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wonjaekook · 3 years

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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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cacoetheswriting · 3 years

Text

lonely this christmas

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Warnings: mild mild cursing, mainly just fluff !!! Word Count: 2.9k Summary: Reader admits to Spencer she will be spending the holidays alone but he’s got other plans.

A/N: starting off the month of december with a christmas centred fic!! hope you like it <3

Being alone on Christmas wasn’t unfamiliar to Spencer. In fact it was pretty much the opposite. Being alone on Christmas was typical, ordinary.

The nature of his job being what it was, he usually ended up working over the holidays anyway. Therefore he never made any plans with his mom because most times he just ended up disappointing her. Being alone at Christmas was fine. Being a disappointment however, completely different story.

As years went by Diana stopped noticing his absence. Of course if Spencer was to visit her at the sanitarium over Christmas she would welcome him with open arms, but he never does. He used to feel incredibly guilty about it, but that too passed with time.

There was no indication that this year would be any different so he kept his schedule clear. However, the twenty-fifth of December approached fast. Very fast. The closer it got the more it was shaping to be the first holiday season, in a long time, the team would get to spend with their families. And even Spencer found himself considering going home to Nevada; seeing his mom.

A tab of the airline website was constantly open on his desktop. He checked it regularly; hovering over the option to buy a ticket.

That’s how you caught him one day.

You observed from your own desk as Spencer leaned back in his chair, one hand still holding the mouse. The wheels inside his brain clearly turning; evaluating all of the options and possible outcomes.

“Hey, doctor.” You called out grabbing his attention. “If you spend any more time thinking about whether you should go home for Christmas, all the good seats will be gone.”

He chuckled. “I guess you’re right.” “As always.” You shot him a playful wink as he turned to once again look at his screen.

“There. Bought.” Spencer exclaimed after a brief moment of silence. “My mom will be happy.” “When was the last time you seen her?” You asked curiously. “It has been more than six months at this stage.” He answered while standing up.

“Coffee?” He gestured to the empty mug on your desk. You nodded. “You read my mind.”

The two of you walked towards the kitchenette in the office. It was quite late on a Friday night meaning everyone had cleared out for the weekend. Only the usual suspects remained; Spencer and you.

“When was the last time you were home for Christmas?” “Three years ago. How about you?” Spencer asked, tilting his head slightly to look at you. “Oh, I honestly don’t even remember.” You replied shrugging your shoulders.

“So your family must have been happy to hear you were getting the chance this year to spend the holidays with them.” The brunette doctor switched on the coffee machine and leaned against the wall while you elegantly hopped up onto the counter.

“Actually, I didn't tell them.”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows. “How come?”

He watched intently as you chewed on your bottom lip - a bad habit you failed miserably to break. In that second of silence you wondered whether you should tell him the truth. He was always so open with you, honest. It would only be fair to repay him with the same sincerity. So you took in a quick breath, and exhaled it quietly before looking up to meet his amiable gaze.

“My mom and I got into this huge fight a couple of weeks ago. She tried to set me up with this guy because in her eyes it’s unacceptable that I’m single. She doesn't think it’s right that my younger sister is getting married next summer and I haven't had one relationship in my life that lasted longer than a month.” A soft sigh escaped you. “I told her to butt out, using much harsher language than that of course.” Your mouth twirled into a smile; trying to make light of this conversation. Being no stranger to your frequent use of profanity Spencer smirked.

“We haven't spoken since. She hasn't formally invited me over for the holidays which she always does, even if she knows I won’t be able to make it, and whenever I bring it up with my dad or my siblings they change the topic so.” You shrugged once again while nervously dangling your legs. “It’s easier not to go.”

Spencer nodded slowly, taking in all of the information you just unloaded. Shaking your head you reached over to grab the coffee pot and poured some into your mug.

“I’m sorry doctor. I didn’t mean to just lay it all on you like that.”

He stepped towards you. “Don’t be.” Holding his own cup in front of him, he smiled kindly. “Thank you for telling me.” You began to pour the black hot liquid into his mug; a slight shake to your hand. “Thank you for listening.” “Anytime.”

Spencer placed his full cup on the counter beside you and began to rummage through the cupboards in search for sugar. “Y/N I gotta ask, and obviously if you don't want to answer me you don't have to.” He cleared his throat as you took a sip of your bitter black coffee. “Why didn’t you want to go on a date with the man your mom suggested?”

Once he successfully located the sugar, he straightened his shirt and plopped two cubes into the hot beverage. He offered you one but you shook your head, taking another sip.

“I get that it’s not really my place but it just seems a small price to pay for being able to spend Christmas with your loved ones.”

“If you must know doctor, I prefer to meet people through work. Prison systems and such.” You joked, a wide smile gracing your features. Spencer rolled his eyes. “And how is that going for you?” “Surprisingly well. I have a date shortly after we’re back from the Christmas break.” He arched his brow and smiled at you; playing along as you continued. “Solid guy. Only murdered five people.”

You beamed at the brunette doctor who was grinning back. “Maybe I should consider adding prisons to my dating pool.” You let out an over-exaggerated gasp and placed your free hand over your chest. “Is doctor Spencer Reid really on the market?”

Spencer shook his head. His light curls bouncing finely, matching his every move. He lowered his lips to the brim of his mug and took a sip of his coffee before focusing on you. “No, but for the right girl I’d consider it.”

Without thinking you raised your free arm and adjusted his tie. Flattening down the edge of his collar, you could feel his eyes on you. Yet for some reason you were suddenly afraid to look up and meet his gaze. Strange. Or maybe not so strange.

“Lucky girl.” You said in a mere whisper. Letting your hand fall, you stepped off the counter with a light bounce. Spencer cleared his throat and the two of you walked back to your seats.

The next few hours were spent working in silence. You tried to focus on the mountain of paperwork on your desk, yet instead found yourself glancing at the young doctor every other second - secretly hoping he would also be peeking up at you. And he was. Just not when you were looking at him.

“Y/N if you want you can come with me to Nevada, spend Christmas with me and my mom. ” Spencer proposed out of the blue. He got up out of his chair and grabbed his jacket, slowly putting it on. You smiled at him. “Thank you doctor but I will honestly be okay alone.” Pause. “Plus, I wouldn't want to interfere.”

He was about to protest, say you wouldn't be interrupting, but he bit his tongue. He didn't want to seem pushy. “If you change your mind, let me know.” He reached for his bag and threw the strap over his head. “Just do it quickly or all the good seats will be gone.” He teased. You giggled. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. ”

The brunette agent hesitated. He swayed on his heel for a moment before approaching your desk. “Can I give you a ride home?” He asked, eyes locking with yours. “There’s still a couple of things I want to get done but thank you for the kind offer.” Spencer nodded. A faint look of disappointment appeared on his face. “Goodnight Y/N.” “Goodnight doctor.”

Christmas was upon you in the blink of an eye. On the last day before break the team exchanged Secret Santa presents before enjoying a pizza party. This year you had Penelope who squealed over her gift as everyone watched in amusement; you included. Resting against the wall, you observed as the blonde jumped around the room with joy. Her smile made you smile.

“Good job on Penelope’s gift.” Spencer appeared beside you holding two plastic cups filled to the brim with eggnog. He handed you one before making himself comfortable next to you, his arm pressed gently to yours. “I don’t know what you're talking about doctor.” You responded, tilting your head slightly to look at him.

“I like your Christmas sweater.” A small smile circled your lips as you reached out to flick the little bell sown onto the top of the Santas hat on his jumper. Spencer chuckled. “Thank you. You know, I really couldn't decide between this or the one with the Home Alone reference.” “Ah, the trusted Merry Christmas Ya Filthy Animal sweater.” “That would be the one, yes.” The two of you beamed at each other.

“I’m surprised you know what Home Alone is doctor.” You teased, nudging him playfully in the arm. Spencer laughed. “If I’m being honest, I was more intrigued by the booby traps than the plot of the movie.” He retorted as you sipped on the eggnog; slightly rolling your eyes at his response. “Of course you were. Don’t tell me you tested them out too?”

He averted his gaze without responding, clearly a little embarrassed. “Well...”

You couldn't help but giggle. Slowly, you leaned in towards him so that your lips were now at his ear. The brunette agent shivered as your hot breath hit his skin, however he didn't move away.

“Don’t worry doctor, I did too.” You whispered.

Instantly, he turned to look at you once again. His face was now inches away from yours, and as he stared oddly into your eyes the air caught in your throat. The two of you hovered right there for a moment, not moving and quite soundless, simply feeling each other's presence - as if there was no-one else in the room, no party.

Eventually you broke the eye contact and took a step to your right, moving away from him. Suddenly feeling timid, you took another sip of your beverage while your free hand ran through your hair. Spencer also looked away. His mind racing a million miles per hour; he should have kissed you, right? No. Not in front of all these people, your colleagues. That would be bad. Unprofessional. Would you have even wanted him to kiss you? Did you like him like that? He hoped you did.

The party soon drew to a close. You were lost in conversation with Emily while Spencer was trying to teach Morgan and Rossi some card tricks. Your gaze kept averting in the direction of the young doctor every once in a while; Emily of course noticed. “Tell me again why you’re not going to Nevada with our resident genius?” A puzzled look now present on your face. “How did you-”

“Reid told Morgan who told Garcia who told me.” She interrupted. You laughed at the ridiculousness of what she just came out of her mouth. “It’s like I’m in high school all over again.” She laughed under her breath.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“So, why aren’t you going?” Emily pried. A quiet sigh escaped your lips. “Like I told him, I don’t want to interfere.” She rolled her eyes; not buying into your bullshit. “He wouldn't have invited you-” “Fuck, please I don’t want-” She raised her hands in front of her. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

Glancing at the time, you excused yourself wishing Emily a wonderful and happy Christmas. Quickly and quietly, you headed to your desk and put on your winter coat. As you grabbed your handbag you turned to face the remaining partygoers: “Happy holidays everyone!”. Your eyes briefly locked with Spencers who shot you a shy smile as you mouthed ‘Merry Christmas doctor.’ before hurrying out the door.

Two days later it was the twenty-fifth of December. You woke up on your couch, having fallen asleep during Christmas movie marathon, to the sound of your phone ringing.

Yawning, you reached for the device. Spencer. Answering, you pressed it to your ear and croaked; “Hello.”.

“I hope I didn't wake you.” “You did actually.” You responded yawning once again and gradually scrambling to your feet. You ambled towards the kitchen, straight for the coffee maker. “But I could never be mad at you doctor.” “I’m glad to hear that.”

There was a short pause.

“How are you?” He asked, his voice kind. “I’m okay, no need to worry about me. Shit-” “Y/N?”

“Sorry. I just realised I’m out of coffee grounds.”

Spencer chuckled on the other line. “It’s not funny doctor. I’ve no coffee and everything is closed because it’s Christmas.” “You could always switch to tea for the day.” Rolling your eyes, you smirked. “Right, because I’m such an avid tea drinker.”

There was another short pause.

“How was your flight? How’s Nevada? How’s your mom?” You asked changing the topic, making conversation. The young doctor didn't respond. “Hey, are you there?” The line cut-off. Weird.

‘He’ll call back later.’, you thought and headed for your bathroom.

An hour later you were showered and dressed. You switched on the lights on your poorly decorated Christmas tree and were about to make yourself comfortable on the sofa when a knock on the door caught your attention. You scurried over, without looking through the peephole to see who it was, you opened it.

“Spencer.”

“Merry Christmas Y/N.”

The brunette doctor smiled as you furrowed your brows. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Nevada.”

“I was. I got back early this morning.”

He waited for you to invite him in before shimmying passed. He set down two tote bags on the kitchen counter before turning to look at you once again. Lost for words, you locked the door and approached the young doctor. Slowly you peeked inside the bags. “Supplies.” He simply stated while taking off his coat.

“You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You didn't have to do this doctor.” “I know.” He shrugged before reaching into one of the bags and unpacking the items. “I wanted to.” He held up a bag of coffee grounds and you couldn't help but giggle delicately.

“Thank you.” Your fingers brushed his as you grabbed the bag sending a shiver down your spine. Spencer froze feeling the sensation too. Nervously, he let his hand fall but the half-smile on his face remained.

“Where did you get this stuff anyway?” You asked as you walked around to the coffee machine. “I packed what I had at home.” Nodding, you began to prepare two cups. As the appliance whirred, you turned in your spot. “What about your mom? Wouldn't she have wanted to spend Christmas Day with you?”

Spencer continued to unpack the bags, neatly placing each item on the counter in front of him. “We spent all of yesterday together.” Pause. “And besides, she’s the one that urged me to come here.” He peered up at you, resting his palms down on the kitchen counter. The second his hazel eyes locked with yours, the flush of your cheeks turned a slender pink.

Not really thinking you ushered back towards him. The brunette doctor watched you attentively. Gently, you placed one hand on top of his and gave it a tender squeeze. “Lucky me.” You whispered staring deep into his eyes.

Spencers smile spread wider in unison with yours. After a few seconds of pure comfortable silence, he cleared his throat. “Do you think your prisoner boyfriend would mind if I asked you out on a date?” A faint giggle escaped your lips as the shade of your jowl turned from pink to bright red. “Even if he does-” You took another step towards Spencer, closing the space between you. “-I think you could handle him.”

Spencer chuckled. Using his free hand, he placed a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. His thumb stroked your cheek in the process and you angled into his pleasant touch.

“Thank you for being here.” You muttered, unintentionally chewing on your bottom lip.

He cupped your face as his gaze moved briefly down to your mouth before once again locking with yours. “Thank you for having me.” His voice soothing, not quite matching the fervour in his eyes.

In the space of a single heartbeat, he leaned down and his lips crushed against yours passionately. You let go of his hand and placed both your palms on his chest; tugging lightly at his shirt to try and pull him in even closer. Spencer did not waste a second, his now free arm moved elegantly around your waist.

The two of you pulled away breathlessly. He gently pressed his forehead to yours as you smiled. “Merry Christmas doctor.” “Merry Christmas Y/N.”

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ey8508 · 3 years

Text

Rumors and Secrets: Victor | 李泽言

Note:

R&S for this card (CG above)

Chapter SPOILERS up to Season 2: Chapter 18-21 (read at your own risk)

Contains 5 chapters

Translation isn’t 100% accurate (or include grammar errors)

Every part for LZ’s dialogue would be in “this setting”

Do not repost to any other site (reblog is fine)

Chapter 1 Page 1 It's no exaggeration to say that the name "Li Zeyan" has run through my entire high school era. This "evil fate" probably starts with a 31-point Chinese test paper. I'm Gao Qishan, only 17 years old at that time, but there are so many things that usually interest me. Games, animations, and football are nothing compared than reading a book in a room. But hey, it's a pity that my dad doesn't think so. "I only scored 31 points in the Chinese test, and I'm still here with a hippie smile!" In the study, the old man blew his beard, looking disappointed, "How can my son be so useless!" Page 2 "Your son is very capable. I was the MVP of the basketball game last night!" "Your PPP is useless! You are in the second year of high school, not the second grade of elementary school! You have a 31-point score and you have a face to play basketball? You don't have any shame or a competitive spirit. Do you not want to go to college anymore?!" . I was about to reply impatiently, the old man took out a magazine from somewhere, poked his hand at the cover and yelled at me: "Look at the person. He founded the company at the age of 20. In just two years, he has been on the "Business Rising Stars" cover interview! Look at yourself again, someone who is almost 17 years old and does not have the realization of it, do you want to be in the worst generation in the future, ah?!" Page 3 I'm not happy to hear this: "What's so great about starting a company? Your son, I will start a company in minutes!” "I'm almost out of school, and I started my own company? Oh, I'm going to be better!" The old man raised his head, and the thick magazine almost hit my handsome face. "Learn from others, and don't give me daydreaming here!" Page 4 I grabbed this "Business Rising Stars" with enthusiasm. A decent young man in a suit was looking ahead through the photo. On the cover was a striking headline: "Li Zeyan, an astounding leader in Lianyu City.” "This title is exaggerated!" Even if I was taught by Lao Gao, I was inexplicably better compared with this Li Zeyan, and I just threw the magazine under the sofa. Who wants to learn from him? Just looking at it is a tarnish to my ability! Page 5 But somehow, at night I tossed and turned and I couldn't fall asleep! The more I closed my eyes, the more uncomfortable I was, what did Li Zeyan do. When I turned over for the 100th time, I suddenly sat up. It was a task by old Gao to read the magazine anyway, so I decided to retrieve the magazine and just take a look. After sneaking into the study room, it took me a long time to find the magazine in the innermost part of the sofa. Page 6 "... Although Li Zeyan is only 22 years old, he is already the president of Huarui, an emerging medium-sized company in Lianyu City. Starting from scratch, he started from a small office to now has hundreds of people. Every step he walks is particularly solid and decisive. Li Zeyan’s way of business is beyond ordinary. He is like a lion, born with a King's aura." All these compliments just for this, isn't it just descriptions of someone starting their own company? I just haven't paid much attention to reading. Just relying on my ingenuity, and getting a high score on the tests, it is absolutely nothing when it comes to starting a company. Hmph, just you wait. Chapter 2 Page 1 The university in City A is not only one of the top five in the province, but also the top five in the country. It is a university that I, Gao Qishan was admitted to dignifiedly! How about that, I said I'm absolutely fine. In a blink of an eye, the freshman year has passed. In the past two years, I have also paid a little attention to Huarui. The development has been okay, it has not closed down, and the scale has doubled. It's just normal development. Is it worth the old Gao's praise from time to time? Every time he flipped through a financial magazine and sighed, "You are so young, so good", it sounds a bit too much. Page 2 As the saying goes, "Seeing is believing", I think this sentence is right. Taking advantage of the summer vacation, I decided to apply for Huarui's summer internship to see in person how the company is, just not to waste my talents and financial knowledge. Soon I entered the building, but how can the interviewer in the middle feel a bit familiar, the more I look at it, the more I recognize... Wait, isn't it exactly Li Zeyan?! What's happening, is Huarui going bankrupt? Why is the president personally do the interviewing for the summer interns? Page 3 "Manager Chen has something to do, I happen to be free." Probably my shock expression was too obvious. Li Zeyan flipped through the information at hand and looked up at me blankly. "Gao Qishan? First, briefly introduce yourself." I don't know what's going on. I was so startled by Li Zeyan that I couldn't help but straighten up. After swallowing my throat, I mobilized all my attention, took a deep breath and said, "Hello, my name is Gao Qishan, and I am a freshman in the Department of Economics and Management of the University of City A..." Page 4 After introducing himself, Li Zeyan asked a few more related professional questions. This kind of small question is nothing to me. It seems that Huarui’s interview is nothing more than that. He occasionally knocked his fingers on the table subconsciously, and asked with a deep gaze: "Why do you want to come to Huarui for an internship?" The continuous response made me more and more relaxed. I changed my sitting position and quickly thought about how to deal with this new question. Judging from previous information, Li Zeyan is a person who likes to win at everything. He should appreciate the kind of answers that seem extraordinarily confident, right? Page 5 After carefully thinking about this, I straightened my back and raised my chin and said: Although Huarui is quite a new company, it has grown at an amazing speed, and the achievements it has made so far are obvious to all in the industry. And although I am a freshman student, I think I have a very strong learning ability. In this regard, I have a lot of similarities with Huarui. Therefore, I think Huarui is very suitable for me and will definitely make me grow faster. Of course, I can definitely give back the same freshness and vitality for Huarui. With a confident smile, I finished my speech and waited quietly for Li Zeyan's nod. But to my surprise, a few seconds later I was greeted by a frown from Li Zeyan. Page 6 "It seems that you have confidence in yourself. To be a man and to do things really requires self-confidence, but everything must be controlled." Li Zeyan stared at me and said in a hurry, "Only by maintaining reflection and introspection can we truly make progress." I understood his words, and my face flushed. A few days later, I really received a notice from HR (Human Resources) and I didn't get hired. Page 7 Although I had a foreseeable result from Li Zeyan's remarks, when I really received a reply and recalled the interview scene, I was still very angry. After my sophomore year, I went back to the final exams and tried to fight for the first place. I'll make sure that my ambitions are not just mere words. I have written down the "new hatred and old hatred" on my notes. I will definitely use the shortest time to create my own territory, leaving Huarui far behind! Chapter 3 Page 1 Today is the first day of my "Yuanshan Group" moving to a new building. Morning light came in from the spacious floor-to-ceiling windows, and I stood by the desk, proudly holding on to the brand-new office chair. In the next semester of the junior year, I used the dividends I participated in the project as the start-up capital, and I didn't need a penny higher than the old one, so my "distant mountain" just rose from the ground. Isn’t it just 20-year-old to start a company from scratch? What's the difficulty? When I founded Yuanshan, I was exactly 21, and the rounding is almost the same as Li Zeyan. Because of this, my old man, Lao Gao stopped training me long ago, and I guess he must have praised me secretly. Page 2 In just a few years, Yuanshan has grown from a small company of eight people to a scale that now occupies a seven-story high-end office building, and the suffix has also changed from "company" to the word "group". To be honest, my founder is very satisfied with Yuanshan's growth. Although there is still a certain distance from Huarui, after all, they are also developing along the way, but it doesn't matter, I am still young, and sooner or later I can catch up. It didn't take long before the opportunity to "catch up" came. Page 3 I was originally interested in the land to the north of Lianyu City. When I heard that Huarui was also planning to bid on that land, I became more interested. The Lianyu Municipal Government intends to develop the somewhat hindered northern side. At present, construction has begun to build a crossing bridge and a shopping mall, and this piece of land is nearby. "It is more than enough to build a six-star resort with 18,000 square meters and the supporting facilities can be added. Maybe Huarui made the same idea." I have paid attention to the recent developments of Huarui and have invested in four resort hotels one after another. The senior management of the company also agreed that the land is worthwhile, and if it can be won within the highest valuation of 89 million yuan, it should make a profit without losing it. Page 4 A month later, I came to the auction site with confidence. Sitting in front of me at ten o'clock is Li Zeyan, the president of Huarui in a suit and leather shoes. After a few years of absence, I can finally compete with him. On the stage, the auctioneer gave an impassioned introduction to the land, and then said in a melodious tone: "The starting price is 35 million, and the auction will begin now!" As soon as the voice fell, several companies immediately raised their signs. But my opponent is Huarui. It is still early, so I have to wait for Huarui to make a move. Page 5 When the bidding became increasingly fierce, Li Zeyan finally raised his placard for the first time: "60 million." The opponent finally appeared, and I immediately raised the number plate: "61 million." As if he was just encountering an ordinary bidder, Li Zeyan never answered with words, but raised his placard again: "70 million." I continued to chase: "71 million!" Side to the front, Li Zeyan seemed to raise his eyebrows slightly. After a few seconds, he raised the number plate again, and said: "80 million." Page 6 "81 million!" As if finally realizing my bite, Li Zeyan glanced at me slightly sideways, then he raised the number plate, the noise was low and clear: "90 million." This figure has already exceeded the company's highest valuation, and the assistant quietly tugged on my sleeve, beckoning me to forget it. But if I really give up on this, I still feel no sigh of relief in my heart. The auctioneer has already shouted in front: "90 million twice." Page 7 "100 million!" My voice came out, at the last moment. Of course, Li Zeyan finally gave me a straight look. I watched his hand nervously, and saw that the number plate was never raised again, and the auctioneer had already shouted excitedly: "One hundred million! Yuanshan Group has come out of one hundred million! One hundred million once! Three hundred million!, make a deal!" Page 8 Finally got it! Such a valuable piece of land I believe it will be a great help to Yuanshan, and it’s just around the corner to get rid of Huarui. I didn't even consider the cost of 100 million yuan. I just felt that my body was comfortable and exuberant, and the bright prospects were beckoning me. When Li Zeyan passed by me, my triumphant pride couldn't stop. "Thanks to Mr. Li for the bidding this time." Page 9 Li Zeyan put his suit jacket on one hand, and passed by me. I thought he would argue with me back, but Li Zeyan just raised his eyebrows uninterested, and then strode away without looking back. Okay, as the winner of the auction, I allow the loser to occasionally gaffe. Just when I was gearing up to do a big job, the Finance Department urgently sent a bad report. Due to my "passionate bidding", Yuanshan's capital chain suddenly had a problem. Chapter 4 Page 1 I urgently convened a high-level meeting, and after several discussions, the best solution at present turned out to be to invest in Huarui! Personally speaking, I have a hundred reluctances in my heart. Not long before the auction, I took the initiative to bow to Hua Rui. Didn't that slap me in the face severely. However, the cruel reality lies in front of us. Yuanshan is not only my own person, but also the collective effort of hundreds of employees. To let Yuanshan survive this crisis steadily, I can only and must "take the initiative to surrender" to Huarui. Forget it, "vote" just "vote"! Although it was a mistake in my decision-making this time, Yuanshan's development prospects are so good that Li Zeyan should never not invest as long as his eyes are correct. Page 2 However, the negotiation process is still more difficult than I expected. It is not that Huarui has no intention to invest, but almost all the conditions listed are on the lowest line of the distant mountains. "If I remember correctly, the creditworthiness of Huarui's previous investment in the gaze lock company is not very high." I fought hard against the low pressure, and Yuanshan's creditworthiness has always been in the top four in the industry. "...with Yuanshan's creditworthiness Huarui's right to speak will definitely be improved. I think Mr. Li can think about it again." Page 3 "Do you think you are still eligible to negotiate terms with me?" Li Zeyan straightened his mouth, exuding deterrence, "...Huarui Investment in Yuanshan is not for charity, and has no obligation to pay for your suicidal behavior." He raised his hand and glanced at his watch, with a hint of impatience on his face: "Think carefully about it yourself." The long negotiation was finally over. Although Yuanshan and Huarui finally reached a cooperation intention, the whole process failed me. I thought I was about to be on the same line of competition with Li Zeyan, but I was beaten back to the former "interviewer" again. Page 4 By the area downstairs in Huarui, I was smoking a stuffy cigarette, and suddenly there was a faint sound of footsteps behind me. It turned out to be Li Zeyan. Although he was still expressionless, the murderous aura and arrogance from the negotiations seemed to have diminished. Li Zeyan steadily walked to my side: "Gao Qishan, I remember you once came to interview for a summer internship." I didn't expect Li Zeyan to take the initiative to speak. I was surprised. He said: "Several years have passed, and it seems that self-confidence is increasing." If it wasn't for my lose, I stood up slightly: “Although I made a mistake this time, as far as the strength of Yuanshan is concerned, I have the capital to be confident." Page 5 "Yuanshan's strength is indeed pretty good, but don't rush to eat the cakes that you can't eat for the time being. Being high is far from a long-term plan for enterprise development." Li Zeyan said lightly, and took out a card from his pocket and handed it to me, "There will be a practical business forum in Lianyu City next week. You can come and listen when you have time." A practical business forum? What do you mean, is he mocking me for being too pragmatic? The inexplicable enthusiasm and self-esteem suddenly appeared, and I blurted out: "Mr. Li, even if Yuanshan is really not as good as Huarui now, there is no need to humiliate people like this, right?" Page 6 Li Zeyan frowned: "What are you talking about?" He paused, his eyes sinking, "I thought you would be an opponent you could look forward to, but I didn't expect the vision to be just like that." Without additional explanation, Li Zeyan turned and walked away after speaking. I was stunned, looking at Li Zeyan's steadily leaving behind, I couldn't help but relive the conversation just now in my mind. Could it be that Li Zeyan meant that because he regarded me as a potential opponent and hoped that this opponent could become stronger and more competitive, did he propose to let me participate in the business forum? Page 7 That's right, it seems that only such an explanation can make sense! Thinking of this, I couldn't help blowing a whistle. After all, it was an "imaginary enemy" and pursuit of goals since the age of 17, which can be affirmed and recognized by Li Zeyan. It is simply an easter egg that comes with the negotiation, and it is worthy of the old man to praise me ten times. I was being silly and happy. Suddenly my fingers hurt, I have forgotten about my cigarette that was about to burn my fingers! Chapter 5 Page 1 With Huarui's capital injection, Yuanshan passed the crisis steadily. After more than half a year, the foundation of the resort has gradually taken shape. Just when everything seemed to be going in a good direction, early this morning, the news of "the crash of the president of Huarui" directly bombed all major platforms. Reminiscent of the so-called "homicide list" that was suddenly leaked on the internet a few days ago, I inexplicably feel that these two things may have some connection. Who on earth wants Huarui to sink in the water? Wait a minute, which company announced the list. Could it be that their person in charge is secretly playing tricks? Page 2 Before I could find anything out of my investigation, within a few days, the news of "Which company claims that Huarui has maliciously acquired a large number of pharmaceutical companies" once again detonated all platforms! "Deliberately monopolizing the pharmaceutical market will inevitably cause the price of medicines to rise, which is obvious." "Just for profit, this behavior is very bad!" "Even Huarui's own workers and can't stand it, which shows how terrible Li Zeyan's actions are!" Page 3 Opinions on the Internet are divergent, and public grievances are boiling, and they all accuse Huarui. But I don’t believe it. Although I have only met Li Zeyan several times in person, for so many years, because I have always regarded him as an opponent and target, I have studied Huarui and Li Zeyan’s behavior more than anyone else. The nonsense on the Internet, I don't believe a word! I browsed the web quickly, staring at the almost identical title and searched viciously. Page 4 "Huarui’s reputation plummeted, Li Zeyan fell into a situation where everyone was clamoring and angry, and the heads of the company was clearly cut off from him." In the video, the host's voice kept ringing into my ears. All the signs made me firmer in my previous thoughts: It must be looking at which company is crossing the river to demolish the bridge! I immediately called the assistant to the inside line: "How much do you hire me for a large number of naval forces? How many can you hire? How many! That's right, I have to spare no effort to clarify for Huarui, and by the way, I will focus on the company. Going right now!" I know that this "bad strategy" and only a small help but I haven't beaten Li Zeyan righteously, how could Huarui have an accident in such a situation! What I want is not the taste of winning without a fight. Page 5 Probably because of anger, I couldn't help but send a message to Li Zeyan: The outside world said that Huarui's energy is exhausted. You will not be reduced to the point where you still need to borrow money from me, right?" This message was sent, and I did not expect Li Zeyan to reply to me. However, when it was almost midnight, I suddenly received an email from Huarui. ‘Huarui has always been a responsible company, and will do what it says without fear of any storms. Now everything is running normally, you don't need to worry about it.’ Signer: Li Zeyan. Page 6 Looking at this email, I couldn't help but smile in the middle of the night. Also, Huarui has always been fighting steadily, and Li Zeyan has never fought unprepared battles. Maybe he is playing a big move. Otherwise, how can I say that he is my respectable and close opponent! As for my secret match with Li Zeyan. Give me another three or four years to see who wins and who loses.

#rumors and secrets Victor #mr love queens choice #mr love queens choice victor #love and producer #love and producer li zeyan #mr love victor

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wasabito · 3 years

Text

had so much fun writing for my baby boy tendou, so here’s my entry for the hqhq sfw server collab! be sure to check out the rest on the masterlist found here! enjoy ✨

words: 3.0k

prompt: “you woke me up at 3am for this?”

synopsis: your neighbor is ridiculous, kind of annoying and little bit on the weird side, but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

You had to be the biggest idiot on the planet—an obvious exaggeration, yes, but you were still inclined to believe it was true.

How else could you explain the feeling of being so utterly fed up with one’s actions like this? Were there enough words in the dictionary to describe just how exhausted you were by your own antics, more specifically, your forgetfulness since that’s what had landed you in a world of pain and embarrassment?

The answer was no.

You sat with your back pressed against your front door, head in your hands and chin tucked between your raised knees and chest. At your side was your wallet along with stacks of newspapers, coupons and whatever else had been stuffed in your mailbox, bills probably. Advertisements too. Honestly, it was hard to be happy about a new restaurant opening up down the block when you were currently stuck—locked out of your apartment to be precise.

The landlord of your cheap little complex wasn’t expected to be back for another hour according to the sign posted outside of his office. So until then, you’d remain posted up by your doorstep like some loiterer.

You shifted in place and blew a puff of air from your lips, feeling little pinpricks in your legs. For the fifth time in the last forty-five minutes you felt like kicking yourself, hard.

The sun hung low, nearly touching the distant horizon signifying the end of another day. Even the sky was painted a warm umber, casting dim shadows.

“Locked out, huh?” came a snide, but accented voice.

It took you way longer than necessary to realize that suddenly you weren’t the only person on this floor. God, where was your head at?

A pair of forest green crocs stood before you, complete with a few odd charms and trinkets. A cartoon volleyball, pinned next to a smiley face, a donut and a gaudy “i heart paris” chain dangling from the ankle strap. A person’s shoes could say a lot about who they were...your mother thought so, at least.

Resisting the urge to projectile vomit all over this stranger’s rather questionable taste in footwear, your wary gaze panned upward, glossing over white tube socks and a pair of the longest legs you’ve ever seen on a person—yet another exaggeration. You came face to face with a crooked smile. Curious ruby eyes returned your stare with almost the same amount of scrutiny.

Who the hell was this guy?

Mystery-man easily towered over you, and not only because you were hunched over and sitting. He was tall as hell, all lanky build, gangly arms and legs disguising lithe muscle and a surprisingly sturdy frame. He looked like the i-run-every-morning type; semi-athletic at the very least. His buzzed hair was the color of cinnamon, no that wasn’t right, paprika maybe? Either way, it contrasted sharply with the paleness of his skin, so much so that you could see the faint blue of the veins in his arms.

“Yoohooo, anybody hooome?” He tilted his head at you.

“Huh? Oh uh, yeah, I’m locked out. I forgot my key inside and Mr. Laurent won’t be back until later.”

“Hmm. That sucks...”

“...Um… do I… do I know you or something? You look a little familiar.”

He pinned you with a funny look, before pulling out a set of keys from the back pocket of his shorts.

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t~ I mean we are neighbors, after all.” Laughing as if he’d made some sort of joke, he entered his apartment with a twirl and a dramatic wave of his arms.

You stared at his door for a solid minute, only to finally succumb to your urges and facepalm at your own idiocy. Of course he looked familiar, how could he not when he literally lived four feet away.

With a sigh of resignation, you braced yourself for another hour spent sitting outside your front door. It wasn’t like there was any other place you could go or anyone you could call. The battery icon on your phone blinked red, warning that it was soon to run out of juice. Guess that meant no Among Us or Subway Surfer for you.

Five minutes later, the door next to you opened. It was Mystery-man again, but this time, he sat in front of his door, just like you were. And he did so with a bag of pretzels and a jar of nutella in hand.

“Must be bored out here by yourself.” He crunched on a pretzel before offering you the bag to take some. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep ya company.”

You weren’t sure why, but there was something about this guy that intrigued you. You half-wondered if it was the funny little curl of his smile, or the wideness of his eyes that made it seem like he was looking at all of you, all at once.

"You must be pretty bored...uh,"

"Satori Tendou, but most people call me Tendou. Miracle boy works just fine too."

"Right... Tendou, as I was saying, you must be incredibly bored to come sit out here with me. You sure you don't have anything important to do?"

Tendou's grinned widened. "Positive! And it costs me nothing to be neighborly, so don't even sweat it."

That was...nice of him?

If sitting outside with you was the way he wanted to spend his late Tuesday afternoon who were you to deny him? And truthfully, you didn't mind the company, at least not really. Provided this guy wasn't some creepy-stalker-weirdo, you were sure there wasn't any harm in getting to know the person who lived one door over.

"So, Tendou, how long have you lived in the area? You don't really look like you're from around here...I could be wrong."

Tendou raised a thin brow at you. "Weeeell, if you're asking about how long I've lived next door, it would be about three maybe four months give or take, but if you're asking how long I've lived in Paris, it would be a year next month. Speaking of, I think Semisemi has a birthday coming up..."

You watched as he pulled out his cell phone and tapped away at the illuminated glass screen. You couldn't help but notice the goofy little anime stickers on his phone case. One in particular caught your attention.

“Is that...Kirara? From Inuyasha??”

“Oho! So, you recognize this?”

Backtracking, you mumble out, “Ah, well…only a little.” Though your face was turned away, the tiny smile on your lips was not hidden from Tendou and he thought you were pretty cute.

Funnily enough, what you had expected to be a rather unnerving and possibly creepy exchange turned out to be anything but. Tendou was incredibly fun to talk to—a bit teasing and a little overwhelming with his superfluous hand movements and gestures. But he was funny and a lot kinder that you would’ve given him credit for.

You learned that he was originally from Japan; it explained his accented French. He had come to Paris right out of high school to study culinary arts in one of the most renowned countries for it. Now he worked as a chocolatier, under the tutelage of a master patisserie in the city, an older man who was both a creative genius and a thorn in Tendou’s side. Tendou spoke of his teacher with equal parts awe and annoyance.

And he got to know you too. How you’d found yourself in Paris, thousands of miles away from home in an effort to rediscover yourself in the city full of rich history and culture.

You didn’t have many friends here, and it truly was a pleasure to make his acquaintance.

Soon, you both heard the telltale sound of jangling keys as your landlord rounded the corner with his clipboard in hand. Once you were able to get your door open, you waved a goodbye to Tendou.

“Thanks for keeping me company, you really didn’t have to.”

“No biggie, it was fun!” He threw a mischievous little grin and a peace-sign over his shoulder and reentered his apartment.

You found yourself wanting to cross paths with him again, and hopefully in better circumstances. But you hadn't known your wishful thinking was soon to manifest as you ambled through grocery store aisles a week later, eyeing down any items with pictures on it.

“Why in the hell is this toilet paper so expensive.” You mumbled.

“So, you complain about the price of toilet paper, but wear sneakers that cost two-thirds our rent.” That voice sounded familiar, and after hearing it for about an hour just days ago, you were a bit surprised you could recognize it so quickly.

Stunned, you looked up to find Satori Tendou, your quirky neighbor with an arm full of pita chips, a milk carton, and baby carrots.

“I never said I made the best choices.” You found yourself smiling despite the previous crease in your brow. “...Dude, get a cart before you drop everything.”

Instead of getting his own, he simply dumped what he had into your cart with a teasing grin. You couldn’t argue with his logic there. Tendou sidled up against you, once again towering over you with a kind of ease that should be criminal. “Need help reading something?”

You wanted to say no. You almost said no. But swallowing your pride, you gave a weak nod. “Yeah, this word right here.” Pointing to the unfamiliar script printed on the label. “What the heck is this?”

“Weeeeell, looks like that brand is scented, ya know, for when ya—”

“Don’t bother finishing that sentence...please.”

You quickly grab what you need and continue on down the aisle with Tendou following closely behind.

Just like when you’d first met him, he made conversation the entire way. By the time you both made it to the cash registers, you’d argued at least three times over french pronunciations and whether cashews were the cousin of peanuts.

And just as last time, he left you with a grin and a peace-sign while you stared after his retreating back, paid groceries in hand.

After an entire day spent baking, you found yourself on Tendou’s doorstep with a tupperware full of baked goodies later the next evening. You had been meaning to thank him for being such a good neighbor to you. It was certainly unexpected, but a welcome gesture nonetheless.

You only had to knock twice before the door was wrenched open and you were greeted with the set of...vanilla? Some pop song played in the background while your neighbor looked at you curiously.

"H-Hey Tendou, I um...I baked you these." You held out the plastic container, hoping he'd simply take it from you without question and you could return to your apartment without somehow embarrassing yourself. "There's a little bit of everything in there, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, macadamia nut—wait you aren't allergic to anything, right?"

"Nooope! Not a thing, thanks neighbor!"

"It was no problem, especially since you've helped me, not once but twice now."

Frowning, you couldn't help but be a little upset with yourself. You'd come to France to prove that you could, in fact, live a normal life outside of your family’s jurisdiction but day by day you were proving to need them more and more.

It was disappointing, to say the least.

"Hmm, what’s with the constipated look on your face. Did the toilet paper not help?” Tendou tilted his head at you with a teasing grin, lips curled at the edges, taunting. You blinked up at him, surprised, and if you were honest, a little annoyed too.

"Hah?!"

"Just thought it was worth a mention, nighty-night~!"

Tendou proceeded to shut the door on you; one hand rested on the frame and the other held on to the cookies. You quickly took a step back lest he chop your entire arm off, ready to trudge off in the direction of your own home but not before sticking your tongue out at him.

Stupid Tendou, always saying stupid shit.

You were on the couch, half asleep when it dawned on you that it had been his own twisted, “Tendou” way of cheering you up.

The rest of the month passed just like that. Occasionally, you would bump into Tendou at the grocery store, or the leasing office, or even the laundromat. And every single time, he’d either make you laugh until your sides hurt or annoyed enough to want to give him a friendly punch. At one point, you two had even exchanged phone numbers, because according to Tendou “it was ridiculous not to have your friends on speedial” which only led to hours spent on Facetime or playing iMessage games.

You knew exchanging numbers would come back to bite you in the ass, it was only a matter of when.

It was clear you weren’t going to any sleep tonight, that was for sure. The incessant buzzing of your cell phone every five minutes was an enemy to your circadian rhythm. You could name on one hand those in your contacts with enough sense to know that you lived in a completely different time zone from them now.

Somehow your neighbor was the very last person you suspected, but it was his contact photo that stared back at you, goofy looking grin and all. You squinted against the brightness of your screen in your otherwise dark bedroom.

you up?

come quick

gotta show ya somethin

come oooon

you're awake, i know you are

It took you less than a minute to shuffle on a pair of slippers, grab your keys (you weren't going to forget them this time) and slip out of your apartment.

You hadn't even knocked twice before the door was pulled open. Tendou looked a mess, more so than usual. Unidentified stains littered the apron looped around his thin waist, streaks of what you hoped were just flour and granulated sugar were all over his hands. You almost wanted to ask if he was baking or dealing dope.

“You woke me up at three in the morning...for this?”

“Yuuup!”

"When I said you could call me at any time, I really didn’t mean any time.” You scratch your side, a contemplative look on your face at the sight of Tendou in what you would assume to be his pajamas. An old volleyball hoodie with the words "Shirazorizawa" printed across the front, and old sweats the were so obviously cut with scissors at the knee.

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled a curt, “Alright, move aside.”

Tendou ushered you over to his kitchen where several of his cooking supplies laid on the island, along with a tray of some chocolate dessert spread.

“It’s all still in the testing phase, but I think I’m onto something here.”

He was definitely giving off “mad scientist” vibes. You tried not to snort.

Holding a small chocolate cake in his hand, he smiled, a genuine smile this time. "Open wide."

You obeyed, far too tired to argue, and let him pop the treat into your mouth. Tendou watched as you chewed, as if it were the most interesting thing ever. His wide gaze carefully took in every shift in your expression.

"So? Whaddya think?"

"I...," You chewed a bit more. "...It's delicious! Is that—"

"—Pistachio, why yes it is!"

Tendou was practically bouncing on his feet with excitement. "It takes the entire thing to a whole new level."

You had to agree with him there. This was probably the best chocolate madeleine you'd ever tasted. "Great work, miracle boy. Will you be introducing this new recipe to Claude?"

Mentioning his teacher seemed to sober him up a bit. "Ehh, maybe? The old man's a bit of traditionalist, so I'll just have to figure out a way to get him to approve."

"Maybe try calling him at three in the morning?"

Tendou stuck his tongue out at you before popping a dessert in his mouth. The pure delight on his face was so contagious, you found yourself smiling just the same. You couldn’t help but admire his passion.

“Hey, Tendou… do you like your job?”

He blinked at you, chewing coming to a slow halt. “Well of course! The pay isn’t the best just yet, but it’s a labor of love. I’m willing to put my all into it at least.”

“Huh… that’s pretty cool.” You wiped your fingers on a nearby rag. “I hope to feel the same one day… if I can figure out what I wanna do.”

“Why not bake? You’re pretty good at it.”

“Oh am I? Last week you said my baking needed some work.”

“Well, duh, but my standards when it comes to confectionaries are impossibly high. Even so, I think you’d be successful as a baker. What’s stopping you from pursuing your labor of love?”

And that was the thing with Tendou. He talked a lot, teased even more, but it was never idle ramblings. Somehow, he always seemed to hit right at the heart of the issue with almost painfully uncomfortable accuracy.

“I don’t really know so…” You looked away, trailing off.

“Either way,” he said and placed a finger under your chin, raising your head until you were looking him in the eye. “I’m rooting for you.”

For a moment, you simply stared, awestruck. It was the first time in a long while someone was actually putting their faith in you, believing in you. He had come blazing into your life unabashed with his easy grins and gaze alight with mischief. His encouraging words, sincerity, sensitivity. Tendou was really incredible.

“Tendou…” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Of course, what are neighbors for.”

BONUS:

Three months later you sat curled up next to Tendou on his sofa, his entire apartment smelled of chocolate cocoa with hints of cinnamon.

Before you was an application. Culinary school.

“You really think I can do this?”

Tendou placed his head on your shoulder with a tiny smirk. “One hundred and twenty percent!”

You pondered for a moment, then decided that if he thought you were up for the challenge then you’d believe him.

“For the record, you probably aren’t supposed to recommend your girlfriend for an interview. You know, conflict of interest and all.”

Tendou laughed and pulled you closer. “Trust me, we’ll be fine, so don’t worry your pretty little head, ‘kay?”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #tendou x reader #tendou satori #satori tendou #satori tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #sabi.writes

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taizi · 3 years

Text

a little room to grow

@natsumeweek 2021 day 5; freedom/possession

read on ao3

(previous part)

Hinata takes one look at them and says, “Holy shit. Get in here, Natoris.”

So they must look pretty bad, then.

Takashi is uncharacteristically quiet, going right to the sofa and gathering Hinata’s cat up in his arms.

Hinata watches him for a moment, turns and stares directly into Shuuichi’s face, and then heads into the kitchen to snatch up a takeout menu that she keeps permanently stuck to the front of her fridge under a huge Cinnamoroll magnet.

“Sit,” Hinata says with a jerk of her chin towards the table. She tucks her cellphone between her shoulder and her ear and unfolds the paper menu with a business-like snap. “I’m ordering enough junk food for all three of us, and then you’re going to tell me why you look like that.”

Shuuichi sits.

Hinata lives with her single mother, who works thirds, and her aunt, who doesn’t work but often has somewhere else to be. It’s unlikely either of them are going to make an appearance tonight.

The TV is on in the living room, playing what sounds like Sailor Moon. Takashi is watching it just because it’s already on, but he’s slowly becoming more invested the longer he sits there—Shuichi can tell from the way his hand on the little cat in his lap slows its petting, the way his round brown eyes become fixed on the screen. The sounds of traffic and rain outside are muted, the outside world hardly existing past what little pieces of it make it through the open window in the kitchen.

It’s peaceful here. It’s almost home, even.

Hinata puts the phone down, sits across from Shuuichi, and crosses her arms on top of the table. Her silence is expectant.

Shuuichi says, “I don’t think I’m going to university.”

His friend inclines her head, an invitation to go on.

“The university my father wants me to go to is almost an hour away from here,” Shuuichi says, clenching his fists. “And it wouldn’t be possible for Takashi to transfer there, because someone in the school district administration is a cousin of his or something. Word got around about his behavior, and they don’t think he’d be a good addition to their student body.”

“Takashi’s relatives haven’t had anything to do with him since he was five,” Hinata says hotly. “What the hell do they know about his behavior? He’d be the best thing to happen to that school in the last hundred years.”

Shuuichi, who completely agrees with her, says, “You’re biased.”

“I’m right.” She taps her fingers anxiously against the table. “Let me guess, your dad—”

“Doesn’t see the problem. Told me I was going anyway.” Shuuichi barks a tense, humorless laugh, sitting back and pushing a hand through his hair. “Could you imagine? Me, leaving Takashi in that house, with those people? With no one but ghosts to talk to?”

It was inevitable that Hinata would find out about Shuuichi and his brother’s ‘gift,’ given how much time they spend together and all the odd things Takashi says on a daily basis. The most remarkable thing to come of the ultimate reveal was the solid three months she spent relentlessly trying to bribe, coerce and blackmail Shuuichi into using his paper magic to send her notes during school hours, because they were put in different classes in their third year.

Now, she frowns deeply, and says, “No. That won’t do. So what’s the plan?”

“I’m working on it,” Shuuichi replies.

“I would be okay,” Takashi pipes up. Shuuichi looks up to find his little brother standing by the table with wide, grave eyes. He’s tugging anxiously at the cuffs of his sleeves. The worry on his face doesn’t belong there. It doesn’t fit someone his age. “If you had to go.”

Shuuichi pushes his chair back and lifts his arm. Takashi rounds the table and allows himself to be tucked against Shuuichi’s side snugly.

“Maybe you would, but I wouldn’t,” Shuuichi says. “I’d miss bugging you too much.”

“I mean it,” Takashi says stubbornly. “I don’t want you to get yelled at anymore.”

“I mean it, too,” Shuuichi replies. “Dad can yell all he wants. You’re stuck with me, squirt.”

Saying it out loud settles something anxious that’s been rattling around in his chest. Knowing what he has to do makes it easier to focus on the steps that come next. For now, he tilts to the side so that he can rest enough of his weight on his little brother that he starts to sag underneath it.

“Nii-san! Stop, you’re heavy!”

“What was that?” Shuuichi says loudly, tilting farther, half out of his chair at this point. “I’m heavy? Is that what you said?”

The doorbell rings, and Hinata says, “No no, I’ll get it, don’t let me interrupt your intricate bonding rituals,” which is a cue that they should stop messing around and go help her carry in the frankly staggering amount of takeout bags a weary-looking delivery boy is wielding on the porch.

“Munchkin, will you get some glasses and the iced tea?” Hinata asks. “Let’s eat in front of the TV like slobs.”

Takashi slides back into the kitchen, skidding a little too far in his socks and knocking the paper towels off the counter, and Shuuichi snorts. It feels like the first time he’s smiled in a year.

Hinata touches his arm. “Hey,” she says seriously. “I’m going to visit Isamu on Thursday, and I’m staying for about a week. You two should come with. Stop thinking about all this stuff for a bit and give yourself a break.”

“I don’t want to bother you guys—”

“Try not to be an idiot for once in your life,” Hinata says with an exaggerated air of total exhaustion. “You know it wouldn’t be a bother. Besides, Isamu has a little sister Takashi’s age, and she’s into all kinds of weird stuff. They’d probably get along like a house on fire.”

Shuuichi thinks a week in the country sounds pretty good, actually. He’s mulling it over when Takashi comes running; with a stack of colorful plastic glasses in one hand, a pitcher of tea in the other, and a box of Koala March tucked into the crook of his elbow.

“Can I have these, nee-san?” he asks brightly. He looks nine years old again instead of ninety, all that worry from earlier finally unseated.

“Oh, I guess,” Hinata says with deep reluctance, as if she didn’t buy them specifically for Takashi in the first place. She doesn’t even like chocolate. “Dinner first, though! Put those koalas where I can see them!”

She cares about Takashi like it’s effortless. Like it just makes sense to make space for him in her home and keep his favorite snacks in her kitchen. Considering the place they came here from, it disarms Shuuichi completely.

“We’ll go with you,” he says without thinking.

“Of course you will,” Hinata replies immediately. “I was only asking to be polite. Now eat your food.”

And that’s how they wind up in Hitoyoshi, Kumamoto, of all places. It’s unmistakably beautiful but Shuuichi only gets a brief moment to appreciate the scenery before Hinata is dragging him—and by extension, Takashi—out of the station to the street outside, where a familiar face is waiting.

She releases Shuuichi in order to fling herself bodily at Isamu, who doesn’t so much as bat an eye. Hinata is much taller than her boyfriend, which Shuuichi thinks is just typical of Hinata, but Isamu doesn’t care. She could be seventeen feet tall and weigh a thousand pounds and he would still find a way to hold her.

“Hey,” he says over her shoulder, lifting one hand to wave at the Natoris. “Hug train is pulling out of the station, get yours before it’s gone.”

Laughing, Shuuichi says, “I’m good. Takashi?”

“No, thank you,” Takashi says politely.

“Your loss.” Hinata sniffs, and busies herself with picking up the bags she’d flung to the ground. “Is your sister at home?”

“Mhm,” Isamu says, taking one of Takashi’s bags and slinging it over his own shoulder. “She’s shy. I’m amazed she agreed to meet you guys at all. Bribery was involved.”

Takashi shuffles, glancing sideways at Shuuichi.

“I’ll bet you two-thousand yen that you’re best friends by the end of the day,” Shuuichi says at once, to make the situation a win-win. That always works.

Sure enough, Takashi holds out his hand. “Deal.”

They shake on it solemnly.

Isamu gives Shuuichi a deeply approving look and says, “I’ll have to remember that one.”

Tooru and Takashi are actually best friends within about an hour and a half.

Once the Natoris have been settled into a large guest room and wandered around on a cheap tour of the estate, and Hinata has dumped all of her stuff in her boyfriend’s bedroom, Isamu drags Tooru out of hiding to eat a late lunch with them.

Tooru shuffles into the chair across from Takashi and makes her polite introduction, and then mumbles that she only has a couple of friends so she isn’t sure what they ought to talk about. Takashi blithely replies that he doesn’t have any friends, because he can see yokai and people tend to think that’s strange. Shuuichi and Hinata are both frozen, holding their chopsticks halfway to their mouths as they wait to see which way this is going to go, but Isamu just takes an unhurried sip of tea.

And then Tooru lunges across the table to seize Takashi’s hands, shouting, “You can see yokai? You have to come meet my grandpa!” and all but drags him out of the kitchen, their lunches left untouched.

“You might never get your brother back,” Isamu says mildly. “That’s okay, there’s enough space here for two little weirdos.”

“So you believe in ghosts now?” Hinata demands.

“I don’t believe in things I can’t see for myself,” Isamu replies. He waits a beat, rolling a thought around in his head like a marble, and then adds reluctantly, “But if three people I trust can see them, maybe that’s just as good. I already apologized to gramps for thinking he was just a delusional old man.”

“You did not say that to your grandpa,” Shuuichi says, horrified.

“I didn’t say it, I just said I was sorry for thinking it.” Isamu sits back in his chair, frowning at his plate. “Tooru never needed any proof. She believes him just because she loves him. I think there’s value in that. Figured I’d give it a try.”

When Shuuichi tracks the kids down later, they’ve multiplied. Sasago and Urihime are supervising as Tooru, Takashi, and two little boys of a similar age chase each other around the garden, a half-dozen little yokai running underfoot.

Takashi spots him and brightens, breaking away from the game to jump up onto the porch and slam into Shuuichi’s side. Shuuichi ruffles his hair, because it’s already a windswept mess, and it makes Takashi wrinkle his nose in annoyance.

“Taki-ojisan wasn’t feeling well, so he’s taking a nap,” Takashi explains. He’s flushed from the sun and grass-stained. “We had fun, though. All of his yokai friends had lots of things they wanted to say to him so we played telephone. Mostly they were teasing him, which didn’t seem very nice, but it made oji-san laugh a lot.”

“And who are those two?” Shuuichi asks, nodding at the unfamiliar boys.

“Tooru’s friends from school. They were coming by to see if Tooru wanted to go to the river with them, and she introduced me.” Shyly, Takashi adds, “They’re nice.”

“Hey!” the russet-haired boy calls over. “Are we going swimming or what?”

“Can we, please?” Tooru asks, folding her hands together.

His brother gazes up at him with eyes that are big and hopeful, a look that has worked for him for years. Shuuichi shakes his head ruefully.

“As long as you stay with Tooru, and don’t let your phone get soaked,” he says sternly. “And you know to answer when I call, right?”

“Right,” Takashi says, without attitude, because that’s one of their most important rules. “Can I take Urihime with me? She’ll throw Satoru in the water if I ask her to, Sasago won’t.”

“For that reason alone, you’re taking Sasago,” Shuuichi replies.

It’s a noisy circus troupe of kids who finally leave, armed with towels and a bag of snacks pilfered from the kitchen and an entourage of rowdy spirits that only one of them can see.

Shuuichi leans against the gate, watching them go. He’s wary of the unfamiliar yokai, but with his shiki nearby and clearly unbothered, he doesn’t see a reason to break up the strange congregation. Over the years, he’s had to get used to the way Takashi attracts these things. They come to him like moths to a flame.

Most exorcists hate yokai, but Shuuichi doesn’t. How could he? His little brother is a medium, and some of the only people he can count on to babysit for him are his familiars. Yokai are so much a part of his life that to hate them would be to fill his heart with hatred, and he doesn’t have room in his heart for all that. It’s too full of other things.

Hinata joins him by the door.

“You know,” she says carefully, “I was going to bring this up later, but…the university that Isamu and I are going to is only a half-hour away from here. And the schools here are really good.”

Shuuichi stands in the sun, watches his little brother laugh with children his own age, and exhales.

#natsume yuujinchou #natsuyuu #natsumeweek #natori shuuichi #natsume takashi #taki isamu #the squad has finally arrived :') bless #my writing #natsuyuu fic #second hand

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

Note

What do you consider demonizing Azula vs objectively describing her less flattering traits and harmful actions?

Honestly, it all comes down to word choice and language at the end of the day imo. If someone’s character analysis is presented with a certain tone I’m more inclined to say that they are demonizing her. For example saying that “ as a child Azula demonstrated red flags for mental illness and should have been helped” is a lot less antagonizing than “Azula was born evil, she liked to tease and bully Zuko from the start.” One of these statements addresses the complexities of her situation (a broken home and several poor adult influences/examples) while the other basically places full blame on a child. Things like that. I really, really do believe that it’s all about the tone an Azula analysis is presented in.

Personally I would agree that some of her childhood behaviors, like setting Zuko’s pants on fire and burning some of the bushes in the place garden were huge red flags. They are harmful actions. BUT a lot of those could be 1. attention getting antics because her mother usually paid more attention to her when she misbehaved. 2. Her emulating Ozai and his attitude. And stuff like, “dad’s going to kill you.” Is very much Azula mimicking what her father demonstrated as well as her father actively rewarding her for behaviors like that. These are definitely harmful actions that started getting worse as she got older. An analysis like that is fair and not demonizing imo, because it recognizes that Azula is still a kid and it doesn’t write off the possibility for her to unlearn some of these behaviors later in life with the right help.

While something like, “even child Azula is a insane, look what she did to Zuko! What kind of sociopath sings-songs about someone’s dad killing them!?” Here is an example of using buzzwords and implying that mental illness as something that automatically makes someone evil. It puts all blame on Azula while factoring out the adults in her life that either sat passive or actively taught her these behaviors. This, imo, is demonizing.

One of my biggest peeves at the moment is when they say that fucking Ozai and Zhao are more redeemable. Zhao was literally seen in the Avatar universe version of Hell. It is canon that he did not get redemption. So by extension it is canon that he is NOT more redeemable than Azula whose fate is still ambiguous. And there is not one argument that can convince me that the grown ass man who burned his own son’s face off while tearing apart his self-worth is more redeemable than a fourteen year old girl. There is not one argument that can convince me that a man who made a weapon out of his daughter and (heavily implied) abused his wife (at least emotionally) is more redeemable than a fourteen year old girl. Usually I try to keep an open mind and be nice about my opinions in these discourses but I just can’t with this one; I think that this particular statement is stupid as hell. Ozai and (especially in canon and in Hell) Zhao are NOT more redeemable than Azula. Bye, miss me with that dumb shit.

Some more specific examples that come to mind are;

When people make Azula out to be a murderer and/or a sadist

The turtle duck thing

Baby Azula.

The murder thing drives me nuts because, first of all, she’s a solider. She’s at war. Her one kill was a combat kill, he came back to life, and he was entering the Avatar state. Now correct me if I’m wrong but Aang killed Zhao in the Avatar state. You can’t tell me that no one died or was seriously injured in the episode ‘The Avatar State’. So of course she’s gonna shoot him down; he could have killed her just as well. He had no control over the Avatar state at the time.

Furthermore she has the least amount of collateral damage. And one of the smallest body counts. Aang has killed so many background characters via the Avatar state. Sokka killed Combustion man. Sokka, Suki, and Toph killed several soldiers by crashing those war blimps in the finale. I think that you get the point. But none of them get called murders like Azula does. Everyone seems to be well aware that all of those were combat kills. The reason they get called soldiers instead of murders is because they are protagonists.

Azula is not a murder. She is a solider. Combat kills are different than murder. They are horrible and unfortunate all the same but it isn’t murder.

And then there’s the sadist claim. At best I think that that’s a misinterpretation of character. At least from my personal POV. I've seen it argued that she’s not a sadist but only because it’s more coinvent not to be; that she would be one if she had time for it. But I think that a true sadist wouldn’t give a shit if it’s not convenient. If she were a sadist I feel like she would go out of her way to hurt people like Chit Sang even if it’s not necessary. Azula does only what’s necessary and that’s it. I do think that Azula is merciful. Perhaps not conventionally so but she isn’t cruel. She takes prisoners and as far as we’ve seen on screen those prisoners aren’t treated particularly bad (by Azula anyhow). She doesn’t torture her prisoners and she doesn’t kill them.

Now, I will give more of an open mind to people who say that she is an EMOTIONAL sadist of sorts. I do think that she gets a kick out of scaring people and bullying people. I’m on the fence with this argument though because how much of her getting a kick out of Zuko’s suffering is her also being relieved that it is not her. And how much of it is more run of the mill teenage bullying? This is one thing where I’m more than willing to hear from the other side.

I think that the murderer and sadism thing is very much an attempt to demonize her. I think that it can be an exaggeration of her unflattering behaviors. I’m not saying that the things she did aren’t harmful but I do think that some people over exaggerate them or make up stuff that isn’t there; I’ve seen people state that she ‘probably killed so many soldiers off screen’. There is no canon evidence to support this? Likewise these are generally the same people who tell Azula fans that they can’t say Azula was abused off screen.

The other big one is the turtleduck one. Zuko demonstrates how Azula feeds turtleducks. He throws a piece of bread. I don’t know where the rock thing came from. Furthermore I very much think that Azula chucking a loaf of bread at a turtleduck is just a small child being a little shit. When I was like five or six I yeeted a good half a loaf at a duck because, “the more food they get the happier they are, right????” To me that just seems more like a small child who has not learned impulse control than a child who likes hurting animals. This whole argument, at least imo, is actively demonizing a child for actions that aren’t exactly uncommon for children. The problem is when the child doesn’t learn that yeeting whole loafs at turtleducks is a bad thing. THIS is where I see a fair argument forming because (as of late) Azula didn’t seem to have unlearned this behavior. This is an example of one of those red flags I mentioned in the first paragraph. Which is where some nuance and critical thinking needs to come in. The complexities that I mentioned above about how the child isn’t 100% to blame here. The adults in her life should have tried to teach her better and/or Ozai need to fuck on off and stop teaching her to do wrong.

And finally baby Azula. I’ll just drop a link here because I already talked about this. But the tone of The Search literally tried to demonize a whole baby. The way the narrative decided frame her was really unnecessary. I really don’t see how this scene contributed to the story other than to remind readers that ‘Azula was always evil, see!’ Nevermind that she’s sleeping in a whole crib. Because that’s a literal infant.

Anyhow I might come back to this later to add more or clarify but I’m about to make lunch so I’ll end this here for now. Feel free to discuss further. I definitely don’t mind hearing from the other side so long as arguments are respectful and open minded.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Azula Discourse #Azula Analysis #Demonizing Azula #Fandom

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edendaphne · 4 years

Text

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 17

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

-------

CHAPTER 17: LULLABY

(Mood Music: Quiet Beauty - James Todd)

One Chilly Sunday Evening

Chat Noir laughed so hard he was practically gasping for air, and his heart thumped like a drum in his chest.

How many times had they done this? Was it five? A dozen? A hundred? Racing Ladybug across city rooftops felt so normal, so natural, as if he’d done it a million times across countless different lifetimes. Whatever the case, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

“I win!” he announced, breathless, as he landed on the solid ground of the Dupain-Cheng bakery’s balcony, promptly followed by his partner.

The light of the moon illuminated her graceful frame as she caught her breath, and it took all of Chat’s willpower not to gawk as a bead of sweat made its way from her temple to her cheek, then trailed down her jaw and onto her neck.

“Only because you cheated!” Ladybug chided, trying (yet failing) to hide an amused smile.

Chat put a hand on his hip, cheekily cocking it to the side as he caught his own breath. “I bet you could’ve won if you really wanted to. Were you trailing behind me on purpose to check out my assets? Or don’t tell me that you’ve never been tempted to take a peek?”

Ladybug raised a quizzical eyebrow, and a beat later replied with an impish smirk, “Well... I never said I haven’t.”

Chat’s eyes grew wide, his bright, chartreuse-green sclera becoming more visible than Ladybug had ever seen, their faint glow a stark contrast with the red color that bloomed on his cheeks.

Ladybug giggled (How dare she be so adorable yet still so attractive?!) and stepped towards him, placing her finger under his chin and closing his mouth with a small click. When had his jaw popped open??

“What’s the matter, Chaton? Can’t handle when somebody flirts back?” she teased, her face mere inches from his.

Chat suppressed the urge to squirm under her touch. They’d flirted countless times before, but why did his chest feel so tight when they did so lately?

Trying to compose himself and insert as much confidence as he could into his voice, he cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “I’ll have you know that I’m a very desirable bachelor in my day-to-day life! I happen to have more suitors than I can shake a stick at!”

He’d said it jokingly, expecting to get rebuffed; but Ladybug gave him an exaggerated pout, tapping her mouth with her fingers (a gesture he couldn’t help but follow closely with his gaze).

“Ohh, I see…. Should I be jealous?” she said as she looked up at him through her thick eyelashes. “Do I have competition?”

Chat reached for her hand, slowly bringing it to his lips with a slight bow. “Never,” he replied, with a bit more conviction and candor than he’d intended. “Nobody could ever hold a candle to you, Milady. Your wit, kindness, and beauty surpasses them all. It is you alone who holds the key to my heart.”

Now it was Ladybug’s turn to get caught off guard. His words were theatrical and over-the-top, as usual; but there was sincerity behind them. There was something about the way he’d said them that made it feel… real. She couldn’t help but shyly look away, her cheeks a bright crimson hue, and she tucked some hair behind her ear as she always did whenever she was flustered or nervous.

“Flatterer,” she said timidly, attempting to deflect the compliment.

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” he replied with a wink.

Ladybug stared slack-jawed, and could only stutter out an ever so eloquent “I-I-I...” By this point, her entire face was as red as her suit, and she covered her face with both hands in embarrassment. “Chaaaaaaaat!” she cried helplessly in defeat.

Chat let out a hearty laugh, giving her a quick, comforting squeeze. He’d won this round of impromptu chicken. Deciding to have mercy and spare her from any further teasing, he changed the subject.

“Anyway, it’s too bad I can’t be the one to drop you off at your house, Bugaboo. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do. But alas, I’m lacking in the whole ‘majestic white steed’ department,” he remarked as he crossed his arms and leaned against the brick wall.

She laughed lightly through her nose. “Well, we’re not exactly your average, run of the mill coupl– uh, partners. Plus, I already know where you live, so that’s easy to do.”

Chat ignored her slip of the tongue, since he didn’t dare to hope for more. At least... not yet.

“That’s for sure,” he replied with a small chuckle. “We’re a rather unique situation. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Ladybug leaned next to him against the wall, pressing her back against the cool surface of the bricks as their shoulders bumped.

She hesitated for a few moments, seeming to gather her thoughts. He eyed her curiously, waiting for her to speak her mind.

“So…” she began, looking out into the dark autumn sky. “Which part is true? That you think I’m... beautiful, or that I hold the key to your... t-that I…”

A jolt of lightning traveled down his spine and he stared at her like a kid who’d just broken a window. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out– not even a flustered stammer.

He hadn’t meant to blurt out his feelings so casually a minute ago. In fact, he’d been working on an elaborate speech for when the time was right! It still needed lots of work; he was only on the seventh draft.

He paused to consider. Would it be so bad, though? If he were to confess to her right now?

It wasn’t how he’d planned it. There wasn’t an elegantly decorated rooftop full of roses and strings of lights, or soft romantic music, or any of the other things that would have made it perfect. He was supposed to carry her to a surprise location (bridal-style of course), her lithe arms wrapped around his neck, with a snugly placed blindfold around her eyes to amplify the mystery and anticipation.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d be impressed with his efforts enough to accept his feelings before she could realize that she was too good for him.

Truly his adoration for her knew no bounds. So much so, that he’d asked himself whether it was truly love, or if just an overblown obsession or infatuation.

And yet, he knew that wasn’t the case. He knew she wasn’t perfect. She didn’t need a pedestal. He’d placed her on one when they’d first become allies, but she pulled him up to her level, never allowing him to lower himself or place himself beneath her. She made sure that he always knew he was her equal, and not her subordinate. I mean, how could he not fall in love with her?

So, despite the fact that it wasn’t at all how he planned and he’d suddenly blanked out on his entire speech... he wanted to tell her. Now was as good a time as any.

Ladybug must have sensed the shift in his mood because she recoiled somewhat, jolting away from the brick wall.

She hastily began to backpedal, “N-nevermind, forget I said anything!! Um, anyway, have a good night!”

Chat shook himself out of his daze, then lunged forth to catch her arm as she reached for her yo-yo.

“M-milady, wait!”

She turned to face him, her face full of regret and embarrassment. “S-sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to tease you. Well– I mean, I did, but I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just–”

“No! N-no, don’t worry, you didn’t. It’s just that I’ve been… wanting to tell you something. Something important.”

He felt her stiffen at his words, and her eyes grew wide with apprehension.

Crap. He hadn’t meant to scare her.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise!” he tried to reassure her. “Or… at least, I don’t think it’s bad. I mean, I hope it isn’t. To you, that is. What I mean is…” He rubbed the back of his neck with a groan, then let out a nervous, shallow breath.

She quirked her head to the side, as she unknowingly did whenever she was feeling curious or inquisitive. He tried (in vain) to ignore how cute she looked so he could focus on the task at hand.

This is it. You can do it. Be brave like Marinette!! She’d believe in you!

The butterflies in his stomach multiplied tenfold; there was no going back.

And yet... how do you even begin to tell someone that you can’t imagine your life without them? That you’d sacrifice absolutely everything for their happiness; that you’d rather suffer a thousand deaths than to ever see them in pain? That the thought of losing them kept you awake at night more often than you’d like to admit?

How could he put into words that until she came along, he never imagined he’d be able to feel happiness again?

No; words could never suffice. There was nothing he wanted more than to grab his Lady by the waist and give her the most passionate kiss he could muster so that he could show her his love instead.

But he couldn’t. He had to know how she felt in return before he did something that rash, something that could potentially wreck their partnership if his actions were unwelcome.

He didn’t want to ruin anything. He was utterly terrified. And yet… he yearned for her to know.

He had to try. It might be selfish, but he had to tell her how he felt. Just in case she might maybe, possibly, someday, feel the same way.

Ladybug gently touched his forearm, her slender fingers skimming up and down the fabric of his gloves. “Kitty,” she began, concern written all over her face, her piercing sky blue eyes searching his own. “Is everything alright?”

Chat did his best to offer a reassuring smile, placing his opposite hand on top of hers. “I’m fine,” he answered. “I just have a bit of a confession to make.”

Ladybug’s face softened, and she returned a small smile as she waited for him to proceed, still unsure but relieved.

He swallowed thickly, and tried to steady his voice. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long. Well, I mean– technically we’ve known each other for years– but what I mean is that we haven’t really gotten to know each other ‘til recently. Uhh, that is––”

Ladybug gave a small giggle. “It’s okay, Chat. I know what you mean.”

Chat smiled back. “Anyway, I want you to know that our friendship means absolutely everything to me. And I would never want to do anything to jeopardize that, not ever. With that said, I still need you to know that I… that I...” he trailed off, looking away and biting his lip.

A few seconds passed, and he felt Ladybug’s soft hand touch his cheek, which gently turned his head to face her once again.

“Talk to me, Chat. You can tell me anything.”

Those eyes. Those big, gorgeous, absolutely amazing eyes. She was the sun and moon and stars all wrapped up in a tiny, polka-dotted package, and all he could offer her was himself. Was he enough? He silently prayed she hadn’t noticed how much his hands were trembling right now.

“I know I shouldn’t. I don’t know anything about your civilian self. Not really. Where you live, where you go to school, who your friends are. Whether you already have a special someone in your life. Or whether you–” he gulped “–whether you could ever feel the same way about me as I do about you.”

She stepped closer, sliding her hand down his arm and wrapping her fingers around his own (he’d never been as grateful that his suit had gloves as he was now, given how sweaty his palms were at the moment).

“And… how do you feel about me?” she asked, with a– dare he say– hopeful tone in her voice.

Her eyes bore into his own with such intensity and heat that he could no longer feel the chilly night air. He forced himself to hold her gaze, so she could be sure that his words were genuine.

“I wasn’t sure whether I should say anything or if it should wait until after we defeated Hawkmoth. I didn’t know if I was ready to… to open myself up and risk getting hurt in the process. Because I am so, so afraid of losing you.” He bit his lip, but continued, “But I don’t think I can wait that long. You have to know, because I might not get another chance...”

His posture straightened a bit, and he took both her hands into his. (Was it his hands that were still shaking, or hers?)

“I love you,” he finally uttered, his voice husky and low, as if it were a declaration far too sacred for others to hear. He heard her breath catch slightly. “I love you so much, My Lady.” Chat’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he let out a shaky sigh. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. When you’re with me, I can’t help but feel truly happy. Happy to be your teammate, happy to be your friend… happy to be alive. You make me want to become a better person, and I just needed you to know that.”

He shrunk into himself somewhat, taking an unsteady, quivering breath, having expended all his bravery with his proclamation of love.

He’d done it. He’d confessed.

...Now what?

A few moments passed in silence. He bit the inside of his cheek anxiously, unsure of how to continue.

Mayday. Mayday. The hairs in the back of his neck stood up on end; his mind nervous and uncertain.

“A-anyway, that’s all I wanted to say,” he blurted out. “I know it’s a lot to take in; you don’t have to say anything back.” He let go of her hands and crossed his arms, suddenly feeling quite vulnerable. “I mean, I’m not gonna lie, I’d prefer if you said something back just so I know where we stand, but you definitely don’t have to,” he continued to ramble. “I don’t want it to be awkward or uncomfortable between us, so I won’t mention it ever again if that’s what you want. I’ll always respect your wishes and do what you think is best, ‘cause I have complete faith in you and I–”

His nervous ramblings were cut short by warm, delicate lips delivering a featherlight kiss to his cheek, and Chat let out a small gasp despite himself.

“Was that alright?” she asked, her voice breathy and soft.

Chat practically swooned in disbelief. “More than alright,” he exhaled. “S-so… does that mean that you like m–”

Ladybug stood on her tiptoes and surged forward to capture his lips, answering his question in a way he never would have imagined when he woke up that morning.

There was no way this was actually happening. Was he still breathing?? The girl he loved not only liked him back, but was doing something he’d only ever dreamed about.

He decided to take a chance. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, to which Ladybug responded with a small, surprised moan, and then wrapped her arms around his neck. At some point, his hands had ended up on the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, and he was sure she’d be able to feel his heart pounding.

Several blissful moments later, they separated to catch their breath but didn’t pull completely apart. Chat was sure that if he let go of her, he would surely melt into a puddle on the spot.

Ladybug panted lightly. “So… does that answer your question?” she asked, still smiling, her lips almost brushing against his.

Chat cleared his throat, then managed to stammer out in a raspy voice, “Uh, yeah, that works.”

He bent his neck forward so she wouldn’t have to stand on her tiptoes anymore, pressing his forehead against hers and closing his eyes in contentment. Surely this was too good to be true, right?! Was he asleep??

But as always, the overthinker in him struck again and a thought came to him. He furrowed his brow in concern as he became acutely aware of the fact that just because she liked him back didn’t mean she wanted to become anything more than partners. Maybe the kiss was a one-time thing and she wanted to keep things professional? He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Why can’t I just be satisfied with what I already have? This is more than I could ever ask for, so why press my luck?

Ladybug, perceptive as ever, noticed his unease.

“What are you thinking about, Chaton?” she whispered with a slight frown.

Deciding to be honest, he loosened his hold on her and stepped back, his jaw tensed. A few thoughtful seconds later, he tried to explain, “I just… What do you want me to be to you? I know we can’t exactly act like a ‘normal’ couple. It’s not like we can go to the movies or amusement parks together, and you can’t exactly take me to your house to meet your parents. So, umm… what happens next?”

Ladybug reached for his hand, squeezing lightly. “If you’re worried that I’m only interested in a fling or a friends-with-benefits type of relationship, I’m not. I don’t know how this is gonna work, and I do want to take things slow, but… you are so special to me, Chat. All I know is that I want you in my life. As more than teammates. Do you want that too?”

“Yes!” Chat exclaimed (a bit more emphatically than he’d intended) and nodded. “I want to make this work! I really do.”

She reached up to cup his cheek, stroking it gently with her thumb, and he couldn’t help but lean into her caresses. “And, while I don’t think we really need a formal label for what we have, if giving it a name makes you feel better, then… What if we’re ‘dating’? What do you think? Sound good to you?”

Chat grinned, lifting his hand to run it through her long, dark hair. “It’s more than I could’ve ever hoped for,” he replied, completely elated. “I’ll make you happy, I swear it.”

She stepped back into his space and wrapped her arms around him, letting her hands wander until they settled on the base of his back. And even though he was much larger than her, her hugs always somehow managed to completely envelop him in feelings of safety and comfort.

“You already make me happy, you dork.”

Chat shifted his body so he could make eye contact with his beloved once again. His hand wandered to her jawline, which caused her to shiver with what he hoped was pleasure and anticipation. He made his way down her jaw towards her chin, his movements slow and deliberate, relishing how absolutely beautiful yet adorably shy she appeared in this moment.

Tilting her chin upwards with his forefinger, Chat leaned down and Ladybug’s eyes fluttered shut, her blush still visible under the faint glow of the balcony lights. Chat shut his own eyes in preparation…

...Only to bolt upright in alarm. His ears twitched and he whipped his head around, searching. Without a word, he scooped up Ladybug and bounded up onto the rooftop, landing behind the balcony wall. Ladybug let out a less than dignified “EEP!!”, clinging to him as she was whisked away.

Upon landing, she was about to ask Chat what was going on but he gently placed his finger on her lips. Then he moved it to his own lips, shaking his head. Ladybug understood and nodded. Then they stood there, still as a statue, and waited.

Hinges creaked as the hatch door swung open, and the pair heard someone climb out onto the balcony. Said individual took a deep breath of the fresh evening air, then walked towards the railing to look out into the city.

A few minutes passed, and Chat finally realized the rather intimate position he and Ladybug had put themselves in during their hasty escape. There he stood, back pressed to the wall, with his partner essentially plastered up onto him, their limbs an intertwined mess, leaving not even a sliver of free space between their bodies. Ladybug seemed to realize this at about the same time, and they looked to each other with matching flustered grins, blushing furiously. She made to move away slightly and give him some space—

But her yo-yo had partially unraveled during their clamber onto the roof, and had wrapped around them, becoming tangled in both his cape and his tail. She giggled awkwardly, then began squirming— first lightly, then a bit more vigorously when it became clear that that was ineffective. Chat bit his lip almost painfully, trying very hard not to think about their current situation, lest he unwillingly embarrass himself in a more... somatic way.

A voice cut through the silence of the nighttime air, jolting them to a halt, and they ceased their struggles once again to listen in. Chat twisted his mouth, frowning. He wasn’t normally the type of person who enjoyed eavesdropping; but he didn’t exactly have a choice at the moment.

“What are you doing up here, Tom?” asked the voice of Sabine Dupain-Cheng as she climbed out onto the balcony.

“Oh, nothing. Just, uhh... getting some fresh air. No other reason,” Tom replied, with a tone that wasn’t entirely convincing.

Sabine made her way to stand next to her husband. “You wouldn’t happen to be waiting for a certain housecat to return from the akuma attack that happened earlier tonight, would you?” she asked knowingly.

Tom stammered, “N-no! No, of course not! I’m not waiting for anyone! And I’m certainly not worried! Nope, definitely not worried sick whatsoever; not at all.”

Sabine leaned into him with a playful giggle. “That’s what you say, dear. But I can tell you’re very fond of him.”

“I-I am not!” he sputtered. “I just… wanted to make sure he was going to show up at work tomorrow, that’s all. We have that big shipment of sugar coming in and—umm— my back is sore, so I’ll need the help! Yeah, that’s it. I’m just making sure he acts responsible.” He nodded solemnly, crossing his arms.

On the other side of the wall, Chat couldn’t help but crack a smile at Tom’s poorly-hidden concern. He’d never seen this side of him before, at least not as Chat Noir.

Sabine patted Tom on the back. “Well, you should come back inside. It’s pretty chilly tonight and we can’t have you catching a cold. He’ll be back soon. He’s probably just having some ‘alone time’ with Ladybug.”

Chat and Ladybug practically jumped at this statement, whipping their heads towards each other, then back down at their current predicament. Chat shrugged apologetically with a rather sheepish expression on his face, and it took all of Ladybug’s willpower not to laugh at how cute he looked.

“Hmph. You’re probably right,” they heard Tom say, and then footsteps as the married couple made their way back indoors.

“Come on, I’ll make us some tea.”

With that, the balcony hatch closed, and the pair remained still for a few moments to verify that Tom and Sabine wouldn’t come back, in case they’d left anything behind.

Chat was the first to break the silence. “So, uhhh… Now what?”

Ladybug did her best trying to find and figure out where the biggest tangles were, but the range of her movement was quite limited.

“It’s too dark, I can’t see anything,” she replied. “And even if I could, I can’t move my arms much.”

“Same, my arms are pinned down. What should we do?”

Ladybug scrunched her face, deep in thought. A few moments later, her brows raised as an idea came to her.

“Uh… I have an idea, but it’s a bit risky.”

Chat cocked his head to the side with curiosity, waiting for her to elaborate. “Go on.”

“Well, umm… don’t freak, just hear me out. What if we detransformed?”

Chat looked at her like she’d suggested that they throw themselves into an active volcano, and she quickly added, “W-with our eyes closed, that is! That way, we can re-transform and everything will be in its proper place.”

Chat pondered her words. It did seem like the simplest, easiest solution.

“Well… Okay,” he replied. “Let’s do it. I swear I won’t look.”

Ladybug grinned widely at him. “I know. I trust you.”

She leaned into him, placing her head against his chest.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Yeah. Claws in.”

“Spots off.”

A flash of neon green and pink briefly illuminated the rooftop, and then it was dark again.

A detransformed Chat couldn’t help but let out a gasp. This was the very first time he’d ever touched Ladybug without the barriers of their near-indestructible suits. Her shirt was made out of some lightweight fabric, much too thin for this kind of weather, as if she’d been lounging at home when the akuma attack had begun earlier and she’d left her house in a hurry. He took the opportunity to savor this moment, wrapping his arms around his Lady’s shoulders, keeping her close and warm.

His fingers touched something silky and sleek, and he almost gasped again in awe. “Your hair is down,” he uttered, almost too quiet for Ladybug to hear.

He felt her smile against his chest. He took this opportunity to glide his bare hand down her long, thick locks, relishing the feel, knowing he wouldn’t be able to touch her like this again. At least, not for who knows how long. He wished with all his heart they could stay like this forever.

Her body shifted slightly, and a beat later he felt her fingers sneak into his own hair, massaging his scalp in a comical manner.

“If you get to touch my hair, I get to touch yours,” she stated, her voice impish and playful. “Good Lord, what shampoo do you use?! Your hair is so soft!!”

Chat let out a hearty laugh. “I bet we look ridiculous right now, just two people on a roof groping each other’s heads. Good thing it’s too dark to see anything.

Ladybug snickered as she lowered her hands, holding onto him to help keep her balance. The rooftop was relatively flat, but the physical contact made her feel safer regardless. “Yeah, I don’t think anyone could see us if they were to look out their windows; it’s a new moon tonight. But we should still keep our eyes closed, just in case.”

She laid back into him and they embraced in silence, enjoying the calm. His hand traced gentle patterns on her back, and she nuzzled even closer to keep warm.

“Your voice,” Ladybug said, cutting through the stillness.

Chat raised an eyebrow. “Hmm? What about it?”

“It sounds different somehow. Kinda… softer? I dunno,” she said, shrugging slightly.

“Now that you mention it, you sound kind of different too,” he agreed.

The glamour magic must be stronger when they’re transformed, he realized. The magic was still present while in their civilian forms, albeit weaker. Out of costume, Ladybug’s voice sounded more… familiar somehow? He tried not to think about that too much; this wasn’t the time or place.

“D-do you like it?” he added, his tone tentative.

“Yeah!” she blurted out. “I-it’s nice. Really nice. I like it.”

He made a pleased sound, then replied, “And yours is lovely. I can’t wait til I get to hear more of it in the future.”

“Same.” Ladybug let out a long, contented sigh. “We should probably get going. They’re waiting for you inside. But you heard Mr. Dupain-Cheng; he’s most definitely not concerned about you,” she said with a snicker.

Chat busted out laughing. “He’s pretty great. Just cautious, is all.” Then he added jokingly, “He probably doesn’t want to get too attached, just in case I suddenly decide to go on a feral murder spree one day.”

Ladybug blew a raspberry and smacked him lightly on the chest. “Noooooo, I am one hundred percent sure he does not think that! I’m sure he’ll warm up to you in no time!”

“I hope so,” he replied with a chuckle. He hesitated before speaking again. “Umm, Bugaboo… Before we transform back, would it be alright if… if I kissed you again?” Ladybug’s entire body twitched in surprise. “Just once, as our real selves.”

He felt her chest rise and fall as she let out some flustered noises. She managed to settle down a bit, and replied in a hushed voice, “Yeah. Th-that would be nice.”

He moved his hand, blindly feeling around until he found the side of her face. He cupped her cheek with a featherlight touch, his other arm snugly around her waist, keeping her steady. She placed both hands on his chest, craning her neck back, eagerly awaiting what was to come. He lowered his face slowly, to avoid bumping their heads together. Their breaths mingled, shallow and nervous. Their first kiss out of the masks… would it feel any different, he wondered?

Their noses touched, and then—

BONK!

They let out a simultaneous “Ow!” and he had to remind himself to keep his eyes closed in his confusion.

Ladybug reached up to feel his face, then gasped in disbelief.

“Chat! You… you wear glasses!”

He snickered at her surprised reaction. “Is that so shocking? Do you not like glasses?”

She sputtered, “N-no! I mean, yes! I mean, th-that’s not it. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all!”

Chat couldn’t help himself. “So would you say that you made a… spectacular discovery?” he said cheekily.

Ladybug let out a long, exaggerated groan at the pun as she plopped her head onto his chest, causing him to break into a barely-contained giggle fit.

“My soul just died a little from that terrible joke,” she croaked out.

“I apologize; that’s just how eye roll!”

Ladybug made an even more dismayed sound that resembled a deflating balloon, which only made Chat crack up even harder.

“You’re soooo awwwwfuuul,” she groaned, but he could hear the smile in her voice.

“Here,” he said, sliding his glasses off his nose and onto the top of his head, resting just above the hairline. “Now they’re out of the way.”

“Good,” Ladybug giggled. “Because I’d really like to try again.”

He chuckled, angling his head down. “Whatever My Lady desires,” he replied, more than happy to comply.

-----------

Marinette glided across her bedroom, half-dancing, half-skipping, humming along to the music coming from her computer while she brushed her teeth. She paused to pick up her mannequin, spinning it around as if dancing with an imaginary partner.

“Marinette, you probably shouldn’t do that with a toothbrush in your mouth,” Tikki advised, though an amused smile tugged at her mouth.

“Hnn-kay,” Marinette replied with a giggle, setting down the mannequin, then made her way to the sink to finish up her bedtime routine.

When she was done, she walked over to where Tikki was resting at the desk, in a little handmade bed that could pass for a stylish pin-cushion or phone rest.

“Ready for bed?” she asked in a chipper voice, scooping up the kwami into her hands then heading up to her loft bed.

Tikki snickered at her charge’s excitement. This was definitely one of her favorite parts of mentoring a Ladybug. “Today was a good day for you, wasn’t it, Marinette?”

“Gosh, you can say that again!” she replied, voice high and giddy. “I just can’t believe it, Tikki! It feels like things just keep getting better and better. Now I get to plan our dates, gifts, anniversary milestones–”

Tikki raised a brow. “Uhh… Marinette, what happened to ‘taking things slow’?”

The girl pouted. “I am taking it slow! It’s not like I’m planning our wedding or anything!” The kwami rolled her eyes fondly in response.

Marinette set Tikki down on the pillow next to hers and flopped down stomach first. She turned around, still holding the pillow, and screeched happily into it, kicking her legs into the air. Tikki couldn’t help but giggle.

“Think you’ll be able to sleep with all this excitement?” she asked.

Marinette turned off the lights and snuggled under her blankets, squeezing her giant cat plushie.

“Yep! Boy, am I beat! I’m totally gonna sleep like a baby tonight.”

Tikki smiled warmly. “Great to hear. Good night, Marinette.”

Marinette let out a long yawn and rubbed the top of Tikki’s head with her finger. “G’night, Tikki.” ------

(Mood Music: The Lonely - Christina Perri)

This was most certainly not a good night. Marinette’s bleary eyes glanced over at the clock next to her bed.

3:00 AM, it said.

She groaned inwardly. She’d woken up about an hour ago and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep, despite being completely bushed.

Something just felt… off. Her stomach was churning and her skin felt like pins and needles. Should she check to make sure the front door is locked? Did she forget to do any homework? Was there a test tomorrow in one of her classes? She just couldn’t think of anything that would require her attention. Why was she feeling so stressed?? Frustration had set in, and she dreaded having to go to school tomorrow (or rather, later today, in a few hours’ time).

Maybe she just needed some water to calm down her nerves. Because that’s clearly what it was, right? Just some subconscious anxiety, maybe about the future, or getting into a good university, or having to defeat Hawkmoth.

Well… when put in that way, she supposed there were a few rather stressful things happening in her life. But even still! She hardly ever had a hard time sleeping before, because she was always exhausted!

She slowly scooted out of the bed, careful not to wake Tikki, and climbed down from her loft. Letting out a lengthy yawn, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. Maybe that would help settle her stomach.

And yet somehow, now that she was here, the uneasy feeling intensified.

What the hell?!

The last time she'd felt this kind of unexplained restlessness and malaise was when…

...When she’d found Chat in that alley after his confrontation with Hawkmoth.

Panic sunk into her gut and she bolted towards Chat’s bedroom. She reached the door and was about to burst inside, but she paused. Maybe stampeding into someone’s room uninvited while they were asleep was a bad idea. Not wanting to wake him up, but not willing to leave until she was sure of his safety, she instead crouched and placed her ear against the door.

Expecting to hear nothing except maybe some light snoring, Marinette’s eyes widened when instead she heard whimpering and sobbing. Needing no further invitation, she entered the room.

Chat was curled up in a fetal position facing away from the door, shaking and crying. It was too dark to see clearly, but she could tell he wasn’t transformed.

Is he upset? Is he sick??

She called his name with a small voice, “Chat Noir?”

The panting and sobbing continued, getting stronger and stronger with each second that passed.

“Chat, what’s the matter?” She sat on the bed and placed her hand on his back. The fabric of his shirt clung to his skin; his body was drenched in sweat.

Again, there was no response. By this point he began to toss and turn, almost thrashing in distress and terror.

He’s still asleep, Marinette realized.

“Chat, wake up!” she cried, shaking him vigorously, trying to rouse him from his nightmare. “Kitty, please! Wake up!”

He turned towards her, hair covering his face and sticking to the damp skin, and she had to force herself to not look at him directly to keep his identity a secret.

Seemingly out of nowhere, he surged forward, seizing her by the upper arms, his grip tight as a vise, and Marinette cried out in surprise.

His head hung down, and he sobbed as he squeezed even harder, “No! I won’t do it! I won’t hurt them! You can’t force me!”

She ignored the pain in her arms and called, “Chat! Please wake up! It’s me, Marinette!”

“No!! I’ll never hurt Marinette! Not ever!” he cried in a quivering, desperate voice; then he groaned and hissed in pain, in a way she could only describe as the sound of someone being tortured.

“I’m here, Chat! Marinette is here! You’re safe at home! You’re having a nightmare! Open your eyes!”

He seemed to respond slightly, his hold on her slackening somewhat, and she took this chance to slip completely out of his grip. She threw her arms around his shoulders and he seemed to go limp. She whispered into his ear, “Shhh… It’s just me… You’re okay… you’re safe now. Everything is going to be fine. I’m here to help. Don’t be afraid...” She began to rub his back, making long strokes up and down his torso, hoping that touch would help to awaken him.

Her calm reassurances and rubbing of his back continued until Chat’s hyperventilating stopped, and he slowly seemed to come to. He let out a shocked gasp and threw his arms around her.

“M-Marinette?! Marinette!! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he cried, and she felt fresh tears drip onto her sleeve.

She cradled the back of his head. “Chat! Why in the world are you apologizing?!”

“For everything. For being so weak. For being nothing but trouble for you ever since I came into your life. I never meant for all this to happen. It would’ve been easier for you if you’d left me in that alley that first night. It would’ve been easier for you if you hated me, just like everyone else.”

“Minou, I could never hate you,” she reaffirmed fervently, which only made him sniffle harder. “No matter what you’ve done or what mistakes you’ve made, you are deserving of love. You’re a good person, and more people love you than you might think. Things will get better. I promise.”

She held him as he continued to cry quietly, the pair still wrapped in each others’ arms in the otherwise silent darkness.

After a while, she dared to ask, “You don’t have to tell me what it was about, but… How often do you have these kinds of dreams?”

She felt him hesitate, unsure of whether he should divulge this information; but a few seconds later, he relented, and answered in a small voice, “I’ve had vivid nightmares every night for as long as I can remember, ever since I became Chat Noir. But I haven’t had one this bad since before I moved in with you guys. And… I’ve always been able to wake up on my own.”

“Oh, Minou…” she lamented, then kissed the top of his head.

He sniffled a little, rubbing her arm up and down gently in silent apology. “Marinette, I’m sorry to ask, but… c-could you stay? Just for a little longer? I-I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course, Minou. I can stay.”

“Oh, Mari… I was so scared,” he cried. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never.”

She closed her eyes so she could lower her head and kiss his forehead, barely able to contain her affection for him; immensely relieved that he’d finally calmed down. They situated themselves in the bed, arranging themselves into a position that would be comfortable for them both, and she was careful to avoid looking directly at him. He nuzzled into her, hugging her waist, and thanked her quietly. She ran her fingers through his still slightly damp hair, hoping to help him get as relaxed as possible.

Before long, she noted that his breathing had finally slowed, and she was content to watch his torso rise and fall in a tranquil rhythm until, eventually, she too was lulled into a restful slumber.

Meanwhile, outside the slightly ajar guest bedroom door, a certain baker pursed his lips in dismay... and regret.

------

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Won’t Go Slowly // 69

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The thing was, you were used to going to rinks and hockey events with Tyler. You were used to the meeting up with him, to the feeling like you were somehow being signaled out when it was obvious that he knew you or that you were getting special treatment.

You were not used to going to these events as his girlfriend.

You also think you'd only been to Biosteel Camp once before, that week the marking the separation of his life with you and his life in the NHL.

But some things were different now that you had a child with who you wanted to share new experiences. So when Tyler had asked you to come, you'd agreed, realizing that having Bentley come along added a layer of excitement to go to a hockey game, even if it was just a scrimmage. Which is exactly why you had Bentley dressed in Dallas Stars colours, even though Tyler himself wouldn't even be wearing them. You'd decided that you didn't want to drive into the city by yourself, which is why you had Bentley packed up to head in with Tyler for the day, in his jeep which seemed to be your new family vehicle.

"You might want to get into this lane here," Tyler said, leaned forward, and then looking over his shoulder, "But there's a car right behind you so -"

"I have driven before, you know," you laughed, and Tyler sheepishly sat back.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, "I like to be in control, especially when you're driving my car."

"I've driven your car before, too," you said.

"Well, I still like to be in control."

"You're in control of him," you said, nodding towards the backseat, where Bentley was in his car seat.

Tyler turned in his seat, looking at the mirror that reflected Bentley's face back at you. "He's sleeping."

"Tyler," you whined, your whole body moving in a sigh.

"What?" he asked, completely oblivious.

"You never, ever point out that a baby is sleeping when you really don't want them to wake up."

"Is that a thing?"

"Yes, it's a thing."

"Well, I didn't attend the parenting classes, I don't know," he said, "It's not in my book."

"I didn't go to a parenting class," you laughed.

"Yeah, you did," Tyler said, looking at you, and you wracked your brain until you remembered.

"That was a childbirth class. And I went to a baby CPR class," you said, thinking, your eyes glancing towards him, "Would you go to one of those?"

"A baby CPR class?" Tyler asked, and you nodded, "If you want me to?"

"I just think it would be a good idea for us both to know it if we're gonna be living together. Officially," you said, "And he's gonna be starting solids soon so he could choke."

"He could choke?" Tyler asked, in alarm, "I thought babies ate like... mush."

"Well, they do eat soft stuff," you confirm, "but it's a different texture. They have to get used to it."

"I'll go if you’ 'll come with me and take it again?" Tyler asked hopefully.

"Deal," you agreed, "I mean if we can find someone to watch Bentley."

"We can find someone to watch Bentley," Tyler said confidently. "Jamie can do it."

"Jamie?" you repeated.

"Yeah, he's great with kids," Tyler said.

"Yeah, but it's just not about being great with kids, watching a baby isn't the same thing as hanging out with an older kid."

"You let me watch him."

"Yeah, but you're different," you said.

"What? How?"

"You know...." you said, taking your hand off the wheel for a moment and gesturing back and forth between him and Bentley in the backseat to demonstrate that connection and Tyler cleared his throat loudly, and you placed your hand obediently back on the wheel.

"Well, I wouldn't let any of the guys watch him unless I knew they could do it," Tyler said, "He's got a niece, he babysits for other kids on the team."

"Really?" you asked in surprise.

"Yeah, we're more than just hockey players, you know," Tyler said, "we have skills."

"I know, I know, I just -" you laughed because you didn't quite know how to put into words that it felt overwhelming to think about having someone other than family watch your baby, even though you knew it was okay.

It didn't really feel like your home there, yet.

"We just started dating babe, and I know we were fucking for like a year, but that's different."

"Tyler," you said in shock, with the baby in the back seat, so blunt, and you felt his eyes on you.

"Moving in together is a really big deal. When you've been together for years and just ---"

"You think we shouldn't move in together?"

"What? No," Tyler said, "I'm just saying that.... we need to make sure we have time for each other. It's not just us, there's a kid and I just...if we're gonna do this whole parent thing, I think we just need to make sure we work on our relationship too. And I don't mean like pawn the kid off as soon as we get there, obviously, I want to hang out with him. I just mean like...once a month or something."

And now you were imaging the anticipation that you might feel picking out just the right dress for a dinner out that Tyler had promised you after a long road trip, or sneaking moments throughout the day to find someplace fun nearby that Tyler hadn't discovered yet.

"Okay, deal," you said, your wide smile giving away what your feelings about actually getting to date Tyler.

"I know where I'm taking you first," Tyler said, the smile evidence in his voice.

"Where?" you asked by reflex, even though you realized he'd want it to be a surprise.

"To the backyard," Tyler said, laughing even before he got the words out. "Then you won't have to worry about worry about Bentley because we'll be right there."

"Okay, I wasn't that bad," you clarified, "The was the first time that I'd left him with someone who....wasn't involved in making him," you finally decided on, and Tyler burst out laughing.

"It's fine, babe, I get it," Tyler said simply, his voice filled with an understanding that you didn't think you had until you actually had your own child.

"Love you," you said simply, because you couldn't put it into words how much it meant that he never questioned would feelings when it came to Bentley.

"Love you too," he replied, your tender moment being interrupted by Bentley's abrupt cry.

"Oh, what's the matter?" Tyler asked his voice sickly sweet, turning in his seat to see what was going on in the back.

"You're okay," you soothed, "we're just going for a car ride."

"Yeah, you're gonna go watch hockey," Tyler added, to which Bentley let out an even louder cry, "Okay, I guess you don't like hockey."

"He likes hockey," you said.

"How do you know?" Tyler asked.

"Because we used to watch it all the time when he was a newborn."

"Oh, so you who never used to watch hockey suddenly became a huge fan, huh?" he asked, his voice playful.

"Tyler, you literally watched the whole of Grey's Anatomy with me and baked everything I wanted with me even though you hate measuring."

"Well, it's so specific," Tyler said, waving his hand, and you laughed because you could somehow at least always convince him to hang out in the kitchen with you while you whipped up a batch of muffins or cookies.

"But, yeah, Bentley and I watched every game because we missed you."

"Aww," Tyler said, clearly exaggerating how adorable it was, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

"This'll be a test to see if he can handle going to a real game," you said, Bentley still making himself known from the backseat.

"Well, it'll probably be easier to take him to a Stars game," Tyler said, turning and reaching into the backseat, you assumed to see if he could grab Bentley's pacifier with the way he was reaching around.

"Why?" you asked, the simple amount of people seeming overwhelming to you because the person you felt understood Bentley just as well as you did would literally be on the ice.

R 5 4th 344

"Because you can just take him into the family room if you don't want to sit with him in the seats or need somewhere to feed him or change him or whatever."

"What's that?" you asked, Tyler huffing out a laugh, and you were reminded just how foreign this whole world was to you.

"It's a suite where all the girls hang out," Tyler said, "There's a bunch of toys and stuff for the guy's kids. He'll probably be more psyched to hang out there than watch the game."

"Oh," you said quietly, still trying to process this all, and focusing on the fact that he was referring to the players’ kids, and not just family friends.

"When do you think he's gonna be able to walk?" Tyler asked, drawing you out of your thoughts.

"Umm...after he learns to crawl?" you said, Tyler making noise to let you know that was rather obvious.

"I'm just stoked for him to run down the hallway towards me after a game," Tyler said, his arms raised and flailing about, mimicking the determined and yet awkward way that toddlers ran.

"Yeah, that'll be cute," you said, caught in that place where you wanted your baby to stay little forever, but were also looking forward to seeing how his personality would continue to emerge.

"You fed him before we left, right?" Tyler asked, Bentley still making himself known from the backseat, and you nodded your affirmation.

"He's just fussy," you said, recognizing his cry.

"What do I do?" Tyler asked, "Like how did you even do this by yourself?"

You laughed a little under your breath, Tyler turned in his seat, looking at you like you had all the answers. And although you'd driven with him before so many times, it was always him driving, and now he seemed a little out of his comfort zone like he was doing the wrong thing, even though you knew if Tyler had him in the car by himself he'd figure it out.

"Just talk to him," you offered.

"Like about what?"

"Anything," you said. "he just wants to hear your voice. Like when I was taking him to my mom's on Father's day, I told him all about what Father's day was. And why we were getting you a gift, and why you were spending time with your dad.."

"Awe," Tyler said, "Hmm..."

You didn't even realize you laughed until Tyler instructed you not to laugh at him because he was thinking and that he was under pressure now because you'd told Bentley something sweet, so he just couldn't tell any old story.

"Oh, I know," Tyler said, his voice even and thoughtful, "I'll tell you about the first time I realized that your mom was going to be a good mom."

And now you were pretty sure that you were paying even more attention to the timbre of Tyler's voice than Bentley was.

"So one time Grandma Jackie and Papa went to go out, so Uncle Ty-Ty had to babysit your Auntie Candace and Cassidy," Tyler said, "And because Mommy's awesome, she came over to help."

"That's when you knew?" you asked suddenly.

"Shh..."Tyler said, "I'm telling the story to Bentley, not you."

"Oh, sorry."

"Anyways," Tyler continued, pointedly, "Because Mommy was secretly in love with me she gave up her Friday night to come to hang out and help me."

"Don't tell him that," you laughed.

"Oh, right, it was because she was a nerd."

"Tyler," you laughed.

"Anyways, I appreciated it," he said, "So we were just hanging out watching a movie or something after we the girls had gone to bed, and then we heard this big crash from the kitchen."

And now you knew exactly what he was getting at, still feeling like that teenager responsible for someone only a few years younger than you77 even though you now had a child of your own.

"And of course we ran up there, and there was glass all over the place," Tyler said, his voice showing just how shocking it was, "Because Auntie Cass wanted some water and she didn't think she needed to come ask for help because she wanted to do it by herself."

"Which is why you'll be drinking out of a sippy cup until you're 12," you said.

"Yeah," Tyler laughed, "Anyways, so because Uncle Ty-Ty didn't think about what was doing he yelled, and what did Auntie Cass do? She cried. Yeah, even louder than you're crying right now."

"See, Uncle Ty-Ty was just scared that she was going to hurt herself more and he didn't think about how she might feel, but Mommy did," Tyler said, "She was so calm, and she just knew the right thing to say."

As Tyler's voice softened, you could hear the noises coming from Bentley softening, too.

"She knew just how to calm her down," Tyler said, "Because Uncle Ty-Ty didn't even know why she was crying, and if Mommy wasn't there, Auntie Cass probably would have been crying until Grandma got home."

"That's why I knew she was going to be a good Mom," Tyler said, more to you now than Bentley, "Because she cares a lot, but she also thinks about how other people are going to feel. She always knows just what to say to make people feel better. So I was really, really glad she was there."

"Well, I was glad you were there," you said, "I was freaking out."

"You were not," Tyler said, "I was freaking out."

"So was I," you confirmed, "You know how I hate that stuff."

"Well, you couldn't tell," Tyler said.

"Well, you couldn't tell you were freaking out either," you confirmed.

"'Cause you were there," Tyler said, even though it was the same for you, "I don't know why my mom didn't just ask you to babysit."

"Because you had it under control," you insisted, "It was your idea to take them to the corner store and let th6em pick out a chocolate bar to have with our ice cream."

"Yeah, cause they always take my money," Tyler said, a subtle uptick of his lips.

"You can't say no," you laughed, Tyler no longer able to hide his smile. And it was him who suggested Cassidy come sit with you on the couch after you'd cleaned up the glass, Tyler carrying her to bed after she'd fallen asleep during the movie, something which had made him seem so much older than the sixteen years he'd been at the time, Tyler looking over his shoulder now.

"Okay, apparently we were boring before he got here," he said.

"A little bit. I think he liked your story though," you said, "But you gotta stop only telling him good stories about me. We need like a storybook."

"Don't tell me what I can and can't tell him," Tyler said, his voice playful and teasing. "I'll always hype you up, babe. I'm like your hype man."

"Well, listen when you're out there because we're gonna cheer for you," you said.

"I will," Tyler smiled, looking back again. "He's already got the shirt though."

"He's got all the shirts, one for each game of the season, " you said, Tyler laughing.

"Do you think he'll wake up at all?" Tyler asked as you pulled into town, getting closer to that arena you'd spent so much time in as a teenager.

"Oh yeah," you said confidently, as Bentley was getting more and more interesting and aware of the world around him each day. "Where do you want me to drop you off?"

"Just up here," Tyler said, pointing to an open spot, and you noticed the 6other guys arriving after having driven to the rink on their own, whereas you felt like you were drawing attention to yourself with the way you were arriving.

"I feel like I'm your mom dropping you off at practice," you said.

"Nah," Tyler said, leaning across the console towards you, pressing his lips easily to yours before you even had a chance to process what was happening. "I'm not embarrassed to kiss you in front of my friends."

You weren't expecting him to grasp the back of your head though, pulling you to him for a deeper kiss, his hand tangling in your ponytail, and you knew you'd have to fix it, but you didn't care, smiling against his lips.

"You need anything before I go?" he asked.

"No, we're good, we're just gonna go pick up Brooke," you said, Bentley still sleeping, hoping he'd be able to get a bit more of a nap in while you did that, so he'd wake up rested and hopefully on his own. "Dani's gonna meet us here."

"K, well tell Bentley to look out for puck bunnies."

"Tyler!" you scolded, which he scrunched his nose up at, laughing.

"Hey, I said watch out for them, like avoid them, not look for them."

"Mhmm," you said, teasingly.

"I'll see you in a bit," he promised, and you kissed him once more, certain that he was being even more quiet than usual when getting his gear out of the back as if not to wake Bentley, hearing him talking to the other guys although you couldn't hear what they were saying, part of you wondering if he was explaining why he was arriving with such an entourage.

You were, however, thankful that you had brought your somewhat of an entourage with you, setting up a spot in the stands with your diaper bag which you'd tried to pare down as little as possible, Bentley curled up in Brooke's lap, eyes blinking drowsily as he began to realize that he was somewhere new.

"Oh, you made it," you said, when Danielle found you, knowing that she'd have to come by after work, your summer this year so much different than last, when you were still working regular hours.

"Well, yeah, I got to spend as much time as possible with you guys before you leave," she said, leaning down to hug you.

"I know," you said, your voice bittersweet, but as you felt the excitement of the kids around you thinking about getting a chance to see their favorite hockey player in person and your eyes watching Bentley's reaction, you couldn't help but think that this was even better than the love you'd imagined you'd have in your life last year, the experience of getting to see all these things that seemed so ordinary before through Bentley's eyes your new favourite thing.

"You look like you're having an existential crisis," Danielle said, laughing as she sat down next to you.

"It's just...I used to spend so much time here in high school," you said, looking at the rink around you, "just because it was something to do and because we would all go get food afterward. And I never even paid attention to what offsides were and barely noticed when Tyler scored and now I'm like... if you told me I would be sitting here with his baby completely invested, I would have thought you were crazy."

And yet it made you smile, having all this history with him.

"Careful how loud you say that baby part," Danielle said, eyebrows raised, although this was more about the kids getting a chance to see their favourite players in action, not so much the gossip and rumours that swirled online. "We are going out to eat though, right? Because that's the only reason I came."

"Yeah, Tyler said there's a good sushi spot we can check out," you said, which was pretty much all he suggested when you went out to eat, knowing how much you'd missed real sushi while pregnant. "We brought Bentley's stroller in case he naps."

"Tyler's paying, right?" Danielle asked, her voice giving away that she didn't care either way.

"I mean, it was his idea.." you said. And although he teased you relentlessly about whose turn it was to pick up the cheque he pretty much always did. Although he was more appreciative of when you grabbed him eggs at the store before he even noticed he was running low or arrived at his house after work on a warm summer day with a frozen lemonade for you both. "We'll have to wait a bit though, he's doing this video interview piece or something? For a YouTube channel called Spittin Chiclets?"

"That's fine," Danielle said, leaning over towards Bentley, "you want to spend more time with Auntie Danielle, right? Before you have to move because of silly hockey?"

And you tilted your head at her, wanting to just enjoy this time you had left at home with all of your people, not thinking about how you were currently uprooting half your life. It was almost like when you went away to university, leaving your summer essentials at home, except now you were a full-fledged adult and would be in a completely different country, not just an easy drive down the road.

There had to be a handbook for 7y.

"He's doing Spittin' Chiclets?" Brooke asked, and you broke your gaze away from Bentley in his Dallas Stars onesie, so much bigger than the first time he'd spotted the gear, noting the look on her face.

"Yeah, is it...not good?" you asked.

"No, no, I mean it's fine, everything's fine," Brooke said. "They're just gonna definitely ask him if he has a girlfriend."

You still froze, even though he'd kissed you’d in the car, and been the first to be vocal about the fact that he had a girlfriend.

"Do a lot of people watch it?" You asked, hesitantly, wondering if this was going to be where things really started getting serious.

"Kind of?" Brooke said, her tone letting you know that, in fact, a lot of people would be paying attention to Tyler's actions and words, and you wondered if you should have talked about this with him, even though he'd been being followed the whole camp. "I’m sure it will be fine though."

"And it's not like it's live," Danielle added.

"Yeah, it's edited, I'm sure they'll edit it out if he says something dumb," Brooke said, the slight uptick of her lips indicating that Tyler would be the one to not think before he spoke.

But you weren't exactly so sure how they could blur out that tattoo he had of your son's name across his ribs, the date so clearly connected with that game he'd missed in April, especially with Tyler's propensity to take his shirt off well working out.

Or anytime, really, part of you wishing that it was as inconspicuous as that tattoo he got for you.

But Tyler had never really been the one to shy away from sharing things, even if it was the declaration that it was personal.

So, instead, you focused on the fact that this was Bentley's first time in a hockey arena, getting to see Tyler play for the first time in person in the same place you had.

It was a lot easier than you thought, getting lost in the screams of excitement from around you, and you found yourself picking up Bentley, joining the group of kids who were waiting to see the players emerge from the tunnel. And, because you couldn’t resist when you heard the delighted calls trying to gain Tyler's attention, you tried to sneakily ease yourself in on the end, taking Bentley's hand in yours and extending it as if he was waiting for a fist bump too. Tyler might have missed it had it been during the season but he wasn't forced to focus, looking up talking to the kids as he passed by in greeting, his grin growing wider when he saw you, eyebrows raise in acknowledgment that he'd get to you, so you stood up a little more, easing out of the way.

When Tyler got to you though, he didn't reach out his glove towards Bentley's hand like you thought he would, instead of shaking it off and tucking it under his arm, extending his hands out and motioning with his fingers for you to hand the baby over.

"Give him to you?" You asked like you weren't understanding him properly. Tyler didn't answer you but nodded emphatically, so you shifted Bentley, holding on tight to his torso as you held him over the railing, Tyler reaching up to support his weight quickly, and then easily shifting Bentley onto his hip, Bentley's eyes going wide with interest, Tyler's large hand splayed easily across his stomach. You weren’t going to lie and say that you didn’t hold your breath when Tyler stepped onto the ice with your four-month-old, but Tyler was watching him carefully, Bentley's body barely even moving with the movement. Somehow, Tyler managed to turn around without his feet even moving, giving you a view of him watching Bentley's reaction.

And then your brain caught up to where you were, that you couldn't stay stuck in this moment forever, fishing your phone out of your pocket to take a picture. You could see Tyler talking to Bentley but couldn't hear what he was saying, pointing towards you like he thought he could encourage a baby to not only make eye contact but smile for a picture. You thought you'd got a decent one but Tyler frowned though, motioning back a forth between you and then spinning his hand around, gesturing for you to turn around. Cluelessly, you looked behind you, seeing Danielle and Brooke there, realizing that Tyler wanted you to get in the picture too, and you swire you could hear Tyler giggling at you, shooting him a look over your shoulder as you inched up near the glass, hearing Tyler's laugh grow even louder as you shook your head. You focused on smiling for the picture, resisting 6he urge to just watch Tyler and Bentley the whole time, knowing you’d get to enj9tseeing the picture later. When Danielle put her phone down, you walked back over to meet Tyler to get Bentley, leaning your body over, getting closer to him than you'd probably ever been with him in full ge8ar.

"You got him?" Tyler asked, his voice louder than you were expecting.

"Yep," you affirmed, your voice confident and yet Tyler kept his hands his hands around Bentley's waist for a moment too, and then dropped him them suddenly with a gasp like he'd just dropped the baby, your heart skipping a beat even though you knew you had him.

"Tyler," you chided, pulling Bentley into your body but not looking at him quite just yet, giving Tyler a stern look. "Don't do that."

He laughed, his lips turning up in a smirk, and then you could have sworn he puckered them just a bit as though blowing you an apology kiss before sprinting onto the ice in a way that would have had you landing hard on your backside.

You shook your head, addressing Bentley. "Did you go on the ice?" You asked enthusiastically, using your hand to fix his onesie where it was riding. "What did you think? Mommy's not so sure how she feels about it."

"I’m surprised Tyler hasn't bought him skates yet," Danielle said, and you smiled, shifting Bentley onto your hip and then sitting back down.

"I told him there's no point buying him skates until he can walk," you said, holding Bentley in your lap, bending over to get him something to hold out of his diaper bag, not wanting him to get restless too soon. "And then I'll deal with it once Bentley can walk."

"He's totally gonna convince you, you know," Danielle laughed.

"I know," you sighed because Tyler could smile in a way t h at was so damn charming that he was pretty much the only one who could convince you of putting a bra and real clothes back on after you’d gotten home from work to go out for the evening or give up your paid time off to fly down to visit him for only a day or two.

"It goes both ways though," Danielle said, and you smiled at that main example of that that you had sitting in your lap. "He looks at you all googly-eyed all the time, and like finally I don’t have to pretend not to see it like I did all last summer."

"Okay, he was not looking at me like that all last summer," you clarified, because that you would have noticed. And maybe he did look at you a little more often but he was just being ... caring.

"Little bit," Danielle said, and now you smiled a bit, her sitting down next to you, flipping the ears on Bentley's toy. You all jumped though, when there was a large bang on the glass in front of you and you didn't even have to look up to now it was Tyler and that ge was trained on your reaction.

"Why does he always do that?" You said, laughing when you took in Bentley's startled expression.

"Flirting," Danielle said matter-of-factly.

"Well, he can stop," you said, "he already sweet-talked me into moving in with him."

"Well, stop blushing then," Danielle said, and now you felt the heat in your cheeks.

You were so screwed.

"I’m not, it's just a bit warm in here," you tried.

"It's an ice rink," Brooke pointed out, and you bit back a laugh, looking out onto the ice, the reason that you were here.

The baby.

"Do you think he's warm enough?" You asked

You'd actually put pants on him for the first time in months so he was in layers, but you hadn't actually expected him to go out on the ice.

"Tyler?" Brooke asked, and you had to look over at her to know she was joking. "Yeah, pretty sure the stuff they have them wear is pretty warm."

"No, Bentley," you said, "I don't care if Tyler's warm enough. Well, I care, but he can deal with it, he's the one who chose to play this ice sport."

That garnered a laugh from both Brooke and Danielle, Bentley looking around curiously as if he didn't understand what was quite so funny, yet wanted to be in on the joke.

"He doesn't feel cold," Danielle said, taking Bentley's hands in hers, feeling them. You leaned down anyways, pulling his blanket out so you could tuck it around his feet.

"I was gonna put a footsie pajama on him but Tyler said he'd be too warm," You said, "And he's too old to be going out in his jammies now."

Danielle stifled a laugh, which came out as a snort. "Wait, he thinks he's a baby stylist now?"

"He gets disappointed if he comes home from the gym and I already have Bentley dressed, " You said. He was actually good at it, too, picking out coordinated outfits and often pairing them with a hat, which he said was to keep the sun out of Bentley's eyes but you suspected was just for looks. He'd asked you a couple of times for certain things that you didn't have, making you feel confident 5hat Bentley's wardrobe was going to be growing once you moved to your seasonal home.

"Whatcha looking at?" You asked Bentley, his eyes gazing around in front of you, the sound of skates against ice surrounding you, and you spotted Tyler immediately, watching his arou3nd the front of the net. You took his Bentley's hands in yours, clapping them together like he was cheering. "Can you say 'Go Dada'"?

As soon as you heard the word come out of your mouth you tipped your head back, letting out an exasperated sigh.

Sure, it wasn't the first time that you'd done that, but you really, really had to stop doing that.

Especially when there were people around. Yet, you couldn’t really do it in your head either as that just made it more real, the word could slip out that much easier.

"I can't believe that I did that again," you said because Brooke and Danielle were looking at you, like maybe you'd maybe that transition and you'd hadn't told anyone yet.

"..he's still not?" Danielle said, her voice soft and yet you understood her words.

You shrugged and shook your head easily because you’d slipped up a couple times already and he hadn't mentioned it, but he'd referred to himself as Uncle in the car. "It would be so much easier if he just....stopped acting like a dad," you confessed. You laughed because it was so much easier to stick to the uncle’s word when Tyler was looking to Bentley to play with and was ready to look to you the second he started fussing.

"You know he's committed though, right?" Danielle asked, turning to you.

"Yeah, I know," you said because that was one thing you'd never doubted.

"As he asked you to move in with him," she continued. "That's a huge deal. Especially for Tyler."

"What is that supposed to mean?" You laughed.

"You know how he always talks about girls being 'clingy' if they spend the night," she said, "and then you spent practically every night at his house last summer."

"I did not spend every night at his house," you protested, and Danielle gave you a pointed look. "Okay, but it wasn't like a thing."

"Yeah, exactly," she said, with satisfaction, as if you just proved her point. "He, like, wanted you as his "friend" there. Now imagine living together on purpose."

"Yeah," you said dreamily because that was what you were really looking forward to, not the casual keeping things at each other's place that could easily be packed up, but having your lives so intertwined that you no longer knew which things were whose.

"Okay, let's just...stop talking about the move," you said because you'd been so focused on packing and planning that you just wanted to escape for an afternoon. "We're supposed to be here to watch the game, and we have no idea what's going on.."

"Yeah, you're so into him," Danielle teased, her smile matching yours. "Never have you been so interested in hockey."

"Well, I got to teach Bentley what's going on," Tyler's not gonna help me explain when he's out there."

You were glad, though, that you were able to catch bits and pieces of the game between your chatting and keeping Bentley entertained because you caught Tyler's goal, standing Bentley up on your lap. "Go "Yay!", you said, dancing him around on your lap until he let out a happy giggle, just catching Tyler's glance towards where you were seated.

"The only one you're gonna have to compete with for Tyler's attention is this guy," Danielle said, her fingers tickling Bentley's belly, causing a delighted squeal.

"And the dogs," you said, "but I am totally okay with that, that’s exactly what I signed up for."

You were also glad that Bentley was handling the big outing like a champ, especially with him being awake for longer periods during the day now. But you were definitely grateful for the extra hands, Danielle soaking up as much time with Bentley as she could.

"Wow, so this is what being a WAG is like," Brooke said after you’d given your name so you could go and meet Tyler after.

"Okay, this is no different than before," you said, leading the way through the hallways that were so familiar to you, finding Tyler leaning against the wall, his damp hair curling around his face.

"Hey," he said, pushing himself off the wall when he saw you, hand curving around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"But that's different," Danielle said, and you laughed under your breath. Tyler raised his eyebrows a bit but didn't ask about it.

"Hey, guys," he said instead, reaching out to brush his finger against Bentley's hand. "Was he okay ?"

"Yeah, he stayed awake the whole time, he was watching," you said, meaning that he was looking at everything going on around him, not at just what was happening on the ice. But Tyler didn't need to know that.

"Yeah, I saw you cheering, " Tyler said in his baby voice, "while mommy was sleeping."

"It was the one time," you defended, which made Tyler laugh, your smile betraying your false annoyance. "Are you ever gonna let me forget it?"

Tyler shook his head, a smirk played on his face. "Don't even with the pregnancy thing, I know you can stay awake when you really want to."

"You fall asleep too," you insisted.

"No, I don't," he scoffed, and you nodded. "When?"

"You slept his whole first night on the hospital," you said, nodding towards Bentley.

Which was a bit much, because it wasn't like it was his responsibility to wake up to check on the baby, but Tyler just tilted his head, a smile spreading across his face.

"Okay, you're right," he admitted, looking through the doorway to the gym where there was a small crew setting up for the shoot. "I'll probably be like 20 minutes or something if you guys want to go ahead, I can meet you there."

"We can wait," Danielle answered for you, bouncing Bentley, and you nodded your agreement.

"K, we're ready for you, Segs," a voice said and you followed the voice to see a tall man, just a little surprised that Tyler was talking to a group of people, yet he seemed to recover quickly.

"This is Biz," Tyler introduced, at the same time as he introduced himself as Paul and you looked at Tyler in confusion, even as you introduced yourself. "Hockey thing," Tyler clarified.

"Oh," you said, redirecting yourself to the handshake and repeating your name once more, which you were certain you heard Tyler snicker about. You enjoyed watching Tyler more than you thought you would actually, listening to him talk about his training routine and summer schedule while Danielle walked down the hall with Bentley, a quick glance making you think she searching for your grad class photos to point out to Bentley, even though so many more photos of Tyler alone or with his hockey team existed amongst those walls.

"So, usually come out here early and train and then get on the ice for a bit, then I drive back to the lake, unwind, do stuff around the house, cook dinner.."

"By yourself?" Paul/Biz asked now, and Tyler's lips ticked up into a mischievous smirk.

"Maybe."

"So are you extending the invite then?"

"I mean, just with the guys I train with," Tyler said, Biz's eyebrows raising.

"Well, I don't think I got the invite."

"Currently still train with," Tyler clarified.

"Hey, I think I could still jump in here."

Tyler's eyes trained up and down his body as if in evaluation. "Yeah, you look pretty ripped."

"Oh, not like you," Biz scoffed, gesturing towards Tyler, wheels seeming to turn in his head. "Any girlfriend?"

You watched Tyler's eyes dart towards your direction and then bounce back as they'd never been there, his lips turning up in a boyish grin, arms crossing over his chest. "Yeah."

You watched as Biz's eyes bulged out of his head in shock, examining Tyler like he wasn't sure if he was telling the truth.

"No shit," he said, pushing Tyler in the arm, and then somewhat glancing where you were standing with Brooke. "Is she here?"

Tyler shook his head, running his hand over his chin. "No," he said, settling his hand on his jaw before he smiled mischievously. "Is that all about her then, like..?"

"I mean, unless you have something else to say about her then," Biz said, speaking with his hands.

"I mean, she's awesome," Tyler said, "I like her."

And you brushed the confusion of that you felt off until Tyler siled back up next to you, afterward, his voice low like it was just meant for you. "Hey, I just said you weren't here cause," he nodded towards Bentley, "I just don't want anything to slip by accident."

"Okay," you said easily, thankful your mind didn't go there, but equally appreciative that he'd thought to explain it to you, your eye wandering over the walls behind him. "It’s weird being back here, eh?"

"Eh?" Tyler teased, "I mean, I've been here pretty much every day this summer but.."

"You know what I mean," you clarified.

Tyler ran his hand over his chin, taking his time in response. "I don't know, I kind of like where I am now."

You raised your eyebrows, giving him a look to show he was right, and he returned your gaze, looking briefly over his shoulder, and you got the impression he was ready to leave.

"We're good," Biz said, making his way back over, your head turning as you thought you heard Bentley starting to make fussing noises. "So this the girl then?" He asked, nodding towards you, and you shot Tyler a look as Biz waited for his response, because Tyler really wasn't as subtle as he thought he was.

"Well.. yeah," he admitted, letting out a breath of laughter like he’d been caught with a secret he'd just been waiting to reveal.

And now Biz was reintroducing himself to you again, and you had a brief glimpse into what it felt like to be Tyler Seguin's girlfriend rather than just you.

"How'd you guys meet?" He asked, and you found yourself deferring to Tyler, like you weren't sure how much he wanted to share.

"We went to school together actually," Tyler said, "high school. She was smart enough to go to University."

"Really?" Biz asked like he'd expected Tyler to say you met at a party or through Instagram, not that you'd met when Facebook was just becoming a thing.

"Yeah, her picture's up around here somewhere."

"You got any good stories?" Biz asked, turning his attention back to you.

"No, she does not," Tyler answered for you, his arm coming around you, pressing a kiss to your temple, and you felt yourself relax with his presence. You turned only when you heard Bentley cry, Tyler allowing you to pull away. You instinctively reached out to take Bentley from Danielle, bouncing him as you turned back, trying to settle Bentley's head against your chest, knowing that he must be getting tired.

"Kid too?" Biz asked, and you failed to notice it was a joke, freezing when you realized that Tyler's hand was settled on your waist, both of you leaning in towards the baby like attentive parents.

Tyler's hand shifted on you as he turned, his hand moving across his face as he spoke. "It's...kind of a long story.," he said, and Biz looked at you both apologetically, realizing he hadn’t thought through his words before he spoke. But it was okay. "I'll have to tell you about it sometime."

You were glad that that quelled everything, half-listening to the small talk about the start of the season, putting Bentley into his carrier, not wanting to miss the window for getting him to sleep. Brooke and Danielle went ahead to get you a table at the restaurant while you and Tyler took your time saying goodbye a little more slowly, moving your body to soothe Bentley, and getting a few comments about how cute he was.

"You okay with him?" Tyler asked once you were making your way out of the arena like he hadn't just been playing hockey.

"Yeah, I don't want to move him and wake him up," you said, keeping on hand on Bentley's back, but using the other to reach for Tyler's hand, Tyler's lips turning up into a soft smile as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

"No, we don't want that," Tyler agreed.

"I barely even held him in there, either," you said with a smile, loving that everybody loved him as much as you did.

"Oh, look whose Mr. Popular," Tyler teased.

You heard the excited little gasps which meant you turned to see a group of kid's yelling "Tyler Seguin!" like Tyler needed to hear his full name in either to respond.

"Looks like you're Mr. Popular," you said with a smile, and Tyler gave you a slightly sheepish look, you letting him slide away, and he instantly turned his attention to the kids, just as excited to see them as they were to see him.

You leaned down, pressing your lips to Bentley's head, your hand rubbing up and down his back as you listened to Tyler talk excitedly with the kids about what position they played, and what made them love hockey in between pictures and autographs.

"Sorry'" Tyler said when he appeared back at your side, easing into you like he had something to apologize for, and you weren't just spending the entire time loving him. And you shook your head, smiling, and leaning in to kiss him, Bentley nestled between you.

Because him you’d wait forever for.

#wont go slowly #tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

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fukurodaze · 3 years

Text

five stars: part 3 | three words

IT’S EMBARRASSING: a third year cheerleader!reader x second year athlete!suna au

wc: 4.1k warnings: swearing

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you hate mornings.

they feel restless and empty and full of longing to have something worth waking up to. sometimes it’s hard to even get up when your mind is full and your heart is worried.

but you do not hate suna rintarou. in fact, you’ve learnt a few new things about him.

one, he has a little sister.

two, he has a nice laugh.

three, he is only “occasionally lactose intolerant”, but not if he “tries his best”.

the things you already knew - his volleyball position, birthday, grade, home town - were never brushed up on, but somehow made their way to the forefront of your memory the more time you spent with him. you began to see him as simply ‘suna’, instead of ‘the boy you helped with physics last year’.

you wonder how you ended up spending every morning of the last two weeks with him. he seems nonchalant, almost lazy, when you see him around with his teammates: back slouched and face relaxed almost all the time. yet, when you let him walk you to class, he’s talkative. he’s eager. he’s walking slowly so you can keep up.

it’s a bit of a question for you, why he’s suddenly popped up into your life once more after waking you up on an unlucky monday morning.

(he had told you that you had slept with your eyes wide open, and it took you some time to process everything as your chest fluttered with embarrassment.)

then again, you’re not complaining.

“if you notice over here,” suna leans into your side, pointing at the phone in your hand as the two of you walk through the school, “there’s a little cockroach at the corner of the room going out.”

“oh my god,” you laugh. the video on suna’s phone displays today’s fight between the miya twins at the gym.

it’s your third week with him.

now, as he lets you hold his phone, the literal embodiment of all the volleyball team’s blackmail material, there comes the familiar urge of yours to steal a few glances, adjust your hair, or maybe do something absurd and see how he’d react.

it’s a strange feeling. stranger than when he walked you to your classroom once and you, in your half-awake genius, slipped him a tube of your lip balm in the open pocket of his bag in case you didn’t have an excuse to see him again.

“what were they fighting about again?”

suna shrugs, “osamu was having a bad day, and atsumu got pissed, so, naturally, osamu got pissed.”

“shit. everyone was crowding around i couldn’t even see them throwing punches,” you mutter.

“anything that the twins do usually gets a crowd, really.”

you pass the phone back to him. “yeah, the twins are crazy popular. especially with the girls. they’re like idols.”

“right,” suna pockets his phone, “you’re popular too.”

your brows are furrowed. “stop it.”

suna playfully tenses his shoulders up, hands shoved in his trouser pockets, “you’re, like, the kind of person that organises the culture festival and is like the secretary for the student council.”

“i actually am.”

“you probably are.”

you two pause when the sentences come out at the same time, and it takes no time for the two of you to laugh it out, lightly, with snickers and giggles that you’ve never really heard from his mouth.

“you know, i finally got to watch a movie last night,” you begin, changing the conversation.

he looks at you slowly, sweetly. “oh yeah? what did you watch?”

“uh, totoro...”

he stays silent, and you find his head tilted and his eyebrows raised. he looks amused. you ask him, “what?”

“solid movie.”

there is a questioning look that you give him, and you know he sees it, pupils focused to your side. he speaks again, “you like ghibli movies?”

“yeah. i think everyone does. don’t you?”

suna looks like he’s staring down the sky, thinking. he hums, and then tells you, “i don’t.”

now he exaggerates his normally poor posture, chin tilting up to get a view of your reaction. the two of you keep walking, in an unusual silence, and you’re left watching his eyes as they stay indifferent.

“didn’t you just say totoro was a ‘solid movie’?”

the boy looks ahead, “yeah, so?”

you click your tongue, eyes narrowing, “whatever. i don’t believe you.”

suna has a satisfied smile on his face. he makes sure you don’t know it.

the two of you enter the building, even taking extra time to go to each others’ lockers. it’s only been two weeks since he had seen you laying on the bleachers, eyes embarrassingly open; two weeks since he had walked you to class the first time; two weeks since he had really started to know you.

when you reach your classroom, suspicious eye contact from classmates and the increasingly busy hallway tell you that it’s time for him to go to class, too. he sneaks in a cynical remark, and you playfully hit him on the shoulder, for the first time.

“i’m betting you and him get together by august.” your friend, honoka, chimes in as you enter the classroom. your neighbouring seat mates agree.

you’re starting to look forward to mornings.

unbeknownst to you, suna has a deadline.

the interhigh is only a week away, and so he’s told himself that he’ll do one thing before completely shutting himself out for volleyball training: asking you out on a date.

in other words, he is fed up with the volleyball team’s rendition of his “showoff mode”. he doesn’t lift his shirt up that much!

his first strategy is the straightforward, nonchalant way. he eagerly waits for you at practice.

“hey,” suna almost chirps, feeling a skip in his step.

“hey.” your squint your eyes at the unexpected energy, “are you- are you up to something?”

suna’s ears turned beet red at your statement. he couldn’t have possibly guessed that you knew what he was about to do.

a smirk crawls onto your lips. “oh, so you are up to something…”

“yeah, right. it’s nothing.”

you slap a hand on his shoulder, “hey, i get it.”

“what?”

“i mean, whatever pranks you and your friends are up to, just try not to get expelled, ‘kay?”

suna’s shoulders relax, but his eyebrows furrow, “wait, wha-”

“the volleyball team’s up to something, no?”

suna nods cautiously, not sure if he should be relieved or sad at the miscommunication.

“anyways, thanks for waiting for me after practice. i have a some paperwork to do for the student council, so you can go on ahead,” you give him a genuine smile. he always likes to see it, but it’s a little less lovely when the thought of a failed asking-out attempt is circling his mind.

“right. bye.” suna dashes off, hand fisted in his pockets.

he tells himself it’s a work in progress.

“what the fuck am i doing making breakfast so well,” suna mutters under his breath one morning, preparing a cut of fish in the kitchen. he doesn’t even have practice this morning, and yet he’s skimmed through the entire oven manual and has found the joys of cooking fish meat.

he even takes some of the fish and puts it in a metallic lunch box with rice to bring to school. normally, he would settle for the canteen’s average meat buns.

“two bentos…?” he breathes. he has an idea.

it’s not long before he’s meeting you at the bus stop. he finds you sending him a small wave and an immediate groan about how your english teacher “is the definition of a nerd-bully equilibrium, what goes on.”

he laughs along with the complaints you have, even joining along with the flow of conversation. sometimes he thinks he changes a little bit when he’s around you, but he doesn’t mind. he likes talking and laughing and enjoying his time with you without worrying about what other people say.

he’ll give you a bento, maybe, he thinks, because he’s seen lots of girls give their boyfriends bentos in the past. maybe it would even give you a nod in the right direction.

right before the school’s building entrance, he stops you and takes you by the arm. it makes your heart skip a beat, but for him, all his heartbeats are centered around the lunchboxes in his bag.

“suna, why-”

your words are cut off when you see the boy eagerly rummaging through his bag, at first with a smile and then with a worried look. his hand is in his bag for a little too long.

there was only one bento.

so he gives you a beat-up ballpoint pen.

it’s transparent, and from the outside you can see the ink tube only one-eighth full. it looks old.

“um, it’s a good luck charm... for your english test today.” suna keeps his mouth pursed and his look unfazed.

“oh.” you smile at the absurd charm. it seems questionable at first, but you try to convince yourself to trust in it. to trust in suna.

“i know, it’s kind of… beat up, and every-” it’s clear that suna is worried, for what you don’t know, but the way he hangs his head and his other hand fumbles with the strap of his backpack is enough to tell you to accept the surpising gift.

“no, i like it. even if it doesn’t work.” your hand keeps the pen in your fists.

“it does work, by the way.”

you chuckle, “i’ll return it after class?”

suna shakes his head, “you don’t have to. if you do well you can keep it.”

you nod an okay, and he has a tiny look of satisfaction on his face. he had thought of giving you his lunch and not eating, but he decided against it when he remembered he didn’t bring any money to school that day. temporary success, fuck yeah.

(you get a ninety-two on the test. you keep the pen.)

as a last resort, suna tries through text. at least he’s proud that the two of you have been texting for two weeks straight. he still has you under “y/l/n-senpai (physics)”, and it makes him crack a small smile under his covers from time to time.

from y/l/n-senpai (physics): 2 notifications

suna slides the notification open. it’s always a pleasant surprise.

from y/l/n-senpai (physics): just watched arrietty its a ghibli movie

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): ik hv u watched howl’s moving castle

from y/l/n-senpai (physics): yes ofc

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): well. i havent

suna runs out of words to type. he’s not sure how to phrase it...

still, by the way that you’re typing, it seemed like he hasn’t messed it up. he rolls around to the other side of his bed.

from y/l/n-senpai (physics): then go watch it… (READ)

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): let’s watch together|

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): let’s watch tog|

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): let’s|

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): let’s go on a da|

suna sighs, thumb pressing the delete button like there’s no tomorrow.

except his thumbs are big. and phone keys are small. and his train of thought has jumbled up past usual cognition.

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): lets go, toge (SENT)

suna starts to stare down the volleyball in the corner of his room, wishing it would explode on command, when another ping lights up his phone.

from y/l/n-senpai (physics): 1 notification

he makes the slowest visit to his contacts to change your display name on his phone. he wants to stall.

but he always gives in.

from y/n: whos toge? (READ)

“fuck,” he grunts, burying his head into his pillow.

out of sheer shame and fatigue of asking-out attempts, suna doesn’t see you in the morning that monday nor text you for the rest of the weekend, having left you on read every time you sent a message. he thinks that if he reverted back to the time when the only interactions with you were stray thoughts in his mind, life would go on and this too would pass.

it’s not like you would care, right? he would tell himself.

but suna seemed to forget that you were on the cheerleading team, and that the cheerleading team shares the gym with the volleyball club on mondays and fridays, not tuesdays and thursdays like he had very cleverly remembered.

“suna!”

you call out to him that afternoon. you have your cheerleader uniform on, having received them just today, and make sure to catch him while he’s on break.

big mistake.

you knew the volleyball team was tall, but you never really expected them to be slightly off-putting, too. it seemed like one call of his name made the entire team, consisting of over twenty boys, turn their heads at you simultaneously. then they looked at suna. then they smiled.

you find in your peripheral vision a wide-eyed kita, glancing back and forth once before going back to the volleyballs and game plans even during his break.

you put on your sweetest smile, as expected of a cheerleader who’d just recently gotten her summer cheer uniform: v-neck, sleeveless top, pleated skirt, inarizaki lettering plastered across your chest in maroon and white.

he steps in front of you, eyebrow raised, “yeah?”

“can i talk to you about something?” your hands are behind your back, body weight shifting from left to right.

he nods, and as you take him out of the gym, you hear the volleyball team cheer and a certain miya twin shout, “fuckin’ suna!”

“fuck off, atsumu!” suna voices.

outside, your smile falters. you lean against the wall of the gym.

“did i do something wrong?” you say it softly, but firmly. you see his shoulders tense up, just slightly.

“um, no?”

you squint your eyes suspiciously, “but you’ve been ignoring my texts...?”

suna rolls his eyes instinctively. he regrets it when he sees a genuine frown on your face. “dunno,” he says.

your frown persists, and you start to bite on the inside of your mouth. “well, the last thing you texted me was, uh, ‘let’s go toge’. i’m so sorry if i missed something, or if it made you feel bad, so-”

“no, don’t be sorry,” he has his hands on his hips, “i never meant to send that.”

“what do you mean?”

“it was supposed to mean something else,” he looks down, scuffing his shoes against the brick floor.

“oh, was that message not meant for me? and who’s toge? sorry if i’m-”

suna gathers himself. he opens his mouth. he says eight words.

“i meant to ask you, ‘let’s go together’.”

the conversation comes to a halt. his words ring ambiguously in your ear, and it flusters you when the first thing that comes to mind is a date with the boy. you try to shake it off.

“like- like what do you mean?” you feel sorry for having him repeat the phrase twice.

suna shrugs, “i chickened out.”

“dude, you’re not making any sense.”

there’s a sharp pang in suna’s chest, and he visibly grimaces. “did you just call me dude?”

“maybe.”

“ouch.”

“wait, so what do you mean!” your arms flail around a little too dramatically for someone as tired as you.

suna contemplates whether or not to tell you that he wanted to ask you out. by the way you’d just called him dude, he wonders if you’d rather him give you a fist bump and tell you ‘nice toss!’ instead of hold your hand and take you out on a date.

so he counts his stars and he goes for the leap.

“actually, i wanted to ask if you wanted to watch a movie together.”

you back up into the wall at his words. there’s a heat that crawls through your body and beats through your heart.

“is that what let’s go toge meant?”

he nods, shoulders relaxing, arms to his side, “let’s go, together. like- like a date.”

his words take you by surprise. still, you’re nothing but glad.

“yeah,” you lick your lips, “i’ll go. and i take back the ‘dude’”

“oh, really now?” his shoulders relax.

you roll your eyes.

“so he asked you out, right?” honoka asks during a water break in pe class. you couldn’t say no.

“yeah, i’m going to his flat next wednesday.”

“why not today? friday?”

you pouted, head turning slowly, “stuco meeting. we have our cultural festival late october, remember?”

“ah.” honoka sips on her water bottle, “i won’t be here by then.”

“what date are you leaving again?” you try not to darken your tone, pouting at the idea of losing one of your dear middle school friends to distance.

“august eighteenth. a month away.”

you begin to slouch on your bench. there are more classmates that come to your bench after hearing honoka telling you her leave date. ‘oh my god!’s and ‘i’m gonna miss you!’s fill the corner of the gym, and soon the whistle blows, signalling the end of your water break.

the rest of the day proceeds as normal, and yet there’s that familiar emptiness that seems to continue to fill up even more of your days.

it’s tiring.

suna’s flat is extremely well put, for some reason. you’d always passed him for a boy who simply didn’t care, but now you see him at his own place, grabbing his laptop from his desk one-handedly.

you’ll admit going to a boy’s place alone is an awkward concept in itself, but it seems like suna doesn’t pay no mind. he’s plugged in his laptop to a charger, set it on the table, and has sat himself down on a floor cushion.

it’s a relief that you don’t know how suna’s heart is almost threatening to beat out of his chest.

“what do you want to watch?” you’re quick to sit down on the floor next to him.

he shrugs, “maybe you can convince me to like ghibli.”

you tsk at his line, yet it eventually brings you an ear to ear smile. you reach over to the laptop, scrolling through netflix. “i guess we could start with howl’s moving castle?”

your head turns to him, and he nods, before standing up all of a sudden. you look at him questioningly, but you find him walking over to his kitchen and returning with two paper bags and two glasses of water.

your eyes follow him as he rests the items down on the table and scoots back on the floor. he gestures the paper bag towards you, “popcorn. it’s salty, so i don’t know if you’re into that.”

“ah. thanks,” you smile, and he reaches over to the laptop, pressing play.

you don’t expect the movie to be the first thing on your minds - the both of you knew this. though you and him had spent some time marvelling at the movie, you find that for every other time you dip your hand into your popcorn, a pair of eyes turns to glance at you.

you two spend your time silently during the movie, however. your eyes have developed a habit of simply tracing suna’s figure with your eyes, and it comes in embarrassingly when he had looked back and found your attention on him instead of the laptop at one point.

you’re surprised, though, because he does seem to be paying attention to the movie, more or less, and you can hear his small hums of amusement and surprise as the movie progresses. you colour yourself proud.

suna doesn’t even touch his food nor his drink, having felt too nervous to do so. he wants to know how you’re doing, silently, but whenever he meets your eyes, he decides that he’d rather fix himself on the movie. he wonders if a date like this means holding your hand or even saying goodbye with a kiss hug.

when the movie ends you ask him why he hasn’t eaten his popcorn, and how you feel kind of bad about it, but he ends up telling you how good the movie actually was.

“i don’t believe that you don’t like ghibli movies.” you squint playfully.

there’s a grin that grows on suna’s resting face, “i never said that i was saying the truth, i just said that i didn’t like them.”

he stands up, bringing the food and drinks on the table to his kitchen counter, and you follow him over. the realisation hits you then, “oh. oh.”

“in truth i haven’t really watched many of them so i don’t know, but, yeah.”

“it’s funny because i feel slightly played.”

“well, you’re here now, aren’t you?”

you watch as suna reaches into his refrigerator for some eggs. he glances at you, and you’re sitting on his tiny dining table.

“do you want an omelette?”

your eyebrows raise. your heart skips a beat at the thought of eating his cooking. you tell him, “sure.”

suna takes the time he’s faced away from you to think about what’s next. he knows that you have some kind of inclination towards him, having agreed to his explicit naming of this hangout a “date”. still, his mind wanders towards the timing: is it too early to properly confess? hasn’t he technically already confessed? the omelette flips and suna thanks the world for having it look like the prettiest one he’s ever made.

this one’s for you, he thinks.

when you do take the omelette in your mouth, you sigh a little bit. it looks pretty - almost beautiful, in fact - but also seems to be half-half-cooked.

you don’t care, though, because it still makes your stomach flutter thinking about the fact that he had made this with his own hands. and if it takes some half-half-cooked omelette to eat, then, hell, you’ll eat it.

it’s not all bad, though, since he offers you some rice along with the egg as well, and it eventually turns into a filling meal. you hadn’t had one of those in a while.

when you look over to the other side of the table, you find he’s already finished with your food, and normal chatter makes itself more comfortable in the confines of his small flat. this is how it’s supposed to be, you tell yourself, just meaningless banter and humorous talks.

you find yourself growing to know him even better.

“isn’t it funny, how, some weeks ago, i had only seen you as that ‘one guy i tutored last year’?” you say after the date as he walks you out of his apartment. he tells you he’ll be walking you home, and though you tell him no, you ride the bus, he says he has some extra money in his wallet for the month.

suna agrees, “yeah. i would’ve just carried on with my life.” suna lies through his teeth. he’s been through the volleyball team’s teasing for his obvious crush on you. hell, they’d even dubbed it suna’s “showoff mode” (ginjima calls it ‘beast mode’) whenever you were within a five meter radius of him.

you tell him time flies fast, and he tells you it walks slowly. for you, getting to know suna rintarou has been something you finally look forward to after all your work. but for suna, getting to know you is something he savours every second of, remembering how he wants to make up for the times he used to pine over your unknowing self.

when the two of you get on the bus, you sit next to him, yawning. he wants to have an arm over your shoulder, or your head on his shoulder, but he doesn’t exactly know how.

“my house is actually a few stops from here.” you say. it’s already nine at night, and though you’ve spent over five hours at his flat, you don’t want to lose your time with him to sleepiness.

suna notices how you try to fight it, even having told him, “don’t worry, i usually sleep at two am everyday anyways. i’m not going to fall asleep.”

he tells you, “you shouldn’t be sleeping at two every night.”

“it is how it is.”

he chuckles, “i once got shouted at for sleeping at five in the morning during a training camp. they forced me not to train at all that day. it was-”

the bus comes to a stop and your head falls on his shoulder. he calls your name softly.

you’re asleep.

suna keeps still as the bus ride continues, remembering the stop you said was yours. he counts them - one, two, three, four, five stops - and with each, his breathing steadies. he feels like the luckiest boy in the world.

“what am i to you now?” suna’s head tilts back, whispered question dissolving into the atmosphere. he doesn’t expect an answer.

instead, your arm circles itself around his.

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as always, thank you to roo @yooroomi for beta reading this series!

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna x reader #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #hqradiostation #haikyuu scenarios #hq scenarios #suna scenarios #suna rintaro #suna rintarou x reader #suna imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! x reader

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joontier · 3 years

Text

Parallel Palpitations | V1; report i

pairings: dr. park jimin x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: romance, slice of life, humor

warnings: none to note

word count: 2k

g/n: this is just an intro basically ksjdfksjdf but i’d also like to inform yalls this coincides with the Subliminal in Scrubs universe (jk’s installment of TWA)

Parallel Palpitations (the records) | navi. | m.list

Closing his locker with his foot, Jimin tries to carefully balance his books placed precariously on top of each other in his arms as he walks back to the dean’s office where he’s also arranging most of his stuff to take home. It’s already been a week since he’d officially graduated medicine from Busan National University, and he had only kept going back to school to gather all his belongings so he could start reviewing.

“Jimin, is that you?” The question almost knocks clumsy Jimin off his feet, surprised at how there was still any other person in the office besides Kyungjo who was also collecting his stuff to take home. Jimin sets all of his books down first on a desk and turns, only to come face to face with none other than Jeon Jungmin himself, associate professor and chairman of the Jeon Medical Center.

“Professor Jeon! Good evening Sir...It’s already late, professor?”

Jeon Jungmin laughs, patting Jimin on the back, “I was going to say the same to you kid. You should go home.” Jimin flashes the older man a small smile, “Ah...yes, Professor. I’m just grabbing the last of my stuff then I’ll be on my way. This won’t take long.”

“It’s fine, Jimin. The staff know you well anyways,” Jungmin sighs, then rests his weight on a pillar as he puts his hands in his pockets. “You know, Jimin...you’re a very bright student...I think even one of the best in Korea if I do say so myself.”

The young man momentarily pauses with what he’s doing, taking in the professor’s words, “Oh, I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration, Sir.”

Jungmin chuckles as he shakes his head. “It’s true - you’re driven and you’re smart. It’s a fixed formula for someone who achieves great success in life later on. Your parents must be very proud. I would be too, if you were my son too.”

“Thank you, Professor. Everything I do, I do for my parents.”

The older man lets out a deep exhale and gives Jimin another pat on the back. “Just wanted to let you know that you’re going to be a fine doctor Jimin - and the Jeon Medical Center would definitely need fine doctors like you. I realized I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I really hope you will choose JMC for your post-graduate internship. We have a good program here,” Jungmin’s voice goes down to a whisper, “If you wish to, just let me know…”

Someone enters the office and bows to the both of them and recognizes the same man as the professor’s driver. The man collects the professor’s briefcase and coat with one nod of Jungmin. “Well, I’ll head off first, Jimin. I can give you a ride home if you’re done with those.”

Jimin shakes his head quickly, declining the one and only Jeon Jungmin’s generous offer. He’s unsure about the other offer though, but if he lets himself get a car ride home with the chairman himself, the latter might take it as a favorable answer to his proposal to which Jimin is still undecided. “No thank you Sir. I’ll be alright. This might still take a while after all,” Jimin says with an awkward laugh, tapping the top of the stack which was rivaling Jimin’s height.

“Alright Jimin. Get back home safely. And I...hope to see you again very soon.”

Jimin gives him a curt nod. “Good night, Professor.”

He continues on with his remaining tasks, wanting to finish quickly so he could finally go home and rest. “Is he gone?” Kyungjo’s voice startles Jimin, the book in his hands nearly causing the tower of books to collapse. “My god! Stop doing that!” Jimin scolds his friend as it wasn’t the first time Kyungjo’s sleuthing had given Jimin a fright.

“Yeah, he left already. You done with your stuff?”

“Uh-huh. All set and ready to step into the real world,” Kyungjo replies, waving his hands in the air. Jimin narrows his eyes at the other boy, judging him silently. Kyungjo has a particular inclination towards alcohol and Jimin wonders if today was one of the days where his friend indulges himself yet once again.

“Have you heard about his actual son? What was the kid’s name again...uh…” Kyungjo snaps his fingers in mid-air as Jimin asks what was the issue with the chairman’s son, likewise reminding Kyungjo it wasn’t best to talk about it in the dean’s office. “Ah! Yes, Jeon Jungkook. Heard that their relationship got so bad that Jungkook completely cut himself off from the family once he graduated high school and went to Yonsei instead of BNU because of his daddy issues.”

Jimin, unsure how to handle and process that kind of information, simply shakes his head at Kyungjo. “It’s wrong to gossip about other people's lives like that.” When Jimin looks over at his friend, Kyungjo is no longer listening, fumbling with the remote as he turns up the volume of the office television.

“In other news today, two thousand five hundred sixty one students of Seoul National University graduated this afternoon 25th of February, 2023. The ceremony was held at COEX Convention Center in Samsung-dong, Seoul to accommodate the number of graduates this year. With a yearly average of at least two thousand three hundred graduates, this year’s commencement ceremony records the highest number of graduates in the history of the national university.

“Not only did they record the highest number of alumni, but this year also marks the first year to have a foreign national graduate as the school’s valedictorian.” Jimin is listening just as intently as Kyungjo now with both boys focused on the TV screen. “Jeong Yeorum, also known as Summer Jeong by her colleagues, graduates with flying colors today from Seoul National University’s College of Medicine. Here is part of her valedictory speech this afternoon.”

A girl appears on screen and she stands behind the podium with a bright and reassuring smile on her face. “As we embark on the journey of the rest of our lives, I implore you all, to do what you love, because I believe it’s what you’ll do best. There will be countless times of trial, but keep in mind that perseverance will always prevail. Always aim for the moon, because even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars. Class of 2023, good luck. And remember, graduation is only the beginning.”

“Wow!” Kyungjo claps his hands enthusiastically as he marvels at the girl. “The twenty-six year old, who along with her family migrated to South Korea back in 2015 when her father was reassigned to an office here in Seoul. The valedictorian says she’s not entirely foreign to Korea as her paternal grandmother is actually a native of Jeju. Jeong Yeorum then attended a co-ed high school in Mapo District, where she likewise finished her secondary education with academic distinction.”

The reporters, equally impressed with the girl’s achievements, couldn’t help but add their own comments to the news report, “Wow...I guess some people are simply born for greatness.”

“I agree with you there, Dongho-ssi. We might be looking at the next Bae Jeonjoo, the only woman in the group of doctors who pioneered neurosurgery in South Korea. Ms. Jeong Yeorum, if you are seeing this, we’re rooting for your promising career. Fighting!”

As soon as the news anchors proceed to report other news, Kyungko turns off the television and mentions the time. “Well, she was pretty cute, wasn’t she? Totally my type! Maybe when we get to Seoul to review, we’ll get the chance to meet her...and make her my girlfriend!”

Jimin rolls his eyes at Kyungjo, placing a firm grip on the shoulder, “My friend...you are either drunk, hungry, or high. Either way, you should go home. Don’t worry about me, I’ll just close up here.”

Kyungjo shrugs his shoulders. “You’ll still go, right? To Seoul?”

“I will. Don’t worry.” Jimin gives the other boy a reassuring nod.

“Still half half with the rent, a’ight? I’ll be counting on you, Jiminie...and don’t let me down. Also, tell me when you’re leaving for Seoul so I know when I’m not supposed to bring hot city girls home...they have the tendency to be...loud sometimes.”

This boy was definitely high, and whatever substance he’s taking, Jimin wants none of it.

“That’s your cue, Kyungjo. Go home and take a cab instead.”

“I can drive! I’m not high or drunk!” Kyungjo puts his hands up in the air in defense. “Hey, look, I can even moonwalk!” He proceeds to dance wildly as he exits the office, leaving Jimin questioning how he even became acquainted with Kyunjo in the first place.

You barely hear the sound of your name being called on stage when the audio of Hoseok’s loud whooping completely dulls that of your professor’s. “Oppa! Nobody would be able to make out my name with your audio input!” Playfully shoving your cousin’s phone back into his hands, you continue to mumble your complaints about the poor video quality.

Indignant with your words, Hoseok retorts, “Hey! I’m not a professional videographer, alright? What’s important is the actual moment happening and not how the moment was captured!” Hoseok hooks an arm over your neck, bringing your head to his chest as he gives you a noogie. “Oppa, my hair!!”

Pulling yourself away from his grasp, you quickly pat your hair down but not delivering a solid smack on Hoseok’s back. As you’re fixing your hair, you weren’t able to put much thought into where you were walking, ultimately, and accidentally bumping into someone in a blue and black graduation robe similar to yours.

Quickly, you look up, apologizing profusely at the person. “Oh! I’m so sorry- I…” “It’s okay,” the guy smiles a little, “_________, right?” You’re sure the surprise is evident in your face when he mentions your name when he barely even talked to you during the entirety of med school. “Yes! I mean...hello, Jungkook..” Clearing your throat, you quickly think of something to divert the impending awkward silence, “Well...um, congratulations to you for graduating as the batch valedictorian!” It now dawns on you that he really did graduate on top of the class, “Wow! You’re real smart!” comes your thoughts, unconsciously voicing them out.

‘You’re real smart?’ Really? That’s the best you could’ve done?

Jungkook chuckles, slightly taken-aback by your audible observation. “Oh yeah...um, thanks.” From behind you, you hear Hoseok clear his throat before speaking up. “Hello!” You hang your head low momentarily, already imagining Hoseok making fun of you later for this.

“Right, Jungkook, this is my cousin, Jung Hoseok. Oppa, this is my classmate - Jeon Jungkook.” The two men shake their hands briefly before Jungkook speaks up, “Well, I’ve got to go now. Congratulations to you too Soomin. And Jung Hoseok-ssi.”

As soon as Jungkook gets out of your sight, Hoseok nudges you with his elbow. “Please tell me that man was Jeon Jungmin’s son,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. Nodding your head, you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Got a crush on the dude?” Oh god. Here we go again.

“No! Jeez.”

“Why were you so awkward around him then?”

“We barely talked in class. Hell, I don’t even think we were within at least fifty meters from each other.”

“But he’s a handsome man?”

“Maybe you’re the one that’s got a crush on him?”

Hoseok glares at you.

“Do you think maybe you’d know which hospital he might be interested in taking his PGI? Woocheon perhaps?”

It’s your turn to glare at him. “I told you. This incident was only one of our very few interactions ever. I think the last time he talked to me was when he borrowed a pencil during a class and that’s it.”

“Well...if you’d discover where, let me know. Because if he does apply for Woocheon, and we’d happen to get the girl from SNU too....” Hoseok nods his head slowly, stroking his chin “Woocheon will have the A-Team interns this year, you included.”

You roll your eyes, resting your arm against the car door that Hoseok opens for you, “You really think that’s going to pay for you ruining my hair?”

“No, but you’re going to thank me if Woocheon manages to snag the dream team!”

#jimin x reader #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #park jimin #bts aus #bts fic #park jimin x reader #jimin fluff #doctors au

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obscure-sentimentalist · 3 years

Note

flommy, “I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you.”

[So this one’s been nagging at me for probably about a year now? It had been sitting half-started for ages, as I never really knew how to carry out the idea I had, but I did my best in coming back to it now. Bit lighter on the Flommy interactions this time, but in exchange we get Tommy and Thea siblingness and some Tommy thoughts.]

From the Comforting Cuddles starters list

“What do you think about ‘I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you’?”

“Do you need me to take you to the ER?” Thea deadpans from her perch on the cushioned window seat in Tommy’s room of the hotel suite without looking up from her phone. “Because it sounds like you got one of those Hallmark cards from the airport gift shop lodged in your throat.”

Tommy slowly lowers his own phone and rolls his head towards his sister, expression settling into one of loving annoyance. “What I’m getting out of that is that I have a future in the greeting card industry.”

“The future you should be more concerned about is the one where I spin-kick you in the head before the emotional trauma of hearing my brother workshopping romantic texts to his girlfriend sets in.”

“Hey, I’m keeping it perfectly PG,” Tommy defends, pointing at Thea with his free hand for emphasis.

That finally gets her to set her phone aside and swivel in her seat to face Tommy, giving him a striking, raised-eyebrow look. “I think the subject matter automatically makes it PG-13.”

“It’s a hotel bed!” Any exasperation behind the words trips right out of the gate, stumbling into nervous laughter.

Thea just continues to stare, swinging her legs back-and-forth unevenly as her feet dangle above the floor.

“That’s… achieved the perfect ratio of softness to firmness for an excellent night’s sleep?” Tommy can feel his ears reddening as they disappear into his shoulders. “Also, those pillows. Heavenly. Remind me to check with management to find out who the supplier is, I’m going to place a personal bulk order once we get back to Starling.”

“Right,” Thea says slowly, legs finally stilling. “So the high-quality comfiness is the thing worth writing home about. No other reason why you’d express missing having a plus-one to enjoy it.”

Had his mouth not dropped open with a scandalized pop instead, Tommy might have swallowed his tongue. “Thea Dearden Queen, you’re going to stop right there before I also ask about the hotel’s highest-strength cleaning supplies and if they can be applied directly to my brain.”

“You asked for critique,” Thea reminds him, but backs off by raising her hands sarcastically in surrender. “Just pointing out insinuations you may or may not have intended. You’re welcome.”

Chagrined by both the acknowledgement that he’d asked for help and his sister’s frankness in delivering said feedback, Tommy turns his attention back to the blinking cursor in the half-filled message box. The wittiness of the greeting has dulled significantly since the lightbulb first flicked on, even without the suggestive commentary. It’s a grim admission that spurs Tommy’s thumb to find the delete key and hold, consuming the carefully-crafted words before his eyes until he’s greeted once again by blank space.

The fact that Thea’s sigh is louder than his own is what pries Tommy away from his seemingly insurmountable task with his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“You really haven’t done this sort of thing before, have you?” Thea asks, waving a hand vaguely at the room as she sinks back against the window. “The out-of-town business trip.”

Admitting defeat (at least for the moment), Tommy tosses the phone onto the bed and crosses his arms, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I mean, if my business was pleasure...”

“So no, then,” Thea cuts in with a fond eye-roll. Her face goes soft a moment later, though, and she glances back at Tommy with a strange sort of knowingness. “Which means you especially haven’t done it when you’ve been in an actual relationship.”

Tommy offers up an entirely sheepish look. “I think that’s a given.”

Thea makes a little shrug-like expression with her lips, conceding that point. She pulls one foot up to rest on the cushion and hugs her knee to her chest, before giving Tommy another gently pointed stare. “It’s okay, you know.”

“Hmm?” Tommy rocks back on his heels as he lets the questioning hum slip, and rolls his lips under for a façade of innocence. These last few exchanges have been drawing them dangerously close to vulnerable topics—it’s still Tommy’s carefully-wired reflex to either clown about it or just play dumb.

Too bad Thea knows those moves when she sees them, and her narrowed eyes suggest that she’s still considering the earlier threat of a spin-kick in the head.

“It’s okay to miss her,” she says, stripping Tommy’s anxieties bare with a single statement.

For a split second, he thinks he might have preferred stewing in the awkward surrounding the Bed Text for just a bit longer. Incidental innuendoes are familiar territory, even if being called out for them by his younger sister adds a new layer of humiliation.

The notion doesn’t linger, though, but it’s due less to the embarrassment than it is to his brain bouncing from point to point like a pinball machine from hell. The mortification just ricochets back to the almost-slip in question, and—true to pattern as of late—propels his thoughts to a flare of fondness and Felicity. The thing that makes Tommy want to bury his face in one of the pillows that started it all, though, is the fact that the ball rebounds again to the current conversation, seemingly inescapable.

“It’s not weird?” The question comes hesitantly as he uncrosses his arms, immediately bringing one hand to rub the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s only two nights, and one already down—we’re back by tomorrow afternoon, no time at all. I feel like it’s too much, just me being unreasonably clingy.”

Experience seems to back up that impression, after all. Two years, five, more have created gulfs between Tommy and his loved ones, and even then, his longing and loneliness came off as exaggerated and one-sided.

But maybe that’s not entirely fair, he immediately scrambles to note. Oliver was working through his own problems at the time (in questionably-at-best healthy ways), caught up in a different storm of emotion and trauma that instinctively repelled Tommy—familiar magnets flipped to the same pole for the very first time. Perhaps it took more time and effort than either of them could have expected, and still never returned them to where they left off, but they did manage to establish a balance better suited to who they are now.

(Even Tommy’s being in this hotel room—as one of three co-owners of Verdant, joining Thea in exploring options for expanding the club outside of Starling—is evidence enough of that reconciliation and understanding.)

As for his father’s absence and return…

Well, any expression of emotion comes off as an overreaction when compared to Malcolm, and should not be counted.

Almost as if she senses Tommy’s once-solid evidence crumbling to dust, Thea pushes off the window seat, landing gracefully on her feet. “You’re overthinking this, especially with the texts. Just call her, all right? We don’t need to head out for at least another hour, so there’s plenty of time.”

Still lagging a little bit from trying to detangle his anxieties, Tommy nods absently in agreement as his eyes follow Thea’s movements towards the door. When she crosses the threshold to head back into the suite’s living area, though, his brain finally catches up. “Hey! How is it that you’re the one giving me relationship advice?”

Thea grips the doorframe and leans her full body back into the room, one eyebrow arched as she tilts her head to look at him.

“I mean, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? You know, older brother’s prerogative and all?” Tommy defends weakly, wilting under the sharp stare.

“Seeing as I ended up with emotionally-constipated brothers on both sides, I think that privilege has been revoked,” Thea declares, smoothly propelling herself back upright and reaching for the doorknob. She pulls it behind her as she finally departs, but not before shooting Tommy a cheeky, “I’ll give you some privacy to relay the magical properties of a hotel bed.”

Tommy imagines his immediate response is the sound an ostrich would make if strangled. “Okay, look…”

The door closes firmly before he can get any more words out, but not fast enough that he doesn’t catch Thea’s laughter.

“Brat,” Tommy mutters affectionately under his breath, before teetering backwards to flop down on said bed. The impact bounces his phone an inch or two above the comforter, only to land face-down right next to his hip.

Tommy’s breath catches in his chest as his attention is drawn again to the device, a mere hand-twitch within reach. Hardly any effort at all to pick up, and selecting Felicity’s name from his recent call log to re-dial is no more complex a step. But his hand seems to be declining all calls from his brain, remaining unmoving at his side without even an itch in the fingertips.

He’s overreacting—he has to be, and for real this time. It’s been barely a day since his standard morning protest of Felicity’s alarm (involving an exaggerated yawn and an arm stretched across her stomach to secure her in place for just a bit longer) was met with a laugh and a set of ice-cold toes pressed to his shins in retaliation. Barely a day since Tommy lumbered past the bathroom door on his way to the kitchen and couldn’t (wouldn’t) fight the grin that bloomed upon overhearing Felicity’s murmur-singing of some earworm while getting ready. Barely a day since she’d swept into the kitchen, all color and curls, to accept the travel mug of coffee from Tommy’s hands in exchange for a soft, lingering kiss and wishes for a safe flight.

A one-day break from routine—one that’s still a few months fresh, at that—and certain comfort shouldn’t be this jarring, should it?

After all, it’s not like they’ve been completely out of contact for the last 24 hours. Tommy had passed along travel updates (and a couple pictures taken mid-flight of Thea, tuned out with her neck pillow, eye mask, and earbuds); in turn, Felicity had relayed the shift between her day and night jobs, and confirmed her safe return home following the latter. There may temporarily be a few hundred miles of physical distance between them, but Felicity is still firmly here in Tommy’s life.

And yet, he can’t help but linger on the memory of waking this morning: rolling onto his stomach and reaching across the bed, only for his arm to land flat atop a mattress completely devoid of another body’s warmth. How the confusion and pinprick of hurt struck faster than the recognition that said bed wasn’t his own and why, and the clarity only served to transform it into a yearning ache. Even brushing his teeth was a more solemn affair, with Tommy still half-listening for Felicity puttering around and starting her day.

Maybe Thea… has a point.

Before Tommy can tend to the gentle bruise to his ego from admitting his younger sister has relationship wisdom where he does not, his phone buzzes with an incoming call. Synapses finally firing as they should, his hand wraps around the device and lifts it to his face to glance at the screen.

His fingers nearly fumble and drop the phone directly onto his face when he sees Felicity’s contact photo (one he’d surreptitiously taken shortly after they’d moved in together, when he’d caught her pleasantly lost in thought at the kitchen table) and the banner requesting a video call.

Thankfully, Tommy manages to spare himself that painful landing by adjusting his grip and scooting back into a seated position against the headboard. He takes and releases a deep breath to compose himself, before his thumb finds the Accept button.

Within an instant of Felicity coming into focus, Tommy feels his lips tug into a broad smile to compliment her still-sleepy one.

“Morning,” she greets with a little finger-wiggling wave, before she pulls a steaming mug of coffee into view with her other hand. After a second, she curls her fingers into her palm and wrinkles her nose in thought. “Wow, that was weird.”

“What, saying ‘good morning’?” Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

Felicity mirrors the expression and throws in a shrug. “I rarely get to open with it, at least. It’s usually beat out by someone requesting that I ‘please keep hands and feet and body inside the bed at all times’.”

“Always best to take those safety messages seriously, you know,” Tommy notes sagely. He can feel the corners of his mouth twitching, threatening an even bigger smile, but the impulse immediately extinguishes once he sees Felicity worrying her lower lip between her teeth and averting her gaze in uncertainty.

“I missed it today,” she blurts, catching them both off-guard after a (seemingly agonizingly long) beat. A light flush comes to her cheeks at that, but she confidently lifts her eyes back to meet Tommy’s and amends, “I missed you. Waking up with only a tangle of blankets trying to keep me in bed, and then getting ready on my own… I mean, it’s not unusual or unfamiliar, I did get by for many years this way. But I guess going back now, after getting into new and shared habits, is stranger than I expected.”

Felicity takes a breath to duck her head a little and push a stray curl behind her ear with her free hand, before picking up steam. “It must be something about the distance that’s getting to me—for no real reason, because it’s only been the one day and you’re back tomorrow—but I wanted to call and say…”

“I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you.”

Only once Felicity pauses, lips frozen in a little “O” and only a single surprised blink to prove that the connection isn’t buffering, does Tommy realize he’s landed himself right back where he started. This time, though, he’s backed by Felicity’s own testimony, and that changes the game.

The lights on the pinball machine of his thoughts are going wild, that’s for sure.

“What I mean by that,” he starts, punctuating mid-sentence by awkwardly clearing his throat, “is that I miss you too. That I was actually looking forward to cold feet on my legs this morning, and hoping to hear you singing in the bathroom, and…”

Tommy trails off, disguising a small wince. Thea’s going to be smug about this for the rest of the weekend, and almost certainly for a while after they return to Starling.

“And I think that, if we’re both feeling this way, maybe we’re not overreacting so much as we’re… on to something.”

It’s difficult to determine what that “something” is, beyond the sense that it feels right. That they—Felicity and Tommy, together—feel right, and even a temporary deviation from pattern (no matter how small or odd) is a shock to the system.

It’s okay to miss her.

Felicity remains silent on the other end—the stunned expression having melted off her face and into something more thoughtful, but much less readable. Even though their conversation up to this point made their alignment apparently clear and she’s likely just turning the implications over in her mind, Tommy can’t help but subtly squirm from the suspense.

“Yeah,” Felicity finally speaks up, lips spreading in a small, soft smile as she nods in agreement. “Maybe we are.”

Despite that being the very answer Tommy was hoping to hear, he has no immediate idea how to respond.

“Oh. Uh, good,” he fumbles. “Because I’m hoping you’ll feel the same way about these pillows if I manage to find out where they’re from and get my hands on a few.”

Something in Tommy’s chest swoops as Felicity cracks out a startled yet amused laugh. “You’re really stuck on those, huh?”

Tommy meets that with a casual shrug and pats the one next to him for emphasis. “I’m a connoisseur. These meet all the necessary criteria, and then some.”

“And I’m a tough sell,” Felicity retorts, settling back in her seat and bringing her mug to her lips. “I know what I like, and I’m seeing only one pillow here that I want for sure by the end of the weekend.” To drive the point home, she bobs her head sharply to give Tommy a once-over.

“Well, now that I will gladly arrange,” Tommy agrees, and lets the grin spread unrestrained across his face.

#obscure-sentimentalist writes sometimes #flommy #flommy fic

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

“Small Things”- A Phobia Sequel

F/M Pairing: OC x Bang Chan (SKZ)

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of violence, mature content

Genre: Mafia AU

Summary: The birth of his first child puts a lot of things in perspective for Chan, and he’s determined to do everything in his power to keep his family safe.

There were a lot of things in Chan’s life that he could’ve never predicted. For example, when he was just ten-years-old, he met two younger classmates in Mrs. Park’s fifth grade group who he never imagined would become his most reliable confidants. But hindsight was 20/20, and Han Jisung used to be a mess of small limbs and puffy cheeks who had an uncanny knack for sweet-talking the assistant teachers into allowing him an extra portion of chocolate. Meanwhile, quiet and leering Seo Changbin was the shortest kid in class, but it certainly never made him appear any less intimidating. Together, the three of them were a formidable force, and they found it very difficult to stay apart. Yet, Chan’s only regret when it came to his friendships was the harsh and demanding mafia world that he had brought them into as business partners.

Likewise, when Chan met his future wife for the very first time, she was nothing more than the daughter of the man who had murdered his parents and threatened to harm his friends. It was surely enough justification to convince Chan that he should stay away from anyone associated with that vile and horrible man who he was forced to serve. But his daughter was nothing like her father - and Chan was always the type to observe people from a distance and learn as much about them as he could. He listened with patience, and he was quick at sorting his enemies from his allies.

It wasn’t long before Chan found himself completely enamored with the daughter of the man he hated the most - and Chan was determined that she should never have to suffer anymore. In fact, it only took one stupid decision from her father before Chan was leading her as far away from that horrible life as possible. They settled down together, and Chan started to build his own reputation in a competitive world where survival of the fittest was taken quite literally.

Consequently, Chan learned to keep his wife near him at all costs, and she was never in the direct line of fire. Chan only brought her along when he knew that there would be no danger to her well-being, but even that eventually had to stop with the unanticipated surprise of her pregnancy. Thereafter, Chan worked tirelessly to ensure that his future child would have a good life, and he was determined to keep his personal life completely separate from his business affairs.

But after so many close-calls with rivals and partners alike, Chan decided to take a huge step down from his role as the prime authority figure in their organization. Jisung and Changbin were more than willing to fill his shoes because that’s the kind of the friends that they were - perhaps even more like brothers at the core. In any case, Chan’s role became minimal, and he wanted to be there for every step of his child’s life - even if that meant giving up what he had once prioritized and considered most important.

But life had a way of constantly changing - and Chan’s priorities shifted as well. Gone were the days of late-night stakeouts and meetings with buff and angry drug dealers who always wanted more than what they were worth. Instead, Chan traded most of his responsibilities for the simple pleasure of waking up next to his wife with their daughter sleeping in the middle of the bed.

It always brought a smile to Chan’s face: to simply glance over and see the tiniest and most innocent face in the entire world looking back at him with wide eyes that promised an unequivocal love. For his entire life, Chan had always fought for what he wanted, and he used his fists and cunning tongue to help him in most situations. Yet, when it came to his wife and daughter, everything was so much easier - there wasn’t any stress to burden his shoulders, and he never felt the need to constantly survey his surroundings for any sign of trouble.

None of that was necessary anymore, and Chan was beyond grateful for the inclusion of his own little family to cherish. Some might say that his world got a lot smaller, but Chan didn’t quite see it that way. His leadership of a mafia organization meant danger and deception around every corner, but being a husband and a father promised a future full of happiness as opposed to the constant risk of death and destruction.

It was a massive upgrade in his opinion, and Chan widened his eyes when he saw his daughter start to squirm around on the bed as if in discomfort. But Chan’s fatherly instincts were surprisingly natural, and he carefully collected his little girl into his arms for the short expedition to the bathroom. Chan gently laid her down on the changing table - starting the process of providing a fresh diaper while his daughter studied him with big, brown eyes that looked a lot like his own.

“There you go,” Chan said, smiling down at the joyful bundle who allowed a series of incoherent gurgles to escape.

It was at that moment that Chan’s phone chose to go off, and he sighed because he knew that it meant he was needed elsewhere. But he allowed the call to go to his voicemail while he brought his daughter back to bed, brushing a kiss across his wife’s forehead as he watched them both journey back to sleep.

In the meantime, Chan walked downstairs to stand on the outdoor patio, choosing a more private area to return Jisung’s phone call. It only rang twice before his familiar voice was offering a greeting: “Chan, we’ve got a problem.”

“Yeah, I’m listening,” Chan said, trying not to let his annoyance bleed through his tone as he allowed Jisung to explain the complicated meeting they were planning with one of the area’s biggest drug lords. Apparently, he wanted to meet with Chan directly, and Chan briefly wondered what could be so important than neither Jisung nor Changbin could satisfy this impossible man. “I’ll be there tonight,” Chan said, ending the call with an exaggerated groan of displeasure.

The club that had been chosen as their designated meeting place was one of the raunchiest in town. It made Chan uncomfortable to see the scantily-clad women waltzing around the joint, even if Changbin and Jisung were clearly enjoying themselves. “This is my type of place,” Jisung remarked, eyes shining with mischief while he plopped a blonde onto his lap. She was young and beautiful, and she certainly had no qualms about giving Jisung an impromptu handjob through the front of his skinny jeans.

Meanwhile, Changbin hadn’t taken his hands away from the attractive brunette who had spent a good solid five minutes complimenting his biceps before Changbin was pulling her along to their designated table. His lips were glued to the side of her neck, and Chan was growing slightly annoyed with the sound of her pornographic moans as if Changbin was somehow capable of giving her an orgasm simply by painting her throat with love-bites. “Let’s be professional,” Chan said, even if he knew that it would be hard to convince his friends to turn their attention away from two very willing women.

It was actually a good tactic on the part of their host - a useful distraction to lower their guards. Too bad Chan had outgrown these tasteless maneuvers, and he could handle himself while his friends had a bit of fun with their women. Of course, the host himself was rather extravagant with introductions, and Chan rolled his eyes when a richly-dressed young man marched himself through the entrance with several women attached to his arms and a big, burly bodyguard trailing along behind him.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” he said upon his arrival to their table. “My name is Don, and it’s an honor to meet the infamous leader of the Miroh Organization.”

Chan forced a smile in return. “Likewise.”

“Well,” Don continued, taking a seat next to Chan. “I can see your men are taking full advantage of our offerings.”

Chan grimaced when he realized that Jisung and Changbin had yet to acknowledge the presence of their host. “I’m sure they’re very grateful.”

“But you don’t seem to be sharing their opinion,” Don remarked. “Are they not to your satisfaction?”

“I’m not interested,” Chan said, and it was hard to notice - the barely visible upturn to Don’s upper lip as if he wasn’t happy to hear Chan say that.

“I see,” Don said, glancing between the two girls standing at his shoulders. “I didn’t want to believe the rumors, but I guess they’re true.”

“Rumors?” Chan repeated with an admirable level of patience.

“About your wife and child,” Don said, and Chan felt a sickly shudder creep down his spine. Because nobody was supposed to know about his daughter. “What a great risk for you,” Don continued. “How can you even ensure their safety?”

“We’re here to negotiate a deal,” Chan said, and he noticed that both Changbin and Jisung had finally tuned in after hearing mention of his family.

“And I’m simply proposing a few useful bargaining chips,” Don said with a sardonic sneer. “Let me say this, Mr. Bang: your asking price is outrageous. We want $10,000, or else you might never see your family again.”

Chan felt the entire world come to a standstill at Don’s declaration - like a dark curtain had suddenly eclipsed all the light left to guide his path and there was nothing left. For his entire life, Chan had never really valued his life all that much; in fact, he didn’t fear death or the prospect of what came after this existence. But the idea of hearing his wife or daughter’s lives threatened? Well, Chan had never felt a comparable rage to the one suffocating his lungs and igniting a fierce passion deep down inside of him. “This is not good business, Don,” Chan managed through the haze of red. “You won’t see a single penny from my organization, and if I see you or any of the scum associated with your shady dealership again, then I won’t hesitate to put a bullet straight through your head.”

He exhaled slowly when he stood up from the table, feeling some satisfaction when Jisung and Changbin dismissed their playthings in return. Because their loyalty was far more profound, and they would always stand by his side. Then, he gave Don one last warning glare before he led his men out of that horrible place - with no intentions of ever coming back.

Chan was still shaking from adrenaline when he walked into his bedroom later that evening, and there was a sense of relief when he saw his wife lounging on their shared bed with his daughter steadily falling asleep in her arms. It was everything that mattered the most to Chan, and he took a step into the quiet room while running a stiff hand through his messy hair. “Hey,” Chan whispered to catch his wife’s attention.

She smiled at him, and it was enough to clear the earlier tension that had rested heavy on his chest. “You were gone for a while,” she said.

Chan nodded, and he paused next to her bedside. “Can I hold her?”

His wife seemed to notice the latent fear and uncertainty in his tone. “Of course,” she said, and Chan brought the wriggling bundle closer to his chest, looking down at his daughter because there was an undeniable innocence reflected in her eyes that dispelled all the cruelty of the world that he was forced to endure during his meeting. “Did it not go well?” his wife asked, studying him with the same look that he had grown used to seeing - the one that told him she was not at all satisfied with whatever was happening.

“It...caught me off-guard,” he replied, reaching down to adjust the collar of his daughter’s shirt.

“Do you need to talk about it?”

Chan shook his head. “I think it would upset you.”

His wife inhaled sharply. “That bad?”

“It’s nothing that I can’t handle,” Chan said, and he was fiercely determined as he lowered himself down to the bed. “I’ll always protect my family.”

It was a solemn promise that was often difficult to keep in his world, but he had never felt this much love for anyone else before. Yeah, the mafia world was full of constant danger and seemingly endless trials and tribulations, but Chan wouldn’t dare say that he preferred that world to the one he kept safely hidden away from harm. Because his wife and daughter? They were his greatest adventure - and he would do everything in his power to give them the best that life had to offer.

#stray kids #stayverse #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids bang chan #skz bang chan #skz bang chan fanfic #bang chan fanfic #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids writer #mostlycompetent #requested

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airgetlamhh · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Lostbelt 3

So, Lostbelt 3.

Just came out, and this time I played it in good time. Hopefully that’ll continue! Spoilers ahead for Lostbelt 3, and also for Qin Shi Huang’s interlude which has yet to come to NA. I’ll mark that section specifically so people can skip over it.

You might remember that I did one of these for Lostbelt 2, and if you haven’t seen that you can find it here. These are freeform and have no real set structure, they’re just one big post for me to gather and explain all my thoughts about the story. I’ll talk about characters, themes, pacing, etc. as they occur to me, and so expect this to be fairly chonky.

Now, once again, I’m going to lay out the thesis statement ahead of time, so people can feel free to skip over or read as they please. I expect this will be somewhat more controversial than my opinion about Gotterdammerung.

Lostbelt 3, the Synchronized Intelligence Nation, is bad.

I had wondered how to start this, but over time my thoughts kept coming back to the pacing. There are sixteen chapters in the Lostbelt, and almost nothing of any consequence whatsoever happens for the first eight. We fight Akuta, she runs, we fight Akuta, she runs, we spent like eight battles fighting the beasts Koyanskaya let loose and they amount to nothing and have no plot relevance whatsoever, we fight Xiang Yu and then he runs, and then we fight Xiang Yu and Lanling and then we’re forced into a truce and then nothing happens until Spartacus leads the people of the Lostbelt to rebellion and Qin drops the meteor and the march to Xiangyang begins.

Nothing happens.

Obviously that’s an exaggeration, there some events. Qin examines the Shadow Border, we meet some of the characters, but that’s all, really. A solid half of the Lostbelt is almost entirely useless faffing about, and then it rams the accelerator so absolutely nothing has any time to land and we speedrun our way through it. To put it in perspective, it’s one chapter shorter than Gotterdammerung, which was already five chapters shorter than Anastasia, and it feels significantly shorter than Gotterdammerung too. I complained in my write-up of that that it felt like things just happened for no reason, but at least things happened. In comparison, half of Lostbelt 3 feels bereft of content, the only important events of which could be condensed into about three chapters tops.

It feels like it’s a mid-year 1 Singularity. We have detours to kill random beasts unrelated to the actual plot, we get interrupted by fights as we try to talk, we faff about for ages and then speedrun our way to the actual climax. By the end of the Lostbelt, I was left with a lingering sense of “Wait, is that it?”

Moving on from the pacing, I think I should probably address the characters next. This is likely to be the largest section, since so much of the issues in the Lostbelt come from the characters and it’s only by talking about the characters that I can really engage with the themes. I’ll start from the least relevant and work my way up, meaning that I’ll be addressing basically the entire conglomerate of characters that aren’t Qin, Yu, Xiang Yu, Spartacus, Liangyu or of course Jing Ke.

Red Hare and Chen Gong, they’re comedy, make no mistake. They’re there to add a bit of humor to scenes and it’s fine, they’re funny. It’s a mistake, in my opinion, to follow such a powerful scene as Spartacus saving the villagers and it inspiring them so much that the Lostbelt reconnects with the Throne of Heroes by having it result in nothing but comic relief, but they’re inoffensive.

Koyanskaya, she’s Koyanskaya. There’s a bit more hinting about her true nature here, but besides that she’s exactly the same. Nothing much happens besides that truly gratuitous torture scene that made me glad FGO’s story isn’t voiced, because it really was just deeply uncomfortable. I think that after two chapters and a prologue full of her being untouchable and smug and constantly ahead of everyone she did need to stumble a bit, but having her get punked by Shuwen and then gruesomely and gratuitously tortured while she screams and begs for help was completely unnecessary.

Han Xin and Li Shuwen, they’re fine. I’m not much of a fan of the whole stuff about Li Shuwen being so powerful as to stand up to four Servants, three of whom are meant to be insane powerhouses in their own right, but we’ll get to that in a bit. Han Xin when he’s allowed to just go apeshit at the end is one of the very few genuine delights about the Lostbelt, I really enjoyed him.

Lanling is a disappointment not because he’s badly written, but because he’s barely written. We start the Lostbelt to a flashback of his death and it sets us up to expect a bunch from him, but all that we really get is that he’s loyal to Yu. His only purpose in the story is to function as a connection for her outside of Xiang Yu, and boy howdy does this whole thing fail, we’ll get to that too. If he’d had more time, I expect he’d be quite good, but as it is he’s barely in the story and his only major character moment outside of Yu is when he tries assassinating Guda and admits he’s not really built for it.

Mordred and Nezha are there respectively to bounce off Spartacus and to reveal that Xiang Yu is based on her body respectively. That’s it. They vanish from the story for a good few chapters and I didn’t notice because Nezha becomes irrelevant as soon as you meet Xiang Yu and Mordred becomes irrelevant as soon as Spartacus died. You could remove both and the story would change not at all, and while I do think that Mordred’s role in giving Spartacus someone to bounce off of was nice and I enjoyed their interactions, introducing a whole character just to bounce off another means that when the other character is gone, the one you’ve introduced is just there. It’s insanely noticeable with Mordred.

Gordolf is a genuine delight. I think my honest favorite scene besides Spartacus’s in the chapter is when he and Guda have to decide who gets the only dose of antidote. Guda flat out telling them what hand they’d throw was perfectly in character but I genuinely adored Gordolf completely throwing the match and faking that it was an accident and that Guda got the antidote fair and square, after having it pointed out that he never once tried to lord it over Guda that he saved their life from the poison. When Guda forces him to drink it, Gordolf’s complete dedication to getting them the antidote and refusing to let Guda die because he’s the director and he is personally responsible for all their safety, that’s good stuff. I love Gordolf very very much, and I think that this Lostbelt really gives him some shining moments that emphasize why he’s so wonderful.

I think that is basically all the minor characters barring the village boy, who I will get to in a bit, but if you’re noticing a trend it’s that they’re mostly fine, inoffensive. Nothing stands out as truly genuinely very bad, but for the most part they’re all wasted potential. They exist to fulfil exactly one role, and then hang around long past their welcome in most cases, with Han Xin, Li Shuwen, and Lanling managing to avoid that, albeit in the first two more due to their overall lack of presence until the very end.

Now, Liangyu. Here’s where things start to break down a bit.

In this Lostbelt, Qin Liangyu is a warrior who distinguished herself enough to be frozen in Mt. Li, where Qin keeps their heroes to be used when necessary. Alongside Han Xin, she’s defrosted to handle the Chaldea threat. Her major point of focus in the chapter is engaging with the “Confucianism” that Chaldea represents. She’s the one who hears the poem first, she’s who reports it to Qin, she’s who steals the Shadow Border and who ends up confronting Chaldea first when they get to Xiangyang. When we finally get to hear her conviction, why she is so willing to fight for her home...

It’s revealed that Qin destroyed her village, her family. They had been inspired, not to rebel, but to simply seek to govern themselves and live as a nation outside of Qin’s domain. Qin’s response was to fire a meteor at their village. When the instigator escaped, he tried to do it again, and that was why Liangyu fights. To avoid the needless death and suffering that is guaranteed by opposing Qin.

No one is horrified by this. No one reacts to her blaming the victims for wanting a better life. No one points out that her loyalty comes entirely from a place of fear and loss, that Qin took away everything she held dear and then threatened to do it again and again and again. She fights because Qin would otherwise wipe out everyone, and this is heralded as splendid loyalty and honest devotion, despite the fact that it’s effectively the same logic as why someone might not resist their abusive partner. That is all Liangyu is meant to do, show us some kind of loyalty and validity to Qin’s path, and they even have Mashu lost for words when she is confronted. All to show us that true loyalty is submission, and that it’s a valid and good reason to fight, to be too scared of the tyrant above you wiping out everything if you don’t. Not something to oppose Qin for, but something to commend them for inspiring.

That reading, despite being a clearly obvious one, isn’t ever once entertained by the story. No one points out Qin’s tyranny as the starting point for Liangyu’s suffering, even though it clearly is. It’s not that it’s refuted, it just never once comes up, because the characters acknowledging it or challenging it would hurt the clumsy point it really wants to make.

As a digression, this Lostbelt is a step back for Mashu. Her climatic character moment in Part 1 is rejecting a world without suffering and having the purest conviction necessary to block Ars Almodel Salomonis, but now she’s shaken and starts thinking that maybe that was a mistake all because it was only a possible future she rejected with Goetia, instead of the actual people in front of her? I can’t see that as anything but a regression, considering it was a point that her conviction was able to overcome the most powerful attack in the series even as it destroyed her body to protect those behind her. It’s done almost entirely to make us question whether or not Qin has a point, and given that the answer to that is a resounding and obvious “no” all it ends up doing is taking a hammer to Mashu’s solidly built up character every time she responds to an obviously flawed argument with “...” to give it unearned validity.

Spartacus next. He is an honest to goodness genuine joy. There are a few bright spots in this Lostbelt and Spartacus is one of them. He is very well written, allowed to think and philosophize about the nature of rebellion and whether it’s needed, and his musings on why he rebelled and whether or not it was justified to rebel against Qin when their people smiled so innocently like he’d always hoped for was unironically fantastic character work. His sacrifice reigniting the will to ask for more inside the people to the point of connecting to the Throne once more is absolutely fantastic, and his interactions with Mordred are great too. I absolutely do not have a single bad thing to say about him, he’s just wonderful.

Jing Ke. She’s a delight. She is a constant denier of everything that Qin suggests, and she functions as a beacon of good sense in the chapter. Where others are falling prey to some nonsense writing that makes them wonder if they’re doing the right thing, Jing is constantly pointing out the horrible, horrible tyranny going on, and constantly reminding people that Qin is in fact, a monster. Her final moments, getting to trick Qin into downloading a virus, arguing against them on philosophical grounds and then mocking them when they’re surprised that she would use that as a chance to kill them, and the argument itself of humanity’s virtues being in its ability to communicate and progress even if they don’t have a certainty of peace ahead of them, all of it was great. I’m sad she died and never got a chance to see Guda again in the Lostbelt, but all in all, she was well written.

Xiang Yu and Yu Meiren. This is where things get really, truly, genuinely disappointing. As concepts, they’re really cool. Xiang Yu as a machine built from the body of a god with the ability to calculate and compute the future giving him an inhuman mindset is a really neat idea, as is Meiren being effectively a True Ancestor. Them finding love as two non-humans who understood each other where no one else did is good in theory.

In practice, Xiang Yu and Yu Meiren’s romance, the emotional core of the chapter, is without question the worst romance written in the Lostbelts thus far, and probably the worst romance in the game. It isn’t until chapter 13 of this 16 chapter game that we get any exploration of it at all beyond Meiren being devoted to Xiang Yu to the point that she completely cripples her own agency as an interesting and individual character to work entirely for Qin when they threaten Xiang Yu’s life, and the exploration we do get is just...explaining how Xiang Yu is a robot and how he lived in Panhuman History. No examination of their mutual feelings, just Meiren describing how her Xiang Yu lived.

This Lostbelt is not a reuniting of lovers long past. This is Meiren finding a man who shared an origin with her lover and devoting herself entirely to him, even though they aren’t the same person at all. This could have been an incredible hook!

Imagine if this Lostbelt looked at Meiren’s two thousand years of stagnation in mourning for Xiang Yu and her sole desire being to be reunited with him and then it gave her her wish. She betrayed her own history for the Lostbelt’s, because it gave her a chance to see her beloved again, but this Xiang Yu is not her Xiang Yu. He doesn’t even answer to the same name, doesn’t recognise her at all. Having thrown away everything that connected her to Panhuman History just to see her beloved again, she is now trapped in a world she doesn’t recognise with a man who isn’t her Xiang Yu, her sole connection being...Gao Changgong, a regular human from Panhuman History. The greatest of ironies, her only meaningful connection being one of the humans she hates, because she sacrificed everything for a man who doesn’t even know her name.

Lostbelt 3 is a story about stagnation and the dangers of easy ignorance, but Meiren’s story doesn’t engage with that central theme whatsoever. Hers is a story entirely about how she merely existed just to exist before she met Xiang Yu and after he died, and her only experience being happy was with him. A few short years in literal millennia of existence are all that she cares about, and indeed she doesn’t change even slightly over all those years. And despite this stagnation leading her to consign her own history to death, the history that her Xiang Yu is from and fought for, the story never once engages with that. She is, in fact, rewarded in the end by becoming a Heroic Spirit and getting reunited with her Xiang Yu.

And really, that’s what gets me. They have a perfect setup to tie into the theme of the Lostbelt, how an uncertain future of progression is sincerely better than a stagnant peace born of ignorance, and they don’t tie their Crypter into it nearly as well as LB1 or even LB2. Kadoc is obsessed with conflict and overcoming Guda to prove his own strength in a reflection of how Lostbelt 1 is a hellscape where might makes right, and Ophelia is stuck doing nothing but following her role without a choice in a reflection of Surtr existing only to fulfill his role, being capable only of destruction and incapable of changing that. In contrast...Meiren doesn’t engage with SIN’s theme of the worthiness of peace at the cost of stagnation at all, really.

I’m talking a lot about what she could be instead of what she is, because what she is is obsessed with Xiang Yu. Her sole concern in every single appearance besides her single moment of independent characterization with Gao on his deathbed is Xiang Yu. She sacrifices her initial independence to obey Qin for Xiang Yu’s sake, she fights for nothing more than Xiang Yu’s sake, she wants nothing more than to be with Xiang Yu forever, even if it’s not her Xiang Yu, even if it’s sacrificing the world her Xiang Yu fought for. She chooses the peace of stagnation and is never once punished or even questioned for it. She tells Lostbelt Xiang Yu about his history in her world, and then he tells her that he understands why her Xiang Yu loves her, and then decides on the spot that he loves her too. That’s it.

Every other existing romance that they play back into in Fate is one that they put effort into selling. I mean, just think about Sigurd and Bryn! Imagine if, instead of all the little touches and bits in the chapter where they go in hard on selling that Sigurd and Bryn are madly in love with each other, they just didn’t have that. Imagine if Kadoc and Anastasia barely interacted except for Kadoc telling Anastasia how her past went. It really feels like Urobuchi looked at Meiren and Xiang Yu’s existing famous romance and decided that he just didn’t need to sell it, even though it literally wasn’t the same people involved.

And to be clear, I understand the intention. Xiang Yu has an alien mindset because of his calculation of the future, and this alien mindset means that he does things that are hard to understand for us. But at the end of the day, Lostbelt Xiang Yu hears a single story about himself in Panhuman History and decides that it makes sense that, given everything he and Meiren experienced there, that they would fall in love. And then he chooses to fall in love too, in the span of a single conversation. That isn’t believable, but more to the point it isn’t satisfying. This isn’t a great reuniting of lovers, it’s Meiren telling a stranger how a hypothetical alternate timeline version of him lived and him deciding he loves her because of that one single story.

And the way this love is represented is...it’s kinda typical Urobuchi. Meiren’s tragedy is undersold and given second billing to talking about how tragic Xiang Yu’s life was and how bad it made her feel and how she wished she could have done something, while LB Xiang Yu ignores her plea to stay and to not fight anymore by declaring that he must fight for the Lostbelt because of his programming, not for her, and then after he’s defeated and Guda beats Qin he declares that he’s actually madly in love with Meiren and will ignore her stated wishes again to fight until he dies, whereupon he promptly talks about dying with regret for leaving Meiren behind and quotes the poem and everyone claps. This great romance begins by Meiren telling Xiang Yu about how sad his life was in her history, is defined solely by Xiang Yu doing anything he wants at any time while Meiren feels sad about it, and ends with Xiang Yu ignoring Meiren’s wishes to sacrifice himself for absolutely nothing and to have it later revealed he knew exactly how she would react to this and did it anyway.

It’s not that I don’t buy the romance, it’s that I can’t buy it. It’s every terrible romance you’ve seen in fiction before where there’s no chemistry to sell it but the author keeps telling you how perfect they are for each other, only in this case the author tells you how perfect Meiren and Panhistory Xiang Yu are for each other and then shrugs and decides that Lostbelt Xiang Yu is basically the same anyway so it works. And it really, really does not.

The Xiang Yu of Panhistory is somewhat interesting from what we hear in the chapter, but Lostbelt Xiang Yu is very bland and Yu Meiren is just a tragically wasted character. Instead of a story of being shaken out of stagnation and learning to grow and move forward, we get a story of stagnation being the good and right choice for her. Instead of a story of trying to make the past happen again instead of acknowledging that they are two different people who cannot simply pretend everything is as it was, we get a story where Lostbelt Xiang Yu decides it makes sense that an alternate universe version of himself would fall in love with Meiren, and then skips all the actual development to decide he’s madly in love with her too. Instead of a story of Meiren realizing that her closest connection for the longest time was a living human and that she can live for more than just the memory of a man long dead, we get Meiren’s character being solely, completely about Xiang Yu from beginning to end, and even later in Chaldea where she exists for nothing more than “haha married couple” jokes.

There is, to be clear, an attempt at relating this to the other theme of the chapter, humanity. Meiren and Xiang Yu are both discriminated against for their inhumanity, and it’s pointed out that they’re so fitting for each other because they, as non-humans, understood each other. I think this could have worked if it was given more emphasis, but as it stands it just kinda...isn’t. It, and they, take a backseat to Qin’s emphasis on this theme, so all this theme does for them is another justification as to why they are totally in love and why Urobuchi doesn’t have to write them actually being in love.

And then Xiang Yu dies, and Meiren goes crazy because her entire world and every facet of her character revolves around one man, and we have to kill her because he ignored her pleas and then died knowing he would die and knowing she would go crazy when he died. This, after spending the entire chapter from the first time we meet her being completely ineffective and failing at every turn, only becoming a threat once she devours her own Servant and even then only for a few minutes before she ceases to be relevant. Thanks, Urobuchi. Love it when you write women.

It’s a genuine disappointment, because you could do so much with Meiren and Lostbelt Xiang Yu bonding as themselves, not as Meiren from 2000 years ago and Xiang Yu from Panhistory, and with Meiren being able to honour her love without letting it chain her down to stagnation like it did in practice. But they don’t do any of that. They tell us that this great romance exists without putting in any of the work, and then expect it to work. And for me? It didn’t, at all. It is again, without a doubt the worst romance in this arc, and probably the worst romance in FGO.

Finally, Qin.

I think Qin is a fantastic villain. They are completely, utterly loathsome in every way, and the early chapters with Spartacus and Jing Ke around really highlight it. Spartacus’s musings about rebellion culminate in a reassurance that it is in fact right and just to rebel against the oppressor that is Qin despite the peace they offer, and Jing Ke consistently and constantly responds to all their justifications by pointing out what absolute drivel they are. It is a sincerely excellent setup for a Lostbelt King that isn’t a tragic case of someone trying to save what they can after a horrible accident, but one who in their arrogance created a hellscape that was pruned solely due to their own tyranny. Qin is the perfect balance of hypocritical and arrogant and cruel while being utterly convinced of their own perfection to make a fantastic villain to break out of the “tragic king after apocalypse” type we’d had for the first two Lostbelts, and has the perfect ingredients to a tie-in back to Goetia and how Goetia earned the title of “King of Humans” in their final moments.

But, unfortunately, the chapter starts softening up on them as it goes on. Where before, we had people calling them out for tyranny and obvious wrongdoing, by the end we have Holmes praising them for shouldering the difficult responsibility of humanity all by themselves and being the one we get on our Lostbelt CE, a spot reserved before for the inhabitants of the Lostbelt that we befriend. Because, ultimately, the Lostbelt doesn’t want to condemn Qin.

What Qin does is monstrous in the extreme, but by the end of the Lostbelt it feels like the game has forgotten that. Instead of pointing out the obvious problem in Liangyu’s loyalty being based on the certainty that Qin would murder everyone if she didn’t do it for them, Mashu and Guda have to just accept that it’s valid. Instead of reminding themselves of Spartacus and Jing Ke’s rejection of Qin as a tyrant, they praise them for taking over the responsibility of humanity. Instead of having the Lostbelt represented by the boy who dared to look up and dream of something more, it’s instead represented by Qin descending to live among humanity in their final days. Even Qin’s final act for Meiren has them claim without irony that they guide their people by the light of reason, when the entire chapter has been about how Qin uses threats of incredible violence to control everyone and how they had to conquer the world by force to enact this horrible regime, and no one points out the shocking hypocrisy in Qin claiming that they guide through reason instead of, you know. Giant meteors.

I didn’t name that boy, because the story doesn’t name that boy. In a story that is ostensibly about the horror of humanity being stripped of everything that makes them an individual and showing us that the spark and drive to be different and to learn and grow and change still exists even after over two thousand years of Qin trying to stamp it out, they don’t name the boy. This isn’t because names don’t exist in Qin’s empire, because explicitly the heroes are all named, and implicitly such a massive divergence would need to be highlighted in some way, so it’s not an intentional dehumanization which would actually fit.

Instead, despite this child being the first citizen who dares to enjoy a poem and who dares to step outside the boundaries of his village, despite him being proof positive that Qin’s tireless attempts at stamping out the human spirit are doomed to failure even after ruling the entire world for hundreds of years, despite him being inspired by Spartacus’s cry of rebellion against the tyranny of the world he was born in...he doesn’t have a name. And that really hurts the Lostbelt, I feel, because it just doesn’t take the time to even name our Lostbelt friend. He is, ultimately, not important. The symbol of the Lostbelt is Qin as the ultimate human, despite the entire point of the Lostbelt being that it’s a rejection of this concept, that Qin’s choice of becoming the one and only human is wrong and that the individuality of Panhistory is superior. Instead of enshrining the boy who dared to be different in the CE, pride of place is given to Qin.

That’s my biggest issue with Qin, really. We are given a perfect setup for Qin as a villain and indeed do reject their whole worldview and ideals and everything as being completely wrong, to the point that Holmes even rejects the idea that they are a human. In the final parts of the chapter, Holmes declares that the defense Qin dedicated themselves to is the domain of a god, and that despite their insistence that they did so as the only human and that they rejected becoming a god, ultimately they were deluding themselves, having simply taken on the role of a god while declaring themselves a human. This is the harshest condemnation that Qin ever gets and the final culmination of theme of humanity and what it really is that’s there throughout the Lostbelt, a complete and total rejection of the idea that one can do what Qin did and still claim to be human.

But instead of engaging with this, the story softens up on Qin by the end because it wants you to roll for them. It’s exactly what happened with Skadi, a solid character and path built up from the beginning and then swerving towards the end to make them more likeable. That Qin is the one on our Lostbelt CE and that it’s all about how Qin did their best to “shoulder the responsibility” for mankind instead of highlighting their tyranny is just kinda emblematic of how the story treats it once Jing Ke is gone, because when she’s not in the party people stop pointing out the obvious tyranny going on, and when she’s dead everyone starts acting like Qin is almost reasonable and that their path was a valid one that wasn’t so wrong, even though theirs was more right. It even completely ignores Koyanskaya pointing out that Qin loves humanity like an owner loves its pets, not as actual individuals, but this love is treated as completely valid thereafter instead of being a huge problem.

Big Big Spoilers For Qin’s Interlude Now, Skip Ahead To The Next Bolded Section If You Don’t Want To See Them

One of the reasons I’m so harsh on them for what could, in context, be seen as relatively minor softening up on Qin compared to the actual defeat we deal them is because of this Interlude. As a brief overview, Qin completely ignores the ending of their Lostbelt, which lasts for three months despite every other Lostbelt lasting a day at most before it vanishes and the implication of the final chapter being that it’s ending soon, returns to Epang Palace despite it having been destroyed and corrupted with a virus and despite having promised to live as a human on the ground with the rest of the world until the end, and then uses the data on the Shadow Border that somehow survived the virus and destruction of the palace to somehow construct a machine that allows them to create Singularities.

They then use this to create a bunch of Singularities related to “what-ifs” where they were a cruel king who ruled over Xiangyang and murdered all their subjects so they can piggyback on the Human Order instead of being destroyed with their Lostbelt and everyone in it, and then keeps the Singularities around as time bombs to destroy Panhistory like Goetia did if they ever feel like Guda might lose. When this is figured out, no one in the know bothers to tell Guda to protect their feelings, and no one intervenes in any way or challenges Qin in any regard besides telling them to believe in Guda.

This interlude turned Qin into the most loathsome character in the game for me. They declared they would put it all on the line challenging Guda and then lost and stepped aside, even helping to destroy the Tree of Fantasy, and even having Da Vinci praise their grace in stepping aside when it was clear that they had lost. But that didn’t happen.

Instead, Qin lied. Qin pulled the trigger on everyone in their entire world and then decided that they didn’t actually want to uphold their end of the bargain, so they abandoned the people they swore to live alongside until the end and constructed a scenario where they have the sole authority to destroy all of human history forever if they feel like it, something made possible only because author fiat dictated that they still had the data and the capacity to use it after the twofold destruction of the Epang Palace and only because author fiat dictated that their Lostbelt lasted for months after the Tree was destroyed when every other Lostbelt disappears after hours. And all this happens because fundamentally, they don’t want Qin to be wrong, and they don’t think Qin was wrong. They pay lip service to the idea, but the end result is that Qin is always meant to have a point, and that despite having people point out their obvious hypocrisy at ther start like Jing Ke, by the end of the Lostbelt and beyond you are meant to take them at face value as a Hard Enby Making Hard Decisions doing their best to save the entire world.

SPOILERS FOR THE INTERLUDE OVER, YOU’RE SAFE NOW

To begin the summary for Qin as a character, I’d like to point out Fate’s relationship with Great Man theory. This theory is, in brief, a suggestion that the course of history is largely influenced by exceptional individuals and leaders that exert their will on the world as a result of their own superb capabilities, such as being more intelligent, charismatic, powerful etc. than all other men around them. This is obviously a theory with a bunch of holes, but what’s interesting is that Fate has always engaged with this idea and has always refuted it conclusively.

In Fate, if you are a single human trying to save the world, you will fail. Kiritsugu’s chasing of the Grail and his ultimate failure because of his own flaws making it physically impossible for him to consider a path to salvation that didn’t involve killing is a rejection of Great Man theory. Shirou understanding that one single person cannot possibly save everyone in the world is a rejection of Great Man theory. Amakusa’s inability to save the world in any way besides erasing free will is a rejection of Great Man theory. Goetia’s decision to erase history and start again to make something better and his ultimate defeat is a massive rejection of Great Man theory. Zelretch, for all his insane power, is literally paralyzed by that selfsame power into not being able to do anything, while someone like Aoko who doesn’t think of anything but what’s right in front of her is actually able to accomplish things because she doesn’t try transcending the limits of what a human is capable of. It is one of the Nasuverse’s most consistent themes, that it is fundamentally wrong and doomed to fail if you ever attempt to impress your will on the entire world in a misguided attempt to save it.

And yet Qin simply doesn’t engage with that. Qin is Great Man theory distilled into a character, and by the end of the Lostbelt and beyond the game gives up on challenging that. They declare themselves as the ultimate human with the sole responsibility to administrate mankind and despite losing, the game respects them and their path and refuses to condemn them the same way that it condemned Ivan for doing all he could to save his people, even if it meant inflicting his own ideas on the entire human race. And that’s a consistent problem with the last two Lostbelts, but it sticks out more for Qin because Qin didn’t face an apocalypse. Qin brought the world to an end with their own two hands, but the game simply cannot keep up the condemnation as much as it should, because it wants you to like them and wants you to roll them and spend money to do so. And that’s where Qin falters for me. They’re a fantastic villain, but the game doesn’t let them be a villain, regardless of how much it clashes not just with FGO’s themes, but with one of the overarching ideas behind a lot of stuff in the Nasuverse as a whole.

I’ve basically talked about the thematics and the characters together in the last section, so this is just me talking about its construction as a story here as a short(er) final roundup.

It’s badly written, really. Like I mentioned earlier, basically nothing happens for about half the chapter and then the latter half puts the pedal to the metal and speedruns its way through everything. Nothing is given the time or dedication it needs besides Spartacus’s sacrifice in the chapter, I feel, and that works to its extreme detriment.

In terms of things that happen, it strained my sense of disbelief as bad or worse than Lostbelt 2 did. I knew it was going to be rough when Mordred, one of the Knights of the Round Table who was easily able to go toe-to-toe with Siegfried and stomp most people she fought in previous appearances, ends up firing her Noble Phantasm at Xiang Yu and doing no damage whatsoever despite being a direct hit, and then Xiang Yu ends up defeating a group of four Servants including powerhouses like Mordred and Spartacus without breaking a sweat and explicitly while holding back.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, that I’m starting to sound like some BLer who cares for nothing besides calculations and VS debates and whatnot, but that’s not what I’m about. I don’t care to argue whether my favorite Servant could beat Goku or not, partially because the answer is an obvious yes because they’re my favorite, but mostly because that’s just not really relevant for a story.

What is relevant, however, is the idea of suspension of disbelief. In telling a story, you don’t need to be realistic, but you need to be consistent. Having internal consistency is a vital part of selling your work to the audience, because if they start thinking that anything can happen at any time because the author wants it to happen, they can get pulled out of the story real quick. If you introduce someone as being Double God and being able to wipe the floor with every single one of the protagonists without breaking a sweat, you have to make sure that when or if they are defeated, their defeat is internally consistent. Either they lose their strength somehow, or the protagonists find some way to power up or change their tactics or do something different to defeat them next time they fight. When you pull a victory or defeat out of your ass without some kind of internal consistency, you had better make sure that you’ve got your themes on point, because if you’ve failed in making something internally consistent and you can’t justify the event happening because it fits perfectly with the themes of the work, then it takes people out real quick.

That’s where this Lostbelt falls down really hard in terms of story construction outside of its characters, because it has neither. Xiang Yu is introduced as an unstoppable murdermachine that we can only hold off temporarily or wait for him to retreat, even when that means devaluing our own Servants’ capabilities and making Mordred who is a Knight of the Round table look like a chump. But then later, Spartacus vaporizes a meteor with nothing but his Noble Phantasm, except Xiang Yu was just straight up too much for him, even though Xiang Yu is pretty much the greatest symbol of Qin’s oppression and its source, the incredible violence that they are willing and able to visit upon anyone at any time if they feel like it. Spartacus loses horribly to one symbol and then annihilates the other and it feels weird.

Later, we’re also introduced to Meiren being a True Ancestor with infinite mana who curses us so badly that we only survive with Koyanskaya’s aid. Even Koyanskaya is urging us to run and there’s explicitly nothing we can do to her. That’s fine! It’s a good setup for a really tough boss! But what it means is that now we have two people set up as completely unbeatable even with all the help we have, including Red Hare and Chen Gong. That’s an awkward setup that really needs a solid resolution, especially when the final battle with them is fighting both, together, while both are completely fresh and Chaldea has just fought their way through Xiangyang, defeating Liangyu, Han Xin and the royal guards, and Li Shuwen.

And the game doesn’t engage with it. We beat them both despite them both individually being able to wipe us out earlier in the chapter, and despite nothing having changed for us. If anything, they should have the advantage of conviction, or at least Xiang Yu should. But we beat them and Nezha gives some nonsense about how Xiang Yu lost because he never had any rivals to fight against, despite him having been used to conquer the world, and despite him having fought alongside the great heroes enshrined in Mt. Li during these conquests. Meiren isn’t even acknowledged, which isn’t much of a surprise, but it is disappointing. Despite her being held up as an insurmountable threat at first, she’s not even considered worth mentioning in favor of talking about Xiang Yu.

That problem continues along with Qin, who comes at us with a Grand class Saint Graph and whom we end up defeating all by ourselves, not as a battle of wills but flat out defeating them, even though we only have Mashu, Red Hare, Nezha, and Mordred who have all been exhausted fighting through all of Xiangyang. People are hyped up as insanely dangerous and then lose not because of the thematics and not because the story has constructed things so that their loss makes sense, but just because the author says it happens. All the battles are handled with in-game battles, which the game grew out of a long, long time ago. The difference between the climactic battles with Ivan and Surtr and the climactic battle with Qin in terms of actual writing is night and day, and the sole saving grace, that it is explicitly characterized as a conflict between the two philosophies and a battle of which one comes out on top, just isn’t enough to overcome the insane hype of being on par with a Grand that Qin gets for absolutely no reason. It devalues Grands and it made the victory against them feel unearned even with the idea that it’s a conflict of philosophies, which I usually eat up. To compare it to the great example of that in Fate, it feels like Shirou VS Archer, except instead of the point being that Archer cannot bring himself to fully deny Shirou’s ideals and is defeated by Shirou reminding him of their beauty even though he wields the power to crush Shirou instantly if he wanted, it’s like Shirou proved his point about ideals by beating Archer up fair and square. It just isn’t nearly as well written.

It isn’t all bad. Like I mentioned, Spartacus, Jing Ke, Gordolf, they were all genuine delights that I loved. The meteor, the assassination, those were both excellent scenes. But overall, the Lostbelt was half nothing happening and then the latter half made up of one or two cool moments with a hell of a lot of bad shit connecting them. Its theme of stagnation is indecisive and muddled because of Qin and Meiren, its theme of humanity has its conclusion ignored and conflicts with the overall idea of Great Men in the Nasuverse, its treatment of its female characters barring Jing is uncomfortable at best, and it tries to sell us a romance without putting in any of the actual legwork to make it believable.

I wish Lostbelt 3 had been better. I can see easy routes to make it better. But more than anything I wish that Meiren had been done better. She’s an immortal True Ancestor who has lived for thousands of years and seen the birth of modern humanity, living through so much of our history, and instead of having a story of learning how to break free of her stagnation she’s just obsessed with a male character who isn’t remotely as focused on her to the extent that every choice and decision she makes in the chapter is focused entirely around him. It’s just...uncomfortable.

For all the hooks she had as a character, Meiren is reduced to an accessory for her man, and I think that’s a crying shame.

#FGO #Fate/Grand Order #Fate Grand Order #cosmos in the lostbelt #Synchronized Intelligence Nation #SIN #lostbelt #FGO spoilers #Lostbelt 3 #Shi Huang Di #Qin Shi Huang #Xiang Yu

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