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delicrieux · 3 years

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☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 24: OH...HI

after months and too much longing, you finally meet corpse in person.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 3.8k

author’s note: we did it joe.

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

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You woke up. That’s a lie, you didn’t sleep. Too much to plan, too much can go wrong and you’re...Not nervous, no, that’s not quite accurate. Excited. Yes, excited, so excited that two Redbulls and three coffees (so far!) make you jitter around the apartment like a butterfly that can’t find a flower bed to rest on.

Rae has almost had enough of your...random spurts of energy. So what if you ran a few laps, climbed a few tables, sang karaoke a bit too loud and yet another noise complaint had been issued? It arrived exactly an hour after your concert via your displeased landlord. Rae was, of course, the one to apologize because you were too busy trying on miniskirts. After that ordeal was taken care of, no sooner than Rae shut the front door with an exhausted sigh, you emerged from your room clad in your prettiest outfit. You present it to her with a bright smile and flourish.

She is not impressed.

“Will you quit it?” She questions, arms crossed over her chest. Your grin does not damper -- you’re used to such harsh treatment, having accepted her backhanded way of showing love long ago. Instead, you flick your wrists, showing off an ungodly amount of rings. You’re not certain of the exact number because you can’t count, “Y/n.” Her voice gains an edge, but you persist. Show off your shoes that have cute lil’ charms that jingle jangle not unlike the spurs on a hot cowgirl’s boots, “Y/n.” Her eyes narrow in displeasure, her stern tone making you falter in your dramatic stride down the imaginary catwalk, “Just stop.”

Okay! So maybe you’re not as used to her coldness as you thought you were. Your expression sours, and you quit the act, even if a part of you - one you barely fight off, goodness, you almost perish in that battle - wants to continue but even more annoying. As if you could somehow block her rationality with manic energy.

“What?” You ask, trying to keep the mood lighthearted despite her squared shoulders and tight frown, “I’m just having a bit of fun!” You say with a joyous little laugh, reaching for a glass of much needed water.

“No, you’re panicking.” Her words make the glass still, hoovering by your painted lips, but it’s short lived. You take a greedy gulp and it tastes fresh with a pinch of lipstick, “Look, I get it...” She shakes her head softly, “You’re meeting the guy you like for the first time, you jumped the gun straight to dating and now you’re...Anxious. It’s normal, you know.”

“But I’m not anxious.” You persist, and you really do mean it. You don’t like how she looks at you as if you’re the one that’s misunderstanding your own feelings. You set the glass down with a soft clink, heaving your own sigh, “I’m not, I’m really happy actually.” You explain softly, “It’s just...my way of dealing with it. I’m more... Worried about Corpse, to be honest.” You add, a tad quieter, “But, like, it’s all good!” You exclaim, strolling up to her and landing your hands on her shoulders, “I prepared.”

And it’s true! You had spent the night scouring the depths of the internet. Read every WikiHow article on how to deal with someone with extreme anxiety, how to not make things painfully awkward, and how to talk to boys (just in case. The last time you stumbled upon that particular article was way back in middle school when you had a crush on that one guy you saw in your school’s cafeteria every now and then. Naturally, that led you down the rabbit hole, and according to WikiHow’s How To Tell If A Boy Likes You guidebook, you found out that he was absolutely enamored with you because he glanced in your direction, like, two times. Safe to say that love story went nowhere. The point still stands).

So you forward all of this information to Rae, nestled in her bed whilst she lazily folds her clothes; clarify that you know that nothing much can happen, and that this whole situation is delicate, and that you must tread carefully because you don’t want to overwhelm him. She pauses her actions, glancing behind her to watch you staring idly at the ceiling, so peaceful, so thoughtful. And it’s not the eerie calmness you had displayed during your murderous spree in the last Among Us game, no, it’s just...quiet understanding.

“I’m actually impressed.” She says. You merely hum, counting the dust slowly descending in the cascading light, “You’re not as clueless as I thought.” Your lips quirk into a shy smile at the compliment- “Or as tactless.” - and turn downward just as quick.

“That implies that I’m always tactless.”

“You are.” She states and you sit up, a soft frown pinching your brows, “Not like, in a terrible way. You just...don’t think about your actions. Or the repercussions. You just know that you can get away with everything.”

“And I can!”

“That doesn’t actually mean you should do something just because you can. You know I’ll always support you. Literally everyone will always support you. But I’m not gonna coddle you. You’re just...a lot. Online and especially in person. But the fact that you’re actually taking this seriously and taking his feelings into consideration is...well, the bare minimum, but still, good job.”

...Much to think about. You don’t like thinking, it makes your head hurt. Though, that could just be the lack of sleep. You cross your legs and plop your head in your hand, tired eyes blinking owlishly, “Do you...think I should change what I’m wearing?”

Prompted by your question, she gives you a careful once over, “I mean, it’s signature you.”

“Signature me is a hoodie and some sweatpants.”

She smiles, “Then go change. Your outfit is a bit distracting for just...Hanging out indoors, no? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind either way, though.”

“I just...” You bite the inside of your cheek, mulling your words over. Truly, the last time you were so attentive was when you went Psycho Mode in Among Us, which, to be fair, wasn’t that long ago. Perhaps there wasn’t a chance to let your mind dull - it’s almost as sharp as your butterfly knife, “I figured that if, like,” You vaguely motion with your hands, “if I be, like, all over the place, and wearing something cute, he’d be, like, distracted? And less anxious? No...awkward silence?”

“First meetings are always awkward, it’s natural.” She chimes, “I mean, if you’re so nervous-”

“I’m not nervous!”

“-then just don’t overthink it. I know it’s easier said than done, but you’re you, and Corpse is Corpse, and he likes you for who you are, and even if it is a bit awkward, I’m sure it’ll, like, blow over in a second. It really doesn’t matter how you look, Y/n.” She grins, “Plus, it’s not like you’re greeting him in your underwear or something.”

You will not admit that that was your plan B, not when you just landed in her good graces. You nod, “...I’ll go change.”

And so you do. Pick out your cutest hoodie and some sweatpants. Put away your jingle jangle shoes with a broken heart, instead of them donning your fluffiest socks; slip off some rings because they keep falling off of your fingers. It’s almost like all of those transformation scenes in rom-coms that are still popular for some reason, except you’re hot before and after, so there’s really no transformation at all.

Now you wait. Just wait, all other activities are excluded from this. Rae comes back to find you sitting on the edge of your bed, back straight, hands neatly folded on your lap. She compares you to a Sim’s character and you allow her. After mercilessly mocking you and snapping a few pictures - for blackmail, you assume - she helpfully informs that she is leaving because she doesn’t want to get in the way, but your psychic abilities which you acquired just now tell you that she simply doesn’t want to witness this train wreck. Not that it’ll be a train wreck, it would be if you were nervous, but you aren’t.

You just aren’t. You fidget with the rings adoring your hand; toy with the hem of your hoodie; bounce your leg up and down. It’s just caffeine, okay?! Fuck this, Twitter time.

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[ADDING A MUSICAL INTERMISSION, LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU WANT (I WROTE THIS CHAPTER WITH IT IN MIND)]

The waiting commences, only now it somehow feels more intense. The sun is setting, and you really want to be one of those cute girls that fill their camera roll with pictures of the sunset and the roseate sky, but your hands are trembling and holding up your phone feels like too much of a hassle. You’d rather just sit there, alone in the apartment, in the pin-drop silence, extremely uncomfy and tense, as if waiting for the end of the world.

A notification sounds off and your life flashes before your eyes. Hastily, you check it, a sticky mixture of delight and something else, something unpleasant constricting, making your stomach churn. He’s here. Holy shit, it’s happening. You order your anime plushies to stop fucking panicking, they’re like, totally embarrassing you at the moment! You wonder if they have their own little group chat, but instead of Totally Spies it’s called Total Embarrassment. Yikes, okay, that was harsh. After a good scolding, and a heartfelt apology for getting so heated, you smooth down the non-existent wrinkles on your modest outfit, and quickly waddle over to the electronic apartment thingie something something... you unlock the main door, okay!? This is for some reason feeling very not cash money, so you break out in a little dance number.

The doorbell does not sing that shrill, unpleasant tune; rather, there’s a soft knock on the apartment’s door, and you pause your shuffling, your renegade, and perk up at the imposing future hidden behind a slab of wood. Your heart beats a melody all on it’s own, and it’s loud, uncoordinated, like a musician that’s still familiarizing themselves with their instrument. And there’s that knock again, as uncertain as you’re feeling, and your clammy fingers latch onto the lock and turn it and now there is no more hiding - such a possibility is no longer an option; no more sporadic dances or sitting in disheartening silence and letting your thoughts weight you down.

You’re not quite sure what you were thinking about before you saw him in the threshold, head tilted slightly, fluffy dark hair obscuring the bags under his eyes, hunched, one ringed hand clutching onto the strap of his duffel bag, the other frozen mid-air, ready to knock one more time lest you didn’t hear him the first two. No, truly, you can’t, for the life of you, remember what all the fuss was about.

“...Oh.” It’s a soft sound, so quiet, but not surprised, rather...relieved. Faint shimmers of a smile reach you, hidden behind a black face mask - the panini chic! You must stan a respectful king - but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you question it’s sincerity. He fails to return your gaze, rather choosing to stare somewhere over your shoulder. His eyes seem unfocused. Apprehensive. A wild thought occurs to you that he expected you to trick him somehow, and wild thoughts invade the land of your mind often, but never in such a way. You clutch the handle just a bit tighter.

His hand retreats to his side, up to his mask and you think he’s about to unhook it but he stills, and there’s panic there, as if he had been moving unconsciously, as if he hadn’t realized what he’s doing. He plays it off by idly scratching his cheek, muttering an equally quiet, “Hi.” to fill the silence.

Finally, your WikiHow knowledge can come in handy, along with your common sense, “Hey, pretty boy.” You mutter, pulling away from the door, “Make yourself at home!” You slide to the kitchen, your socks acting not unlike ice-skates cutting through the Arctic frost covered ground. You hope that with you occupied and not watching him as closely he’ll feel slightly more at ease.

You’d like to hug him. Kiss him, definitely. But if he’s so uncomfortable that he can’t bring himself to shed his mask in your presence, then there’s really nothing you can do.

You hear the door shut and lock behind you as you pull out two glasses from the cupboard, humming a song you can’t quite recall the name of. You ask him if he’d like something to drink - it was a short flight, yet a flight still, and planes always make you thirsty, and there you go talking his ear off. You end abruptly, but smoothly, like a true diplomat; if he notices, you have no way of knowing - he doesn’t provide even a hint. He’s hard to read, and literature was never your best subject. But you’re trying.

He sets his duffel bag down on a nearby chair, “I, uhhh,” His voice is raspy and low, another indication of a pathetic lack of sleep, “I...got you something, uhh, I dunno-dunno if I should...give it now, or?” He sends you a questioning glance, but it doesn’t linger. Your offer of drinks is momentarily forgotten, though you hardly mind.

You grin, “Sure! I love gifts, gimmie gimmie.” You make grabby hands, and he snorts, and it would’ve sounded endearing if he didn’t sound so fucking tired. He unzips the bag, and you pad your way to him, mindful of personal space (something you, in most social situations, chose to pretend does not exist). You note his hands quivering lightly, just like yours had in the agonizing wait, but he hides it well. You wish you could hold them. You’re afraid to try.

He pulls out a black hoodie and you recognize the custom art on it instantly - it’s his merch. He presents it in awkward flourish, murmuring a “Tadaaaa” under his breath; your heart skips a pleasant beat, and you have to bite down on your lower lip lest you smile appears too big. The fabric is soft under your fingers, and you accept his gift with a dramatic bow, and he turns his head away with another little laugh. You’re chipping away at the ice around him; it’s a slow process, but it’s worth the effort.

Truly, your own hoodie is shabby in comparison - icky, how could you have ever worn such a thing in the first place?! You’ll have to do extensive research in fashion magazines and Printerest so such a slip-up may never happen again. You discard it hastily and put his on instead; it smells like washing detergent with hints of cologne, one you instantly pin point belonging to him, “It’s, uhhh, it’s mine? I hope you, uhh, I didn’t have any spare ones, so-I hope you don’t...mind.”

He’s finally looking at you, but he’s still tense, still hesitant, and you shake your head softly, “No,” You admit, “I like it even more now.” You pull on the hood, toy with the strings and yank them quickly; your face is concealed, save for your nose, “Comfy.” Your commentary is unmatched, best of it’s kind - eloquent and effortless, much like yourself.

Another small laugh reaches your ears, and it sounds a bit livelier than the others had been. Success!

“Stop that.” He says gently, and you see moving shadows; his hands loosen the strings and your face is revealed to him once again. He’s close now, and he doesn’t move away; his hands come to rest on your shoulders, warm even through layers of fabric, “I came all this way to see you, don’t hide your face from me.”

Your eyes narrow playfully, your finger rapidly tapping away on his clothed cheek, “What’s all this then? Hm? Hm?” Instead of swatting your hand away, which you figured he’d do, he complies and finally tugs that fucking mask off. Your breath catches in the back of your throat and you halt your ministrations - truly, seeing him smiling on screen is nothing compared to him smiling in person. You can’t quite contain yourself any longer - your excitement might burst out in another dance number otherwise - as you throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him flush against you. He’s quick to return the embrace. Maybe it was all the encouragement he needed.

“Wow,” He mumbles, only slightly offended, “so I finally show my face to you, in person, and you just-...you just look away?”

“I’m hugging you, dumbass.”

“...Touche.”

Things fall into place after that, like a dozen puzzle pieces fitting together. He won’t let you go - he doesn’t want to. You put on some music, something easy and indie and that doesn’t require too much effort to listen to, as the two of you contemplate what to eat. Cooking by yourselves was dismissed due to the unstable relationship between yourself and cooking utensils. The stove and you had had a falling out recently, but this feud had started long ago, back in pre-school, with only short intervals of friendship. He listened to your extensive explanation absolutely enraptured and only moderately confused.

So you settled on ordering pizza from Domino’s. You have no trouble calling or receiving phone calls, because you have no trouble doing anything, and he admitted that he only really calls you because he gets too anxious to do more, so you’re tasked with ordering the food. You accept this mission with pride.

You stand tall, gazing out the window into the wild California domain: massive buildings and towering eucalyptus trees, bleeding skyline and the sun slowly getting swallowed up by the ocean. Corpse looms behind you, with his arms snaked around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, looking at you through the corner of his eye. You wait patiently for the underpaid, overworked staff member to pick up, and once they do, you have the audacity to grin brightly and chirp, “Hi! I want pizza.”

Conversations flow smoothly, and you make hot chocolate - because you are hot and you crave chocolate - and he insists he wants one too, because you want one, and you don’t hesitate to overflow his cup with whipped cream and an ungodly amount of miniature marshmallows. A premature heart attack, just for him. Whoever said romance is dead has clearly never met you. When the doorbell chimes, you’re astounded that an hour flew by so quickly.

After the delicious meal, the movie night must commence. So what if you watched 10 Things I hate About You yesterday, you insist that you have already forgotten the plot. You lead him to your room and he tries not to stare, but can’t help himself. Pretty boy in a pretty girl’s room. His eyes linger on the massive posters of Chrollo on your walls, and you sense his displeasure rolling off of him in waves.

“What?” You huff, fluffing the pillows, “You don’t like my husband?”

He jabs his finger into his chest, into the spot of his heart, “I’m your husband.”

“Side hoe, then-”

“-No.”

You didn’t lie when you said you love to cuddle, or that you’re clingy. It’s a good thing he’s just as clingy as you are, because when he lays down and you latch onto his side. He doesn’t complain, rather wraps his arm around pulls you close. His thumb draws lazy circles on your side; with your head resting on his chest, you feel each rhythmical rise and drop.

The opening credits play on the projector, the room dark enough for your pile of plushies to look like a whole fucking human just standing in the corner. A ghost! Sucks for it, you’re not scared. You feel safe. Protected. So comfortable in Corpse’s hold that you’re honestly wondering how did you manage to be so long without him. To think all of this started when Sykkuno followed you on Twitter. What a lucky accident.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice cuts through the bopping 90s soundtrack and Julia Stiles’ voice. He hums. You take it as a yes. Tilting your head upwards, you find his eyes again, a thorn of displeasure picking you as you note that that apprehension you had seen previously is still very much there, “...You really wouldn’t date me if I was a worm?”

His chest rumbles with a laugh and his lips split into a grin, “I would.” He presses your side for emphasis, “I really would.” He repeats, reassuringly. You, however, are not convinced.

“But I’d be a worm.”

“I know. We’d... roll around in the dirt together, or something.”

“But you’d be human.”

He frowns softly, “Why couldn’t I be a worm, too?”

“Those are the rules.”

“What kind of shitty fucking rules are those?”

“I dunno, it’s like the Thanos snap or something. I just turn into a worm. I’m the only one.”

“That’s fine.” He smiles, “I’d take you out on a fishing date or something.”

Shocked, offended, and heartbroken, you hit his chest and pointedly turn away with a pout, which he finds very funny for some reason, but you fail to see the humor anywhere except the movie. Despite the fact that he’d sacrifice you for a fish, you smile shyly and close your eyes. He did say you would take a nap together, and if he really thought you’d stay awake for movie night, well, then he’s just an idiot. You had decided you would fall asleep as soon as he was next to you. It’s a miracle you managed to stay awake for so long.

“...Sleeping already?” You don’t appreciate his teasing tone.

“’m not sleeping...” You murmur, “’m resting my eyes.”

“Sure.”

You’re not quite certain (of anything, really) how much time drifts by, but you’re nearly lost in unconsciousness, in the warm, nice feeling that comes along with him like a cloud. Perhaps he thinks you’re asleep, he has to, else he wouldn’t say anything at all, “You’re stuck with me now, you know.” It’s such a soft admission, riddled with the same notes of anxiety that always prevail in his speech; with the same hopeful sincerity he had been gazing at you the whole evening.

Moving your lips is such a hassle, but you manage, “’m...stuck...” You mumble, “’m...stuck...what are you doing step-”

“No!” He laughs, and your lips quirk into a lazy smile, “No, no, no. Just no. Do you talk in your sleep?” You fake snore at that, loudly, “You’re like a little dragon.”

“...Fuck you.”

“Fine, a kitten, then.” That’s better. You feel something chapped, but soft, press onto your forehead, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

God, you’re so fucking happy. Does he know how happy you are? How happy he makes you? But you’re too tired for screaming and flailing around, too tired to even crack an eye open. You want him to know all the same, “...like you.” You whisper, but you don’t know if he hears you over the movie, “...I like you.”

His reply is instant, breathless, “I like you too.”

Good, you want to say, and maybe you do - can’t tell anymore. Sleep takes you too quickly.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fanfic #corpse x y/n #corpse social media au #corpse husband social media au #social media au #myso #make you say oh #reader #xreader #imagine #imagines #fluff #wtf i have never been this soft no one hmu

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kitcat992 · 2 years

Note

the ending of NWH was absolutely awful. they took everything that made tom hollands peter parker unique/interesting and ripped it away so now he’s the same as all the others before him, a poor vigilante who works alongside the police. no more avengers, no more of tony stark’s legacy, no more ned or mj. any future i was looking forward to him having is gone. they just decimated years worth of great plot :|

So, here's a hot take. When I first saw Civil War, I absolutely hated MCU Peter Parker. I had the same exact complaints as all the fanboys -- "Ugh, another way to shove Tony Stark in the middle of something. Why does Tony have to give him his suit? He's ALWAYS made his OWN tech. This isn't Spider-man, this is Stark Jr"

I left the theater quite pissed off. I mean, I was pissed off for MANY other reasons as well...it was Civil War, after all. That movie is the ground zero of what destroyed the MCU. But the way they forced Tony Stark into an origin story he didn't need to be in left a really bad taste in my mouth.

They changed that with Homecoming.

Sure, Tony was in Homecoming-- for like, a second, if you blink. But that movie took those complaints and worked with them. "Peter learns he doesn't need his suits, Peter learns to be a hero without anyone's help, PETER learns how to be Spider-man BY HIMSELF." I loved it. I fell head over heels for it. That's where my Irondad obsession began, but even without Irondad, I REALLY fell for this new version of Peter Parker.

You see, I've been a Spider-Man fan for over 2 decades now. I've seen so many versions come and go. Not just on the big screen, not just these movies. The cartoons, the comics -- there's ALWAYS new versions of characters, and Peter Parker is no different. But the frustrating part is almost always, he's the same. He's stereotypical Peter Parker. He can be summed up with just a few words. "Broke/poor, living in a dumpy apartment, with great power, dead parents, dead uncle, relationship struggles, quippy jokes." If I had to sum up most iterations of Peter Parker from the last decade alone, it's right there. No originality. No creativity.

As a Spider-Man fan of over 2 decades, it gets boring. It gets to the point where I skip my monthly comic-book order cause "eh, not feeling it this time."

The MCU Spider-Man broke that trend. It created something unique and fresh, it created something that had NEVER been done before. The closest I could ever relate it to is the Ultimate Spider-Man, where a teenage Peter Parker becomes Spider-Man, but receives the help of SO many other superheroes along the way. He's never truly alone, he's always got help at his side.

The MCU created a Peter Parker that was fresh, and required fresh writing alongside it. They didn't just follow the rhetoric of the many Spider-Men before it. They took small bits (Uncle Ben's death, struggling/poor Peter Parker, relationship troubles) and baked a whole fresh cake with it. All the other iterations took the same cake and cut a piece out, calling it a cupcake. This one started all over with fresh batter.

But fan boys will be fan boys. They're toxic MF's who think reading and studying comic books makes them superior to everyone else. They whined, they complained, they yelled and bitched. And you SAW the effect that had on No Way Home. We literally had a shot of a magazine with a cartoon Spider-Man, sucking a pacifier, dressed in Ironman jammies with the title "Iron Man Jr!"

By the way, that was the biggest insult the MCU has ever given me. That was a direct slap in the face. So many of us have written novels worth of Irondad fanfic but they decided to thank us with THAT.

Fuck you, MCU.

Anyway. Yeah, I had complaints about MCU Spider-man when he first came around. But they didn't just throw him on the screen and call it a day. They molded him, created him, turned him into something unique, creative, and energizing. They reinvigorated my love for Spider-Man.

And then they took it all away with one single scene.

They bent over, kissed the hairy ass of every fan boy who complained, and said "there you go! We returned him to form!" And thus, left many of us to view the shocking aftermath of their decimation to a character THEY created and WE loved.

I've gotten a few asks on why I'm so anti-MCU. Shit like this is why, and shit like this is why I won't be participating in new MCU content. It's an abusive relationship. I'm out.

#anti MCU #anti No Way Hme #anti Marvel #peter parker #tony stark #irondad

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t0wnspersonb · 4 years

Text

Rest (Bakugo Katsuki x Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2,515

Warning: SMUT, LANGUAGE

I’m literally in love with Bakugo Katsuki. I’ve had this idea in my head for a while and I might make this a small series, I love me some domesticated shit and I hope you guys do too. This is the first smut I’ve ever written so please keep that in mind as you’re reading lmao. I hope you enjoy it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bakugo sighed deeply as he dropped his duffle bag to the ground with a soft thud. His red eyes burned with exhaustion, his body felt incredibly heavy tonight after his shift.

It wasn’t that he disliked being a top pro-hero, far from it.

In fact, if someone were to ask him if he hated or loved being a hero he would scoff at them and blast their ass.

Of course he loved his job.

Becoming a pro-hero was his dream, the ultimate goal in his life. The amount of hours, blood, sweat, and tears he had put into his training was not for nothing.

Of course he fucking loved his job.

But sometimes.

Sometimes he wouldn’t mind being able to rest.

Like now.

Now, all he wanted to do was eat and sleep.

Bakugo flipped the light on in the kitchen, taking notice of the just washed dishes in the dish rack and the scent of cleanser lingering in the air.

Y/n must’ve cleaned up before she went to work. He thought briefly before opening up the fridge to see what was available to eat.

His expression softened once he laid his eyes on the plate of food wrapped up with a note on top.

Missing you a lot today, don’t overwork yourself.-Y/n

After reheating his dinner he sat down at the table, sighing deeply once more now that he was finally off of his feet.

It had been a long couple of days. A couple of weeks of nonstop back-to-back hero work. Which meant that Bakugo was rarely home, either arriving far too late into the night, or leaving far too early in the morning. There were only small traces that he had actually been there, a coffee cup left in the sink, the bathroom being damp still from a shower.

It was weeks like this one that were incredibly taxing on Bakugo, and that was because he never got to see you.

His wife.

It also didn’t help that your work schedule at the hospital was just as busy. Almost seemingly as the exact opposite of his.

He figured you had another night shift tonight as he headed to the bedroom.

But he froze at the doorway.

The tightness in his body melted completely as he gazed at your sleeping figure.

You were curled up under the blankets, fast asleep, and completely unaware of the tall man staring at you.

Bakugo couldn’t move fast enough.

All he could think about was curling up against you tonight, holding you close, and burying his face into your hair.

He had missed you too much.

He stripped down to his underwear and moved to slide under the blankets, his expression further softening as he noticed that you were wearing one of his t-shirts.

Carefully coming up behind you, he moved to wrap one of his arms around your waist. He pulled you in close, tucking you into his chest easily.

But you were roused awake from the sudden movement.

“Katsu?” you mumbled softly, eyes still heavy with sleep but you shifted your body so that you were facing the warm solid man now next to you.

“Go back to sleep.” he grumbled, both of you settling down against one another. He peered down at you with a gentle expression.

He had never seen anything more beautiful.

“How was it today?” you hummed softly, slinging your right arm around his broad shoulder, your leg kicking up to wrap around his waist.

Bakugo wrapped his fingers around your thigh, tugging you closer. His hand was big and warm, the roughness of his palms and fingers felt perfect against your soft skin.

A touch you were desperately craving the past couple of weeks.

“Dumbass Deku got overrun with the villains we were chasing down, I had go and save his stupid ass.” he grumbled, moving his hand up to slide into your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns into your back.

“Hmm.” you sighed softly, nuzzling your nose against his collarbone, inhaling that familiar burnt caramel scent.

Both of you were quiet for a moment, enjoying each other’s company. It was clear that both of you were exhausted, but neither of you had gone to sleep just yet.

There was a hum in the air.

A familiar one.

You looked up at the man that you’ve known your entire life. His eyes were closed, but you knew that he wasn’t asleep.

Your gaze started at the top of his head. His spiky hair was more disheveled than usual, but you knew that it was incredibly soft and perfect beneath your fingers.

Moving your eyes further down you took in his perfectly arched eyebrows and long lashes, but beneath that you noticed the dark circles framing his lower lids.

Frowning softly at your husband’s apparent lack of sleep you continued your search against his face.

His nose was perfect, and just below it, those soft full lips.

Your stomach flipped pleasantly. A familiar feeling bubbling in your lower stomach.

He was fucking beautiful.

And that was just his face. You knew that his body was just as perfect, if not better.

It was as if Bakugo Katsuki was sculpted from the gods themselves.

How you were married to such a beautiful man, you didn’t know. It was then that you started to be more aware of those muscular arms that were wrapped around you. Those strong, thick fingers gripping your upper thigh tightly.

Your heart rate picked up, and you shifted slightly, attempting to get closer to him.

“Stop staring at me, shitty woman.” he grumbled, cracking one eye open to peer down at you. “It’s fucking creepy.”

Now you remember how you ended up with this beautiful man. His shit fucking personality.

I guess it’s true when they say you can’t have it all, you thought dryly. Of course your husband couldn’t be a gorgeous man without having some kind of flaw.

It was actually a wonder how you guys had been together so long.

Childhood friends turned lovers.

You had been by his side since birth it felt like.

Considering your mother and his mother were good friends, it was bound to happen that you two would be as well.

You were the complete opposite of Bakugo.

Kind. Sweet. Gentle.

You weren’t in the hero course when you had gone to U.A., rather you had gotten into the support course.

Which wasn’t a problem for you. You didn’t want to become a hero. Rather, being able to help behind the scenes and being able to support those that wanted to be on the front lines, protecting and saving people, like your husband.

“Don’t be mean Katsu, I haven’t seen your grumpy face in weeks. Can’t a wife just look at her husband?” You grumbled pinching and pulling his cheeks.

He huffed angrily, grabbing your wrist and attempting to pull your fingers away from his face. “Let go, that fucking hurts.” he growled. “Stupid woman, you think I want to come home and be pestered like this?”

You snorted, an amused expression on your face as you ignored Bakugo’s increasing insults and attempts at stopping you from pulling his cheeks, increasing the pressure of your fingers on his face.

“You little shit.” he growled. He gripped your wrist tightly and shifted one of his legs to be between your thighs and moved, heaving you onto your back. Your wrists were pinned on either side of your head, Bakugo above you.

Oh fuck.

The position you were in caused your heart rate to pick up once again. Your eyes flickered down his body, appreciating the bulging muscles and the way his boxers now hung lower on his hips.

The smirk on his face wasn’t helping the situation either.

“Like what you see?” he sneered.

You rolled your eyes and moved your leg, shifting it up so that you could press your knee carefully against his crotch.

You could feel his growing bulge. You felt the rising blush in your face and looked away from him, going to move your leg down from its current position. But Bakugo was too fast for you, he grabbed your leg and hitched it over his hip and settled himself between your legs. Pressing himself to your center.

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips.

“Why are you getting all shy now?” he teased, rolling his hips against yours.

“Sh-Shut up.” you gasped, lips parting in arousal. “You haven’t even kissed me yet Katsu.”

He chuckled slightly, and released his grip on your wrists, allowing you to slither your arms around his neck, sliding your fingers into the back of hair. He leaned closer down to your face, one his hands grabbing at your jaw, the other one propping himself up to keep most of his weight off of you.

And then he was kissing you. His lips hot and urgent against yours, his tongue already poking through your lips, eager to taste the inside of your mouth.

You moaned softly, arching your body into his as your grip in his hair tightened.

Bakugo growled against your mouth, grinding into your core harshly.

All thoughts of sleep are now gone. All Bakugo could think about was you, and how much he wanted to be inside of you. It had been far too long since the last time he'd had you, and now, he wasn’t going to wait any longer.

“Fuck, what do you want?” he growled, pulling away from you and seeing your swollen lips. Your eyes were wide and bright, full of want and need.

His stomach churned pleasantly.

Before you could answer him his fingers were already where you wanted them the most. He rubbed at your clit in harsh controlled circles, his red eyes dark and filled with need as he gazed at your moaning flushed face.

“K - ah - Katsu. Please,” you whimpered, gripping his hair tightly between your fists. Your hips moving along with his fingers.

“Please what? What do you want?” he sneered, applying more pressure before he pushed your panties to the side, his middle finger sliding against your wet slit, but not fully penetrating you.

You felt tears gathering at the corner of your eyes, it had been too long. All you wanted was him to fuck you already.

“You. I want you please.” you moaned out, bucking your hips up, urging him to enter you already. “Please Katsu, I missed you so much.”

Fuck.

He missed you too. He was tired of the foreplay already, he needed to be inside you.

Snarling loudly he all but ripped the clothes off your body before removing his boxers. His member stood tall and gorgeously thick against his stomach.

Your mouth watered at the sight, you wanted it in your mouth.

“Later.” he growled, noticing the look on your face. “I want to fuck you already.”

He spread your legs apart, gazing at you hungrily before taking his cock and rubbing it against your glistening slit, and then he rammed into you.

You cried out loudly as Bakugo set a brutal pace. Hard and fast, and incredibly deep inside your pussy.

It had been too long, your body needing time to adjust to his intrusion, your walls stretching to fit his thickness.

But he wouldn’t let you. Bakugo gave in to his desire and set a pace that had you gasping to keep up.

Fuck did it feel good though.

The familiar pressure building up within yourself, ready to snap at any minute.

Bakugo was snarling above you, lost in the pleasure of your warm, wet walls gripping him tighter and tighter. He knew you were almost at your limit, he was too.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long, it had been too long since the last time he was inside of you, but he needed you to cum first.

His grip was bruising on your hips; his mouth sucking and biting at every inch of skin that was within his reach. You knew you were going to have marks in the morning, but you didn’t care.

His cock rubbed into the deepest parts of you, leaving you breathless and shaking. He always made you feel so full.

“You gonna cum on my cock princess?” he growled, reaching down and rubbing your clit again.

Your back arched, your head thrashing against the pillows as your pleasure began to build further up. “Katsu - ngh - I’m close.” you whimpered out.

He smirked, pulling out of your pussy before slamming himself back in.

And that was it.

You came hard, crying out and trembling beneath him, your wetness gushing out and staining the sheets below.

He snarled loudly, jackhammering his hips into yours as he chased his release before groaning lowly in his throat and spilling himself inside of you.

His hips finally stilled, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against yours softly before trailing delicate kisses against the bites he had left scattered across your throat and collar bone.

He stayed buried deep inside of you as he continued to soothe your battered body.

Bakugo knew that he was never gentle when you guys made love. He knew that his pace was always rough and harsh, but the aftercare was a different story.

After the intense fucking he always gave you, it was important for him to take care of you tenderly. He carefully pulled his softened cock out of you, hushing you softly as you whimpered from the loss.

He watched as his cum seeped out of you, smirking slightly to himself before he pressed a gentle kiss to your hip and got up to the bathroom to get a warm wet cloth to clean you and himself up.

When he came back you were already on the verge of falling asleep again. He sat near your legs, pressing a soft kiss to your knee as he cleaned up the mess he made between your legs.

You hissed softly, your lower body sore and sensitive. He hushed you once more as he finished cleaning up, tossing the cloth somewhere behind him, he’d take of that in the morning.

Starting at your hips he trailed his soft lips up your body, pressing the sweetest kisses into your skin, gazing at you with gentle eyes.

The aftercare was his favorite part.

You were so fucking beautiful like this, completely drained after all the pleasure that he had given you. Your skin littered with his marks, your lips red and swollen from his intense kisses, your hair a ruffled mess around your head after moving it back and forth so much.

He pulled the blankets over your bodies as he settled next to you, wrapping his arms around your body tightly.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, your eyes closing automatically, sleep ready to take you under.

“I love you Katsu.” you breathed softly, pressing your face into his chest. “So much.”

“Go to sleep.” he grumbled tenderly, placing another kiss to the crown of your head. “I got you."

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emiewritesthings · 3 years

Text

doctor, doctor - jay halstead

jay halstead x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n takes it into her own hands to look after a sick jay

a/n: i’m not gonna lie i think this is one of my fav things i’ve ever written, i would really appreciate some feedback and p.s the beginning of it is based on that scene from brooklyn 99 :)

masterlist

“okay, it’s 10 o’clock, meaning halstead is officially an hour late to work,” y/n announced as she appeared from the break room with a mug of poorly made coffee. looking around, she had immediately distracted everyone in the room with her playful smile. “okay let’s do this, theories!” she encouraged, taking a sip with excitement, but immediately regretting it as s he spat it back in the mug and abandoned it on adam’s desk as she leant against it.

“uh, he forgot to set his alarm?” antonio suggested, willing to play along with the little game that y/n had created. however clearly his answer didn’t suffice as y/n scrunched up her nose and shook her head in disappointment.

“you are a detective in a unit that just last week rescued 5 people kidnapped and used as chess pieces in a human sized version of the game and the best you could come up with is he forgot to set his alarm? pfft, disappointing, dawson. who’s willing to take this seriously?” she scoffed, brushing his idea off with a simple roll of the eyes as the group laughed at her ridiculousness.

“maybe he has been murdered by a gang looking for revenge.” adam piped up, earning a sudden and rather forceful slap on the back as y/n cheered. her eyes looking over at antonio as she gestured towards the less experienced detective.

“yes, that’s what i’m talking about. bit dark, ruzek, but better than dawson’s,” y/n hummed, adam clearly pleased with the praise he had received by the pretty detective. “any one else wanna shot?” she offered it out into the room, suddenly the sound of rolling wheels on the chair had everyone turn to face al who was munching on a ham sandwich.

“he walked into the middle of a drug ring, slept with the kingpins daughter and is now having limbs removed, one by the hour.” suddenly an eery silence fell in the bullpen as al suddenly disappeared back to his desk and everyone was left with an image that she was sure was burned on the inside of everyones mind.

“uh, okay, someone might want to arrange a psych check for olinsky asap,” y/n mumbled, pointing in the direction where he had once been and looking around as if checking that she hadn’t been the only one to hear al’s suggestion. “anyways, all of you are wrong. clearly he has joined a motorbike gang and now makes his money on the road striking off names on the government’s hit list.”

just as the room erupted into discussion about how idiotic this conversation was, as well as their ideas, the sound of footsteps caught y/n’s attention as she arrived at her desk. however as he reached the floor, the reason for his absence was clear.

“woah, you look like death.” adam chuckled, it immediately being silenced as jay sent a deadly glare his way. with his skin paler than normal with undertones of green, a layer of sweat draped over his forehead. jay flashed as smile at y/n as he passed, reaching his desk and collapsing on his chair with a wince.

as everyone went back to what they were doing, y/n found herself straying her eyes away from her computer screen for longer and longer periods of time until she found herself by his side with a sickly sweet grin, pun intended.

“i don’t wanna hear it, y/l/n.” jay mumbled, massaging his temples with his fingers hoping it would somehow sooth his pounding skull. whilst usually he had every minute of his day just to hear the woman chat away about whatever crossed her mind, he had found himself in quite the state since last night, leaving him restless and irritable.

“believe it or not, i just wanted to make sure you were alright,” y/n’s entire demeanour crumbled as she melted at the soft features of his face that came with being so vulnerable. but from the look in jay’s eyes, it was clear he didn’t 100% believe her excuse. “and to ask what the hell you think you are doing here? you are sick jay, you need to rest.”

it was very rare that jay found himself ill. in the years that y/n had been working by the man’s side, she could count on one hand the times she had seen him with so much as a cough. in fact she had called him captain immune system for a period of time when she realised he was pretty much indestructible. y/n couldn’t deny the concern bubbling in her gut seeing him so weak.

“i’m fine,” with her eyes slitted in a look that practically shouted ‘bullshit’, jay continued. “i promise, it’s just a little cold. nothing serious, i think i’ll survive.” he joked dryly, finding it incredibly hard to look away from y/n for her eyes were filled with a warmth that he knew was an expression usually saved for those she cared deeply about.

“yeah well, you need to take care of yourself, jay, i’m being serious. chicago can cope if you just have one day off, get your energy back.”

y/n was reminded of the times she had the exact same words spoken to her by the exact person that didn’t seem to want to take them onboard. every time she had so much as a sniffle he would be straight over with some soup that his mother used to swear by and the name of a box set that he would put on for the two of them to watch as he sat stroking her hair in order to try and convince her body to rest. neither of them had anyone else to take care of them, so had taken it upon themselves to be that person for the other.

“now, i’m gonna go tell voight that i’m taking you home before you infect this whole office.” before he could object, she had already ran (not literally but jay was impressed by her speed walking) to her boss’ office. knocking on the door, with a sweet smile and a sea of words running off her tongue so quickly that voight had to agree just to shut her up, y/n returned by his side. “come on, germ face, your carriage awaits.”

“you know i love it when you talk dirty to me, y/l/n.” winking at her, y/n giggled as she supported him back down the stairs and out of the station. the two chatted away, y/n explaining how she thought al was secretly a sociopath and jay filing her in on the newest instalment of his apartment block drama until they pulled up in front of jay’s apartment building.

as they walked through the door, jay’s arm resting around y/n’s shoulders as he struggled to find strength, they managed to reach the sofa before y/n’s body gave up. both of them letting out large breathes before looking at each other and falling into laughter.

“you hungry, i could try making your mom’s soup?” y/n asked, as she pushed herself up to look down at the man. her hair falling down around her face and tickling jay’s skin. “i’m sure it won’t be as good as her’s but i’m willing to give it a try.”

the way she was sat with the large window gleaming light behind her, y/n almost looked like an angel. her eyes and smile were wide, with her beauty wrapping its hands around jay’s neck squeezing until his head felt light and he nearly reached up to touch her porcelain skin. but jay had noticed the sensation way before he was blocked up with a cold.

“yeah, uh, that sounds nice.” jay agreed with a minimal amount of sass, but y/n didn’t seem to notice as she moved off the cushions and towards the kitchen. she had pretty much memorised the recipe when jay had finally given it to her on her birthday after offering to pay for it multiple times. whizzing around the kitchen, she was too busy to notice the tired eyes admiring her from afar.

jay wished his mom was alive to see the woman that she would have loved. all the times he had brought girls back to his family when he was younger didn’t add up to an ounce of the beauty and power that y/n held in her middle finger. the way she bit back at his wit, but also had the ability to spot when he was upset from the other side of the city. she was everything her mother wanted in a daughter in law, everything she wanted for her little boy.

“okay, give me your honest opinion. i can take it i promise.” y/n sudden appeared with a tray that held a large bowl of the semi-thick orange liquid, a glass of water and a couple pills. approaching jay, she carefully helped him up from where he laid and placed it onto his lap. “actually that was a complete lie, do not tell me the truth. i may just cry.”

“why thank you, nurse y/l/n.” he teased.

“it’s doctor actually.” she quipped back.

jay chuckled lowly, as he grabbed the spoon and took a large spoonful to his mouth. feeling the slight sting of his tongue at the heat, it was only when the flavours hit that he was suddenly transported to an earlier time in his life. a simpler time. only this time there was y/n by his side.

“the verdict?” she prompted, taking a seat besides him, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“not sure whether i want to tell you, don’t think you’ll fit in this room if your ego grows any bigger.” y/n grinned as she leaned over to press a kiss against his shoulder. jay closed his eyes at the contact, feeling the ache in his body freeze for a moment as it registered the tingling sensation. “all jokes aside, it really is good.”

“i’m glad, your mother was a smart woman.” she nodded, leaning forward to turn tv on. jay continued to spoon the soup into his mouth, as y/n chose a show that they both had started together and had refused to watch another minute without the other. y/n leaned back making herself comfortable, having already texted voight telling him that she would most likely need the entire day off, and getting the go ahead, she had no plans other than being by jay’s side for the next however many hours.

it was sometime in the early evening and the tv continued to emit light, but neither jay nor y/n was paying any attention to the drama. jay, with his head on y/n lap, was leaning into her touch as her short, thin fingers ran through the dark strands that sprouted from his scalp. his body wrapped in a blanket that y/n had grabbed from his room, he felt completely at peace.

“you know what, i think you are more bearable when you are at death’s door.” y/n joked quietly, as the forest green eyes were exposed back to her own. jay groaned in annoyance, realising that there was no sweet y/n without the sharped tongue y/n. a trait he adored, but at his own expense.

“and to think i was starting to think you had gone soft on me, y/l/n.” he hummed, wishing he could forever have her giggle on repeat wherever he went, for the sound made goosebumps run down his neck and down his arms, like some kind of magic that only y/n possessed.

“as much as i love you, i can’t risk my bad ass reputation for you.”

although jay was sure it was just part of her banter, the moment the ‘i love you’ fell off her tongue, he found himself wide awake, unable to push past the feeling in his gut as it looped over again and again in his mind. y/n could see the conflict in his face, as he glanced up at her with something she had never noticed before.

“you mean it?” he asked.

“mean what?” confused, her fingers fell from his hair, making jay regret ever opening his mouth.

“do you really, you know, love me?” he knew he had committed too far to try and retreat. maybe he could blame it on the fact he couldn’t think straight, although she was like a lie detector that wouldn’t let such a bogus excuse pass. y/n blinked down at him, watching as he sat up to look at her with a hunger that needed to be addressed. swallowing the lump in her throat, y/n nodded.

“of course, you are one of my best friends, jay.” it was true, but it wasn’t the full truth, both of them knew that.

“i didn’t realise we had started lying to one another,” jay’s eyes were soft, as he reached to place his hand against her cheek, smiling as she slowly leaned into it. closing her eyes, she tried to find what direction she was looking for, but didn’t dare take the first step. without even thinking, jay jutted forward and captured her lips before they could form a single syllable.

gently, but passionately, jay and y/n moved their lips against the others. the feeling was ever-growing as the kiss deepened and deepened until they had no choice to pull back, deprived of their ability to breath. as jay’s eyes came back into view, y/n, for the first time in her life, had lost the ability to form a sentence.

“we just...” she began but it ran off quickly. jay chuckled.

“we did.”

the two sat in silence, examining the other one’s face until y/n found herself moving forward until she was sat in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist as she pressed her lips against his. just like before their bodies and minds were set ablaze with desire and what had remained unspoken for what felt like forever. jay had nearly completely forgotten about the illness that had put him in the care of the woman that he craved more than anything else the world had to offer.

as their lips parted ways, suddenly the air had thinned and everything felt... normal. jay’s lips were unable to break out of the large grin mould that y/n had put them in, which was soon mirrored by the young woman. a small giggle escaping her lips.

“if i get whatever it is you have, i expect the exact same treatment.”

“only for you, doctor y/l/n.”

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wonjaekook · 3 years

Text

Residual Starshine

Pairing: Soccer player!Yuta x fem!reader

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

Word Count: 19.3k

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

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

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

Taglist: @junglewoos @insomni-writing @neowritingsnet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One of our neighbors is a total ass!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, he doesn’t know who you are-”

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

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

“Great morning, isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it?” You lift an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

“Are you coming tonight?”

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

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

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

“What position does he play?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, the whistle is blown.

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Yein, Sowon, Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you stalking me or something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NaYu: Are you at the Ravens game??

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This again?” You say, frowning.

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

“I also help you with your statistics homework.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next Friday, you receive a strange text.

Unknown Number: Hey, is this Y/N?

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

Unknown Number: This is Mingyu from physics

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

Y/N: Hi! What’s up?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could say that.”

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

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

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

His eyes light up. “Are you serious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes flash. “Challenge accepted.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I get it,” you respond, nodding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

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

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

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

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

“Does he keep you a secret on purpose?”

“I asked him to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, the subject you’ve been dreading comes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He misses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it that obvious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yuta, it’s me.”

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

“I came to talk to you.”

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

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

“You can look at me, you know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“These have to come off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm, good. That’s my girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yuta?” You say between shallow breaths.

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

“Do you want to go professional?”

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

“I really think you could do it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re weird and a horndog and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N? Whose shoes are these?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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solarwonux · 3 years

Text

Illicit Affairs || Jeonghan

lawyer!single father!jeonghan x laywer!f!reader x mentions of seungcheol x f!reader

w.c 9k (I WASN’T EXPECTING IT TO BE THIS LONG)

warnings: single father jeonghan, cheating, angst, cursing, smut, phone sex (kind off), Seungcheol is literally an asshole I’m sorry, fingering, slight oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex. (also I edited this in rush so I’m sorry for any mistakes)

note: Happy New Year, I decided to start this year off with a bang. Please enjoy I’m actually pretty proud of this one so let me know your thoughts. Also this is kind off a continuation of my other fic: In Another Life, so if you wish to know a little more about the relationship between Jeonghan and the reader be sure to check it out. If not enjoy :)

masterlist

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride home?”

Jeonghan came up beside you, rolling the small suitcase you had taken on your week long business trip beside you putting a gentle hand on top of your shoulder making you jump. “No it’s fine Seungcheol said he would pick me up.” You nodded grabbing the strap of your falling purse and placing it onto your shoulder again. “Bomi is waiting for you, so you should go home.” You smiled fishing your phone from your purse hoping to see the on my way text from your fiancé. Instead it sat empty with the picture of you and Seungcheol the day he proposed staring back at you.

“She’s staying at my mom’s. I won’t pick her up until morning.” Jeonghan quirked an eyebrow watching as you stared at your phone screen hopelessly. Your grip getting tighter and tighter each second that passes. “I can take you home, it's really no big deal.” He reassured and moved his hand away from your shoulder before stuffing it in the pocket of his long black coat.

You ignored his offer unlocking your phone and clicking on the message app, revealing the thread of texts between you and Seungcheol. The last one he had sent before he ghosted you for the remainder of the week was that he loved you and that he would see you at the airport when you got back. That was on Wednesday, it was now Friday and he was nowhere to be found. With a deep sigh to keep yourself from growing frustrated you sent him a quick text asking him if he was on his way before locking up your phone again and throwing it into your purse.

“I’m sure he’s stuck in traffic. I'll be fine, you should go home, you haven’t gotten any sleep because of the time differences.” You waved a hand dismissing all his offers before grabbing your suitcase handle and rolling it closer to your body.

There was no doubt in your mind that something was wrong. That something had been seriously wrong for the past three months as Seungcheol started distancing himself from you more and more each passing day. You figured it was the stress of his new very taxing job as well as the wedding planning and the bi-monthly trips to the New York firm that Joshua had you and Jeonghan going too. You could only hope that it was just a small bump in the road. That’s everything would go back to normal now that you wouldn’t have to go on another one of these trips until February.

“Last chance, take it or leave it I’ll even throw in a burger from that fast food place that you like.” Jeonghan winked, bumping your shoulder against his. “I know you’re hungry, you didn’t eat any of the airplane food.” His voice lowered with concern and your grip on your suitcase handle only got tighter.

He was right you were starving but you were looking forward to going to the 24-Hour diner by your and Seungcheol’s loft just like you had for the past three years whenever either one of you got back from a business trip. It had become some sort of tradition in your relationship, but now as you searched the crowd for your missing raven haired fiancé you weren’t sure if you even wanted the M&M pancakes the two of you always shared. Or the burger Jeonghan was offering because something was wrong and your gut was sending the warning flare signal all throughout your body.

“Temping, but I’ll pass. Now go home before I call Joshua and beg him to let me switch partners again.”

“You’ve been trying for five years darling, and look at where it’s gotten us.” He smirked, taking his hands out of his coat pocket and placing them on top of his suitcase handle. “But since its two in the morning and Joshua would murder us if you called him for such a trivial thing. I will leave, but I’ll stay close by just in case Seungcheol doesn’t show up.”

You rolled your eyes before playfully shoving his shoulder causing him to stagger back dramatically, a scoff leaving his lips. “Yoon Jeonghan go home, I’m serious.” You crossed your arms in front of you as he raised his hands up in surrender.

“Fine, but text me when you get home okay. I don’t like leaving you alone at this time at night.”

“I’ll be fine, he’s just stuck in traffic.” You said. Jeonghan shook his head before turning around and waving you goodbye. His face full of concern as he started walking away, carefully dodging the small crowds of people that had gathered in reunion. You raised your hand and waved back until he disappeared out of the airport.

It was two in the morning, there couldn’t possibly be any traffic but it was the excuse you decided to go with because it was better than admitting the truth. Something was wrong and it terrified you knowing that you had an ideas as to what it was.

The second your apartment building came into view your stomach dropped.

You had waited outside of the airport for thirty minutes. Texting Seungcheol repeatedly asking where he was. The last message he had sent to you on Wednesday haunted you as you read the words he had written over and over again whenever you sent him a new message.

I love you.

The doubt slowly crept in as you shoveled the fallen snow around the concrete pavement with the toe of your boots. Did he still love you?

For months, Seungcheol had been acting strange. His smile didn’t reach either side of his face, he didn’t laugh at your obscure little habits or antics. He didn’t look at you like you were the delicate flower amongst the sea of dead weeds. He was there with you, sharing the same roof but he wasn’t present in any sense of the word. Every time he came home he ignored you and went straight to shower or bed. He had started to pick fights with you more often. Before you left he had blown up on you in the middle of the night because you had left the bedroom window open. He had never once minded before because he knew you did it on purpose, so that when the two of you slept he would hold you closer than usual to keep you warm.

Though instead of holding you close that night he had yelled at you and went to sleep on the couch. Leaving you alone with tears pooling in your eyes and in the cold. You had felt that exact way as you waited for your uber to arrive and now that you were standing in front of your apartment building, gripping your suitcase handle as you pathetically competed in a staring contest with the entrance. The gnawing in your stomach growing to the point where you felt nauseous.

You contemplated calling another uber and just have the driver keep you company as you settled your overflowing thoughts. Over thinking never got you anywhere you wanted. And right now your head was a pool of doubt consumed by all the scenarios you didn’t want. For your sake and his you hoped he had fallen asleep waiting for your plane to land because if any of the scenarios that were currently playing in your head ad you made your way into the building and towards the elevator; you knew you would never be able to recover it.

With a shaky finger you pressed the number four in the keypad, watching as the elevator doors closed, shutting you out from the outside world. In seconds when the same doors opened again, revealing the narrow hallway that led to your studio apartment, you’d finally know the truth. One you had been ignoring for months on end because you knew, no you hoped Seungcheol still loved you.

Maybe he still did. Maybe you were overreacting but you had this horrible habit at never trusting your gut when it was always right and something deep inside you was telling you that you were. That what you had perceived was happening was the truth and that now all you needed to do was rip it apart like a bandaid. Dwell in the pain for a while and then move on like it never happened.

After all he had started to act like you didn’t exist anymore.

The elevator doors opened at an agonizing pace, the scene playing out almost too perfectly that it was nauseating. You didn’t even have to step out and walk a couple of steps to the right for you to see what was happening right in front of you. Seungcheol’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. His mouth falling agape before the doors could finish doing what they were meant to do and the anger inside of you built to the point you were sure fire was coming out of your ears.

You were right.

In front of you stood Seungcheol with bags under his eyes, his hand encased with someone’s that wasn’t yours. She was pretty, prettier than you could ever be, but that wasn’t what had you fuming. It was the fact that she was here in your building, in your hallway. You wondered how many times she had been here before reliving this same scenario. You wondered how many times she sat on your couch pressed to his side? How many times had she laid in your bed underneath him? How many times she had used your bathroom along with your things after nights of utmost pleasure? Seungcheol was a good lover, you'd give him that much but he had always been a shitty liar so he had to have known that whatever fantasy world he was living in, would come to an unpleasant end.

“Excuse me.” You said gripping your suitcase handle until your knuckles turned white and walked past the lovely couple. You could feel the panic radiating out of Seungcheol’s pores and you tried to keep yourself from laughing the bitter laugh that was bubbling up in the back of your throat. The warning Jeonghan had given you three years ago when Soonyoung had first introduced you to Seungcheol hummed softly in the back of your mind as you approached your wretched apartment.

“Be careful, he’s not someone that’s capable of love.”

Your body had gone into autopilot the minute you stepped out of the elevator and entered the place you once called home. You didn’t notice the spent sheets lazily thrown in the overflowing laundry basket nor the messily knocked over wine bottles on the coffee table. Your main priority in your fevered state was to get as much as you could before Seungcheol came back with the excuses he came up with during the five minutes it took for the old elevator to reach the fourth floor.

When the sound of the door shutting rang through the heavy air surrounding your old apartment you knew you had failed. You stopped dead in your tracks dropping the pile of clothes you had chaotically fished out of one of your dresser drawers and met Seungcheol’s unreadable expression. For some reason, even though you had a hole in your chest. You didn’t feel any sadness, just anger. Seungcheol’s indifference smugly painted across his face only made you boil inside.

“What are you doing?” Seungcheol’s voice sounded richotteing of the plain walls and into your chest making the hole inside of you grow deeper. The two of you stood in the middle of the messy hallway. Clothes that didn’t belong you where all over the room in what seemed to be a hasty frenzy. It was like he had started to replace you already with someone who in his eyes was obviously better than in you every syllable of the word.

“That’s a stupid question Seungcheol.” You scoffed and leaned down to pick up the pile of clothes you had dropped. “I’m obviously not wanted here anymore so I’m leaving.” You rolled your eyes and walked past him bumping your shoulder against his, making him stagger back slightly. You reached the dining room table where you had sprawled open your suitcase and stuffed in the clothes in your arms before turning to face him.

Your mind must have been playing tricks on you because you saw a small flash of fear dance around his irises before it was replaced with the same indifference you were met with before. “Don’t go, I can explain.” He closed the gap between the two of you. He raised his arms hesitating before putting his warm palms against your shoulders. The air in your lungs caught itself in the back of your throat when you felt the heaviness of his touch seep through the cotton of your winter coat. Now that it had been corrupted by the touch you had once burned brightly underneath, you wanted nothing more than to to peel it off as if it were your second skin.

“Don’t touch me Seungcheol, I don’t want your excuses.” You spat out slapping his hands and walking past him.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me please let’s just sit down and we can talk about it.” He voiced, the broken lint cracking through his poker face. He begged following you into the room. He cringed at his clothes hanging out from closed drawers, the unmade bed and the overpowering smell of roses that didn’t belong to you.

You ignored him opening up another drawer grabbing everything that belonged to you and leaving behind everything that didn’t. “There’s nothing to talk about you cheated on me and probably have been for months now. The damage is done. End of story Seungcheol.” You slammed the drawer shut and moved past him, he caught your arm forcing you to turn around at lightning speed. Water was now spilling down the corner of his eyes as he finally realized that the fantasy he had been living under was simply just a fantasy. That his reality was staring back at him with dull and broken eyes.

It broke him.

You had hurt him in the same ways he had been hurting you. At least that’s what he told himself three months ago when you had left with Jeonghan to New York for work again. When he walked into the bar and met her three beers in. When he brought her home that night and all the other nights you were away. You were cheating too so why should he be the only to suffer if he could make you suffer the same he was.

“Does it matter, you’ve been cheating on me longer than I have been on you.” He spat letting your arm go making you stagger. Your back hit the closet door as you stared at him in disbelief. You blinked rapidly making sure you had heard him right, a nervous laugh bubbling in the back of your throat.

“I-I’m not and I have never cheated on you what the hell Seungcheol.” You clutched the few t-shirts you were holding against your chest, “Where is this coming from?”

“Jeonghan, you’ve been seeing Jeonghan behind my back for months now.” He yelled making you flinch. He raised his arms before bringing them down and running his hands desperately through his jet black hair. “I’m not an idiot, I saw the texts where he told you that you couldn’t tell anyone your secret.” He sat down at the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tugged at his roots. The weight of his illicit affair finally weighed heavy on his shoulders.

You threw the shirts you were holding in his direction, missing him completely, “You are anidiot Seungcheol, I’ve never once kissed or slept with Jeonghan before. He just got divorced, his wife left him with a four year old. It’s none of your business but the big secret we kept was him taking his daughter to work when Joshua was out of town because she was sick.” You yelled, the anger you had felt for him earlier spilling out of your ears. “God, why didn’t you just come and talk to me about it, why did you have to go and ruin everything?”

Revenge was never sweet and he was getting a taste of his own medicine.

Seungcheol had fucked up he knew it the second his lips met the women he had met at the bar. Yet, he had somehow convinced himself that he was right all along. Now as he heard the sincerity spill out of your perfect lips he realized how wrong he had been for three months on end. He had ruined a future so sweet it gave him toothache whenever he thought about it and nothing he could say or do would fix the damage he had done.

“I never want to see you again.” You whispered, bringing your hand up to your chest as you slowly removed the diamond ring from your ring finger, the last thing keeping you connected to him. He had made you a promise one you never saw him fullfilling.

Almost as if on instinct, Seunghceol raised his tear stained face. The panic ran through his once soft features as you placed the ring he had given you on top of the wooden dresser. It was over, he had known it the morning after he had sinned.

He’d have to endure the consequences of his actions by himself because you were two feet out the door with almost all of your belongings including his heart.

“I think the coffee machine is broken, again.” Jeonghan spoke as he walked into your shared office with two styrofoam cups, “I got us hot chocolate instead.” He boasted proudly as he set the steaming cup on top of your desk.

The moon had been larger than usual tonight, so, as Jeonghan honorably offered himself to go get the two of you some coffee from the machine in the employees lounge. You had taken it upon yourself to give your brain a well deserved break after hours of looking over the cases Joshua had given you and Jeonghan before he left earlier.

Joshua was quite possibly the best boss you could ever ask for. He gave out paid vacations to all his favorite employees, which was all of them. And gave some of the best advice known to men. But he was also sneaky and did possibly everything in his power to keep you and Joenghan at the office after hours and alone. You weren’t sure what kind of game he was playing nor had you cared at first but after Jeonghan’s nasty divorce. His game became even more obvious. You had called him out on it one afternoon when it was just the two of you in the employee lounge. With a knowing smirk he had refuted your claim. Though when he walked out with a jump in his step and whistling an unfamiliar tune you knew you had been right and that he wasn’t going to stop his scheming any time soon.

His wingman tendencies became more heightened when he had noticed your missing engagement ring three days ago. Joshua had cornered you in his office before closing that night causing you to embarrassingly break down in one of his lounge chairs in front of his desk. Since then he had given you and Jeonghan an unbearable amount of work and it made you feel terrible.

Jeonghan had a four year old that needed all his undivided attention. Everyday Jeonghan would rush to pick her up from school, sometimes leaving work unfinished when he realized he was running a few minutes late. Most of the time he brought her back to the office when his mother or sister were too busy with their own lives to look after her for a few hours. She would end her days falling asleep in her uncomfortable school uniform on the couch of yours and Jeonghan’s office. He then would carefully move her to the couch in Soonyoung’s office so your baseless bickering wouldn’t disturb her peaceful slumber. When you brought up your concern to your lovely boss he had simply brushed it off because apparently Jeonghan didn’t mind. Though the miniscule stress lines breaking through Jeonghan’s face and the light bags under his eyes indicated otherwise.

“You’re thinking again, is it Seungcheol. I know something happened because you haven’t been wearing your ring lately...and you haven’t complained once about working overtime...” Jeonghan’s voice sounded causing you to plant your feet back onto Earth’s surface. “you can tell me if anything’s wrong. Joshua’s usually the one with top tier advice but I can try my hand at it. So go on what stupid fight did the two of you get into this time?” He finished leaning back in his desk chair, arms crossed in front of him as he eyed you closely.

“You should go home, I can finish up here. Bomi needs her bed...you need your bed.” You sighed swirling the steam from your hot chocolate over your index finger. Jeonghan was the only one who didn’t know about Seungcheol’s affair. It wasn’t like many people knew just your parents, Joshua and Soonyoung since you were staying over at his place for the time being. But Jeonghan didn’t know and you didn’t want him to know. He wasn’t the biggest fan of your ex fiance and he had warned you numerous times, but you didn’t listen.

After everything you had gone through an I told you so from your best friend would be the unpleasant cherry on top.

“Stop changing the subject. He’s been calling you non stop for hours and you’ve ignored him. I don’t really care about what happened because I’m sure it’s nothing, but your ringtone is driving me crazy.” He joked dramatically, picking up his own cup of vending machine hot chocolate and brought it up to his lips.

You placed your palm on top of your cup, trapping in the steam. The heat danced around your cold palm warming you up before you officially turned to face your nosey partner in the crime. “I left him.” You breathed out. Jeonghan’s eyes grew wide as saucers as he uncrossed his arms and slowly rolled himself and his chair around his desk and towards yours. “He had been seeing someone else for months and I caught them the day we came back from New York.”

“I knew I should’ve taken you home that night.” He grumbled placing both his hands on either side of your chair turning you to face him. Your panicked expression met his angry eyea causing chills to run up your spine. “He had been acting like an asshole lately and I knew something was wrong. I just told myself not to get involved because I knew it would piss you off, but now I wish I did.” He took your hands in his and placed them on top of your lap. You could feel him shaking and it reminded you of the day Bomi’s mother had left the two of them. The anger he was feeling now you had felt it then too.

“Jeonghan it’s okay, it’s my fault I should’ve listened to you when you said he wasn’t a good person then and I should’ve said something the minute I suspected something was wrong. I was just too delusional living in my own world and planning my wedding that I was afraid of being right.”

He gripped your hands tightly nd shook his head. “Don’t ever say that, it’s not your fault, he hurt you. He choose to fuck someone else not once but for months right?” You nodded biting your bottom lip hard enough to almost draw blood as an attempt to keep yourself from spilling tears. You had cried enough nights over Seungcheol. He didn’t deserve your tears nor your heartbreak.

“He thought I was cheating on him with you.”

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head before letting out a deep disappointing sigh. “Where are you staying, not with him right?” He laced your fingers with his and placed your hands on his lap.

“With Soonyoung he lives the closest to my old place so I just ran to him.”

“Soonyoung knew before me?”

“And Joshua and my parents.”

Jeonghan looked up towards the ceiling taking a deep breath. “How are your parents?”

“Dad wants to kill him, mom has been trying to calm him down the last few days before I move in with them for the time being.”

“I knew I liked your dad for a reason. Might have to call him tomorrow so we can plan our crime.” Jeonghan smirked, trapping you and your chair between his legs. The last time the two of you had been this close was when he had cried in your arms on yours and Seungcheol’s couch, after he came home to find Bomi alone in her room with divorce papers on her dresser and all of his ex wife’s belongings gone. It had made your heart race then but you had blamed it on your anger. Now as you stared into his warm eyes with your heart against the base of your throat you thought that maybe you had been wrong then.

“And mom and I will hold the two of you back, if not we won’t be visiting you guys in jail.”

“I won’t go to jail. I’m a hot shot lawyer, haven’t lost a case yet I think I can represent myself and your dad and win.” He winked. He had started to lean in closer. The sensation of thumbs running soothingly across the palm of your hands didn’t help your beating heart.

“Maybe this is the case that will finally bring you back down to Earth.” You shoved him lightly as an effort to make space between the two of you. Your efforts were deemed as unsuccessful as he didn’t budge.

You and Jeonghan silently stared at each other and you hoped he couldn’t hear the hitches in your breathing. Slowly, he leaned in and before you could process what was happening his lips were on yours catching you by surprise. He moved them slowly, warming you up until you finally caved in and kissed him back. He smiled letting go of your hands and placed them on top of your knees, trailing them up your thighs until they found purchase against your hips and brought you close. He stopped kissing you for a second, giving you the choice to stop but when you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close, kissing him feverishly, he responded with the same amount of heat you were giving him.

Year’s ago at an old musty bar in New York, Jeonghan had confessed that he had once harbored deep feelings for you. It was also the day you found out he was engaged to Bomi’s mom and the day you choose to push your feelings for him aside and move on. Tonight, those dormant feelings returned, along with the fire that accompanied them. You were desperate and needy to act up on them and now that you could, you didn’t want to stop. The feeling of his long crooked fingers traveling up thighs and pushing the fabric of your cream colored sweater dress up with them, made you want him more.

“W-Why...did you wear tights today?” He groaned and whispered against your lips making you giggle. He rested his hands against your butt, giving it an experimental squeeze before guiding you onto his lap.

“It’s winter, I don’t want to die of frostbite.” You smiled down at him before pecking his lips repeatedly. Your body had gone untouched for months but it felt like it was burning brightly underneath the light of the moonlight.

“I can just keep you warm.” He winked one of his hands traveling to the front of your body. His finger teasingly playing with the hem of your black sheer tights, itching to make you feel loved and beautiful just like you deserved.

You shook your head at his innuendo before leaning down to kiss him again. Just when your lips were about to connect with his, Seungcheol’s ringtone started ringing. Jeonghan groaned in annoyance. “I told you your ringtone was annoying me.” The arm balacinging you on his lap pulled you closer. He attached his lips on to your neck again, biting down on your earlobe, a tiny almost inaudible moan escaped your lips. He let go of the hem of your leggings, the band slightly ricochetting of your skin making you suck in a breath. He retreated his lips and smirked before leaning over your body and grabbing your ringing phone, Seungcheol’s contact name blinking on the screen of your home page.

“Answer him angel.” He said handing you your phone before pecking your lips lightly.

“W-What.” You took your phone in your hands and stared down at Seungcheol’s smiling face.

“You said he thought we were seeing each other behind his back. Why don’t we prove his theory sweetheart.” Jeonghan took your phone and pressed the answer button an evil glint glimmering behind his eyes, “this way I don’t have to commit murder.”

“B-Baby I’m sorry for what I did and for what I said this morning p-please come home.” Seungcheol’s desperate voice came in through the speaker of your phone. Jeonghan sat back smugly holding on to you tightly as he urged you to speak.

You swallowed thickly before opening your mouth, his mouth coming into contact with your cheek while he slowly raised your dress. “I-I’m not coming back Seungcheol, you fucked up.” Your arm around his neck loosened up. He brought your dress over head and threw it off to the side.

“I-I know, I-I know but I love you so much. I promise it won’t happen again just please come h-home.” Seungcheol’s voice breaks at the end making Jeonghan roll his eyes. There was not a doubt in your mind that Seungcheol was being as honest as he could be but he had broken your trust. He had chosen to sleep with someone in your shared home on your shared bed instead of sharing his falsely created suspicions with you.

“Cheol, I’m sorry,” Jeonghan’s hand trailed up your bare back and unhooked your bra. A small inaudible gasp left your mouth at the feeling of your freed your breasts, his mouth watering as his need to please grew. “I-I don’t trust you anymore.” He wrapped his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around it slowly. Your phone fell from your hand and onto your laps. You arched your back, pulling his head closer, your fingers hastily finding the top button of his dress shirt. Seungcheol was long forgotten as you quickly unbuttoned Jeonghan’s shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. The smoothness of his heated skin, underneath your palms made you desperate to feel more of him against you.

“I’ll do anything I just need you to come back, you’re my everything.” Seungcheol all but begged as Jeonghan released your nipple and grabbed your phone from where it had fallen. He placed it on our desk before standing up and sitting you on top of it. He leaned down running his tongue over the shell of your ear, giving your temple a slight kiss, “keep talking to him angel, let him know I’m here that he lost the best thing he could ever have.” He whispered before leaving kisses down your body and pushing your legs open.

Seungcheol was rambling but you were so focused and in tune with how soft Jeonghan’s lips and hands felt against your body that you had forgotten about him.

Jeonghan kneeled down in front of you, sending you a wink before grabbing the crotch of your tights and ripping it apart, “Jeonghan what the fuck?” You yelled and lightly flicked his forehead making him laugh.

Seungcheol stopped his incoherent rambling “Jeonghan is there?” The venom laced in his voice was prominent which only made Jeonghan laugh making his presence obvious and known. They were friends once, had gone to school and law school together. Had even talked about opening up their own law firm together after graduation. But Seungcheol had betrayed Jeonghan in ways you didn’t know as neither of them liked to talk about it. They had only tolerated each other because of back when Seungcheol was still your fiance and Jeonghan was only your coworker. Obviously that line had been crossed tonight the second you opened your mouth and Jeonghan’s hands found yours.

“Umm, I mean Joshua left us a lot of paperwork so we--”

“I’m going to make love to her and treat her the way she deserves to be treated.” Jeonghan spoke, cutting you off. He stood up, his hands planted in between your legs. He sent you a knowing look before moving your panties to the side. His index finger moved up your slit, a sound of approval left his mouth when he felt how wet you were. “She’s so wet, I bet if I wanted I could just slip right in and she’d be so tight around me.”

“Jeonghan, mmh...stop.” You parted your legs further, going against your own words. There was just something about having Seungcheol on the other side of the line as someone else had their hands all over your body that turned you on even more. Maybe it was some sick form of revenge, but you were ready to succumb to Jeonghan completely if he continued to touch in the way you had been craving for months now. The vibrator he had jokingly gotten for you as your secret santa gift three years ago, had not been enough. You needed more.

“I don’t think you want me to angel,” he inserted his finger inside of you. A choked moan left your parted lips as you arched your back. “It’s a shame you fucked up Seungcheol, I bet she looks so pretty when she cums.”

“I was right. I knew you were cheating on me with Jeonghan. You’re a fucking li-”

“Actually this is the first time we’ve ever stepped over our boundaries. She was telling you the truth...you’re just an idiot.” Jeonghan moved his finger inside of you slowly. He felt around your velvet walls teasingly before inserting a second finger, stretching you out a little further. Opening you up for him. “Isn’t that right angel?” He raised an eyebrow before picking up the pace of his fingers. You gripped his arms, digging your nails into his skin as you felt the slight pleasurable pain course throughout your body.

“Y-Yes, mmh...fuck Jeonghan, yes.” You bucked your hips against the palm of his hand. Your clit lightly brushes up against ot making your body jolt, as his pace and your pleasure increased.

“I-Is this why you r-refuse to fight for us, because you want to be a slut and fuck Jeonghan without feeling guilty.” Seungcheol scoffed and Jeonghan rolled his eyes. The coil in the pit of your stomach tightened up and you found yourself getting lost in the delicious pleasure Jeonghan was giving you rather than Seungcheol’s words. The moment you walked out on him he stopped mattering and you couldn’t be happier. Especially if the outcome was with Jeonghan and Bomi.

“Are you close baby? Are you going to cum for me so Seungcheol hears how good I make you feel? Jeonghan rolled his palm against your hardened nipple, his thumb circle around your clit adding to the pleasure his fingers were giving you.

“Fuck, y-yes...I’m going to come for you Jeonghan.” Your fingers threatened to break the surface of his skin and with one final thrust of his fingers you gonat came around then moaning out his name. He helped you ride out your orgasm mumbling praises against the crown of your head. Before taking out his glistening fingers making you whine. He raised fhem up to his lips and wrapped his tongue around them sensually, sucking them clean.

You were panting, your chest heaving against his as you tried to catch your breath again. “Choi Seungcheol are you still there?” Jeonghan asked, making you roll your eyes, you buried your head in his chest, running your down the smoothness of your back. “She looks like a fucked out work of art right now and I’m not even done with her yet.”

“Whatever, I hope you enjoy my sloppy seconds, she’s incapable of being loved anyway.” Seungcheol’s words tugged at your heartstrings and you could feel the anger radiating from Jeonghan's heated body.

“Fuck you Seungcheol.”

Jeonghan carefully laid you down on the couch of your shared office, peppering kisses down your body. After Seungcheol hung up, an overwhelming and heavy silence surrounded the two of you.

“Do you regret it?” He buried his head into your neck. His hands that had devilishly devoured your body five minutes ago, hoovered over your lower back. His voice small, trapped in the back of his throat as he melted in your arms.

“Leaving him?” You questioned and moved your fingers down the smoothness of his back. “I don’t, I don’t regret leaving him.”

“No that,” He raised his head. His gaze burning intensely in yours, “me touching you do you...do you regret it?” Jeonghan finally touched you again, his cold touch sent shivers up your spine. He smiled tugging a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb running over your earlobe gently before resting them against your cheek.

“No, I don’t regret it whatsoever.”

“Good because I don’t want to stop touching you.” He closed the tiny gap between the two of you and kissed you gently. He ran his hands down the side of your body before hooking his thumbs underneath your torn tights. You giggled against his lips remembering how he had impatiently torn them. He leaned back against heels and helped you remove them before tossing them elsewhere. You leaned up against your elbows, watching as he lustfully moved his hands up your legs slowly.

“I meant what I said, I’m going to treat you like the angel you are.” He whispered and took off your black laced panties throwing them behind him. He held your legs open before kneeling in between them “You’re beautiful.” He whispered leaving kisses up your thighs, stopping in front of your pussy. “I’m going to devour you.” He mumbled before running his tongue up your slit. You moaned arching your back, your nipples getting harder against the cool air of your office.

“Jeonghan, w-wait.” You mumbled getting lost in the way his tongue moved against you, “no one’s ever done this before.” You confessed, threading your fingers with his dark locks pulling him closer.

He looked up at you, wrapping his arms around your thigh and brought you closer to his mouth. He moaned, wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. His gaze found yours, the way you were looking at him, overcome by pleasure, made his heart sore.

He sucked, humming when your hips started bucking against his mouth indicating that your orgasm was nearing. If he could he would’ve stayed in between your legs for hours, especially after finding out that no one had ever given in to you the way he currently was, but his cock was straining against his slacks begging to be inside of you, so, he pulled away. A frustrated sigh running past your lips.

“Why’d you stop?” You questioned sitting up on your elbows before teasingly running your palm down his chest. Your eyes caught sight of his bulge making your pussy clench over nothing. “Do you want to stop?” You sat up and played with his belt buckle, slowly unlooping it as you waited for his answer.

“I’d be crazy if I did.” He watched as you popped open the button of his slacks. Without a warning your hand found its way inside his boxers and wrapped around his length. Jeonghan’s body grew frigid as your hand slowly moved against him, his breath caught itself at the back of his throat, his body growing hot with pleasure. “Angel, I want to...fuck, I want to play a little longer but I need to be inside of you.”

“Do you have a condom?” You kissed his neck, sucking hard enough to leave your mark, smirking against his skin knowing how the office will react tomorrow morning. The many questions he would be bombarded with.

“Fuck, I don’t angel. We can stop here, it's okay,” he threw his head back as your lips moved down his chest and your warm hand moved against him.

“No. I trust you. I don’t want to stop.” You wrapped your lips around his nipple causing him to moan.Your hand stopped moving against him and tugged on his pants, signaling for him to take them off.

“Are you sure?” He stood up, kicking his dress shoes off before pushing his slacks and boxers down, leaving him naked in all his glory in front of you. He looked beautiful, the milky white light of the moon filtering through your giant window made him look like had been sculpted by the heaven’s. His cock sat against his stomach, the precum slowly leaking out and your mouth watered, but just like him you needed to finally feel him stretch you out. So you pushed the thought to the side and laid down opening your legs further, inviting him.

“Jeonghan, make love to me please. Make me scream out your name and forget about any other asshole that has used me in the past. I want to be yours only.” You said moved your hands up your body slowly before they found your breasts. You pinched your nipples gently moaning out his name in the process.

Jeonghan had never seen or heard anything as beautiful as to what he was witnessing right now. He hoped that this wouldn’t be a one time thing, that he could finally love you the way he had been itching to do so. Otherwise working alongside you would be a lot more awkward now that the two of you had crossed into dangerous territory. So, he kneeled in front of you again, leaning his naked body against yours, feeling your hard nipples rub against his naked chest as he leaned down and kissed you slowly. The passion spewing out of your connected lips. This was better than what he had ever imagined.

“You’re beautiful, I’m going to make you mine tonight and forever.” He mumbled before pulling away and snaking a hand down your connected bodies. He wrapped his fingers around his cock, spreading the precum around his angry head before looking at you. Slowly, he ran his head up your slit and stopped searching your face.

“God, you take forever. Just fuck me, Jeonghan please.” You smiled nodding your head pushing his hair away from his forehead.

“I’m just trying to take everything in, I’ve pictured this moment many times over the years and I need to make sure it's real.” He winked and slowly pushed himself in. Your mouth fell agape, his moans sounded beautiful as he kept pushing inside of you before bottoming out. “T-Tell me when I can move.” He leaned down capturing your lips in another slow and sensual kiss. His kisses were otherworldly and addicting.

“F-Fuck Jeonghan move please.” Your hands fell down his back as you pushed him closer. The pain of him stretching you out hadn’t subsided entirely but you were desperate with need.

“As you wish my angel.” He pecked your lips one last time before kissing your check and burying his face in the crock of your neck. His body was overwhelmed as he slowly started moving his hips against yours. The way he had fit so snuggly inside of you was driving him crazy and he hoped he would last a lot longer than what his body was telling him. Though with the way you had started to deliciously clench around him, he was positive you were riding the same boat as him. There would be other opportunities where he could shower you with ten times more love and take it as slow as he wanted. But right now was not the time, years of pent up sexual frustration between the two of you was oozing out of your pores and threatening to spill.

“I-I don’t want to cum yet but I don’t think I can hold off anymore.” You whispered, moving your hand down his back and further pushing his hips into yours. His thrusts had started out slow, but the more he lost himself in your body the sloppier they got. Your pants and moans bounced off the four walls of your shared office, thankfully no one was around to hear how desperate the two of you were for each other.

“Me too.” He grunted and raised his body. He gripped your waist tightly and started thrusting even harder into you. “W-Where do you want me to cum?” He threw his head back getting lost in sensation of your pussy clenching around him. Your second orgasm threatened to spill over the harder he fucked you into the leather sofa.

“I-Inside me. I want you to fill be up...mmmh, f-fuck please.” You arched your back digging your nails into his hips as your orgasm broke. Your body convulsed, hips cantaning up as he continued to piston his cock into you. Your name breathly spilling out of his lips as his own orgasm overtook his body. His warm milky seed covering your walls, making you moan out his name like an incantation.

The two of you rode out your orgasms. The fear of being separated seeping into your pores as he finally let his body go slump over yours. His face contorting in pleasure while your pussy continued to milk out of everything he provided you. Your chests raised slowly against each other, while reality finally seeped in. You had just fucked the man of your dreams in your office and silently you wondered why you had wasted your time hating him for years. While he silently loved you from afar, until you were too late.

“So much for finishing our paperwork.” Jeonghan broke the silence making you laugh. His head was against your sweaty chest, his thumb painting invisible pictures against your hips.

“You’ve just given me the best orgasm, possibly ever, and all you can think about is paperwork.” You joked, wrapping your leg around his waist. His cock twitching inside of you.

“I’m thinking about other things. I just wanted to state the obvious before I have you screaming my name again.”

“Mhm, I see.” You kissed his forehead and ran your index finger over his tired face. You knew he hadn’t been sleeping for days and as much as you wanted him to stay buried inside of you until morning. Another reality check crushed your fantasies. He needed to take him and his daughter, who was soundly sleeping in the office down the hall, home. “I’d love to Jeonghan, bu-”

“Do you regret it, p-please tell me you don’t” His pleading eyes found yours and you could’ve sworn your heart had flipped over how cute he looked right now.

“Let me finish talking first before you start jumping in to conclusions.” You kissed his forehead lightly, your index finger stopped moving against his face and you wrapped your arm around his neck pulling him closer then what he had already been. “I don’t regret anything but you need to take Bomi home and you need to sleep.”

“Then come home with me. I promise all we will do is sleep, but I want to wake up next to you and I want to make for lost time. Plus Bomi would be so excited when she wakes up and finds out you’re taking her to school with me.” He beamed and you felt the tears start to well up in the corner of your eyes. Jeonghan’s daughter was quite possibly the sweetest little thing in the entire world and each time you remembered what her mother had done to her and the man who was basking in the afterglow of your desperate love making. You would be hit with an overwhelming sense of anger.

“Jeonghan I want too, but we can’t be moving too fast. I want to be with you but I also need time to recover from what Seungcheol did to me, especially if Bomi is involved. I want to be there for you and her, but I can’t, knowing I’m not strong enough yet.” You sighed, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at baby. When they had started to fall Jeonghan leaned in and kissed every single one of them away.

“Okay, the ball is in your court angel, I’ll go at your pace.” He grinned, you could tell he was slightly disappointed but the fact that he had given you the upper hand made your heart swell up with love.

“Thank you Jeonghan.”

“It’s no problem, Seungcheol was wrong, you’re more than capable of being loved and I will spend every waking moment from here on out proving to you how wrong he had been and if I have to wait for you to get over what that asshole did to you. Then I will. Even if it means waiting another lifetime for you angel. I would wait for that one and the next one until you’re ready to let me love you the way you should be loved.”

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