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wonjaekook · 4 years ago

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Residual Starshine

Pairing: Soccer player!Yuta x fem!reader

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

Word Count: 19.3k

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

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

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

Taglist: @junglewoos @insomni-writing @neowritingsnet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One of our neighbors is a total ass!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, he doesn’t know who you are-”

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

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

“Great morning, isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it?” You lift an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

“Are you coming tonight?”

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

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

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

“What position does he play?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, the whistle is blown.

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Yein, Sowon, Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you stalking me or something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NaYu: Are you at the Ravens game??

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This again?” You say, frowning.

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

“I also help you with your statistics homework.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next Friday, you receive a strange text.

Unknown Number: Hey, is this Y/N?

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

Unknown Number: This is Mingyu from physics

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

Y/N: Hi! What’s up?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could say that.”

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

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

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

His eyes light up. “Are you serious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes flash. “Challenge accepted.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I get it,” you respond, nodding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

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

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

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

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

“Does he keep you a secret on purpose?”

“I asked him to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, the subject you’ve been dreading comes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He misses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it that obvious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yuta, it’s me.”

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

“I came to talk to you.”

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

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

“You can look at me, you know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“These have to come off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm, good. That’s my girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yuta?” You say between shallow breaths.

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

“Do you want to go professional?”

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

“I really think you could do it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re weird and a horndog and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N? Whose shoes are these?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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itsclydebitches · 3 years ago

Note

I think that regarding RWBY criticism people are defensive because there are a lot of people who dont like the show and actively shit talk it for whatever reason. We agree on that and we agree there are people who criticize the show because they like it and want it to be "better" (whatever that means to them.) Now feel free to disagree with me on this part but i think part of the reason the people who have genuine criticism often get disregarded and labeled a hater is because, at least to me, they dont provide a solution to the problems they have or do so in a way that can be interpreted as self-righteous and condescending. Its like if a teacher got mad at a student for not understanding the material rather than trying to explain it differently, it just creates another issue.

I think the reason why critics don't provide a solution is the same reason why that comparison doesn't work for me: we are not RT's teachers. We are the consumers of their product. Whereas a teacher has a responsibility to do everything possible to help a student get better at their subject (the thing they're paid to do), it is not the viewers' responsibility to do everything possible to help RT get better at writing (we're paying them). To my mind, it really is enough to say, "This is bad" and leave it at that. The same way if I order a meal at a restaurant, I'm allowed to go, "Wow. That tasted awful and I'm upset about it because I expected better." If my dinner companion went, "Well, why was it bad? Too cold? Not enough seasoning? Prove to me these failings exist because I'm not inclined to take you at your word. And more importantly, what's your solution here? I'm not going to take this complaint seriously unless you have a good plan for how to fix this dish" I'd be like, "... what am I supposed to do? March into the kitchen and teach the chef myself?"

We're under no obligation to fix RT's mistakes and, even if we were, how exactly are a bunch of fans meant accomplish that? What literal, practical action does anyone expect fans to take to ensure that the changes they want to see in RWBY actually come about? There's nothing you can do. However, despite this, many fans do suggest changes that they think would benefit the story, with the hope that the writers — who are very active on social media and engage a great deal with their fans — will see and take note. There have been times throughout the series where it does appear like they saw some of the more common complaints... only to then swerve right back towards their original writing decisions. Ren's Volume 8 arc is an example of that. So is Jaune's focus in the finale. Many in the fandom said, "I want to see the group held responsible for their bad decisions. I want Jaune to take a backseat so the girls can get more development. I think these choices will help alleviate many of the criticisms we've had" and RT did that... only to pull back on both changes at the last second. Obviously there's no way to know their intentions there, whether it's a coincidence they toyed with ideas the fandom has frequently discussed, or whether they actually tossed them in to try and appease critics with no real plans to take those changes seriously, but for the purposes of this discussion it amounts to the same: fans said "Doing this specific thing will make the story better, with 'better' defined as us deriving more enjoyment from it" and RT didn't do the thing. So, where are you supposed to go from there? Storm RT headquarters and make them take writing classes? Frankly, it's ridiculous to think that fans need or could do anything at all, making solutions a needless requirement.

To say nothing of how this comes across as another lose-lose situation. You say that critics should provide solutions to these problems in order to be taken seriously. You also say that if they do provide solutions, they tend to come across as "self-righteous and condescending." Pardon my skepticism, but it sounds like there isn't a version of criticism that's going to meet with your approval, or if it exists, it's an incredibly narrow pocket. Criticism is dismissed if there's no solution attached, but if you do provide a solution, make sure you don't sound too confident in the changes you want to make. That doesn't sound very doable to me. It just sounds like a catch-all way to dismiss criticism as a whole, either because a post didn't meet the first, arbitrary requirement, or did so in a tone the recipient decides they don't like (which is always subjective. Any post can be read as "self-righteous" if you decide that's the route you want to go. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy). And I do see this a lot. For a transformative fandom like any other, the RWBY community has a strangely hostile attitude towards rewrites, with many fans considering it "self-righteous" to think that anyone could write RWBY better than RT, and that a rewrite's existence is "condescending" towards the writers. If I actually gave a detailed account of not just my problems with the story, but also the specific changes needed to improve it (many of which, notably, require a reworking of the mechanics and world building from the very start), there's a very good chance that would still be dismissed because people would interpret it as too arrogant. "Look at her, thinking she's better than professional, successful writers. What massively popular stories have you published lately? Yeah, that's what I thought. God I hate critics, they're so pretentious." If you don't provide solutions you're being too negative and don't actually want the story to succeed. If you provide solutions you're too arrogant and insulting the writers by daring to think that you could do better. So again: lose-lose.

But as said, solutions shouldn't be necessary. It's great if you come up with some, but figuring out how to fix a product's failings is not a requirement for voicing grievances with that product. I don't need to know how to build a better computer to be upset if mine suddenly fails. I don't need to know how to bake muffins to grimace if the one I'm eating tastes off. And you don't need to know how to write a webseries to be unhappy with how RWBY is going. If we were in a position of responsibility with RT, like a teacher, then yeah, totally different situation. But they're producing something that they expect fans to pay for, whether it's through First accounts, merch, cons, etc. or, payment aside, they nevertheless hope to receive attention and praise for this product. The flipside of that is that people might not like what you're selling. You can be displeased with the quality of a webseries purchase in precisely the same way you can be displeased with the quality of a meal. No Gordon Ramsey-level knowledge required.

#rwby #rwde #mymetas

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hallelujahmeatgod · 3 years ago

Text

Saving

Mo Dao Zu Shi (The Founder of Diabolism)

Let's see a new version of saving by Wei Wuxian, shall we?

warning/s: there's really nothing considering that this is honestly just wuxian and wen chao's battle of pettiness keke.

+++ just a little imagine i came up with in my free time. i had so much fun making this. really believe im hilarious and funny because of this. u guys be the judge hahahaha.

"Oh-- there you are, Y/n. I've been looking for you everywhere, ever since they said you've arrived." Wei Wuxian chirped, appearing at your side out of nowhere.

You gave him a lost look as he pulled you by the arm towards him.

"What are you doing?" You whispered.

He gave you a smile, hugging you to make it seem like you're greeting each other.

"I'm saving you. I can see how much you want to run away from him from across the room." Wuxian chuckled, patting your head when he pulled away.

The man in front of you cleared his throat, raising a brow at Wuxian and his actions.

"Wen Chao! Brother Wen, I didn't even notice you there. With that flashy ass robe and headpiece you'd think I'd notice you but I really didn't. How have you been?" Wuxian greeted Wen Chao who seemed to be very displeased by his presence.

"I've been fine, Wei Wuxian" Wen Chao answered with no enthusiasm whatsoever. "What are you doing here?" He cut through the chase, eyeing Wuxian's arm linked with yours.

"I may not be of their blood but I'm still from the Yunmeng Jiang clan, and this is a gathering for all clans so of course I can't miss out on this. Wen, you seem to be looking down on me. Brother, I'm quite hurt." Wuxian sighs dramatically.

"That's not what I was referring to. I'm asking why are you here interfering with my conversation with lady Y/n. Though you're very much right, I do look down on you." Wen Chao rolled his eyes.

Wuxian chuckled at the insult, pulling you even closer to him.

"Well~ Like I said I was looking for her, and now that I've found her obviously I'd greet her!" Wuxian answered as enthusiastically as ever, earning a raise of a brow from Wen Chao

"And why would you look for her? Plus how can you be so clingy to her? You might be making her uncomfortable, that's not proper etiquette for us men."

Wow he's one to talk about etiquette.

"Why wouldn't I?" Wuxian asked back, grinning widely when he saw Wen Chao's annoyed expression. "And I can be clingy to her as much as I want since we know each other personally. We're really great friends. Something you don't have." Wuxian smirked.

You swear you can almost see steam come out of Wen Chao's ears.

It is true that you're friends with Wuxian. You're great friends with his sister Yanli and you met him through her.

"Well, I'd like to inform you that you're interfering with our conversation. I'm having a wonderful conversation with the gorgeous lady Y/n. So leave. " Wen Chao said dismissively, giving Wuxian a pointed look.

Wen Chao then looked at you and you wanted nothing but to punch his stupid face.

What makes him think you'll fall for someone like him? You'd rather be alone for the rest of your life than end up with a smug, selfish, spoiled, good for nothing prick like him.

"Hmm from the looks of it, it seems like you're trying to make moves on her." Wuxian stated, surprising Wen Chao, who looks like he's just been caught.

You gave Wuxian a pointed look because you have no idea where he's trying to go from here.

He better not pull any stupid tricks if he's really trying to "save" you.

Wen Chao immediately redeemed himself, cleared his throat, and pushed his chin up, giving Wei a very proud look. "And what if I am?"

Wuxian whistled from the cockiness, chuckling a little. "That's cute, but that won't work you know~" he teased.

"And who are you to say that?"

"Well I'm her future brother-in-law, that's what I am!" Dumbass Wuxian chirped, shocking both you and Wen Chao.

Everything was escalating so quickly that you're unable to really comprehend what he just said, so all you could mutter is "Huh?" while Wuxian looked around, seeming to look for someone.

He lit up when he finally saw who he's looking for and immediately dragged the person to where you were.

"Here he is! My brother, Jiang Cheng. Not just the future leader of the Yunmeng Jiang Clan, but also the husband to lady Y/n." Wuxian declared, pushing his brother forward.

You almost forgot the fact that Yalin and Wuxian had another brother. Despite meeting the two and being friends with them, you have never met Jiang Cheng in person.

This is the first time you've met and this is how it'll be. Nice, just nice.

"A-Xian, what's happening you dummy-" Cheng whispered to Wuxian, completely lost. But his brother didn't let him finish as he was pushed forward next to you instead.

You looked at each other only to look away instantly.

"My brother's already pursuing lady Y/n, Wen Chao" Wuxian announced, making Wen Chao's, yours and Cheng's eyes widen in shock.

So this was his great "saving" idea?😭

Wen Chao looked back and forth at Cheng, Wuxian and you. You immediately looked down not wanting to meet his eyes and have him see that you're shocked yourself.

Wen Chao kept on stuttering out an answer but was never able to actually say anything. Clearly flustered by the sudden announcement.

Heck, even you're shocked by Wuxian's made up story.

At this point you don't know if you should be thankful that he's "saving" you or you should give him a beating for making things worse.

But then again beggars can't be choosers, so you'd have to go with his stupid idea just to drive Wen Chao away.

It's not like you can't drive Wen Chao away, it's just that your way of doing so is definitely more violent than Wuxian's. Let's just say, a few droplets of blood will be spilled, they'll be bruised faces and some dislocated bones if you were to do it your way, because every God up above knows how much you despise the Wen's.

"What are you doing?" Cheng whispered-yelled at Wuxian as quietly as he could. His eyes are filled with panic as he looks back and forth at you and his brother.

Cheng then turns to you and bows his head ever so slightly. "I'm sorry about whatever my stupid brother is doing"

"I-I" You stuttered, because quite frankly you just don't know anymore. You're too flustered by everything.

"Just play along stupid" Wuxian cut you off, making sure that Wen Chao wouldn't catch up.

"Are you okay, Wen Chao?" Wuxian asked with fake concern. "With that being said, I think you should definitely stop flirting with her because she's clearly taken."

This just made Wen Chao's face redder. He ignored Wuxian and instead focused on Cheng.

"I refuse to believe it! He looks like he can't even stand next to her properly" Wen Chao huffed, crossing his arms on his chest.

"Well that's because they're still a new couple! Plus, if they do PDA it might give the elders a heart attack. They're keeping it professional!" Wuxian argued like a 5 year old.

"Just because they're keeping it professional doesn't necessarily mean they have to act like poles next to each other." Wen Chao argued with the same 5 year old heat.

"Well you say that because you got used to boobs constantly being pushed on your chest-- actually no, you're face! Womanizer!" Wuxian rebuts.

Wen Chao glared at Wuxian, literal daggers in his eyes. "Womanizer? It's not my fault women can't resist my charms! And can you blame me for saying they look like poles next to each other? Look how stiff they are!"

Are these boys seriously a future leader and the head of disciples? There's too much immature energy.

Wuxian was about to spit fire again, but then he caught a glimpse at you two and sure enough you were very awkward looking as you stood next to each other. There's like a damn wall between you.

He widened his eyes as a warning and mouthed "Are you statue's? I'm spitting all this venom on this guy, so you better act right or he'll win against me. Get closer!"

Wuxian was about to talk again but Wen Chao beat him to it. "And why must you talk for them? Are you their assistant?"

They continued bantering back and forth, catching the attention of some elders, while you and Cheng stood awkwardly watching them do so.

After a while you heard Cheng sigh beside you. He slightly turned to you and bowed his head, eyes not meeting yours.

"Please forgive me for this. I hope you won't feel offended." Was all he said before snaking his arm around your waist, pulling you flushed to his side.

To say your eyes are about to pop out of their sockets is an understatement.

Cheng cleared his throat. "Stop it you two"

The two immediately stopped. Wen Chao glaring at Cheng because of the arm on your waist, and Wuxian looking surprised as he eyed you two.

"Wen Chao, it is true that I'm pursuing lady Y/n. So if you would just be kind and leave her alone and not flirt with her anymore that would be really appreciated."

Wuxian and you looked at him like he just grew another head.

"Since when have you guys been together anyway?" Wen Chao quizzed, still not letting you live in peace.

"Last month"

"Last week"

You and Cheng answered at the same time. You looked at each other with horror as you said different answers. Wen Chao looked at you with a sly grin, as if he just caught you red handed.

"They're referring to the same date!" Wuxian interrupted.

"Oh yeah? Enlighten me then because I'm pretty sure they just gave me different answers."

"Wen Chao, we're just in the first week of the month right now, so last week IS last month" Wuxian saved, smiling at Wen Chao who again is back at glaring and scowling.

You and Cheng breathe out the breath that you have unconsciously held by panic that you messed up.

"With that said, we'll be expecting that you'll stop flirting with lady Y/n. Bye, brother Wen" Wuxian bid Wen Chao goodbye, dragging you and his brother away, not giving Wen Chao a chance to respond.

When you're far enough, Wuxian let out a chuckle of relief, grabs wine for you three and downs it as he makes fun of Wen Chao.

"The act is done now brother, you can definitely let go now. I mean, if you don't want to, I think that's also fine as long as y/n lets you." Teased Wei, pointing at his brother's arm that's still wrapped on your waist.

You both jumped away from each other, looking away.

"T-thank you f-for helping me out. You didn't have to, really" You bowed at them.

"No worries~" Wuxian said, patting your head. "By the way, isn't this your first time meeting Cheng?" He laughed, saying it's hilarious that you have to meet like this.

"Yeah. I'm Y/n from the Xie clan. Thank you as well for helping me." You bowed at Cheng.

Before he could properly introduce himself though, the three of you were called by your parents at the table they share with some other elders and leaders.

When the three of you got to where they were, Wuxian immediately situated himself next to Lan Zhan, straight up flirting with him like no one else was around. Classic Wei.

"Why are we only hearing this now?"

"You should have told us sooner"

"This is great news!"

Both your parents questioned and cheered with other elders.

"Y/n, why didn't you say anything, even to me?" Yanli asked with a big smile on her face.

You were confused. What now?

You looked at Cheng but he's just as confused as you are. You looked at Wuxian and he just shrugged his shoulders, also not knowing anything.

"We really had to find out from Wen Chao" Your mother chuckled, shaking her head.

"Huh?" Cheng and you said at the same time.

"No need to be shy, you two. Wen Chao just informed us of your relationship." Leader Jiang Fengmian said, pointing at Wen Chao across from him at the table, huffing and mumbling under his breath about his dismay.

Both your eyes widened as your families cheered. Elders congratulating both of you as well as your families, expressing their joy that your clans are about to be one.

Wuxian stood up from his seat, dragging Lan Zhan with him. He made his way to you two as he laughed his head off. He took a good look at your shocked expression before giving you both a hug. "I guess welcome to the family, Y/n!"

"What did you do, Wuxian?" Cheng sighs out of frustration.

"What? I didn't know Wen Chao's going to be so heartbroken that he'll broadcast it to everyone." Wuxian pulls away, shrugging his shoulders. "At this point they might even get married before we could" He turns to Lan Zhan, hitting Lan Zhan's arm playfully.

"Congratulations, you two. I hope you have told me though." Yanli appeared beside you, giving you the warmest smile. She gave you both a hug and said "But I swear I know you guys haven't met before"

"We literally met 5 minutes ago" You said under your breath, making Cheng sigh.

"SO WEDDING IDEAS EVERYONE? LET'S DO IT NEXT MONTH!" Wuxian chirps, catching the attention of everyone.

"WEI WUXIAN!!!!"

#mo dao zu shi #the founder of diabolism #the founder of diabolism imagines #wei wuxian #wei ying #mo dao zu shi imagines #the founder of diabolism crack #if this was me i wont really be that mad tbh #yiling patriarch #yiling wei #jiang cheng #the founder of diabolism x y/n #the founder of diabolism x you #lan zhan #i hope the wen's choke #humor #wei ying confirmed cupid #wen chao crybaby he a btch so dasurv #wei wuxian wedding planner on the side we stan

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foilfreak · 3 years ago

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Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 7 (aka the ‘big boobie vampire mommy’ and ’mutant servant girl that is very horny for her’ chapter)

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 link below:)

“Good evening, sir. Is there something I can assist you with, tonight? It’s quite late, and my mistress has already retired for the evening due to the strenuous nature of today’s events, so while I’m sure the good Lady Dimitrescu won’t be too terribly displeased if you’ve come with urgent news that requires her immediate attention, I’m afraid anything outside the realm of absolute importance will have to wait until morning, when my mistress will be better rested and therefore better able to address whatever concern you’ve brought” The low and smooth voice of an older teenage girl said, staring slightly downward at Salvatore with a level of such blank indifference that he would have wondered if the girl hadn’t seen him had she not outright greeted him upon opening the door.

With piercing red eyes, dark skin and long, black curls tied up neatly and carefully into two thick buns on either side of the top of her head, and dressed in a pretty, but still practical dress, the older teen looked every bit as much the role of a dignified estate’s head servant as she acted, right down to the pencil straight stiffness of her body. Despite how uncomfortable the stiff position looked to Salvatore, the subtly bold way she carried herself did give the older teen an air of confidence and reliability, however what it didn’t do was answer the multitude of questions flying around in Salvatore’s head about who she was, and more importantly, where she came from.

And then it hit him.

“Y-you’re… Alcina’s g-gift… aren’t y-you?” Salvatore asks aloud, though seemingly more to himself than the girl standing in front of him. Said girl furrows her brows in confusion for a moment before huffing in, what appeared to be, mild offense. Though what on earth Salvatore could have done to offend the young teen, he had absolutely no idea.

“I have no idea what you mean when talking about these so called “gifts”, however I think it's important for you to know that I am a very busy woman with a great many things to do, so if this is all some kind of sick game you’re playing to waste my time then I’m going to have to politely ask that you take your rotten whale behind and go throw yourself into the nearest body of-”

“Anastasia?” a low, feminine voice booms from somewhere behind the older teen standing before him. The girl immediately stiffens, her skin around her nose and cheeks darkening even further, her eyes growing wide and her breath catching in her throat as she turns around. Immediately abandoning Salvatore at the still open front door, the young servant clumsily made her way further into the room before disappearing out of the narrow view the hooded man had been given of the castle through the crack in the door.

Taking a step forward and opening the door enough to slip inside, making sure to close it securely behind him, Salvatore lingered along the walls of the room, merely observing the events before him unfold as the young girl, Anastasia, quickly moved to stand in the center of the circular design on the floor of the entrance hall. Waiting for her on the landing at the top of the stairs was none other than the lady of the house herself, Alcina Dimitrescu, standing as tall, proud, and intimidating as Salvatore last remembers, though it would appear that the disfigured man’s fear of the much larger woman was not shared amongst everyone in the room.

“Y-yes Lady Dimitrescu! Is there something I can do for you this evening, my Lady?” Anastasia asks, hands clasped together in front of her and eyes blown wide at the gargantuan woman leering from above, like a lovesick puppy dog waiting for a command from its beloved owner. Eager to perform. Eager to please.

“Why yes, my sweet, I was just wondering what on earth all that racket was and if it could wait until morning to be finished? The girls and I have had quite the taxing day and I do so wish to retire to the sound of peace and quiet” Alcina coos warmly, causing Salvatore to pause in confusion.

“Oh goodness, I apologize, mistress. It’s just that there was a visitor at the door and despite my repeated attempts to convince him to come back when you were rested, he insisted upon making a nuisance of himself. Please forgive me if my attempts to preserve your restful evening were for naught” the girl said sadly, bowing deeply in apology as she continued to speak.

Alcina practically purrs in delight at the teen’s polite, but genuine behavior. “Fear not, my dear, I had only just taken off my earrings when I heard the commotion. I came out here merely to see if things were getting out of control, but it would appear as though you’ve handled things perfectly.”

The girlish blush on Anastasia’s face only darkens in color as the young teen casts her adoring gaze to the floor, joyous glee from having been praised by her mistress evident all over the younger girl’s body.

Not wanting to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary, especially if this is what he’d have to witness the whole time, Salvatore gathers all of his strength and uses it to clear his throat and take a step forward, revealing himself to both women as he gingerly comes out into the light.

“YOU!” Anastasia yells, immediately turning on her heel and making a beeline toward the increasingly anxious Salvatore. “So not only have you made enough of a nuisance of yourself to disturb the lovely Lady Dimitrescu just as she’s about to retire and rest from a very long and taxing day, but now you’ve decided that you’re so above everyone else that you can just waltz right into someone else’s home without even the slightest hint of respect or admiration for the incredible woman living in it, how dare you be so crash and selfish you overcooked blowfish, exit this castle immediately, or I’ll shove my boot so far up your rear end you’ll be fishing around for it for weeks you-”

“Anastasia, calm yourself, dear” the loud, but calming sound of Alcina’s voice said, causing the young teen to pause in her angry scolding of Salvatore.

“My Lady?” The young teen asks, dutifully awaiting orders.

“Let the wretched man inside, he’s the furthest thing from a threat to us, even if he is an annoying little manthing. Although, I’d be lying if I said a visit from you at this hour of night is something I’ve come to expect of you, dearest elder brother.”

The disfigured man swallowed thickly as he stepped past Anastasia to fully face his other younger sister, who looked all the more intimidating from her looming perch upon the upper story.

“I-I know this is s-sudden…” Salvatore begins, hoping he’d at least be able to explain himself before Alcina tossed him back outside on his ass.

“I’ll certainly say” Anastasia bursts in angrily, but she’s quickly silenced and sent away to tend to her other duties by Alcina, who motions for Salvatore to ascend the large set of stairs leading up to the rest of the castle and join her on the landing for a moment.

“Spunky little thing, isn’t she?” Alcina says when Salvatore finally makes it to the top of the stairs, panting slightly as he follows the much taller mutant’s gaze to the door that Anastasia had just exited the room from.

“Th-that’s certainly… one way… o-of putting it” Salvatore stutters, not wanting to offend Alcina by calling her servant rude, but clearly not seeing what’s so great about someone who just yells at you a lot the second you walk through the door.

“Yes! She apparently received a strain of cadou that was quite similar to mine, however her need to consume blood to maintain herself is far more similar to that of leeches. Rather than having to consume it regularly in smaller doses, like myself, she’ll only require one feeding every few weeks or so, which I thought was quite interesting. The only issues Mother Miranda brought up was the fact that her hunger, if it gets bad enough, can trigger both her transformation, as well as some sort of feral and animalistic meltdown that only ends once she’s finally had her fill. Apparently more than a few villagers were lost in the process of learning this information” Alcina comments casually, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Mother only brought her over earlier today, just before dinner, and yet she’s already managed to carve quite the little space for herself here. I hadn’t realized how dirty this place was without any girls left to take from the village until she went through and washed all the walls in the west wing spotless. It was like night and day, I could hardly believe how open and bright the halls looked” Alcina stated.

“W-wow… so th-then… d-do you think y-you’ll keep her a-around… long term?” Salvatore asks curiously, craning his neck so he could get a better look at his sister’s face.

“Perhaps. I’m certainly thinking about it. Not only is she an incredibly hard and fast worker, but she’s also got such a lovely spark of energy and excitement to her, and she’s always very polite and respectful, if a bit obvious in her “admiration” of those she looks up to… not that that’s a bad thing, necessarily. It’s quite sweet, actually!”

“S-she did look… q-quite taken… by y-you” Salvatore comments, having noticed the girl’s far-too-eager-to-be-innocent disposition when Alcina was in the room, vs. when it was just him. Not that it was a terribly surprising turn of events. Alcina, for all her monstrous height and sheer mutant bulk, was still a very beautiful, and very desirable woman at the end of the day, meanwhile Salvatore was only about 2 rolls of the genetic dice away from sharing a more recent common ancestor with the blobfish than he did humans.

“I know, isn’t she adorable? She came exactly like this, too. Mother Miranda has no idea if this is a result of the mutation process or if it's merely her former personality finally returning now that she’s awake and out of containment, but I suppose the logistics of things aren’t really important in the end. I'm so glad I chose her over the other two, I don’t know what I would have done had such a promising and delectable little morsel like her go to waste on the rest of you imbeciles” Alcina coos in amusement. “Regardless of what Mother Miranda said however, I was almost certain this whole “gift” situation was going to be nothing more than a pile of useless drivel that I’d be left to clean up all on my own once the novelty wore off, however after having Anastasia here for these past few hours, and seeing all that she’s willing and capable of doing, I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps I’d been too hasty in my final decision.”

“Funny… K-Karl thought m-much the… th-the same thing i-initially… w-when I t-talked to him… th-the other day… th-though… knowing him… I doubt h-he’s having q-quite as much… of a ch-change of heart… as you a-are” Salvatore said suddenly, more than anything due to the incredible shock that was the concept of Alcina and Karl sharing a similar opinion, at the same time, while both occupying the same dimension of reality.

Alcina’s face immediately turns sour at the mention of Karl. “Oh, did he now? That’s an unfortunate thing to learn,” she says in annoyance, clearly displeased by the notion of agreeing with Karl on anything.

“Y-yes… he… he th-thinks that maybe… M-Mother might b-be using the g-gifts… to d-distract us w-while she’s g-gone away… o-on her mission… b-but that maybe… sh-she also wants… s-something else out of a-all this… something… th-that she isn’t t-telling us… f-for some reason” Salvatore explains, unsure if he should be revealing all this information to Alcina, notorious and open critic of Karl and quite literally everything the younger man has ever done and said, is doing and saying, and will do and say sometime in the span of his chaotic lifespan.

Contrary to what Salvatore assumed, however, instead of looking bored and uninterested in what Karl thought about this whole situation, Alcina looked just the slightest bit… intrigued, if still clearly wary. “Really? And what, pray tell, does our dear sweet little brother Heisenberg believe will come of this whole situation then? Did he say?”

“H-he… he never m-mentioned anything s-specific… but he th-thinks that the g-gifts… might p-play a l-larger role… in all th-this… than M-Mother has been l-leading us to believe.”

“I see,” Alcina says, remaining silent for a moment as she thinks, looking almost concerned by what she’s heard. “And what do you think of this whole mess, Salvatore?”

“U-um… well… I-I think it’s nice… th-that Mother trusts us e-enough… to g-give us her p-previous experiments… and u-use them however w-we want… b-but I’d be l-lying if I s-said… that I d-didn’t think Karl… was o-onto something… I-I don’t know w-what I believe to be t-true a-at the moment… but I d-do know… th-that I’d like t-to give… g-give a gift of m-my own… to Nadine… and that… and that y-you might be… s-someone else who c-could help me… w-with that” the hooded man explains nervously, hoping that Alcina was in a good enough mood to feel like humoring him and his sudden request.

“Nadine?” The tall, pale woman asks in confusion, before suddenly nodding in understanding. “Ah, your gift…”

Salvatore nods. “D-Donna… is f-fashioning a n-new dress… for her… a-and even gave me… this b-beautiful nightgown… to hold h-her over until… until the real one is c-complete. I th-think she w-will… e-enjoy the nightgown b-but… but I’d like to… l-like to get her something else t-too… like a… like a necklace… a-a gold one… o-one that w-would… c-complement her skin tone… j-just right.”

Alcina briefly stares at Salvatore with a blank expression, momentarily making the hooded man worry that he’d overstepped his boundaries and said something to offend the much larger woman. His nerves are thankfully calmed when Alcina turns and orders Salvatore to follow after her, which the disfigured man happily does if it means what he thinks it means.

The two siblings arrive at Alcina’s personal chambers just as Anastasia is exiting them, her arms filled by a large basket of blood soaked towels and clothes, some collected from Alcina’s room, the others likely from either Bela, Cassandra, or Daniela’s rooms.

“Good evening, Lady Dimitrescu! Are you finally retiring for the evening?” Anastasia asks, bowing cheerfully as she finally notices her mistress approaching her. “I’ve already gone ahead and prepared your bed for you, as well as collected all the soiled laundry from today’s harvest. Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?”

“Thank you, my dear, but not quite, I have one more matter to attend to before I fully turn in. Since you were so kind to offer however, I would greatly appreciate it if, once Lord Moreau and I are finished with our affairs, you would be so kind as to escort him to the front door and bid him a good night, for me. You are free to retire to your own chambers for the evening once he’s left” Alcina orders softly, which the young girl obediently nods her head to.

“Of course, mistress, thank you very much! And I’d be happy to see Lord Moreau out for you, so please don’t hesitate to call me once you’re finished with your meeting” Anastasia says, bowing lowly to both Alcina and Salvatore before wordlessly skittering off to do… whatever it was she planned on doing to those dirty garments.

“Now, about that gift you were talking about” Alcina says upon entering her personal bedroom, immediately striding over to her vanity and beginning to sift through several boxes worth of jewelry, “you said you wanted gold, correct? And a necklace specifically?”

“Y-yes! I-if you have anything y-you’re willing to… g-give away… of course… I’d feel t-terrible taking something i-if it meant a g-great deal to you” Salvatore answers, standing awkwardly in the doorway as he waits for Alcina to return to him with whatever she finds.

Of all 3 of his siblings, Alcina was the one Salvatore was easily the least close to, despite having been the only two around for a considerable amount of time before the eventual arrivals of both Donna and then Karl. It wasn’t that Salvatore was displeased when Mother Miranda first informed him that he’d be getting a “sibling” all those years ago, but Alcina’s natural personality, coupled with her terrifying size and strength from the mutations, had made the very meek and timid Salvatore hesitant to reach out and form any kind of sibling bond with the younger woman, like he had with Karl.

Karl was a royal pain in the ass to deal with on even his best days, but at the end of it all, there’s still only so much a 6 year old can do to you, anger issues and mutant metal bending powers or not. Alcina was both a royal pain in the ass to deal with more often than not, but also a fully grown adult when she first joined the family, so needless to say the 2 oldest siblings hadn’t been given very many appropriately opportune moments to bond or get along.

That being said however, the simple but elegant golden locket that Alcina procures from one of her many boxes of jewelry has Salvatore wondering if maybe he had misjudged Alcina, having never expected her to show him something as luxurious and real-looking as this, especially when the understanding was that she’d be giving it away whatever item of jewelry Salvatore took a liking to.

“This is an old locket I received for my 3rd birthday from a relative who died long before I was old enough to care about who they were, though all those diamond star details on the front do make me think they could have been close with us at one point, or perhaps they just had that much money to throw around? It’s an old and well-loved piece of my collection, but Duke has been bringing back such wonderful treasures from his travels that I just have to start getting rid of some of these old sentimental trinkets so I can make room for all the new additions I plan on purchasing once he finally returns” Alcina explains, gingerly handing the necklace over to Salvatore, who could do nothing but gawk at how extravagant and, to be perfectly honest, expensive the necklace looked.

With 4 small diamonds, likely real knowing Alcina, embedded into the surface of the locket’s front cover, surrounded by small engravings that give the glimmering stones the appearance of stars in the night sky, the necklace looked like it belonged upon the neck of a fair and noble princess, into which the radiant beauty could then place the photo of the man who’d stollen her innocent heart. Nadine wasn’t actually a princess and Salvatore all but gagged at the idea of a picture of his face, mutated or not, being put somewhere for anyone to see, however the necklace was far too perfect for the hooded man to possibly turn it down.

“So what do you think? Will something like this do?” The taller woman asks, curiously. “I could continue looking if that isn’t quite what you’re after, however if that is the case, then I would like to politely request that you come back and look at them tomorrow. It's already so late and I’d have to have the rest of my collection fetched from the vault downstairs.”

“N-no no… th-that’s alright… this i-is perfect… thank y-you… Alcina… this w-was very k-kind of you to do… f-for me” Salvatore says, carefully tucking the glittering necklace into the bag Donna had placed the nightgown in.

“Don’t fret about it too much, I only did it because I had a bit of time to spare prior to going to bed, and you happened to catch me in a good mood. That’s it” Alcina states firmly, though something in the back of Salvatore’s head can’t help but take the taller woman’s words with a grain of salt, feeling as though there was more to Alcina’s sudden generosity than just pure coincidence. “Besides, who knows what gaudy thing you’d have shown up with had you not made the surprisingly wise decision to invoke Donna’s and my vastly superior knowledge of the feminine experience. I don’t even want to think of what tacky little trinket you’d have tried to gift her. Why the thought of that alone is enough to make me want to run for the hills, how on earth do you think your poor little gift would have felt? I’d have had to murder you on the spot if I found out you tried to pass some disgusting pile of garbage off as an appropriate gift. In fact, if I didn’t know that Donna was working on a more fitting dress for her already, I’d have half a mind to skin you alive for only having a flimsy nightgown to take back with you, but I doubt any of the dresses I have, that would be appropriate to wear with that kind of necklace anyways, would come close to fitting her, and I really do want to start making room for some newer, more exciting pieces. So, with all that in mind, count your blessings that the stars have aligned in your favor tonight, dear brother, because I won’t be doing this for you again… unless, you’d be willing to do me a few favors in exchange for some of the other pieces of my collection, that is.”

Aaaaaaaaaaand there’s the Alcina that Salvatore knows and secretly likes. In vehement denial that she feels anything positive for her 3 siblings and also actively trying to get someone else to do her dirty work for her. It's certainly not how the hooded man prefers to operate, but he supposes that if Alcina can somehow convince everyone around her to do all of her work for her, why wouldn’t she take advantage of that as much as possible?

“I-I think that’s e-enough… for t-tonight actually… maybe i-if I decide I’d l-like to get her s-something else… I’ll c-consider that offer y-you brought up” Salvatore says, bowing politely to his sister as he makes his desire to leave obvious.

Thankfully, Alcina seems more than happy to send her older brother on his way, calling Anastasia to come lead Salvatore back to the front door so he could finally begin making his way home.

“Th-thank you again… Alcina… I really a-appreciate this… an-and I'm sure Nadine w-will love the gift t-too” Salvatore says just as he’s about to bid Alcina goodnight and begin following the young servant girl.

“Yes, yes, you’re very grateful of my wondrous kindness to you, I know, you’ve made that fact more than clear already, brother” the taller woman says with an only mildly annoyed roll of her eyes as she stands just outside the door to her chambers. “Just make sure you don’t waste the opportunity my graciousness has afforded you, do you understand?”

Salvatore stiffens nervously as Alcina shoots him a pointed look that screams ‘don’t fuck this up or I’ll fuck you up’, a threat which the hooded man knows she’ll make good on, should Salvatore make it necessary for her to do so. Salvatore wasn’t sure how Alcina had picked up on the nature of his budding affections for Nadine so quickly, or how she seemed to instinctively know what he was planning despite having never asked directly, but clearly she’d noticed something and was now in the process of making the matter of whether Salvatore successfully courted his gift her business.

Heavens above have mercy upon whomever is unlucky enough to have their problematic situation noticed and meddled with by Alcina Dimitrescu.

“Y-yes… I u-understand… an-and I’ll be s-sure not to w-waste... waste the g-golden opportunity you’ve g-given me… OH! An-and Donna w-wants her mannequins b-back... too… sh-she wanted m-me to tell y-you” Salvatore replies, his anxiety only mildly calmed when Alcina makes a face at the mention of Donna’s yet-to-be-returned-still mannequins.

“Oh for goodness sakes, I always forgot about those stupid things. Anastasia?”

“Yes, Mistress?” The young servant dutifully answers.

“Please make a note to remind me to have Heisenberg come by so he can collect and return the manequins Donna leant me while I was commissioning some dresses from her earlier this month. That foul-mouthed mutt owes me a favor, and so if all goes the way I’d like I’ll be making this his problem in the morning” Alcina says devilishly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Of course, Lady Dimitrescu, I’ll be sure to remind you of that first thing tomorrow morning” Anastasia replies warmly, though her amicable grin is quickly replaced by a flush and a girlish giggle when Alcina waves and turns on her heel, swaying her hips in an obvious fashion before bending down to enter through the door of her chambers.

Salvatore passed exceptionally confused glances back and forth between his sister and the young servant standing in front of him, totally clueless as to what just unfolded a moment ago as a feeling of disgust, the kind you get when you see something you wish you hadn’t, began to curl in the pit of his stomach. Whatever it was that was going on in the Dimitrescu house, and more importantly with their new servant girl, it was clearly none of Salvatore’s business. Not that he’d wanted it to be in the first place.

Salvatore had enough problems to deal with regarding his own gift, he didn’t have time to worry about whether or not Alcina was already making moves on hers.

“Have a safe journey home, and do make sure to stop by with Nadine if things turn out well between the two of you. Based on how today played out, it would seem as though things are about to get a lot more interesting around here… and a lot more fun too. Goodnight, Dear Brother” is all Alcina says before gently closing the door to her chambers, effectively ending their conversation without so much as a single word from Salvatore, not that he minded being handed the chance to finally get out of here, especially after… whatever the hell that exchange between Alcina and Anastasia was.

Best not to think too hard about it, probably, especially when there was another woman back at the reservoir who was much more deserving of Salvatore’s lustful and impure musings.

“Uuum… the front door is this way… Lord Moreau,” Anastasia says suddenly, her face still dark from embarrassment, though whether it was from her earlier treatment of him before she learned he was another Lord and not just some random man from the village, or from… that thing he just saw that he doesn’t feel like thinking about anymore, the hooded man couldn’t tell.

Nor did he particularly care to find out.

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swordsandshields99 · 3 years ago

Link

Chapters: 1/7 Fandom: Mass Effect Trilogy, Mass Effect - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Additional Tags: Friendship, Friendship/Love, Romance, Fluff and Smut @cactuarkitty - thanks! :) Day 1 - Beach Day (Tried to give it a Citadel DLC vibe) Smut in Italics and sectioned, feel free to skip :)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Yo, Shepard, can we talk to you for a second?” Jack’s voice came across the comms. “Sure thing. Did someone break something?” Shepard tried to tease the biotic. “Not yet, but I can’t promise not to break the cheerleader's arm if she doesn’t stop tapping her fingers on the console in a condescending way.”

Shepard sighed and put down the armor she was cleaning. She made her way to the elevator. “Hey Edi, if anyone is actually about to kill each other, let me know.”

“Of course, Shepard. If I were to inform you each time Jack complained about Operative Lawson, I believe you wouldn’t have any free time.”

“True enough,” Shepard chuckled. The AI was really growing on her.

Shepard exited the lift and turned into the mess hall, and was surprised to see her entire ground crew sitting around the long table. She glanced at Garrus, but he gave nothing away, other than popping a mandible out to the side in a sarcastic half-grin. “What’s all this about?”

“Shepard, it seems the crew have been discussing our current course of action,” Miranda started.

“You mean, our current course of non-action?” Shepard cut in.

“Yes,” Miranda said slowly. “Garrus has been adamant that he has tried to persuade you not to return to the Alliance.”

“He has, and as I told him, I’ve made up my mind. It’s something I have to do.”

“You don’t have to do shit,” Jack countered.

“You could go to the Council, Shepard. You’re a spectre, with spectre authority. They’ll be just as displeased as the Alliance, but they can use that authority to ride out the storm. The Alliance is just going to lock you up. Or worse. You don’t deserve that.” By the time Tali finished, she was wringing her hands and bouncing slightly on her feet.

Shepard looked down, “Listen, I appreciate your concern. But if I don’t go and take the fall, the political fall out will be detrimental to the Alliance. I might be a Spectre, but everyone in the galaxy knows where I came from.”

There was a horribly awkward silence in the room.

“I promise, I won’t let it affect any of you. Your names will all stay out of the report, and I will be adamant about the fact that I went there alone.”

“I could give two shits about what other people think. I still think you should take me up on the piracy thing,” Jack said, crossing her arms and nearly pouting. Shepard nearly laughed at the stance. Jack looked back at her. “It’s a nice ship. Stealth drives and all. Perfect opportunity wasted.”

“She’s not wrong,” Kasumi said, appearing out of thin air next to Jack.

“FUCKING SHIT!” Jack said, “God damn it I hate it when you do that.”

Kasumi blew her a kiss as she disappeared.

“Siha, it appears you are not willing to change your mind,” Thane said as calmly as ever.

“I find it admirable,” Samara nodded her head.

“I think falling on your sword to protect the very people who put you in the situation, the same people who expect you to follow orders blindly and not take responsibility for their own actions, isn’t exactly admirable,” Garrus said darkly, still leaning back in his chair.

Shepard knew he was angry. She didn’t blame him. But she kept a cool mask of command on her face. “I’m not changing my mind.”

“Then we would ask for a few days dry-docked. For repairs,” Miranda said slowly.

“Repairs? I thought we were nearly done with repairs. You all have been working around the clock on the Normandy.”

“Yes, well, there’s a few things we could take a look at on the outer hull. It’d be safer on the ground. We thought perhaps, since we’re close, we could stop here.” Miranda pulled out a map and pointed to a spot on the planet below. “We’ve actually been planning this since we left the Bahak System.”

Shepard blew out a small stream of air.

“The crew needs a break, Shep,” Garrus said.

“And time to say goodbye,” Tali added.

“Fine,” Shepard said. “You have anything to add Joker?”

“Not since you ever so reasonably agreed, no. Setting a landing trajectory now. Ready EDI?”

“Ready, Jeff.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Shepard was sitting at her desk, finishing the last of the reports she had. She’d always hated filling out reports. Now though, she thought she might end up missing even this. She wasn’t sure what the Alliance had planned for her. A trial? Jail time? A harsher sentence? She didn’t think they’d hand her over to the Batarians, but the thought was still there in the back of her mind. When she had mentioned it to Garrus, he said he’d be there breaking her out before she even reached a Batarian system. And she hadn’t argued.

Just as she thought of him, he walked through her cabin doors. “Done with those reports yet?” he drawled.

“This is the last one,” she said as she signed off and sent it. “Done.” She blew out a breath and stretched her arms above her head. She looked over at Garrus, and saw he was carrying a duffle bag, and was dressed in shorts and a Turian style t-shirt. She couldn’t help but chuckle, ��I know you’re not on duty, but that’s a little informal. Aren’t you freezing?”

“I am freezing my ass off Shep, but I won’t be for long. Let’s go.”

“Onto the surface?”

“Yeah, where else? I’m not letting you spend your last shore leave in this cabin.”

“Hmmm,” she said suspiciously.

“Here,” he said as he threw the duffle at her. “Put these on.”

Shepard opened the bag and rose her eyebrows at him, “I can’t tell if this is practical, or if you just want me in a bikini.”

Garrus laughed, throwing his head forward and shaking it slightly. “Maybe it’s both?” He took out the sunscreen from her bag. “And don’t forget this.”

“Do you need some too?” she asked as she started spraying it on.

He shook his head. “The sun and radiation would have to be a hell of a lot stronger for me to need something like that. Palaven’s sun throws a lot more than this one.”

She nodded, “All right, all right Mr. Tough Guy, I got it.” She stripped off her civvies and threw on the bikini and sun dress. She put her hair in a braid that came over her shoulder. “All right, let’s do this.” She wouldn’t have planned a vacation. It wouldn’t have felt right. But her crew planning it, or needing it? That was a different story. And she was grateful.

They walked throughout the empty ship towards the cargo bay doors. “Where is everybody?” she asked.

“Already down there,” he said. “I think they were excited.”

Shepard stepped off the ship and was shocked. It was stunningly beautiful. It reminded her of when her parents had taken her to Jamaica once when she was young. “Wow,” she said softly. There was nothing within many kilometers of them. Not a soul in sight other than their ship and crew. “A private beach?”

Kasumi walked up to her with a small cooler, “Take your pick, Shep,” she said with a smile. There were beer and wine coolers. Shepard took one and thanked Kasumi. “The Dextro beers are all over by Tali,” Kasumi said before she skipped away.

"She’s even in a cloak on beach day,” Garrus rumbled, wiggling his brow plates at her.

Shepard laughed and walked towards Tali, “Go get a beer, big guy.”

“SHEEPPHHEEERRDD,” a loud voice boomed from a ways down the beach. Shepard looked down and saw Grunt splashing through the water with a small pistol, shooting at fish. “This is fun, heheh,” he said to himself as he picked up a fish he had somehow managed to shoot.

“Aww,” Zaeed said sarcastically before rolling his eyes. The man was sitting on a lounging chair with 5 beer cans on the sand around him. He laid back, closing his eyes before saying, “Good day Shepard. Good day.”

Joker was sitting next to the man with his eyes shut as well. “If I get a sunburn, I’m blaming you.”

Shepard threw her sunscreen at him. “If you get sunburned, you’ll worry EDI.”

“Har-har,” he said grumpily as he started spraying the sunscreen.

Thane was down the beach further, on the opposite end of Grunt Shepard noticed, showing Samara something that resembled Tai Chi. Actually, Shepard was pretty sure it was Tai Chi. She could still remember all the moves from when she took classes aboard her mother’s starship as a kid. She joined them silently, and allowed herself to meditate peacefully.

Once she’d had enough, she stopped, unsure of how much time had passed. Samara and Thane gave her small smiles as she walked away. She found Garrus was shooting blanks with a sniper rifle into the trees. Suddenly, Shepard saw the shimmer of failed shields and Kasumi’s cloak came down. “Damn!” the thief swore. “How in the hell did you know where I was that time?”

Garrus shrugged, “A gentlemen never tells.”

Tali swooped in from behind and jumped up to grab at his visor. “I’ll give you two guesses,” she said as she inspected it.

“Hey!” Garrus said, in a more shocked tone than Shepard would have expected. “Give that back,” he said as he pushed down on the Quarians helmet, reaching up so the visor was far out of her reach.

“Alright Garrus, no visor,” Kasumi said as she disappeared.

Garrus held the visor in one hand and aimed with the other. It took 10 seconds before he placed his next shot, and Kasumi’s shields went down again. Kasumi grumbled and switched on her cloak again.

Garrus’ eyes went wide and he hunched over his weapon slightly. Shepard heard him make a small noise of satisfaction before pulling the trigger.

“Oh, you’re good, Archangel,” Kasumi purred as she sauntered up to him. “I can see why you’re into him, Shep,” Kasumi called over to her.

Shepard just waved back with a grin and kept walking down the beach. There was a slight bend and suddenly she could see Mordin by the water, bent over looking at something. As she approached, she realized he was poking around some kind of sea creature with a stick. She stood next to him quietly as he observed it. “At first, wasn’t looking forward to ‘beach day’,” he said with air quotes. “Looked forward to comradery of course, but can get that on ship, or in lab. Surprising results. Thoroughly enjoying discovering new marine wildlife.” She saw his eyes flick back towards the sand. “Perhaps will try hand at fossils and shells next.”

Shepard smiled. As Mordin continued searching the shallow waters, Shepard started searching for shells on the beach. When she found what she thought must be the most beautiful one on the beach, she walked back over to him and handed it out to him.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, turning towards her and taking the shell. “How interesting! Gastropoda, free of inhabitants. Periostracum still slightly spongy, not old. Whorl, apex, aperture all typical. Extremely symmetrical. Red and orange in color, unsure of internal structuring.”

Shepard waited patiently as he continued his analysis until he stopped suddenly. He looked down at her and took a deep breath. “Beautiful. Thank you, Shepard.” He put the shell in one of his lab coat pockets.

She rose a brow, “That’s rather sentimental for you, isn’t it doctor?”

He shook his head, “Sometimes, sentimentality - appropriate. No point to life without the enjoyment of it.”

Shepard smiled at him. “Some friends make that exceedingly easy to do so.”

Mordin seemed genuinely taken aback, but nodded enthusiastically. “Indeed, they do.”

Legion walked up behind them, “Shepard Commander, are you searching for marine wildlife? This unit believes it can be of assistance.”

“Doctor?” Shepard asked.

“Hmmm, could prove useful in cataloging findings. Legion, please assist in cataloging findings of new marine biology.”

“Nice, thanks Legion,” Shepard said with a smile.

The Geth’s brow plates rose and fell quickly, “This unit enjoys being useful.”

Shepard rose her brows at Mordin. Before their adventures, she doubted Legion would have used the word “enjoys” at all. “I’m glad,” she said back before turning around.

She let them continue their search in the waters as she made her way back to the group. She came around the bend, and saw Jack, Jacob, and Miranda teaching Garrus and Tali how to play Volleyball. “Shepard, we need another player!” Jacob yelled out.

“I’m in,” she said as she ditched the sun dress and dug her toes into the sand to run towards them. “I grew up on a ship, but I managed to learn how to play. They know the rules?” she asked, pointing towards Garrus and Tali.

“I think we’ve got it,” Tali said.

They played for nearly an hour before they tired themselves out. “Forgot you had about a ½ a meter in height on us Vakarian,” Jacob grumbled as he and Miranda walked off towards the drinks.

Garrus shrugged with a grin, “What can I say.”

“Want to cool off in the water?” Shepard asked.

Garrus looked out at the ocean apprehensively, “Uhh… yeaaah, I’m not so sure about that.”

“Look, we don’t have to go in too deep. Mordin found a nice quiet spot around the bend a ways, there are hardly any waves at all. Just go in to your waist and get cooled off with me.”

Garrus sighed heavily. “Fine.”

They walked till they were just past Mordin and Legion. “Alright if we swim here?” She asked him.

Mordin came up from his studies. “Of course, Shepard.” Then he rose his brow at Garrus. “Aware of Turian aversion to submersion in waters. Interesting. Found a cove 20 meters that way. Completely shallow and secluded from waves and wildlife. Should be more comfortable.”

Garrus looked at Shepard and she could tell he was about to say no to the whole thing. “Alright, thanks Mordin, c’mon scaredy cat. Let’s go to the cove.”

“Shepard, I have no idea what a scaredy cat is. Is it some kind of pet?”

She laughed and marched forwards.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The cove was beautiful. There were trees above keeping it mostly in the shade, and the water was calm and shallow. Shepard waded in and it only went up to her chest. “C’mon Garrus, look, it’s not deep. It won’t go up to your cowl, for sure.” He looked at her with a look that said he’d rather jump in a varren pit. “I’ll make it worth your while?”

He rose a brow plate, and dipped his feet in. The water was warm at least, so he continued until he stood next to Shepard. She took a step into him so that they were touching and wrapped her arms around him. “Alright, it’s not so bad,” he said reluctantly.

She gazed at him with a look that could melt metal, and took a deep breath in, before slowly sinking below the water. “Shepard,” he said nervously, although he knew she couldn’t hear him.

Shepard held onto his hips to stay below the water with one hand, and started moving his shorts aside with the other. Garrus’ breath hitched. He couldn’t help the rush that went straight to his groin, and he also couldn’t help but still feel nervous in the water. Shepard pushed him back and he took a few steps backwards until his legs hit something when they were nearing the edge. A rock. She pushed him again and he stumbled awkwardly, sitting on the rock. She came up for air and kissed his mandible, sucking on the tips. Garrus groaned, digging his talons into her waist. She submerged again, and he held his breath, partially out of anticipation of what she might do next and partially out of nerves for her being under the water. He knew humans were better with that, but it was ingrained.

He suddenly felt a small tongue lick up the seams of his pelvic plates and he groaned again, digging his talons through her hair. He felt small fingers dig between the plates in his waist. She came up for air again, straddling his lap to kiss him. She ground her hips against his. She was weightless, floating above him, ghosting over his plates, until she pushed herself down into him and began grinding harder into him. “Shepard,” he growled as he nipped at her neck. She suddenly went back under water and nipped at his pubic plate quickly, and licked all the way up and down his seam slowly. He felt his seam part as he groaned loudly, bucking his hips into her as his erection began to grow, emerging from his seam. He felt her lick at it until it came all the way through, and she sucked his cock into her mouth as it grew.

“Fuck,” he said as he threw his head back and bucked his hips. She sucked hard, head bobbing up and down twice before she had to come up for air. She was panting hard and she straddled his lap again, slowly lowering herself onto him, until his tip was hilted within her.

Shepard moaned loudly and rocked back and forth slightly with her hips. He felt her muscles contract around him a few times and he groaned. Shepard grinned at him before lifting up and moving back down. He could tell it was harder for her in the water, and he placed his hands on her hips and began lifting her up, and slamming her down onto him. It didn’t take long before they were both panting, and it just wasn’t enough. He put her legs around his waist and stood, walking to the back of the cove, he pressed her back against the stony wall and pushed himself into her with a grunt. Shepard squeezed her legs around his waist, one arm holding on around his back, the other wrapped around his neck with her hand massaging under his fringe.

She was so tight, and he hadn’t yet been fully inside her. He took his finger and massaged the nub he knew drove her wild. Shepard began moaning loudly. “God, yes Garrus, fuck,” she groaned. Slowly, with each thrust he pushed further and further inside of her until even the bulge of his base slipped inside of her with a pop. Shepard screamed at that and held on tighter. “Don’t stop,” she screamed, and he didn’t, couldn’t really. He felt her come hard, her walls squeezing him. “Garrus,” she panted. Garrus couldn’t speak, he was too far gone. He merely groaned against her neck as he continued pounding into her, faster and harder.

“Come inside me, Garrus,” she moaned, and he lost control. He came hard with a roar, continuing to pump inside her in erratic thrusts. His body completely enveloped hers against the stone. She was so small, wrapped up in his arms, and he curled around her, willing himself to stay standing. He felt her kiss his mandible lightly. “God, you’re sexy.”

He chuckled, kissing her forehead, “So are you.”

Shepard slipped down and swam in the water to cool off before they headed back. Garrus sat back on the rock and watched, enjoying the view and surprisingly, the cool water around his waist.

--------------------------------------------------

Shepard and Garrus walked back along the beach, hands brushing often. The sun was setting, and it was creating a beautiful glow around them. The whole team was sitting, watching the sunset when the pair joined them.

The group was quiet, reflective. Even Grunt, to Shepard’s surprise. He was growing up, after all. Shepard leaned against Garrus’ shoulder, and they sat there until the sun dipped below the horizon.

“Alright you bunch of pussys,” Zaeed said, elegantly as ever. “Round two.” He started throwing beer bottles at everyone.

“That’s more like it,” Jack huffed.

“Bonfire’s made!” Jacob said as he got the largest bonfire Shepard had ever seen lit using driftwood from the beach.

The team drank under the numerous stars. There were drinking games and songs, friendly wagers and shoot-the-bottle competitions. It was 3 in the morning before they packed up and headed inside. Shepard held Garrus’ hand to pull him back behind the crew and gave him one last kiss under the stars.

#merweek2021 #merweek #mass effect relationship week #ao3 #shakarian #garrus vakarian #commander shepard #mass effect #mass effect 2

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whumpzone · 4 years ago

Text

Tomas and Rowe - Part 8

this chapter was a trial and a half to clean up but the support from you guys gave me the final boost i needed! youre all the best

also… no harm to people with eyebrow piercings. i personally really like them lmao. i just needed an example of something that would be considered a bit ‘out there’ in your typical boring office :’D

Masterpost

taglist: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @oceanthesarcasamfox @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @ghostcomit (just ask if you want to be tagged!)

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation, alcohol + descriptions of being drunk, swearing

‘’Ah, fuck,’’ muttered Tomas, his eyes hovering over the calendar pinned to the fridge with a magnet. Rowe looked up from where he was kneeling on a thin cushion- a compromise since he wouldn’t sit on the furniture.

‘’Master?’’

‘’You know when you get so used to seeing something that you stop really looking at it?’’ he said as he picked up the two freshly-made mugs of tea and walked over to Rowe, ‘’Turns out my old workmate is coming over for drinks tonight. Totally forgot.’’

He set Rowe’s mug on the floor beside him, looking over his shoulder at the paper he was writing on. ‘’Good work. That R is backwards though, watch out for that. Easy mistake to make.’’

‘’Th-thank you, Master, I’ll do better.’’

‘’You’re doing fine,’’ he said, patting his shoulder gently. Rowe flinched, as always, but only slightly. ‘’I’ll have to see what the booze situation in the fridge is. I hope I don’t have to go to the shop. I just made tea.’’

‘’Is he coming for food too, Master?’’

Tomas shook his head, looking at Rowe. What the fuck am I going to do with you tonight?

Ever since he had seen those cuts on Rowe, standing out against the myriad of fading bruises, scarring wounds and old burns, he hadn’t been able to let him out of his sight for very long. Luckily, Rowe hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. Tomas supposed it was perfectly natural to keep your Pet near you, ready to submit to any command or punishment demanded of them.

‘’Nah. If it’s alright, Rowe, I’d like you to stay downstairs while he’s visiting. I might need you.’’

…

Master wants to show me off, thought Rowe proudly. Finally, this was something he understood. He was trusted to entertain Master and his friend! This was a chance to prove what a good Pet he could be.

‘’Of course, Master.’’

‘’You don’t mind?’’

Master Tomas asked the strangest things sometimes, Rowe thought. Not that he would ever dare question his Master. But he didn’t understand the point of asking for his opinion like it mattered. Still, he was good at giving the right answer and making Master happy.

‘’No, Master.’’

Sure enough, he smiled, and gave Rowe another pat on the shoulder. Rowe tried not to squirm too much- Master couldn’t have known that he was touching Rowe right where Kasia had cut him, and the pain was a good reminder that no matter how happy Master seemed with him, he wasn’t to get complacent. He did his best to smile back, and Master looked even happier.

When his old master hosted parties, it was always understood that Rowe would serve everyone present. Anyone was able to give him orders, regardless of whether or not his master was in the room. He could only assume it would be the same here.

After they’d eaten, Master went upstairs to ‘get himself looking presentable’, as he described it, and Rowe tidied up. Catching himself in the mirror by the staircase, Rowe swept his hair out of his eyes and brushed down his shirt with his hands like he’d seen Master Tomas do on occasions. Master’s friend was due any moment, so Rowe settled himself down at the back of the room, and focused on being blank, obedient, and well-behaved.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rowe could see Master straightening his shirt one last time before going to open the front door. He heard various pleasantries being exchanged, and the door clicking shut.

Rowe wouldn’t dare look up, but he couldn’t ignore the way the footsteps suddenly stopped as Adam entered the house.

‘’So what have I missed since y- whoa, you have a Pet?’’

‘’I- uh,’’ Master began. Rowe’s eyebrows twitched. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was impossible to ignore when it was the only sound he could hear. ‘’Not really, I mean, okay, I might have. He’s not really a Pet, per se, I mean, he’s-‘’

‘’Mate, that is obviously a Pet. Don’t be embarrassed!’’

Master sighed. ‘’Okay, yeah, I’ve got a Pet.’’

Was Master ashamed of him? He shouldn’t have even listened, but something in him sank nonetheless. A pair of feet appeared on the floor before him, and then a hand grabbed his cheek, pulling his face up. He kept his eyes on the ground meekly as Adam looked him over, turning his face side to side.

‘’A real-life Pet. Never thought you were the type, Tomas.’’ Adam peered over Rowe’s shoulder. ‘’Err… no collar? He must be, uh, well trained.’’

His voice was heavy in sarcasm and questioning, and Rowe felt like he’d done something really, really, bad.

‘’He is.’’ Master Tomas said. A warning, Rowe thought to himself. He didn’t need to be told twice. He wouldn’t do anything to upset his owner on an important night.

‘’How on Earth did you afford one? Is it second-hand?’’

‘’Yeah. It was an- uh, impulse decision. I bought him off Kasia.’’

‘’That lowlife?’’ Rowe could practically see Adam’s raised eyebrow in his tone.

‘’Hey, he’s my friend!’’

‘’Come on, Tomas, we’ve all heard the rumours. He could well have sold you a defect.’’

‘’Don’t be rude. And don’t call him a defect,’’ Master Tomas gestured to Rowe, and it took everything in him to not flinch. Tonight was a test, he reminded himself. ‘’He’s right there.’’

There was a pause, and Rowe’s eyes flicked up just enough to see Adam giving Master a very disrespectful look.

‘’It’s only a Pet, mate. You’re spending too much time indoors if you think it’s gonna get hurt feelings.’’

‘’Whatever.’’ Rowe was probably mistaken, he was only a Pet after all, but something in Master’s voice sounded… shaky.

Adam laughed, and tightened his grip on Rowe’s face. ‘’Hey. You’re not listening, are you, Pet?’’

Rowe shook his head desperately, wishing the attention would shift onto something, anything else. He could feel Master’s eyes on him. Adam released his grip and patted Rowe’s cheek roughly.

‘’Go and sit down, Adam.’’

‘’Don’t have to tell me twice. I’ve been looking forward to getting some drinks in me.’’

‘’Yes, yes, hint taken. Coming right up,’’ Master laughed tightly. Rowe dropped his head back down, but Master’s feet lingered in front of him for a few seconds. Long enough that a prickle of fear ran through him. What? What is it? What have I done wrong? Is Master displeased? Do I look ugly? Is that why Master is ashamed of me? I’m not a defect, I promise. Please don’t throw me out.

Eventually, all Master did was ruffle Rowe’s hair, and walk over to join Adam.

…

The night drew on, and the neat lines of empty bottles by the sofa grew longer, and wonkier. Tomas’s head felt ten times as heavy as he slumped back, holding his newly-finished bottle of cider upside down in triumph. Adam cheered and quickly finished up his lager, clinking the two bottles together and messily trying to line them up with the rest on the floor.

‘’What else have I missed at the office?’’

‘’Ahhh…’’ Adam grunted as he thought. ‘’Georgie pierced Dennis’s eyebrow after he lost a bet.’’

‘’Oh my god.’’

‘’He looks awful!’’ Adam cried with far too much force. He fell back laughing at his own loudness, reaching for another bottle but grabbing thin air. ‘’Wuh- got any more beers mate?’’

‘’I….. think so?’’

‘’Pet!’’ Adam shouted suddenly. Tomas would have jumped if he wasn’t so drunk. Rowe appeared by Adam’s side, dropping to his knees once more. Adam batted a hand around in annoyance. ‘’Don’t bother kneeling mate, you’re just about to get back up again.’’

‘’Sir?’’ Rowe asked evenly. Tomas watched Adam warily.

‘’More beers.’’

Rowe nodded and rose gracefully. Adam turned to Tomas as he left and snorted.

‘’Its not bad, I’ll give that to you. I wish people at work called me sir.’’

‘’He’s not an ‘it’,’’ Tomas mumbled, rolling his eyes.

‘’Huh?’’ said Adam, leaning in. Before Tomas could answer, though, Rowe returned with two bottles in his hands. Tomas faltered. He knew the opinion people like Adam held on ‘Pet libbers’. Some people even considered trying to treat a Pet like a human akin to abuse. Went against their ‘natural role’, apparently. Tomas thought it was a load of shit.

‘’I said people at work call you a thick bastard,’’ said Tomas, reaching over Adam to grab the drinks from Rowe, nodding at him while he did so. Rowe retreated back to the corner of the room. Adam grinned at Tomas’s joke and playfully snatched the lager from Tomas.

‘’Well they’re about to start calling you… fucking… Pet having wanker,’’ slurred Adam, howling and fumbling with the bottle opener.

‘’Fuck you,’’ Tomas laughed, wagging a finger at him. ‘’One more crack outta you sunshine and I’ll give you an eyebrow piercing.’’

Adam snorted and the two of them fell about. Adam’s head slumped to the side, and he suddenly sat straight up.

‘’Where’s your Pet gone?’’

‘’Out of our way, idiot.’’

‘’Dude, I never even thought I’d see a Pet. At least let me have a bit of fun with it.’’

‘’What does that mean?’’

Adam ignored him. ‘’Pet!’’ he called, trying unsuccessfully to snap his fingers. Rowe again appeared and knelt among the discarded bottles.

‘’You’re drunk,’’ Tomas groaned.

‘’So are you. And I wanna put my feet up.’’

Rowe complied without hesitation. He got on his hands and knees in front of Adam, keeping his back straight and not making a sound as Adam roughly slung his legs over him.

‘’Wow, he already knew what I wanted. I bet you do this shit all the time,’’ Adam said, raising the bottle to his face. Tomas looked between Adam and Rowe. He knew Rowe’s back was still healing from the wounds his old owner had given him. Should he say something? Rowe’s face didn’t betray any pain- he looked blank, and calm, and Tomas considered how humiliated he might be if Tomas tried to step in and protect him. He’d take it as his Master not thinking he’s useful.

‘’He just-‘’ Tomas mirrored Adam, taking a drink, although his head was beginning to pound and his eyes kept closing by themselves. ‘’He mostly just helps with chores and stuff.’’

‘’Are you for real? I thought the whole point of a Pet was that you didn’t have to do any chores.’’

‘’A Pet does whatever their Master wants,’’ slurred Tomas, unsticking his lip from the inside of the bottle neck. ‘’And I want him to just- fuckin’- help.’’

‘’I’ve wanted to ask this all night,’’ Adam interjected suddenly, ‘’and now I’m drunk enough to.’’ He rolled onto his side, his feet still weighing on Rowe, and pointed his lager at Tomas. ‘’Do you- oh, I’m so embarrassed- do you torture it real bad like those people on the news? Cause, listen, no judgement if you do, I actually have a lot of stuff annoying me and it seems like a great way to get it off your chest, so…’’

Tomas grimaced. ‘’I do not.’’

‘’Alright, alright, I figured you weren’t like that. You’re a diplomatic guy.’’ Adam leant forward and slapped Rowe’s head roughly. ‘’You’re a lucky mutt! Now, let’s have another drink.’’

Adam dragged his feet off Rowe’s back to let him get up, while his latest empty bottle rolled along the floor. Tomas glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning.

‘’Here, are you tir-‘’ he was cut off as Rowe, on his walk back to Adam, caught his foot on a rogue bottle and fell crashing to the ground, the bottle in his hand smashing and beer foaming everywhere. Tomas and Adam staggered to their feet, Tomas pushing past him to pick Rowe up off the floor. He almost fell over himself; standing up suddenly had made him realise just how drunk he was. He could hardly see as he held Rowe’s elbow and lifted him up.

‘’Rowe, you good? Did any of the glass cut you?’’

‘’N-no, I’m s-s-so sorry M-Master-‘’

‘’Butterfingers!’’ howled Adam, delighted. ‘’That is gonna be a bitch to clean up. Cute nickname too. Rowe? You’re soft as hell.’’

‘’He’s hardly got butterfingers you pisshead, my whole floor is covered in bottles. I’d like to see you not trip.’’

‘’Calm down,’’ scoffed Adam, now satisfied that Rowe didn’t have any exciting injuries. He sat back down heavily. ‘’How’re you gonna punish it?’’

‘’Ugh, fuck off.’’

‘’I’m serious, mate. There’s glass everywhere.’’

Tomas’s head was ringing, his vision was blurry at best and he was pretty sure he was going to throw up.

‘’Why are you so keen to get involved?’’

‘’Because frankly Tomas you’re acting like a fuckin’ wetwipe,’’ Adam snapped, ‘’I mean, Christ, I’ll do it if you can’t.’’

Tomas had hoped Adam wouldn’t reach the point in the night where the booze made him aggressive. There was no way he was letting him hurt Rowe. An idea came to him. He knew it was a bad idea. But he was so drunk, and so desperate to sleep, that he couldn’t think of any other option.

‘’Oh I’m going to punish him alright,’’ he slurred. Rowe froze under his grip. He led him away from the glass, to the clear floor behind the sofa. ‘’I just didn’t know if you wanted to stay or not.’’

‘’Mas-Master, I-I-I’m sorry, I’m s-s-orry, please f-forgive me-‘’

‘’Be quiet, Rowe,’’ he said firmly. Rowe fell silent with a whimper.

‘’Pfft. You said you don’t torture your Pet.’’

‘’I said I don’t-‘’ Tomas fumbled with his words, ‘’-I said I don’t do it to let off steam. Rowe, take your shirt off.’’

Adam’s smile faltered as he saw the state of Rowe’s chest. Tomas tried to ignore the way Rowe was quivering below him. So there are more cuts, he noted hazily. I will deal with that….later.

‘’Turn around. Let Adam see your whip marks.’’

Rowe obeyed and Adam’s face fell.

‘’What the fuck?’’

Tomas pushed Rowe as gently as he could and Rowe sank to his knees immediately.

‘’I think I’ll find the biggest shard of glass that he just smashed and reopen some of these cuts here,’’ Tomas said, staring hard at Adam. He took a fistful of Rowe’s hair, trying his best not to yank it too hard, guiding Rowe’s head back. He could see the whites of his eyes as stared up at him in terror. ‘’You’re lucky I’m too drunk to take my belt off,’’ Tomas said to him. ‘’Since I can’t whip you, I’ll have to improvise. Adam, you got a lighter?’’

Adam didn’t answer. He stood up, taking a shaky step backwards.

‘’No lighter? No problem. I can just turn the hob on and hold his arm over it. Can’t I?’’ he let Rowe’s hair go and he bowed his head forward, trembling. ‘’Can’t I, Rowe?’’

‘’Y-yes, Master,’’ Rowe whimpered.

‘’You’re fucked up,’’ Adam said.

‘’You said it yourself, mate, that’s gonna buh- be a bitch to clean up. So you staying to watch or not?’’

‘’Fuck that. It’s late. I’m off.’’

Adam grabbed his coat and left without another word. Tomas watched him leave, then stumbled to the front door and locked it behind him.

‘’Thank fuck he’s gone.’’

He grabbed a bottle of water and gulped it down desperately. He would have given anything to just pass out, but the thought of leaving Rowe as he was didn’t even cross his mind. Looking over, he saw how hard he was trembling. His eyes were tightly shut, and he was still kneeling obediently with his arms behind his back. He looked achingly vulnerable.

‘’Rowe-‘’ he started, walking towards him. At the sound of his voice Rowe cried out, collapsing onto the floor with his hands propping him up. As Tomas drew closer, he weakly pulled himself away. It broke his heart to see him so scared. ‘’Rowe, it’s okay, I-‘’ oh god, he was so drunk. Rowe scrambled away from him until he was curled in the corner on the room, his knees tucked up under his chin and his arms hiding his face. Shit.

‘’Rowe, Rowe, I know how that sounded, but please listen,’’ he began, knowing there was no way in Hell Rowe was in any state to listen to reason. Rowe only curled further into himself when Tomas sat down beside him.

‘’I-I’m so- s-so sorry, Mas-Master, I’m s-sorry p-p-please forgive me, pl-please f-forgive me it w-will never happen ag- again I swear, I swear Master, I’m s-sorry, please I’m so sorry…’’ he whimpered, his voice barely audible.

‘’Rowe,’’ he said weakly. Rowe whined in fear and Tomas had never felt more inequipped to handle him. He felt like someone had grabbed his head and was pulling it around with every little movement, making the room spin.

‘’I’ll d-d-d-do anything, anyth-thing just p-please, please f-forgive me, I know I d-don’t deserve it I’m a w-worthless Pet I do-don’t deserve a-any mercy, Master, but please, please, I’ll do anything, I’m sorry, pl-please punish me-‘’

Tomas frowned. He had thought Rowe was so desperately afraid because of the punishment. ‘’Rowe, please, look at me.’’

An order was an order. Rowe lowered his trembling hands just enough to let Tomas see his wide, twitching eyes. ‘’I’m sorry, Master,’’ he whispered. ‘’I was careless.’’

‘’You weren’t, you were obeying an order, it wasn’t your f.. wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean it.’’

‘’I w-was stupid and I didn’t pay pr-proper attention and I-, I’m sorry, it w-was unacceptable, please- please punish-‘’ Rowe faltered, covering his face again. His last few words were no more than a whimper. ‘’Please punish me, Master.’’

I am a fucking idiot. I am a fucking idiot. What the FUCK was I thinking.

‘’Sit up, pal, sit up. No more kneeling tonight- your legs must be aching. Sit cross legged like me.’’

Normally this would have resulted in at least ten minutes of negotiations, with Rowe protesting, convinced Tomas was issuing him with a test of obedience. But tonight, he complied without a word. Tomas realised he could ask Rowe to stand on his head right now and he would do it without a second thought, if it meant not angering his Master any more.

. . .

Rowe had never felt the floor drop away from him the way it did when Master Tomas described his punishment.

He had finally pushed Master Tomas’s infinite patience too far. He had already got away with so much- all his crying, pleading, flinching away, struggling with the simplest order, actually injuring Master, screaming every night. No Pet owner should have to put up with such disobedience.

Master’s kindness was a privilege, and Rowe knew he could revoke it at any time, he knew that everything he had, his bed and food and gentle touches could be snatched away if he did anything to displease his Master.

But then Master had been so forgiving, and gentle, and Rowe had started to think that maybe this could go on forever. But he had fucked it up, he had embarrassed Master in front of his guest, he couldn’t even complete a simple task, Master had given him so many chances and still Rowe had fucked up.

I’ve done it now. I never deserved a Master like him. He’ll toss me out. I’ll be put down for sure. No Pet gets tossed out twice. I’m going to be beaten raw and thrown out.

He couldn’t bear to open his eyes. Instead he listened helplessly as Master walked to the kitchen- to pick out the best bit of glass, Rowe assumed. The fall played over and over in his head: if he had only looked where he was going, if he’d walked slower and been more graceful and less twitchy, if he’d taken another route around the empty bottles. It occurred to him that by the time the bruising on his head formed, he’d either be shivering on the streets, or dead.

He heard his name and irregular footsteps approaching him and Rowe still jumped when Master spoke. Why couldn’t he stop being so pitiful?

Looking up, he saw that Master Tomas’s eyes were half-lidded, and tinged red. Drunk eyes. A drunk Master was always the most frightening kind. A drunk Master couldn’t be predicted. Rowe’s hands hit the floor and he dragged himself away, hardly knowing why. This is why I should be properly restrained, he thought weakly. Maybe he just wanted to draw out the punishment, to put off the far worse fate awaiting him once Master was done.

‘’Rowe, it’s okay, I-‘’

Rowe’s body hit the wall and all he could think to do was curl up and beg. He hadn’t even realised Master was speaking to him until he interrupted him. His stomach flooded with a deep, freezing terror.

‘’Rowe, please, look at me.’’ Master ordered, forced to repeat himself, and this time Rowe managed to shut up and look. His heart was pounding as he let Master see his miserable, apologetic eyes.

‘’I’m s-so sorry, Master. I was careless.’’

‘’You weren’t,’’ said Master. His usually soft voice had a rough, intoxicated edge to it. And what did he mean? ‘’You were obeying an order, it wasn’t your f… wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean it.’’

Mean what? Why wasn’t Master grabbing Rowe and forcing his face to the ground, screaming at him for even daring to disobey him after what he’d already done? Why wasn’t he cutting him? Rowe suddenly remembered to look at Master’s hands. No glass. Maybe Rowe would have to pick it out himself.

‘’I w-was stupid and I didn’t pay pr-proper attention and I-, I’m sorry, it w-was unacceptable, please- please punish- please punish me, Master,’’ he begged, hiding his filthy, insolent face.

Master was speaking, he realised, and he’d missed half of it, oh god oh god, he couldn’t keep his breathing under control and he knew he should be kneeling but something in him wouldn’t let him move and he was going to get chucked out and he was so so sorry-

‘’-legs must be aching. Sit cross legged like me.’’

Rowe obeyed without hesitation. Whatever Master wanted. Maybe this was important for his punishment. He felt like he might throw up.

‘’Fuck, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m not angry. Look at my eyes- I’m not angry. I just wa- I just wanted him to leave. He was being a fucking twat. I am- I’m so drunk, Rowe. I’m so drunk and I handled that so badly and it wasn’t right. I just wanted to frighten Adam off. But I know it frightened you as well. Is that a fair assum- assump- is that fair? Are you quite frightened right now?’’

‘’Y….yes, Master.’’

Why was Master asking this? Was it not enough to see him trembling, on the brink of tears? Was it not enough to be almost stripped bare, open and exposed before his Master, submitting his body to his owner to punish as he saw fit? His mind was whirling with ways he could explain Kasia’s cuts, dreading the time Master asked where he had got them. He felt so useless. The punishment hadn’t even begun yet and already he was about to cry. His old master would add an extra beating if Rowe cried prematurely.

‘’I won’t hurt you. I promise. In fact-’’ Master reached for Rowe’s t-shirt, like he’d read his mind, ‘’-put this back on, please. Don’t get cold.’’

Rowe obeyed, his hands trembling almost too badly to take the t-shirt from Master’s hand. Master would have to cut him through his t-shirt, then. Perhaps then he’d beat him for ruining his clothes. Master could do that, he could do whatever he wanted. Rowe was just grateful to have his awful cuts covered up. Perhaps- he dared to hope- perhaps Master was too intoxicated to see properly? Perhaps he hadn’t seen them?

Then he remembered that it didn’t matter, anyway. Master was throwing him out. The remembrance was like a stone suddenly sinking into him.

‘’Rowe- why are you frightened?’’

What game was this?

‘’B-because of th-the punishment, Master.’’ He knew that being afraid of a punishment would only get him hurt worse, but he would take any pain, any pain at all, to stay as Master’s Pet. Rowe couldn’t even mention being tossed out. Stupidly, childishly, he didn’t want to say it out loud. Didn’t want to make it real.

‘’But aren’t you used to punishments like this? Do you get this scared every time?’’

‘’N-no!’’ Rowe burst out, pressing his head to the floor, trying to find something in his training to fall back on to navigate this. He couldn’t give Master any more reasons to throw him out. ‘’No, Master, no, I d-don’t, I c-can be good, I can t-take it well, I c-c-can be blank and quiet a-and not m-make a fuss, I promise!’’

‘’It’s okay, it’s okay. I know that. I know how good you are,’’ Master said. Rowe couldn’t understand why his tone sounded so soothing. ‘’But what I wan… want to know is- why is this time different? What’s scared you this time?’’

Before Rowe could even think properly, he whimpered out, ‘’Please… please don’t make me s-say it, Master.’’

Master Tomas’s eyebrows drew together. His eyes blinked open, and he stared at Rowe hard, like keeping his eyes open was a real effort. Rowe felt powerless, cowering in his Master’s gaze. But then the moment passed, and Master closed his eyes and put a hand on Rowe’s arm. Rowe waited for the moment where his Master’s grip would turn painful, but it never came, and when Master took his hand away Rowe found that the absence made him ache.

‘’Rowe. Rowerowerowe. I… I’m sorry. I am not a mind reader. You are gonna have to tell me what else is spooking you. Is it… are you scared of Adam coming back?’’

‘’N-no, Master.’’

Why did Master insist on Rowe saying it?

‘’Then what? How about this- if you tell me what’s wrong, I won’t punish you. How about that.’’

No punishment. Master would go straight to throwing him out. This was what he got for being disobedient. As if he had any right to argue with Master. Rowe scrambled to his knees and ground his forehead into the floor.

‘’Please- please, Master! Please, I d-deserve to be punished, please p-punish me, please!’’

‘’Rowe!’’ Master’s voice cut through him. Rowe had never heard his Master shout like that. He whimpered, keeping his head down. ‘’Rowe, you want to be a good Pet, yes?’’

Rowe nodded desperately.

‘’Then,’’ Master sighed heavily. He sounded so fed up with him. ‘’Then I need you to start cooperating, okay? We can- we can do this slowly. Sit up for me. Good. Now, I know you don’t want to, and if I could avoid it I would, yeah? But you have to tell me what’s wrong. You have to.’’

Rowe felt tears pricking his eyes. ‘’I don’t… I don’t want to be thrown out, Master,’’ he whispered.

There was a long pause. Rowe felt heavy with dread. Was Master going to laugh at him? Or would he order him into the cage he arrived in without another word?

‘’You think I’m going to throw you out?’’

‘’I-I’m a use-useless Pet, Master, I’m sh-shameful and I ca-an’t even follow a s-s-simple task and you don’t-‘’ Rowe began to cry as he forced himself to say it. In a way, it felt cathartic to get it out. ‘’-you don’t n-n-need a broken Pet. I’m no- no good for a-anything, a-a-and you g-gave me so many chances, I’m no good…’’ he choked on a sob and finally, blissfully, broke down entirely. ‘’I can’t e-even answer m-my Master without crying,’’ he moaned. ‘’Serving y-you is a privilege and I haven’t done anything to- anything to earn it.’’

…

Rowe’s raw, vulnerable cries had pulled Tomas out of his drunken haze. The fog in his head was lifting as Tomas began, uncomfortably, to sober up.

‘’What will happen if I throw you out?’’

Rowe looked at him fearfully, and Tomas realised too late that a Pet owner would be expected to know that. This must feel to Rowe like Tomas cruelly reminding him of his fate.

‘’I’ll- I’ll be put down, Master.’’

‘’Ah. Right. Right… okay, Rowe, I know you’re listening. You’re very good at that. I need you to know what I’m saying is all the absolute truth, okay?’’

‘’Yes, y-yes, Master, of course,’’ Rowe replied miserably.

‘’Firstly, I won’t hurt you. I won’t. I made up a punishment to freak Adam out. I’ve never hurt you before so I won’t start now, okay?’’

‘’Okay,’’ Rowe sniffed, glancing up at him with huge wet doe eyes. ‘’Okay, Master.’’

‘’And secondly, I’m not going to throw you out. I care about you, okay?’’ Tomas decided to phrase this in a way Rowe could understand. ‘’If I were going to throw you out, I wouldn’t have spent so much time teaching you to read, would I?’’

Rowe stayed silent, weeping softly, until Tomas pressed him and he choked out an agreement.

‘’Okay. And I wouldn’t have made sure you were eating each day, if I didn’t care about you. If I didn’t want you to stay with me and get better.’’

Get better. Something flashed in Rowe’s eyes and Tomas knew he’d struck the right chord. He was making him good, like Rowe always begged for.

‘’And now that I work from home, you can be my top priority.’’

‘’But I’m…’’ Rowe sobbed, his voice cracking. ‘’I’m j-just a Pet, Master.’’

‘’Nah. You’re Rowe. You’re important to me. I couldn’t just toss you out, you understand?’’

‘’Tha-thank yo-‘’

Before he could finish Rowe was in floods of tears once more, clutching his face and curling in on himself. Tomas’s heart broke and without thinking he pulled Rowe into a hug, the first since he’d got him.

It felt surprisingly normal to be holding his crying Pet, taking care to avoid touching the worst of his injuries. Placing one hand by his shoulder because by now it felt familiar. Slow, gentle movements, keeping his hands flat, keeping his arms loose enough to not constrict him.

‘’It’s okay. I’ve got you.’’

‘’Thank you, yes, I’m yours Master.’’

Tomas smiled weakly. Hundreds of tiny misunderstandings every day, and yet they were coping somehow.

And then Tomas’s body finally gave up and he slumped over, asleep.

#tomas and rowe #whump #pet whump #dehumanisation #whump fic #pet whumpee #aftermath of torture #master/pet #begging

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