't help the tears that fell from your eyes this time around. This gesture was probably the simplest that Steve had shown this whole day, but it touched your heart the most. The private jet and the nice hotel were definitely nice touches, but they didn't mean anything if there weren't any feelings there. And Steve was doing everything in his power to show how much he cared for you, something that you weren't used to most people even bothering to do.

Steve saw that you were crying and rushed over to you immediately, frowning,

"Is everything okay?"

You laughed tearfully, wiping away your tears with the back of your hands,

"No one's ever done anything this nice for me, that's all. It feels really... special."

Steve smiled sadly. Your reactions were so wholesome, yet from a place of so much hurt, and it showed the elements of your past that you had recounted to him. Steve wasn't trying to make you forget about your past or make up for it, but he wanted to put the work in to show that you deserved so much more. It was just who he was.

"First time for everything, huh?"

"Yeah," you crooned, sniffling.

Steve gave you a pat on the back and put his arm around your hip as he led you to your side of the table, pushing out the chair for you and letting you sit down. He sat down too, and you almost instantly grabbed the champagne bottle, Steve smirking at your eagerness.

You giggled, biting down on your lip,

"I have to do something for you."

"Wrong, but I won't complain," Steve laughed, shaking his head playfully.

You opened the champagne bottle with a pop, and let the fizz pour out into your glass before you carefully poured a glass for the both of you, reaching carefully across the table. You sucked gently at the side of your finger, and placed the bottle back inside the bucket.

Both you and Steve raised your glasses, and you made a toast as you clinked them together,

"To us!"

"To us," Steve repeated softly, gazing at your face, shining in the candlelight.

You took a sip and started eating, the both of you quiet for a few moments before Steve spoke up.

"It's still so unbelievable that this is all happening," he blinked, wanting to lean back and just get a good look at you.

"In a good way, right?" you smirked, taking another sip of your drink.

"Oh, the best way possible. It's indescribable, the feeling I got from seeing you. It's still there," Steve huffed, and you cocked your head at him, your lips turning up into a gentle smile.

"I know. Me too," your eyes scanned his face, strong and handsome and illuminated by the candles lit in front of him.

"I know it's been hard for me to open up... to you, especially. I was just so hesitant because I've never really felt the things that you made me feel, and I was afraid because we didn't know each other, you know? You were just a girl on a screen in the beginning, yet I thought of you all the time. I was thinking, Steve, you can't let this happen. I thought it was unbecoming of me, starting to feel things for a stranger."

You listened, glad to hear Steve finally opening up, but you joked,

"Yeah. It doesn't quite fit your job description."

Steve laughed, rubbing his temples as he leaned back,

"Yeah, not quite. It was sort of a shock for me. I was scared of the possibilities. And it was hard for me to understand my own feelings, you know? I shut down when things felt too serious. And I know I was stupid for it looking back, but... in the moment I was just overwhelmed. Opening up to someone I didn't know like that, getting into that territory, it... scared me. And the feelings I started having for you, jeez. I hadn't had those feelings in a while. And I'd only ever had them for one person. It was so hard for me to wrap my head around."

You listened to Steve, taking in his every word. Even as you got closer, Steve didn't open up as much as you did, and you hadn't minded that because he was always listening to you and talked with you about anything. So to hear this was eye opening and helped you understand more why he operated the way he did. So you just listened, leaning in and nodding, your cheek against your palm.

"Ahh, I'm just old," Steve shook his head, and you perked up, your brows knit together.

"No! Well, technically speaking, yes. But no! You are not 'just old.' Your feelings are valid. And I understand, because I felt the same way, almost. It was weird opening up to you, and I got those weird feelings too, but I didn't give in because... I had to stay safe, you know? I can't be falling for my clients. But when I realized who you were, even though it was a shock, it... things came together. It made sense. Suddenly, you weren't just some random, you were you. If it were anybody else, nothing would've come of it. That's why I let it happen. I decided to try my hand at trusting you, and so did you. And I mean, it's a good thing we did, right?"

"Otherwise, none of this would've happened," Steve nodded, and you both grinned at each other.

"Yeah. So don't be so hard on yourself," you wagged your finger at him, and Steve chuckled, shaking his head- you weren't going to let him pass with anything, and he liked that about you. "We all have a long ways to go with our growth, but it's happening. You just have to let it."

"You're right. It feels hard to fit in, you know? I've been here about a decade now, and it's still so... I guess I'm still finding my way around. Don't know if that makes any sense, but I'm trying to fit in," Steve replied, his voice deep and almost sorrowful.

You pouted slightly, reaching your hand out and cupping it over Steve's,

"It makes sense."

You truly felt for him. You knew his story, everyone did. But they didn't know the intimate, personal details of it. They didn't know how Steve felt being a walking experiment in this modern world. Maybe if they did, the world might be a lot less harsh to him. You didn't want to fix him, but you wanted to be there for him - make the sharp edges of new life softer, dim down the starkness of modernity.

You talked about a multitude of topics over the course of the dinner, things that made you emotional, things that made you both burst out into laughter, menial things and profound discussions. But anything you talked about, anything you had to say to each other, just filled you both up to the brim with gleeful warmth. You were just truly soaking in the moment with each other, enjoying being alone together. The evening was filled with lingering eye contact, brushes against the other's hand, and laughter.

By the time Steve had gotten behind the bar, trying his hand at making drinks like it was nothing, you found yourself feeling like you were ready to wind down. You were warm from wine and other alcoholic drinks Steve had mixed, and jet lag was catching up to you. Though you wanted to stay up all night, you wanted to be refreshed the next morning.

You retired inside to go take a shower, feeling only slightly tired because the beautiful night with Steve kept you exhilarated. The bathroom was spacious and expensive, you could spend hours in there just sitting on the sink and thinking. You got undressed and got into the shower, the warm water running along your body, washing away the travels of the day, the hot pulsating jets of water relaxing your muscles. It was much bigger and fancier than your shower back at home, that was for sure.

As you let the water rush over your body, you started to reflect on the entire day. This day had been full of first times for you, first feelings, first experiences. You were in awe, but it evoked deep feelings that seemed to be getting coaxed out of your stomach. This deep feeling that there was still more to be uncovered, that there would always be more. It wrecked you — gave you anxiety and nerves like nobody's business. But it also calmed you, knowing that you were with the right person for there to be more. You wouldn't be snatching for more at the bottom of an empty, loveless hole in the ground with no one or nothing to water you. And the best part of it was that the feeling didn't come with the kind of fear that made you want to stop. You wanted to keep going. Everything was beautiful so far. Although you knew it wouldn't always be one hundred percent perfect if you kept going indefinitely, you were enjoying the moment now. The present.

Meanwhile, Steve was sitting on his side of the bed, looking down at the floor and kneading his palm with his other hand. He was thinking deeply, all good thoughts, and all about you. He just wanted to keep making everything perfect for you, for the both of you. And he was coming to the realization that perfectness wasn't realistic, that it would actually be worse than authenticity. But like you, he was enjoying the paradise you were sharing with each other. He was trying to keep himself in the present, which was so difficult for Steve, whose job was to solve problems and think of the future. But when it came to you, he would take that chance willingly.

You also thought of Aaliyah in the shower, thinking of how happy she'd be if she knew what was going on. You thought you should tell her soon, but you also knew no matter how much you wanted to, you had to take it slow. As you stepped out of the shower and dried off, you had nothing but positive thoughts in your mind — there was no one in your life who you held ill bearings for, not even your parents. It seemed that once you took that initiative to focusing on yourself, everything and everybody else seemed to fall into place.

You used a towel, then wrapped a plush white robe around yourself, tying it at your waist. When you came out of the bathroom, you were still slightly damp, and drops of water sprinkled your bare, dewy skin. You knew you probably looked pretty raw, but not because you were bare-faced, more because you were fresh out of the shower.

You were dabbing at your face with the corner of the robe as you stood against the doorway that connected the bathroom to the bedroom.

"Steve, can you pass me my clothes?" you asked, nodding over to your fresh change of clothes on the bed.

"Sure," he said, thinking nothing of it and reaching behind himself to get your clothes.

But when he turned back, something on his face had changed, as if he were stumped by the sight in front of him. His mouth had dropped open slightly and he sort of goggled at you in amazement. He didn't bother to get your clothes, because there was only one thing on his mind as he stood up, looking very determined.

You were slightly confused, but couldn't find the words to ask him what was going on, because there he was towering over you again, without any desire to intimidate you but succeeding in doing so anyway. Only, it wasn't a bad kind of intimidation. You looked up at him with innocent doe eyes, tilting your head slightly upwards to him. As you realized what was happening, you couldn't help the way your eyes flickered from his lips to his own eyes, inviting him in. You were almost daring him, egging on the feeling of burning desire that flooded the dimly lit hotel room.

The mere sight of you amazed him all the time, but in this moment, Steve had been thrown off guard. It was perplex to him, how you could appear so beautiful to him without even trying to. Your beauty was not subtle, it was loud even when you were fresh out the shower, no makeup on, completely stripped down. It drove Steve crazy, seeing you standing there with wet hair, and a face that had drops of water still running down your cheeks to the inside of your robe where your naked body was concealed.

It was so silent, and Steve was so close to you, you swore you could hear your heart beating. And then, he did what he had been waiting the whole day to do, what you had been wanting to do the entire day, and leaned down, kissing you.

And when your lips finally met, it was like nothing you'd felt before. Even if you weren't so close, you were so sure that the electrifying feeling that surged through your entire body would've emanated off of you. It was like your body heat was combined in this moment, like you were molded into each other like a perfect ceramic sculpture. As if time decided to slow down just for you two, leaving space for only the two of you to exist together in this moment. And nothing else mattered, nothing except the feeling of Steve's lips against yours, parted and warm, like they belonged against you.

The kiss was soft, but passionate and full of burning desire. You fell into the kiss naturally, closing your eyes instantly. You weren't sure if this was just a fever dream of yours, if maybe you'd been asleep for a very long time and dreamed up the past few months, all building up to this moment when you'd finally wake up. Or maybe you'd passed out in the hot shower and you were just dreaming this. But you didn't wake up. Your eyes remained gently closed as you kept on kissing him. Steve couldn't fathom the feelings he got from finally feeling your lips against his own.

The desire to kiss you had been building up the whole day, but when he saw you just now, he couldn't restrain himself any longer. You hadn't kissed each other the whole day although you wanted to, because it didn't feel right just yet. You wanted the moment to be right. And even though it was sudden for the both of you, it just fit. It was spontaneous and a touch born out of yearning.

You overpowered his senses. Even after your shower, every breath he took smelled like California sunshine and the salty spritz of ocean waves, and that natural ambrosial scent that you seemed to achieve without perfume. Every touch he felt was you, his hands digging into your waist, your plump lips, your hands exploring his shoulders and the nape of his neck. The taste of your wet lips. Everything was you.

He could've lasted longer, but you needed to take a breath, though you wished you could stay like this forever. You just kissed Steve Rogers. And it was nothing like you imagined, because nothing you imagined could compare to this. You took in a deep breath, feeling your entire body warm up just from the buzzing aftermath sensation of the kiss and the art that was looking into his eyes, which seemed to be an even deeper blue than before.

Steve looked you up and down, then couldn't help but smile, breaking out of the very serious air he had just entered upon seeing you. He laughed, a deep chuckle that sent shivers running down your very body. You laughed too, and you nudged Steve playfully. He brought those nerves out of you that nobody else could. You had plenty of experience, but Steve made you feel so much.

"I wasn't expecting that, sir," you quipped, and he grinned down at you,

"But did you like it?"

"You're a doofus," you shook your head, pushing him gently. Your voice became a whisper and you reached up, pulling him close by the collar of his t-shirt, your eyes boring into his. "I loved it."

You kissed him again, hard and sweet but short, then practically pushed him away, sauntering away into the bed before you, and getting your clothes, teasing him about how he just wanted to get you naked before you changed in the bathroom. You then emerged, climbing beneath the bedsheets and propping your head up against a pillow. It was then that you really thought of the fact that you'd be sharing a bed with Steve, but at this point, it seemed expected.

Steve was still recovering from the second kiss, then practically twirled around on his feet to face you, a dazed grin on his face, getting into the bed himself.

"Let's watch a movie, hmm?" you suggested, looking up at him. "Till we fall asleep."

"Sounds good to me."

You sighed in pleasure, scooting closer to Steve and snuggling into the crook of his outstretched arm as he turned on the TV and put on a random movie for you two to watch, one that wasn't too hard for you to follow. You were stealing glances at him the whole time anyway, and he was too. The movie was the last thing on your minds, but it just filled up the time until one of you fell asleep, and made for distracted conversation about the plot, one of you making comments followed by a hum from the other. You on the other hand, barely lasted ten minutes, falling asleep almost immediately. Steve turned off the TV and the light beside him, glancing over at you as your eyes fluttered closed. You were such a sleeping beauty, all he could do was look at you. You fell asleep and turned absentmindedly on your side, posted up like the little spoon, cuddling into him.

Steve turned on his side too, your back against his front. He let you snuggle into him, but was unsure of what to do himself. He had never shared his bed, and the way you cuddled into him made him swallow hard. How did he follow suit? Would you want him to?

But after a good look at you, unable he slowly put his arm around you, hesitantly placing his hand at your waist, letting it tumble over onto your stomach. In your sleep you put your hand over his, snuggled closer and held onto his arm. Reassured, he settled into the position with ease, falling asleep faster than he ever had in years.

Dreaming of you.

eeep did y’all love it?!?!?! share ur thoughts ~! ily <3

adding tags in a few mins ♡

#girls on film #orbitariums #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #yn #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel series #smut #marvel smut #marvel reader insert #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you

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