#The amount of time people called him cap instead of his name and called him a friend of such billionaires | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lucys-chen · 1 year

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black tag - a moretz story

featuring nole moretti by @0itmelex0

The wind, the ocean and the screams. Three things Marcel had happening over and over again. Ocean water splashing his face while the boat moved through the water and Marcel sat stiffly sitting near the back of the vote. Bodies were spread across the water, some barely alive and struggling to hold onto life, some crying over the bodies of those who they had lost and others, who were the lost. For Marcel memories flooded through his mind, memories of the day his fiance had died in a hurricane mere years ago, a day where he had been just like these people.

“Ortiz, you need to focus,” his name was called to attention by his Captain. Sid’s replacement Adria Brett, who very clearly knew nothing of empathy by the way she was reacting to this situation. More annoyed with the amount of victims than the sadness of the tragedy that had happened before their very eyes. Marcel’s eyes shifted, moving to hers while she raised her eyebrows and narrowed her eyes in a clearly annoyed expression. “People are dying, get out of your own thoughts and focus on your environment, you’re not here to mourn you’re here to save lives,” the area went quiet and Marcel swallowed the lump in his throat while nodding along to her order.

“Understood Cap,” he tried to avoid both mumbling his response and biting back a smart remark knowing that it would only anger her more. Besides she was right, this situation wasn’t about him or his trauma, this was about the people who needed to be saved. So his focus moved on to the two nearby victims, the first was a man, still breathing- cuts jagged along his body while he remained pinned down to the car. The second was a woman, a very clearly pregnant woman whose arm was bleeding heavily alongside her stomach. Marcel’s eyes widened and he felt his heart drop, the two in front of him were in such rough shape it was almost as if they were going to be stuck between choosing to save one or the other. Almost immediately he nudged Hailee as a way to tell her to slow the rescue boat down, however as she did that- Adria glanced at them, the unhappiness returning to her face as Marcel spoke.

“Red tag both,” he ordered Ruiz, who moved to grab the triage tags in order to help them. Except just as they were about to tag the man - their Captain spoke up and Marcel saw red.

“No, black tag them. She’s bleeding and pregnant. And he’s been pinned to a car. There is no point in wasting our time on someone who isn’t going to make it.” The entirety of the team froze, looking between Marcel and Adria, the tension building as Marcel's eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know how it works down in Seattle, but here we try and save everyone we can. These people have a chance to live- there is no way that we are just going to leave them behind to die. I don’t care if you’re the fucking Captain or not. We are not leaving people who could be saved.” his voice was stiff and angry though it raised near the end of his sentence. Adria looked at him. Her facial features didn’t change- remaining in the same angry look she always seemed to have while she clenched her teeth.

“Yeah that’s right Ortiz. I am the Captain, actually I’m your Captain and unless you want to be written up and suspended for insubordination then I suggest you do what I tell you and keep the black tags.” Marcel kept his face solid, refusing to back down in this fight while Adria stared him down until finally she laughed an empty laugh and gave in, “Fine- you want to stay and take care of them? You do that. We’re not wasting our time.” The boat pulled over and she raised her eyebrows expectantly, like she was expecting him to give in to her demands, to remain on the boat and continue with the team. However Marcel didn’t - instead he did exactly what she said to do, he grabbed a life pack and a first aid kit and stood, moving to climb out of the boat while Adria scoffed at him in disbelief.

“Are you serious right now? You are actually going to be so petty that you are going to stay behind, take care away from other patients and help two people who aren’t going to survive the hour?” Marcel didn’t reply at first, he simply stared at her keeping his eyes narrowed as a way to show her that he wasn’t backing down. He remained that way for a moment before finally he spoke.

“My job is to save the people who need it. These people need it,” and with that being said he turned on his heel and walked away hearing yet another scoff as the engine of the boat started and the sound drifted into the distance leaving him alone with the two victims around him.

His first stop was the man closest to him. Marcel was on his knees immediately trying to apply pressure to the wounds, trying to see how bad the damage from the pipe was, to try and focus on helping. It wasn’t until he heard the cry of the pregnant woman that he moved away, planning to come back to the man as soon as the woman was helped.

“Ma’am, I’m here, I’m a firefighter - can you tell me what hurts the most,” The woman breathed intently and looked at him while moving to squeeze his hand, her skin was sickly pale and her eyes looked like she was on the verge of tears as her other hand moved to her stomach.

“My water broke, this baby is coming and I need-” she was interrupted by a contraction causing her to let out a scream squeeze Marcel’s hand even tighter.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve helped deliver babies. I can help you, right now I’m just going to move and apply some pressure to stop your stomach and arm from bleeding. I just need you to hold on for a second,” he promised while he moved to grab the bandages from the first aid kit only for the woman to grab him and shake her head, A weak smile on her face.

“Don’t save me, save my baby- my baby deserves to live.” her voice was soft as she looked at him and Marcel froze. His mind was swirling with a million thoughts while he looked like he wanted to argue.

“I can- I can save you both-” but the woman just shook her head.

“Save my baby first. Please,” there was a begging tone to her voice while Marcel’s heartbeat quickened in distress. “Please,” and with her asking one last time? Marcel gave in. He moved, grabbing the towel he had saved from the boat, laying it down in the driest place possible while he looked up at the woman, positioning her in a way to make it easier for her to give birth. His eyes were still wide but he looked up at her and swallowed.

“Alright-” he paused realizing he didn’t know her name and she smiled sweetly.

“Dia. My name is Dia.” Marcel choked on a sob, hearing her name made this all the more real. He was going to deliver her baby, and it was likely that she was going to die and the baby was going to live, without a mother. They were going to grow up without a mother’s love and there was nothing Marcel could do about it.

“Alright Dia, I can see your baby's head. I just need you to push,” Dia took a deep breath and started, letting out a scream while Marcel held her hand using his other hand to catch the baby, tying off the cord and wrapping him in the towel, turning away for a brief second while Dia unknowingly slipped into unconsciousness. “You have a beautiful baby boy,” Marcel turned back to hand her the baby only to find her lying there; her chest no longer rising and falling but remaining still. In an instant Marcel placed the baby down, in the safest place possible before he moved beginning compression's on the mother.

“Dia come on, you got this- don’t do this,” Marcel couldn’t focus- the tears sprung to his eyes while he continued CPR, taking breaks to try and stop her bleeding. None of this worked, and when he moved slowly to grab her hand- there was no pulse, only a smile on her face having given birth to her child, her hand still placed Marcel's leg gripping him with all her might.

Everything felt quiet around him and he didn’t know what to do, the small newborn in his arms fussing and reaching while Marcel sat, on his knees holding the child while tears slipped down his face. Dia’s blood was still on his hands and now he was holding her child. No one around for miles. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak or do anything. All he managed to do was hold and cradle the child trying to comfort him as best as possible, the cries of the infant echoing in his ears while he rocked him back and forth.

“Everything is going to be okay little buddy, I’m going to make sure of it.” He spoke softly, tucking the edges of the towel in to try and keep him warm while his cries died down, but as his cries died down anther's cries entered his ears and Marcel’s head shot up.

The blood curdling screams filled his ears and Marcel’s head turned quickly towards the sound. It was him, the man he had been attempting to take care of before- only he was awake and moving. His immediate reaction was to call out to him, telling him to not move as that could only make things worse. However the man didn’t appear to react to these words. So holding the baby close to his chest Marcel shakily stood and moved attempting to run, jumping over the surfaced cars - making his way to the man before he landed on the car where the man had pulled himself up. The blood was clearly on him, his injuries deep and Marcel’s eyes observed him in concern. He placed the baby down in a laundry basket that had been floating and slowly moved trying to grab the attention of the man in front of him.

“Hey- hey.” his voice was soft while he reached forwards and attempted to touch his shoulder he pulled back almost immediately at the man’s reaction . He was completely out of it and that much was visible by his body language and all Marcel could do was try his best to help. “Hey- I’m a paramedic-“ he seemed to be cut off by the man’s voice and his mouth shut quickly.

“E-Evan,” the man stuttered a little bit and Marcel bit back a response . Of everything that had happened to this man, the last thing he needed was to be told that whoever he was looking for - wasn’t him. So instead Marcel just stayed quiet and moved to grab the first aid kit.

“I need to get this rod taken out of you okay? this is probably going to cause a lot of pain and a lot of bleeding but it's what I need to do to get you somewhere safe okay?” It was the first thing Marcel had found himself able to say since finding him and he hoped that the man wouldn’t have too much of a reaction to hearing his voice, and not whoever this- Evan was. Marcel glanced at his eyes, quickly opening his eyelids to ensure that they were still functioning and he let out a small breath of relief before his eyes landed on the man’s pocket, an ID, sticking out of it.

His hand practically flew as soon as he saw the ID. Relief at the fact that he’d know his medical conditions, his name- everything. With one glance at the ID he could get to work- but not before the man- Joseph - spoke again.

“It hurts Ev,” his voice seemed to weaken, seemed to shake more before Marcel's heart began to beat a little more. His hand moved gently grasping his wrist to try and take his pulse only to feel it getting weaker.

“Hey Joseph- I know okay? I know it hurts. But I need you to take a deep breath for me okay? Take a deep breath so I can pull this rod out .” His voice remained soft yet firm while he tried to move. Except the rod made it all the more difficult as when he attempted to move it, all Marcel could hear was the slight tearing through Joseph’s and he froze hearing another cry of pain come from the man while he grabbed onto Marcel’s thigh , squeezing it through the pain.

“It hurts,” he whimpered again and Marcel clenched his eyes shut for a moment .

“One more pull okay? And then we can get you out of here and get you home.” he looked gently at him, his eyes struggling to withhold tears while he moved. It was all too much and things were only going to get worse because as the second wave began to come forwards- the tree hanging over Joseph, was about to fall leaving Marcel with two options. He could either pull the pole out quickly and hope Joseph didn’t bleed out- or he could leave him behind . So in general it wasn’t really an option at all.

“I’m going to pull this out once, okay? and then I’m going to move you out of the way and wrap your shoulder and leg until we can get you somewhere safe.” The smartest idea would be to leave the rod in, Joseph had already gotten it out of the car, but the issue lied with the fact that carrying the rod would increase both the fall risk for the already struggling man and would slow them down due to the added weight. Meaning he had to pull it out but even with that- Marcel had no idea how he was going to keep him calm- at least he didn’t until his eyes landed on a crumpled piece of paper sticking out of Joseph’s wallet. The vivid shadows of a picture stood out to him and he grabbed it, finding a picture of him alongside two others, the man Marcel assumed to be Evan and a young boy with the biggest smile Marcel had ever seen. HIs first thought was that this was Joseph’s family. His husband and son and for a second he felt his heart drop - especially when his eye caught the small caption in the corner of the photo. ‘Santa Monica Pier, 2019,’ this man- Joseph and two in the photo, were there when the tsunami hit. Which meant there was a good chance that they were gone and Joseph would never see them again. So Marcel didn’t know what to do - all he could do was distract him, and he hoped the photo would do the trick.

“Hey- Can you focus on this picture with me ? Just look at it while I pull the rod out okay?” He attempted to try and make him focus and once he seemed too Marcel gripped the rod and chewed on his lip, wincing at the amount of blood already pouring out. His teeth clenched and all he could think about was how if he moved the rod even 2 inches the wrong way an artery could be hit and the man in front of him would bleed out. Marcel couldn’t lose a second patient. Not after he had already lost Dia. So with a deep breath he moved and grabbed the rod before pulling it out as quickly as he was able.

The blood poured continuously and Marcel fought to ignore Joseph’s cries. He tried over and over to comfort him, but when his cries started so did the babies and Marcel paled. His head was pointing and his thoughts were swimming while he tried to stop the bleeding. He could feel Joseph’s pulse slipping and the gauze he had from the first aid kit was running out.

“Come on Joseph, I need you to stay awake for me okay? We’re so close to getting you to the hospital. I just need you to hang on for a little while longer,” his voice reeked of desperation as he put the pressure on the injuries as much as possible and his eyes welled with tears. Joseph was slipping in and out of consciousness and Marcel couldn’t do anything other than try to keep him awake.

The sound of a siren brought relief to Marcel- as he saw Hailee. Alone and coming up fast on a boat. Marcel let out a long breath and before he could even process anything he was picking up Joseph and placing him in the boat while grabbing to cradle the baby. His emotions were all over the place and all he could do was let his tears fall as he filled with relief at the fact that Hailee had come back for them. She had gotten there in time and now both Joseph and the baby were going to be okay.

When the baby had finally stopped crying Marcel’s attention immediately moved back to center on Joseph and he had never been more grateful for Hailee. With her help he was able to wrap both his shoulder and leg with a tourniquet and the bleeding had seemed to stop- Joseph’s pulse was stable. At least it was for a brief moment. Because suddenly the bleeding started again and once more Marcel couldn’t stop it.

“No, no, no- come on Joseph we’re almost there.” his begging was back and he looked at the man in front of him attempting to find his pulse while he tried to stop the bleeding. “We’re almost there- stay with me,” it was all he could say while Joseph’s pulse was lost, alongside Marcel’s hope.

—

He didn’t know how long he had been sitting and waiting for news but Marcel was exhausted. He’d gotten Joseph there and the medics rushed him away and Marcel practically collapsed. His head was pounding and everything hurt and all he wanted to do was go home, to curl up in his bed and pretend like none of this had ever happened. Except he couldn’t do that. Not until he found out whether or not Joseph was okay.

Fiddling with a teddy bear he’d gotten from the gift shop Marcel leaned forward tiredly. Everything was hard to focus on so instead he kept his head in his hands while playing with the bear that he planned to deliver to Joseph . He didn’t know if he would ever get the chance to deliver it, but he really wanted to try.

When the doctors came out and explained exactly that he was stable - a flood of relief went through him and he moved to stand a little tiredly. His body shook and he grabbed onto a chair to stabilize himself. The doctor looked at him in concern, seeming to question whether he should be visiting Joseph, or be in the bed next to him. Though the question caused Marcel to laugh he simply shook his head insistent that he was fine. He was simply exhausted, he wasn’t about to waste hospital resources on that. His focus right now was going to see Joseph, so he walked towards the room moving to set the teddy bear down on the bedside of the unconscious man.

“Who are you?” a voice caught his attention and Marcel nearly jumped. He turned his head to see another man, covered in scratches , in a bloodied and dirtied white shirt. The man from the picture in Joseph’s wallet- Evan. His face was a combination of confusion and curiosity and Marcel found the words he wanted to speak lost on his tongue.

“I uh- I helped him earlier today. My name is Marcel. I just- wanted to,” he was cut off by the man hugging him tightly and for a moment Marcel stiffened, until he heard the man let out a soft ‘thank you’ and Marcel finally found it in him to hug him back. “You- don’t have to thank me,” he said softly . “I was just doing my job,” the man clearly wanted to say more but instead pulled away and nodded, holding Marcel's shoulders while he pulled away. “I should go- but will you give him that teddy bear for me?” Evan nodded but he didn’t say anything else , seeming to move his focus to Joseph which Marcel took as a sign for him to leave.

Taking a step back he glanced once more at the teddy bear, moving to look at Joseph before his eyes fell on the black tag, the tag his captain had put there - when she had given up on him before even trying. With one final word to Evan he looked at Joseph and spoke softly.

“Make sure the black tag is taken off. It never should have been out there in the first place.” setting the photo of Joseph, Evan and the little boy down, tucking it into the arm of the teddy bear before walking away, without another word.

#ship: moretz #marcel x nole #marcel ortiz #fic: burning bridges #ch: nole moretti #happy anniversary to the boys <3

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bluewinnerangel · 3 years

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Larry Loves Laurels

EDIT: June 30th 2021 because sOmEoNe’s still at it EDIT again: July 2nd because now the other one’s at it too EDIT AGAIN: July 3rd ok now they’re both it at the same time...

This is something I wanted to gather in a post for a while now and with the recent post of Louis wearing a cap that includes a laurel wreath, it’s time to let this monster out of my drafts. It became a long masterpost/timeline of the times laurel wreaths showed up on their clothing or in some other way.

Louis loves laurels. This was a big one, when he wore this shirt while perfoming a bunch of songs for the first time (sept 14 2019):

And H has 2 massive laurel tattoos:

And that’s quite inchresting as Larry = laurel. Literally.

putting a cut in, this gonna be a long one:

The name “Larry” is short for Laurence/Lawrence, which in turn comes from the Latin Laurentius, meaning "From Laurentum" (a city near Rome) which is thought to be derived from the Latin laurus ("laurel"). The name could also be derived from the Old Greek word Lavrenti meaning "bright one, shining one".

(also “bright one, shining one”, GHUH)

It’s so simple, so loud, it’s pretty much a smack in the face.

Again like all my posts I’m not saying they’re definitely doing this on purpose and that this is the meaning behind it. Let’s be real here, basically all I’m doing is me see plant me point, but after 10+ years of similar nonsense it wouldn’t be too crazy to think this has turned into some “let’s see if they catch this muwhaha” chaosgay sidebehavior again (I’m tired). It’s also mostly just a Fred Perry catalogue (the brand’s logo is a laurel wreath) but there are some other occurences that do make me go oh wow you lil shit, so darling just hold on, just sit back, pretend to relax, and let’s get this going:

june 5 2015

This not exactly fitting his regular style (at all) sighting of an H in Fred Perry:

lil edit: now that he’s wearing the jacket again in 2021 I saw this pic resurface so let’s just have in in here as well:

june 12 2015

april 18 2016 (for these I’m just gonna link @bulletprooflarry ‘s tags because it shows both the events and the reactions to it, I hope that works, sorry if tumblr’s gonna be stubborn with that)

Then louis-

-tomlinson one day decides it’s time. And demonstrating already why it might not be just a random brand choice: the day the man was papped in the larry outfit, the “home made” shirt (H’s tat) and “ellesse” pants (LS, for what, hmm?), is also the first sighting of him wearing Fred Perry too. He wears ‘ellesse” often around this time, but AFAIK Fred Perry only shows up 3 times in 2016, two days in a row and again a few days later. Here’s him in the outfit ft. chocolatemilk

and the vest (source)

april 19 2016

stuntcuddling in a laurel shirt

I don’t think he wore a larry clowncostume the day before whatever this photoshoot was just for the fun of it, maybe because of it. Just look at this, I mean he looks good modeling but this is just ridiculous:

(x)

Also this was around the time Louis was constantly papped either with strollers or just anything really like he was a kardashian, just insane amounts of times. There is probably a nice timeline of it somewhere but I’m blind so instead here’s a google search for articles in april alone.

Intermission: I was just going around checking if people close to them wear this brand too, and I found 2 instances of James Corden on papwalks in FP shirts too (as well as 2 for Liam on stage, none for Niall or Zayn), but the timing just made me aggressively flop my he-got-the-dagger-arms so I’m gonna mention it: it was right after these pics of louis. Did... did James dark larrie again here? 3 days after Louis+laurel+gf pap pics, there’s an article of James+laurel+wife pap pics (april 22nd 2016) To make things worse, the other time was oct 17 2015 (bears? belfast? that whole uh... *vaguely gestures* time). But I mean, call it a boinky coincindoinky, right? Moving on.

april 26 2016

Then the 3rd sighting, + ellesse cap

and that’s it for louis as far as I could tell for about a year, but then there’s H:

september 29 2016

H’s Another Man photoshoot

dec 1st 2016

finds the coat again

jan 21 2017

That spaceboy cardigan sighting, this is a weak one

I mean, it’s just unspecified leaves.

june 25 2017

L’s photoshoot for The Observer Magazine

Also: The above not being Fred Perry is a big hurray, because this is where our dear Louis either starts asking his stylists to include laurels everywhere and they have trouble finding anything beyond that brand or he just got a brand deal because:

The beloved James Dean ones

same photoshoot, two more pieces:

july 11 2017

In the Back To You clip on his instagram

I don’t know why this one’s extra funny to me

july 18 2017

Photoshoot for Vice

oct 11 2017

Just Like You cover, guess what?

louis wearing larry on his heart part 2828

september 23 2017

For SIDMAG, baby here we go again

apparently this photoshoot has its own tumblr so here’s that link

clearer view of the pants^ (gif from here):

december 2 2017

THANK GOD SOME NON-PRED FRERRY, but to be fair the mans just wearing a rich people brand like rich people do

december 22 2017

Miss You’s vertical spotify video

Despite Harry wearing a ton of different stuff in 2017 including loads of floral prints and a large range of wild stuff, he somehow manages to avoid laurel wreaths/branches altogether (as far as I could find, apart from the maybe spaceboy).

june 4 2018

Harry’s Gucci campaign, straightgay up wearing a laurel wreath, but to be skeptical again that just fits the whole Gucci aesthetic (also I didn’t look at the clothes he’s modeling for as that wouldn’t make much sense, but I thought, maybe the accessories are a pass, I mean he’s also wearing his own rings)

yes I’m including

more pictures

than necessary

I mean

yes

nov 27 2018

some more tommy on the X factor

march 12 2019

Two of us spotify video, 2 burberry sweaters this time, because apparently these things come on twos.

april 25 2019

does this count

the little heads

too far?

That was all fun and games (get it, because olympic games), but the unhinging is yet to start, would you believe it? points at a taco

may 8 2019

Because, welp, Louis adds Laurel Wreath to his 28 Songs playlist (lyrics here)

sorry I don’t think I was clear lemme try again:

LOUIS. ADDS.

L A U R E L W R E A T H.

TO. HIS. PLAYLIST.

(he doesn’t have the playlist anymore, but here’s the post, here’s the list of songs)

...and if you think he doesn’t gayvinci code with his spotify playlists, you might - be wrong. For instance, the song “Party and Bullshit” before “Just Like You”? I mean come on.

august 6 2019

september 14 2019

Back to Louis’ performance in Madrid. Look at this man go showing off his 28 tattoo while Kiwi’s playing in the background with a laurel wreath on his heart, about to debut Too Young, Defenceless, Habit, and DLIBYH like what more do you want, the man’s a walking larry billboard.

september 21 2019

seriously is he standing this way making sure we see the lil logo with his leg out and holding his shirt so it doesnt possibly fall over it like really son

september 27 2019

THE BALLS ON THIS FAN. THE SMIRK ON HARRY

the universe be universing x

oct 23 2019

His Breaking Down Walls series on his youtube

that little pull at the logo LOL

gUySs LoOk At My ShIrT

louis be like

and the moment is repeated in all his 5 chapter videos too

nov 17 2019

Hits radio interview and perfomance, yes it’s the round thingy:

november 23 2019

DLIBYH promo

Grandpa WHAT is that shirt

dec 11 2019

Fine Line Spotify listening party

Grandma WHAT is that wallpaper

iS tHaT fErN!?

Bright shining golden branches of unspecified leaves that do not NOT look like laurels

jan 27 2020

Walls listening party

more pictures than necessary because LOOK AT HIM

me seeing yet another laurel:

february 1 2020

Photoshoot For fabulous magazine

march 3rd 2020

WMI directors cut Q&A videos

mans wearing this larry joke of a jacket again (what were those days tho, when they seemed to have resorted to bluegreening, really what were they on)

december 4 2020

peculiar spaceboy comes back

april 10 2021

And the mess that made me finally finish this post:

EDIT july 3rd 2021:

may 25th 2021

Louis puts that cap on Cliff in E’s insta story

june 10 2021 Harry / Louis

It appears that if you want to get your picture taken with harry all you need to do is wear some ~subtle~ larry shit and then we got him going YOU THERE YEAH YOU TAKE A PICTURE WITH ME

Louis’ laurel skull cap comes back yet again as he’s playing football with some kids

He’s also pairing it with some wild bluegreening but ok

june 30 2021

Harry’s in Italy, has been for a while shooting MP, Louis showed up with a tan from all the rain in england yesterday and now suddenly we got Harry stuntcuddling in a laurel shirt, is this 2016 again?

anyway don’t wanna put stunt pics in here but it’s included in potato mode inside this horrible oddly specific meme so have that instead

So as this is going on I just keep piling up posts that are all redundant because this is the masterpost but I still wanna link here too, anyway

~next day~

july 1st 2021

People have also pointed out these as laurels

Another one of his floral print shirts that when initially making this masterpost I would have ignored (as I haven’t included any of those and there are plenty that include ~unspecified leaves~), but given the context (the uh.. laurel flanking days) I guess these unspecified leaves are more convincing than let’s say the spaceboy cardigan for sure so let’s just include them (also again maybe the reason they’re going at it so hard has something to do with the fact that I had to cut out O of the pic here)

~next day, yep laurel game stronk~

july 2nd 2021

Nevermind the blue greening AGAIN and then he did some more

Really these two take the crown:

this one as a close third

really bitch both bluegreening and laureling in one outfit not just once but 3 times really this trick ass bropal bitch

anyway

~NEXT DAY AND IT’S BOTH OF THEM:~

july 3 2021 Harry / Louis

Don’t want to give this context but I think I gotta because it matters: Louis is with friends watching the UEFA Euro game in England (E’s there too). Harry is in Rome, at the game (O’s there, full on expecting some pap bs soon) (I mean quite a day)

Not only is Harry’s laurel jacket back

the laurel skull cap is as well

this isn’t a great pic showing off the cap but it’s a great pic of him so buh it’s gonna be in here

I guess have this. But it’s clear in the linked vid.

Does the cap know the bomber jacket is in love with him?

...

Woo! That was A LOT. they are a lot

Other meanings

So besides it literally being the meaning of the name “Larry” this interpretation of the laurel tattoo (and with that the use of laurel imagery in general) really shouldn’t be overlooked.

I can’t make this post without mentioning what laurels symbolize in general. In short, the laurel wreath is often used as a symbol of unfading glory, a power status symbol of victory. (In long: the golden laurel crown symbolizing the transience of glory, victory and power instead). It’s used in family/home crests a lot, including nautical themed ones.

Just scrolling google you find all kinds, this one’s one hell of a larry:

Guys are we a yachting or sailing team or championship??

Harry take note, I found one where the leaves are replaced with fish:

Fred Perry has its own history as well. In very short: it’s one of those brands adopted by british working class sub-cultures like mods and chavs, fitting Louis’ aesthetic in 2017-2020 (saying 2020 because we’re all eyeing the new era). Could be it’s just purely this and pre-2017 were just coincidunkirky hiccups, but I feel the man found the best of both worlds and ran with it.

Bonus: maybe coincidentally styled-in-fred-perry fetus Harry (a haiku by me)

(I tried to find other members wearing this brand in 1D days but all I have so far is 1x Louis and 1x Niall together with H in the next pics, doesn’t mean they weren’t all just styled in it occasionally tho, I mean, it doesn’t look like it but there’s a limit to how deep I dive):

In conclusion

#larry loves laurels #masterpost #gayvinci code #They really says OK LETS KICK IT UP A NOTCH after the inital post didnt they #LETS LAUREL TOGETHER LIKE BAMALAMADINDONDABEEPEDIPAPTIDO

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gorgonapologist · 2 years

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Hi, so I don't want to come across as rude, but don't want to act like I don't mean what I'm about to say.

This is relating your post:https://gorgonapologist.tumblr.com/post/643477178740342787/theres-a-relatively-small-but-very-vocal-amount

This post was just plain repulsive due to the fact that you thought it was alright for you to call a young hero who was literally just trying to protect his mother “a misogynist” for killing a monster that he was always supposed to kill anyways due to the prophecy which was out of his hands. He didn't choose to be forced into the prophecy.

Aswell as that he was sent by a literal goddess (Athena) to kill her, what was he supposed to say “no”.

I bet you also shit on Poseidon and Athena

Literally like

Say you don’t know anything about Greek mythology without saying you don’t know anything about Greek mythology

Well it’s actually more like King Polydektes sent him to kill Medusa but I believe he had the help of Athena as well and definitely had the help of Hermes due to the winged shoes and cap.

Instead of calling out actual misogynistic men you are calling out a 15 year old boy who was fulfilling a prophecy

like he killed her because… that’s what heroes do… they kill monsters

literally half the post makes no sense even the premise of it doesn’t make senselike the “Medusa holding the head of Perseus” concept is really interesting to me

but to some people it may not be interesting… and you draw that to misogyny???I’d understand if Ovid’s version was the only one

but there are tons of versions, and some people may look at the one where Medusa was born a gorgon

For one medusa wasnt r@ped that was Roman mythology. And Perceus is Greek.

All in all, get your fact right.

i debated whether or not to respond to this because you are clearly either a child or very uneducated but you sent this on anon so there's no harm to me answering this; if you sent it off anon i would not be posting this.

A vast majority of what you said was simply nonsensical or shows that all you know about this myth you learned from tumblr. I honestly feel bad for you. I think you should educate yourself outside of tumblr and maybe then your arguments will have merit.

Right off the bat I think it's strange that you criticize me for using Ovid's writing of Medusa and yet you use his interpretation of Perseus. A bit hypocritical, no? I read through other sources depicting the Medusa/Perseus violence and have found absolutely none that indicate he was forced to do so or that there was a prophecy. (The prophecy was actually that Perseus would kill his father, which was why his mother was locked into a tower. Zeus shapeshifted into a beam of light to rape her. There is no mention of Medusa here.) (EDIT: he was prophesized to kill his grandfather, not his father; that was my mistake. He killed his grandfather accidentally during a sporting tournament. I think he didn’t know it was his grandfather at the time.)

Here is one non-Ovidian source of the murder:

[Suidas s.v. Medousa]

Here we have a Perseus who kills her for greed. He wants power. Medusa here is kind to him, engaging in conversation with him, and as soon as he learned her name he murdered her and used it as his own weapon. He stole the power of a woman to establish his own dominance of innocent people (surely he was unable to ensure that all who were 'destroyed' by Medusa's dead eyes were guilty, though to this Perseus, 'guilty' must have meant 'in his way').

Perhaps that's not enough for you. Here is one of the earliest mentions of Medusa (the earliest literary source is Homer, which mentions her only as a head and has no reference to Perseus being her killer):

[Hesiod, Theogony 270 ff (trans. Evelyn-White) (Greek epic C8th or C7th B.C.)]

As you can see, there is no mention of his being forced to do this.

Ovid puts the story in Perseus' mouth:

[Ovid, Metamorphoses 4. 770 ff (trans. Melville) (Roman epic C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.)]

Medusa 'deserved' to die because she was cursed for being raped. Perseus is the one to tell her story as Ovid tells it. Ovid is also the one who establishes why Perseus sought her out to kill her. And he is not 'fifteen years old' (not sure where you got that; all mentions of Perseus' age have him as 'fully grown'). He is a grown man murdering a rape victim. You think that his intentions are noble and that heroes are meant to murder monsters but if he was a hero, he would not need the power of a raped woman to save his mother. He is a grown ass man. A whole man. He had the help of multiple gods, his hand was held the entire way, he was never in any notable danger. And yet you defend him like HE was the one who was raped and murdered.

Still not satisfied? Here is yet another Perseus killing Medusa:

[Pausanias, Description of Greece 2. 21. 5 - 6]

He killed her because she was beautiful and he wanted to show his friends. He wanted a beautiful trophy to show his friends. He wanted a decapitated head to show his friends what a man he is. I can't believe this is the man you're defending.

I think you have a problem with empathy. I think you're a misogynist who cannot conceive of any narrative that doesn't center men. I'm a sexual violence survivor who found meaning in the Medusa myth. She helped me heal. I fully believe that she saved my life. Perseus, on the other hand, is just a coward. He doesn't deserve to be celebrated. You make no mention of what he does after Medusa; he doesn't hurry off to save his mother. He comes across Andromeda and, after rescuing her from a sea monster, turns the majority of her court to stone and kidnaps her to be his bride. No mention is made of Andromeda's thoughts on this; the story is told from Perseus' mouth so of course Andromeda loved him at first sight, a traumatized woman chained naked to a cliff and about to be devoured. (In fact, he didn't even save her right away. He bargained with her parents first for the right to wed her and he would not save her until she was promised to be his.)

Then he killed her intended betrothed when he protested.

Perseus is not a hero. He is a cowardly man. Read a real book for once. And never send me this misogynist shit ever again.

#answered #you're a dickhead and im happy to put you in your place actually <3

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jangofctts · 3 years

Text

As You Are (Bucky Barnes x fem!reader)

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: smut, explicit language, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence and injuries, light choking, brief thigh riding/grinding, vaginal fingering with them metal fingies, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (dont be a dick, wrap that stick), fucking on sam’s couch

a/n: ok hi this fic is very self indulgent bUT YKNOW WHAT WHO CARES EKJHEJHKEJH this is my first fic for marvel and AH I hope I did Bucky justice. ENJOY YALL

This had been a terrible idea.

Right from the minute you tailed after he and Sam to the Baron’s extensive vintage car storage. Bucky had explicitly withheld any and all information regarding this little excursion to protect you but of course you’d shown up—none too jazzed about the little stunt Bucky pulled regarding the Baron. Fair.

You were right—Bucky should have called but that overwhelming guilt of dragging you into another one of his problems stopped him from pressing that little call button. He never wanted to be the reason you ended up back on the run again. Though judging by the way things were going, it was more than likely you’d be in prison by the end of the week.

Luck had your back in that sort of regard—too bad it could never rescue you from your own stubbornness and grief regarding that damn shield.

You’d taken a devastatingly hard hit from Walker—a fractured orbital, a split lip and a dislocated shoulder. All preventable—if only Bucky kept better track of you before you showed up in that warehouse alone. Left to fight the shadow of what was once a symbol of hope for some—another man playing dress-up in something that will never belong to him.

It was just their luck Bucky and Sam arrived in time—preventing you from becoming another red stain of violence splattered over that shield.

James Buchanan Barnes is not afraid of much—but fuck. Seeing you crumpled over the concrete floor, all bloodied and struggling to raise a hand to protect your face… It was the same feeling as injecting his veins with a pure shot of adrenaline and anger shrouded in fear. He promised Steve he’d look after you…

And as Sam carried you out of that warehouse you had the gall to tenderly tell them that you were just fine—as if your mouth weren’t full of blood and a face blooming with patchy bruises. The jealousy that sparked through Bucky’s chest when you clung to Sam’s chest did nothing to help that dark festering pit inside his ribcage he’s attempting to suture back together.

Bucky clenches his jaw. At least you’re asleep now. Curled up against the window, holding your injured arm in a way that limited the turbulence from jostling it. It’s the first time Bucky would describe you as fragile. He know’s you’re anything but that—stubborn mostly—yet most of all brave. It’s what Steve admired most about you—what Bucky loves most about you too. That vibrant spark flowing through your blood and how you’re not afraid to shout along to your favorite songs despite the odd looks you get. Bucky envies how self-assured you are, how you’ll never lose yourself because you know just where you’re headed. He wishes he still had that sort of drive instead of all this uncertainty and guilt clouding each muscle and fibre in his body.

Bucky doesn’t realize the jet has landed until Sam stands and and places a large hand over your shoulder. Your face scrunches as you whine and curl further into your seat. “C’mon, kiddo.” You grumble something inaudible. “You want me to carry you?”

The delicate plates of vibranium clink together as Bucky’s hand tightens into a fist, jealousy flaring hot and bright. He quickly stands, too fast to be considering anything less than awkward. Sam’s brow quirks. “I can do it.”

“It’s cool, man,” Sam says as he scoops one arm under your legs and the other around your back. “I got her.”

Bucky bristles. Whatever.

It’s not like you and him have anything together. A one sided plague of affection that you’ll never know about—he wants to tell you. Fuck, the words burn through his tongue and collect like ashes between his teeth and yet they are never voiced from self sabotage. There’s no possible way to voice how you’ve haunted his thoughts and his dream since the moment his eyes met yours. How he’s memorized the lines of your smile and the sweet sound of your laugh, the sweep of your lashes and the rhythm of your steps. Bucky would know you deaf, blind, numb, in this world or any other twisted reality.

He had said that he wasn’t afraid of much, but that’s not entirely true. Eternity, oblivion, crowded rooms, being alone too long. And you. You terrify him. You have the power to pluck at the very strings of his soul and unravel him completely until he’s no more—and you don’t even know it. Bucky Barnes is less afraid of dying than he is of loosing you but that fear never once provides him the courage to tell you. You may not be a scribbled name in his book, but he still hopes that one day he’ll earn the chance to strike his cowardice and put to rest the wretched ache in his heart that he feels for you.

He wishes he told you in Wakanda, after the Blip, Riga, and right this instant. He watches Sam carry you out of the jet—what’s a little more time?

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The sun is beginning to melt into the horizon, turning the expanse of water into molten gold and shimmering blues. The hazy humidity from the late afternoon heat collects at the back of Bucky’s neck and the light breeze does nothing to cool. Bucky sighs and swipes at the bead of sweat creeping down his forehead with the back of his hand—he glances up.

A ghost of a smile creeps across his lips. You’re exactly where he and Sam left you three hours ago. Surprising to be quite honest—you never did like to stay in one place for longer than ten minutes. You’re a pain in his ass, simply said.

But now—now you’re haphazardly splayed out on the lawn chair you were forced into, a juice box loosely held in your good hand while the other still remains in the sling. He can’t tell if you’re asleep—Steve’s sunglasses do an excellent job of hiding your eyes. Yet as Bucky wanders closer, your head rolls to your right in greeting.

“It’s rude to stare, y’know,” you grumble, lifting the juice box to your mouth. Your lips purse around the plastic straw. “And before you ask—yes, I have a very important job I’m currently overseeing.”

Bucky quirks a brow. “What—hogging the lawn chair?”

“No—“ You huff. You gesture with your juice box at the large cooler your sandaled feet are propped up on. “I’m the booze master. God of the ale, destroyer of sobriety—“

“Alright, Booze Master,” Bucky interrupts with a snort. “Why don’t you bestow upon me a beer, your majesty.”

You tap your index finger over your chin as a lazy smile fixes itself over your lips. “Granted.”

You slide your legs off the cooler and with a pained grunt you shift forward. Bucky shoots his arm out and steadies you back against the chair by your shoulder before you get any further. Your face pulls into a grimace.

“I got it, kid. Relax.”

Bucky pops open the cooler and fishes out a beer and pops the cap off between his left index finger and thumb. You watch with a frown, “I could’ve done that for you.”

Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes and takes a seat on the cooler. The bitter fizz floods his tastebuds as he takes a sip of his drink, a tangible silence blanketing the space between you. He gets it—people like he and you can never settle for complacency. As if the rest isn’t deserved despite the bloody knuckles and the shattered glass that slices through skin—the bruises and the broken bones. None of it is enough—not worthwhile to preserve yourself when other’s so desperately need your help.

Or maybe it’s penance.

Bucky sure as shit finds himself swallowed by the black maw of guilt each and every day. Battling the never ending shadow of doubt that clings to his soul like glitter to a an old carpet. Bucky believes it’s safe to say that you’re the same—every good deed you do added to the imaginary scale weighing against the bad despite it feeling hollow and insurmountable. Paying in blood to equate the amount you’ve spilled. A hopeless battle you both insist on fighting.

Bucky sighs through his nose, bends at the waist and collects both your ankles in his left hand. You let him lift them both and settle your legs over his knees. You shiver, an eruption of goosebumps rushing up your skin at the cold metallic shock of Bucky’s vibranium thumb scrapinh over your bare flesh.

Bucky’s lips tilt down ever so slightly. “Did I hurt you?”

“Never,” you rush to say before he has the chance to flee. “S’just cold.”

His hum reverberates low in his chest as those cerulean blue eyes fall to his hands. You clench your jaw until your teeth ache as his left thumb continues to stroke over the delicate skin covering the joint of your ankle. This is…new…

You’d been close with Steve and Sam, and by proxy Bucky—in some weird adjunct way. Compared to Sam’s teasing bumps of the shoulder and that infectious laugh far more addicting than the golden liquor of the sun, Bucky is frigid. Still attempting to shake off the whole Winter Soldier thing that’s molded onto his bones like stubborn permafrost. Touch had always been tricky with him—even a friendly pat over the back or a simple tap to the harm had him tensing under the touch—muscle and steel bunching to prepare for a harsh blow that would never arrive. Never from you.

Bucky rarely sought out your physical comfort—you were always the one to initiate those friendly touches even if he was the type to just sit and ignore you like a grouchy old cat barely clinging onto that ninth life. The first time he breached that fragile barrier was in Wakanda—something in Bucky cracked and split into a cavernous ravine of nebulosity. Stitches shred apart then stapled back together as he grabbed your arm and wrestled you into a bone-crushing hug. You didn’t need to ask to realize he cried the entire time, gripping your shirt like a lifeline while he shuddered and sobbed into the crook of your neck. To him everything from the rain to silk sheets felt like shrapnel and the stars tasted like old blood and the past of things long gone—yet you were familiar.

A comfort for the much needed healing of the scattered pieces of a man. You don’t mind helping him pick up the tidbits and reattach them with veins of silver. It’s the least you can do.

The second time occurred after the loss of Steve. Some part of you had been wrenched out with his departure and he never bothered to return it. It doesn’t matter anymore—the hollow ache had been soothed with the Winter Soldier clutching you to his chest until you drifted off into a fitful sleep. A tether to a new reality you both partake in.

Which brings you to now. There’s no cathartic reasoning behind his touch…it’s simple…a risky leap of faith into unknown territory. Bucky’s eyes lift to meet yours—curiosity swimming in those icy irises. You don’t mind—in fact you quite like the calloused warmth of his hand and the opposing chilly metal one tentatively exploring your exposed skin.

“You have a scar here,” Bucky murmurs, skimming the thumb made up of flesh and sinew over the mottled skin occupying the crease of where the top of your foot meets your ankle.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I fell on barbed wire.”

“Clumsy,” he chides, quirking a dark brow.

Your shoulders bounce with a huff. “I was like—twelve when it happened, James.”

His mouth quirks in a half smile, quite liking the validation of his name in the way your mouth speaks it. He wonders if you know the weight of granting you that leeway of calling him that. Shit—he doesn’t care what you call him, everything sounds lovely when you say it.

There’s another silence—holding your breath until something splits and shatters into a million pieces. You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t want anything more than just friendship with Bucky but fear of rejection is a tricky thing. You take the easy way out and offer him the chance of something more on a silver platter.

“Bucky?”

His fingers whisper up your shin as he inclines his head.

“I’m tired. Drive me back to Sam’s?”

“Sure thing, doll.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Bucky holds the door open for you as you stumble in, escaping the hazy southern heat. He disappears into the kitchen as you make a beeline straight for the couch, sighing loudly once the plush cushions meet your back. You lazily lift your head once you hear his familiar footfalls nearing.

With him he brings two Otterpops, one blue raspberry and the other cherry. Once he hands it to you he takes a seat on your left, close enough that his thigh and shoulder bumps against yours. “Don’t tell Sarah’s kids that these were the last ones.”

You roll your eyes and promptly stick the Otterpop into you mouth. “‘M ain’t no snitch.”

His low chuckle reverberates through his chest. The silence that follows isn’t an awkward one as you enjoy the cold treat—it’s filled with the humming cicada bugs outside and the breeze through the wind chimes. Comfortable with the normalcy—just a couple of regular old people enjoying life for a suspended amount of seconds.

Once you finish the Otter Pop, you crumple the plastic up and rest it on the coffee table. He does the same—hints of the blue syrup sticking to the cracks of his plush lips. You force yourself to avert your eyes. You cheeks heat with a flush as you rush to occupy your mind with anything but wild fantasies of Bucky’s mouth. You lean forward again, pointedly ignoring the way Bucky’s eyes track your movements as you shuck off your sling, the prickle of unused muscles and bruised ligaments rushing through the limb. You wince as you slowly roll your shoulder.

The muscles in Bucky’s jaw clenches. You sigh—he’s still blaming himself for your injuries. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not everyone has freaky healing powers, Buck,” you snort. You rush to appease him when he frowns. “It’s getting better though. Still can’t sleep on it—but eh.”

“I’m sorry.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. No matter how many times you tell him he’ll never believe you. That’s something only he can fix. Doesn’t stop you from telling him anyway. “Stop blaming yourself for my idiocy. I made my choice and paid the price for it.”

Bucky’s eyes drop to his hands. “Can’t help it, sweetheart. Steve told me to look after you.”

Your heart constricts within your chest like a fist. You inhale and reach out to rest your hand over his wrist. “Funny—he told me the same thing about you.”

It surprises him—his dark brows furrow as his mouth parts, but nothing comes forth. Grappling with the right words that fit with what he feels. He’s still learning how to give his soul a name that fits. Learning how to take the dark, twisted bramble of his heart and make it into something that doesn’t ache each time it beats. He’s still learning how to look himself in the eyes, point to himself and say that there’s nothing frightening in there. Not anymore. No more.

You suck in a breath and muster up the embers of courage. Here goes nothing—

You cup Bucky’s cheek, the scrape of stubble welcome against your warm palm as you gently turn his face to look at you. His eyes drift to yours when the mumbled syllables of his name tumble from your lips. His eyes are framed with dark circles of wildflower bruises, his small smile a moonbeam stark against battered skin. You’ve dreamt so many times of swallowing it whole and pressing him close enough that your heartstrings become entangled with no hope of separation. But that’s something for him to decide.

You drop your hand cradling Bucky’s jaw, but before your hand completely falls Bucky surges forward. His large hands rush to cup your face, swallowing your noise of surprise as his plush lips fall onto yours. The syrupy flavor of a Blue Raspberry Otter Pop he stole from Sarah’s freezer lingers on Bucky’s mouth, mixed in with the smell of old leather and cracked cardamom. Bucky nips at your bottom lip, tugging once and then rolling it between the blunt enamel of his teeth. Despite all the bad jokes regarding his age and senior citizen status—fuck he’s a damn good kisser. Compared to him you feel clumsy, sloppy, but no matter how hard you search for his distaste he doesn't seem to care in the slightest—if anything he’s pulling you closer.

Bucky’s kisses may taste like the middle of June and a first love, but desperation lines every action like a wound with jagged edges. It’s a slow process learning to be free, but one day he’ll transform into starlight—and instead of a kiss like fire, it’ll be like touching your lips to a constellation’s aureate mouth.

When Bucky pulls away, sucking in air and resting his forehead on yours, you catch a whiff of his hair. Freshly washed and smelling a bit like Sam’s shampoo. Your lips quirk. You’ll make sure to keep that a secret from Sam.

You pull back just enough to meet his eye, resting your palm over his vibranium hand that still cups your cheek. “Am I the first person you’ve kissed since the stone ages?”

His lips pull into a cheeky smile. “Maybe.”

You laugh and roll your eyes, skating your palm down the front of his shirt, the heat of his skin near searing through the fabric. “I guess we have a lot of catching up to do, huh?”

Bucky’s lips smother your small moan as he drags you into another kiss. You can feel his smile as he murmurs his agreement between desperate kisses and the enticing warmth of his tongue skimming along yours. The next time you part for air, Bucky drops his strong hands from your face to instead wrap them around the curve of your hips. He tugs you over his right thigh with ease and breathes a gentle sigh of your name, beginning to pepper kisses over you cheek and down the slope of your jaw.

Bucky reaches your ear and carefully nibbles the cartilage, his voice a warm scrape in your ear. “I want you.”

It’s such a simple phrase…and yet…it tears through you and pools like a heavy weight right to your center. “Then take me.”

Quick as a strike of a match, you’re tipped backwards, cradled right between the arm of the couch and the back of it. Heat rushes through each limb and gathers in your cheeks as Bucky’s vibranium fingers skate up your chest and curl around the column of your throat—that hardened soldier he’s tried to bury bleeding through the cracks of his resolve. You don’t care. You gasp into his mouth as he squeezes ever so slightly while he pushes a firm thigh between your legs. Shit—this is how you’re gonna die—grinding on Bucky’s muscled leg while he’s got a hand around your throat.

What a way to go.

With his other hand he grips the meat of your thigh and pulls you higher, grinding the rough material of his jeans covering his crotch into yours. You whine and arch into him. You need more.

You both stay here for a good while up until it feels like you’re ready to burst at the seems if you don’t have him now. Bucky is no better—cheeks flushed as he fumbles with the zipper to relieve the noticeable bulge straining against it. Impatient and needy, you shoo away his hands and do it yourself, easily sliding your warm hand down his navel and over his boxers to palm at his cock. Bucky’s hand twitches around your neck, a sweet groan filling the air when you softly squeeze him through the elastic.

“Fuck, you’re gonna…” Bucky trails off and buries his nose into the crook of your neck. “Gonna make me cum in my pants if you don’t—don’t stop.”

While the thought is tempting, you want this to last just a little bit longer. Rush after the glorious high of just being near him, his kisses, everything about him. Bucky grunts at the loss of your hand and mouths a wet trail of sloppy kisses up your neck and returns to your lips. When you part he sweeps a stray strand of hair and tucks it behind your ear. He smiles softly.

“Can I try something?” He breaths. Before he can even tell you what his idea is, you’re happily nodding along. “Wanna taste you. Been thinking about it ever since Wakanda.”

Oof. His words shoot straight your center. “Bucky—why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

His mouth quirks. “You make me nervous.”

Rolling your eyes you plant a kiss on his forehead and grant him his simple desire. Bucky sits and slides to the floor, close enough that he’s still able to hover over you. You lift your hips as Bucky tugs your shorts and underwear down and off your legs. Besides the general anxieties of being half naked in front of an incredibly attractive man and performing something so sinful on a friend’s couch—there’s a strange stroke of pride that alights through each of your vertebrae. A powerful man willingly dropping to his knees to please you.

Bucky shoots you a smile and slides his hands around your ribcage, bends forward slightly and captures you mouth in a deep kiss. He parts and nips down your jaw and over your throat, sliding his tongue over the marks he leaves with his teeth as if to soothe the slight sting. You whine and arch into him as he slides lower, leaving an obvious trail of bruises and teeth marks in his wake until he reaches the collar of your shirt. Bucky moves his palms under the fabric to grab at your breasts, the flats of his fingertips rolling over your nipples that peak through your bra. You suck in a shaky breath when Bucky catches the pebbled bud between his forefinger and thumb, the hard vibranium of his fingers scraping over it. A low hum rumbles through his chest as he leans forward to playfully nip at your collarbone.

“I wanna see you naked.” Bucky admits as he slips his hands out of your shirt. You shiver as those chilly metal fingers gently come to rest on the outside of your bare thighs.

“Not here, Buck,” you sigh. “T-they—fuck—they can come back any minute.”

Bucky quirks a brow, eyes dropping between your legs, then back up with a smirk. His plush lips part, yet before he can disprove your silly point—that your bare ass is already out and taking off the shirt would barely make a difference—you interject.

“Shut up.”

His shoulders bounce with a chuckle. “You have such a way with words, y’know that?”

You make a noise low in your throat and reach out to sharply tug his ear. He easily bats your hand aside, hooks his hands under your ass and hauls until you’re all but hanging over the edge of the cushions. You squirm, unable close your legs or to relieve some of that burning tension collecting in your core as Bucky lowers himself and wedges his shoulder between your thighs. He slides his hand over your calfs and wrestles them over his broad shoulders—earning a perfect view of your pussy. You’re already wet—worked up and running on borrowed time. You roll your head back onto the back of the couch and clench your jaw. You don’t want to rush him but Christ—you really don’t want Sam or Sarah to find you like this.

It feels like ages before Bucky’s lips touch your belly and then your navel with his warm tongue. With a grunt he shoves your shirt up to your breasts and circles your bellybutton with the tip of his tongue—his enhanced strength easily pinning you down as you jerk and giggle.

Bucky picks up his head and grins. “Try and hold still, doll.”

No sharp retort comes to mind. Fuck—he’s already got you so expertly wrapped around his finger.

Bucky hums, satisfied with your weak nod and continues on.

Bucky’s bare fingers trace minuscule patterns into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, coaxing out a shiver that rushes through your body. They tickle towards the apex of your thighs and settle close enough to reach your aching center. He pauses for a moment and while you know he’s there, you curse when you feel his thumbs softly part the lips of your soaking cunt. They gently work up and down, smearing your wetness around but never enough to give you any friction as your body adjusts to the feel of flash and vibranium. You bite back a groan as your hips unconsciously twitch.

Unsatisfied with simply touching you, Bucky shifts his weight to better reach your core. “Fuck—you’re so pretty.”

There's a moment just before Bucky swoops down, face hovering close enough that you can feel his sticky, warm breath fan across you inner thighs. Anticipation grips your heart with an iron hold, and then— Bucky licks a broad stripe from the base of your cunt all the way up to your swollen clit. His mouth is molten, tongue like liquid velvet as you shudder and grab at his hair. Bucky grunts against you as you drag him closer by the short strands—greedy for any and all touch he gifts you. Bucky’s mouth slips around your clit, sucking and tracing circles over the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. Your eyes flutter shut as a quiet moan wrenches free from your vocal cords.

He trails lower, sucks on your labia, and makes his way down to your soaking entrance. The wet heat of his tongue circles your cunt, skips over it completely to catch the wetness before it leaks over the couch. Bucky opens his mouth wide and groans in appreciation, devouring your pussy like he’s been denied this his entire life. Desperation lingers on his tongue and all you are is the honey sweet taste of salvation.

“Shit—Bucky,” you cry, throwing your hips forward in search of more friction.

It's perfect. So fucking delicious.

You tense as the vibranium tips of his fingers, two of them, press at your entrance, teasing the clenching ring of soft muscle before sinking in. The chilly digits slip in with ease—all the way up to the second knuckle and when he draws them back, they're slick with your wetness. With a self-satisfied grin, Bucky thrusts them back in, then out—setting a steady pace that makes everything ache with desire. It leaves you just hovering over the sharp edge of ecstasy, the catch of his knuckles and imperceptible metal plating dragging along your walls pure torture. Fuck—he’s going to be the death of you—

Bucky’s mouth dips down a second time and sucks on your clit and with a few more curls and thrusts of his fingers inside of your clenching walls, your body seizes up tight. You're flying off that edge, faster than a fucking freight train. You cum onto his tongue and fingers with a strangled cry of his name, sparks of blurry white lining the edges of your vision as your back arches. Bucky continues to lick you through your orgasm, even as you buck and squirm in his iron hold. Supernovas implode behind your eyelids as heat, hotter than wildfire and jet fuel spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your toes. You're shaking, lucid enough to hear Bucky murmur his praise—feeling the vibration of his groan, as he licks up the flood of your wetness over his tongue.

Your brain swims in hazy bliss as you float back to reality. He's still curling his fingers into your pussy and it damn near hurts. You're too sensitive. Nerves rubbed raw and still throbbing—but you're too fucked out and still riding the waves of your orgasm to push him away. Bucky is all too happy to remain between your legs—takes this opportunity to tilt his fingers into your cunt faster, suckle and lave his hot tongue over your clit that burns from overstimulation—somehow you're back at the very edge again.

It's sharper than a vibranium razor against bare flesh. Your thighs shake around him as he twists his fingers inside you and bumps agains that tiny, little patch of nerves. You cry out as an orgasm floods through you veins, rupturing each cell in your being with molten pleasure. Your core pulses around Bucky’s fingers, fucking you through it until those burning waves of release eventually cease to a fading throb. You whine and push at his forehead because he's still going. You panic a bit—fucking hell, he’s gonna make you cry—but he pulls away, his mouth and chin wet with your slick.

“Feel good?” Bucky purrs, resting his cheek on your thigh.

If judging by the way you thighs still quiver and your chest heaves—then yeah—it felt good.

Cheeky bastard.

“Get up here—“

You grapple with his shirt, fisting the thin fabric, but he’s heavy and your entire body feels like jello. Your grip strength is all but laughable at the moment as Bucky clambers back onto the couch and grabs both of your legs, slotting his narrow hips between them. One leg is stuck against the back of the couch while the other hangs off the edge, foot skimming the hardwood floor to accommodate Bucky. Not the most comfortable but fuck it—who cares.

Bucky grunts when you lift your hands and hook your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, tugging them halfway down his legs with a sharp yank. Already a dark patch of wetness stains the fabric of his boxers, the impressive bulge straining against the elastic and begging to be released. Your eyes meet his icy blue ones as you slowly pull his boxers over his cock. It bounces up towards his navel, thick and beautiful just like the rest of him.

Impatient, Bucky’s fingers curl around your wrist and presses your open palm against his cock. He’s thick and heavy in your hand—perfect. The bead of precum that pools at his flushed tip smears against the inside of your palm as you experimentally roll your wrist, fascinated with the feel of his foreskin rolling over the steel heard flesh with each stroke.You give his a cock a rougher squeeze, a bolt of liquid heat settling in the pit of your stomach as a stifled moan reaches your ears.

A sharp hiss of hair passes through his clenched teeth as you lightly tug on his cock. From the base up you pull, fixed upon the throbbing flesh, flushed and pulsing and all for you. His cock bobs when you let go—he huffs out a disappointed noise. “I need you, Buck—please.”

Your previous two orgasms did seemingly nothing to soothe the growing ache for him. It prickles up your spine and singes through every nerve and bone—you whine and arch your hips, trying to touch your slick cunt to his cock. Bucky growls your name and pins your hips to the couch with ease.

With his left hand, Bucky firmly grips your jaw, his stare folding into something serious. “You sure?”

Your tongue runs over your bottom lip. You grin. “Do your worst.”

Bucky curses and readjusts your calf slung over his hip and grips the base of his cock. You shudder as he runs the blunt head through your folds, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the flesh of his forearm as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and arch. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s certainly not small in any way shape or form. You’ll feel him for days afterwards as your cunt swallows inch after inch.

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw clenched tight as sweat beads at his hairline. Shit—he’s gorgeous—struggling not to loose control the moment he’s buried inside of you. You allow yourself to adjust for a moment but your own impatience rakes down your spine with claws of scorching arousal. You rock your hips in curiosity and squeeze around him.

“Fuck—“ A ragged moans severs his words as your gentle rocking tilts into abrasive jolts. At this angle it’s difficult to fuck yourself onto his cock, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. His left hand shoots to your throat, the chilly metal a stark contrast to your flushed skin. You dip your head back, exposing more of your supple skin—all his for the taking.

You dig the heel of your foot into the small of his back and grab at his shoulders—tempting him into fucking you already. You’ve waited long enough. Bucky snarls your name, hooks one hand under your ass and pulls his cock nearly all the way, out only to slam back in with devastating force. There’s no time to adjust or gather your obliterated thoughts before Bucky sets a pace, desperate and feral. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what seems like a millennia—and maybe it has been. Bucky shifts, widening his knees as much as he can to sink lower onto your body—his soft hair tickles your cheek as his choppy exhales burn hot over your skin.

Bucky turns his head to steal a kiss, open mouthed and catastrophic. No words are exchanged as he fucks into you with brutal strength aided by that damn super-soldier serum—there’s no need for them, not now anyway. You complete each other without the spoken utterances—still both a work in progress. Though most things are you suppose—constantly remaking yourselves, but instead of smashing the haphazard pieces back together alone—you have one another. You bury your hand in his hair and cry his name.

You choke out another groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter and damn—you really hope nothing gets on this stupid couch. You don’t want to explain that Sam.

Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, blazing through each and every vein with the brilliance of a wildfire escaping the edges of the forest. This is gonna ruin you. Bucky’s hand reaches between your bodies and rubs tight, controlled circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a calamitous surge of warmth that sweeps your very soul off its feet. Your nails dig into Bucky's back as you shake and fumble for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor.

You have no time to recover because he’s still going. Thrusting into your pussy with violent slaps that echo through the room and will more than likely leave bruises against your ass. Through the pressure of his hand over your windpipe—threatening to cut your air off completely—you garble out his name. Bucky drops his head to his chin, the weight of his gaze landing between your legs, watching the way his entire length disappears inside of you. When he raises his head he molds his mouth to yours. The soft, wet kisses rapidly morph into pricks of his teeth, his gravelly moans so pleasing to hear.

You arch and tilt your head back as he presses you harder into the couch. The vibranium hand latched onto your jaw, works it open and slides a thumb past your plush lips. You lave your tongue over the digit—the metallic tang flooding your tastebuds. “Good girl—m’close. A little longer.”

Bucky’s panting breaths mingle with yours as his pace turns vicious. Chasing his high that he so desperately needs. Overstimulation bites at your nerves, but with a gentle tug to the soft strands of hair on the back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, Bucky bursts. His moan jumps up an octave, eyes slamming shut as he buries his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he cums. He’s shuddering in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides. You whine and tilt your hips up to prevent it from spilling onto the couch.

Finally he slows to a stop, ragged breathing filling the air as the heat and weight of his body becomes a welcome comfort. Eventually that warmth grows stifling. He lazily pulls away, observing gaze drinking in each inch of bare skin exposed—the marks and the light sheen of sweat. You hiss as he curiously drags his thumb over the bite mark lingering just above your collarbone.

He parts his plush lips but before he can apologize, you interject. “Don’t—I like the reminder.”

Bucky shakes his head and drops down to tempt your lips into a lazy dance. “You’re a weirdo.”

You smile and cup his cheek. “I’m not the one with a staring problem. You know that you can’t kill people by glaring, right?”

Bucky kisses your cheek, your jaw, and then the dip of your throat. “You don’t ever shut up, do you?”

You shudder as his softening cock twitches inside of you, another coal of desire flaring in the pit of your stomach. You flash him a coquettish grin. “Maybe if you give my mouth something to do, you’ll finally get some peace and quiet.”

Something dark and dangerous flickers within those eyes. You shiver as one hand returns to your throat while the other draws teasing patterns over the outside of your thigh. He draws in close, nips at the shell of your ear and chuckles darkly. “You’re on.”

#weLL here we are in a marvel hole kwejrkwejhr #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x fem!reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #tfatws #the avengers x reader #my writing

833 notes · View notes

shotorozu · 3 years

Note

BABE , i saw a hc ( i think it was urs) where the boys’s s/o was really fashionable, ( as somebody that’s gone viral on pinterest a little too many times ) I WAS WONDERING , what if you did a todobakudeku ( separately please omg) with somebody that’s like the emma chamberlain of fashion and they own everybody’s pinterest boards and stuff AHAHA IDK , the amount of times somebody has said ‘ wait ur that one pinterest girl right?? ‘ ANYWHAHEEIE I LOVE YOU N HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!! 💗💗

pinterest famous s/o

character(s) : midoriya izuku, bakugou katsuki, todoroki shouto (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name] afab! reader, they/them pronouns (at the request of anon) strong quirk hinted; not specific

headcanon type : fluff, crack-ish (x reader)

note(s) : thank you anon!! so ok, i still used they/them pronouns even though the reader is afab (again at the request of anon) and whdjwkd sorry for the inactivity :,) also im gonna post more later so— sorry for the delay

»»————-　♡　————-««

midoriya izuku

when middle school midoriya finally got a phone, he downloaded pinterest for the sole purpose of looking at screencaps of heroes

but then, he hasn’t touched it a few months, because he’s been training with all might

then, when he finally had enough free time again— he decided to go on pinterest

but instead of finding any heroes he could look at, he found the prettiest human being he has ever seen in his entire life 💀

that person was a different type of beauty, y’know— they weren’t just fashionable, but their beauty was,,

timeless? that’s how he’d describe it. yeah. that person lived in his head rent free for a while

sadly, he feels like you’re that person he sees once in his life, and never again 😔　which isn’t the case

when he finally meets you, midoriya realizes that you look VERY familiar— someone on pinterest, that he unfortunately, didn’t know the name of

but then wait! he realizes that you’re that person. that one person that blew up on pinterest, and ended up in all of the fashion boards.

okay, you’ve been recognized a few times in the past, just because you were pinterest famous— but you didn’t expect him to recognize you

“wait,, you know me?” you asked him when you saw the realization sink in

and you were honestly,, flattered when he went on a tangent on how you were on all of the pinterest boards, and how your sense of fashion was timeless

but you know what’s the best thing of it all? when izuku developed a crush on you (and not because he thought you were just an attractive face)

it was very easy to find pictures of you online! he says it’s for research but,, he tends to look at them for a long time

probably has 3-4 pages dedicated to your hero costume— since fashion icon = fashionable, yet a very practical hero costume!

does he get jealous whenever people fawn over your looks, or whenever he sees comments in pinterest comment sections just asking for your socials in such desperation?

hmm,, yes? he does occasionally feel like someone like you, should be with someone as equally beautiful as you

he thought he was always plain looking, but you wholeheartedly disagree! in fact, you fell in love with his ability to pay attention to detail.

to the random creeps in the comments section, he just contacts the uploader and asks them to delete any malicious comments and it works 100% of them time.

on the brighter side, he helps a lot with taking your pictures (if you ask him to) and sometimes! he’ll even appear in them

izuku will always be your #1 fan!

bakugou katsuki

at first, you’d be like “katsuki owning pinterest? naaah.” but! i think he would

being an all might fan, he liked looking at all might screen caps— and while katsuki would be on the discreet side, he’d find himself looking at them whenever he has extra minutes to burn

not to mention, the cooking recipes on there aren’t the worst, so he doesn’t just use pinterest to look at screen caps of heroes doing their work

and, how could he forget that you’ve been bugging him to search for rare screen caps? he says that it’s useless— but he finds himself digging for you anyway,

which is whyyy

he finds an entirely different rabbit hole, and it’s way past 10pm, 3 more minutes wouldn’t wound him.

the blond doesn’t know how he even stumbled on.. this side of pinterest. the one that kind of hurts his eyes.

the more well known side of pinterest, that is covered in pictures of fashion boards, and the standard pretty person.

the ‘aesthetic’ side, kaminari calls it— it makes bakugou cringe, and he was just about to refresh his page

when he spots something familiar, it’s you‼️ well it wasn’t just you but, you were dressed in something,, nice.

like sure! you’re attractive. but that’s not why he’s dating you, there’s a lot of reasons as to why

but, he’s baffled. seeing you in a different light, and in such nice clothing, what more, when he sees that you’re actually everywhere. he hasn’t seen this much of you and your attractive ass before

katsuki told himself that he was going to sleep a few minutes ago, but now? he’s left admiring all of your pictures.

how did he not know that his s/o’s pinterest famous? you’re practically in every single board!

he confronts you the next day in an oddly weird manner, “you didn’t tell me you were famous on that stupid pinterest app.”

you’re sheepish, “welll, i didn’t know that you were going to stumble on that side of pinterest!”

he doesn’t say anything, and really! it looks like he doesn’t care about the newest discovery of his s/o

but he shows his feelings in his own way.

like, how katsuki insists that he finds a new outfit that you’d absolutely love— one that’ll fit with your aesthetic

and that he insists that he does your graphic liner, because you’re going to ‘poke your eyes out’

makes an entirely different account to reply to those simps and creeps in the comment section, sort of like

random pinterest user : “the things i’ll do to be crushed by them 💦”

pinterestuser461903 : “go touch some fucking grass.”

also would’ve commented “your art sucks” at the poorly done drawings of you in the comments, but knows you appreciated the art— so he doesn’t

(still thinks the fanart doesn’t do you enough justice)

he’ll be super proud when someone notices you in person like “yeah that’s fucking right, but too bad they’re super attractive and way out of your league.”

in short, it looks like katsuki doesn’t care at all about your pinterest famous life, but he’s your #1 supporter

todoroki shouto

i am certain for this one— he doesn’t have pinterest

well, he didn’t have pinterest, until midoriya convinced him to create an account, but it kinda just ended at that

but the person that actually made him use pinterest was sero, because he kept bugging him to give it a try

todoroki finds the app very practical— he can find screen caps of heroes in action, and he can also find oddly helpful tips in cooking (and in anything)

but sero was like “todoroki, what about the aesthetic value??” and todoroki didn’t really get that part to be honest 💀

todoroki, being clueless didn’t know what to search for— so sero being the wonderful friend he is, helped him search for it

and that’s when it happened. it didn’t take that long, but they eventually found an entire section just full of pictures of you; their classmate and crush

“is that Y/N?” mina notices what they’re looking at, and she observes the picture “oh wow— it is her! no wonder why she looked familiar.”

“it’s impressive! our classmate is pinterest famous!” they continue to look at every single post in each board, and todoroki’s left to observe in silence

he has definitely taken a liking to you, even if he didn’t realize it at first— he liked you because of your hard work when it came to training, personality and patience, not because of your looks

obviously, todoroki thinks that you look good in anything, trashbag style or not. but seeing you in this light was interesting.

so after training, todoroki would spent a good portion of his time scavenging for more pictures— not because he was obsessed or anything

but because,, he really liked your pictures. maybe it was because without you in those pictures, it would feel incomplete

he didn’t know how to approach you after this discovery, which is why he’s glad that you approached him first

“todoroki! what are you looking at?” you took a peak at his screen, and you’re baffled to see yourself, and that very famous picture of you

he’s quiet for a second when he realizes that you’ve caught him staring at your pictures, but he explains calmly, “sero accidentally discovered your pictures,, and i just wanted to take a peak at them, if it was okay,,”

and he’s relieved— well, you’re also relieved. you didn’t know how your crush would react if he ever saw those pictures, but your heart skipped a beat knowing that he enjoyed looking at them

“it’s alright todoroki,” you smile, honestly over the moon as you spoke “i’m really glad that you like them.”

sometimes you’d get shy whenever he’d go on pinterest just to look at your pictures, “todoroki, not that one! that one was really old,,” is what you’d say whenever he’d look at your older photos but he’d still look at them anyway 💀

at first, todoroki helped you in his own subtle way. since he’s quite the fashion icon— he’d recommend you clothes to wear for future pictures

he eventually confessed— and it was because you were talking to him while he was really tired, and he blurted out that he really, really liked you and you almost passed away because of his words

so yeah— it was a case of secretly admiring their beautiful best friend to lovers scenario

he’d go the full mile when it came to taking your pictures. he’d check the weather forecast just in case if it was going to rain for that date, and impromptu picnic photoshoot

that boyfriend that has pictures of you in his photo gallery, and has a backstory for each photo if anyone were to ask

also that boyfriend that knows how to take pictures, will probably even lay down to take them, even if you didn’t kindly ask him to

when you asked him to join the picture, he didn’t really know how to— but he made it work! and the both of you guys went viral

but this isn’t all one sided, no— whenever you guys would cuddle, shouto would simply stare at you with HEARTS in his eyes,

and even before he leans in for a kiss, he’ll stare at you with so much love in his eyes, while he traces his thumb across your cheekbones. man’s in love— you’re gorgeous.

he knows that you know that he’s not with you because of any ulterior motive, you both have mutual trust in each other— so it’s not something you guys will bother on questioning because you’re both hot asf lets be real

he’s not uncomfortable whenever people gawk at you in public— i mean, you two get stares on the regular. and how could they not stare at you? you’re very attractive, and he’s glad that people recognize that

but he’ll get protective if they’ll try to be a threat to your loving relationship with him, he won’t be afraid to be blunt

regarding the comments on each pinterest post— he hates it when people say things out of the line

always tries to hide them from you so you don’t feel bothered by them, but if you knew about them— he’ll be sad :,(

but he’ll end up mass reporting those nasty comments— and they always get taken down, because of the shouto todoroki luck

in short? man’s whipped, and the both of you guys are SO attractive together— what more if people knew about the om chemistry?

really— you being pinterest famous was just a nice plus, he fell in love with you for you

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Text

Cake Off

Happy birthday, Finn O'Hara! Here's to hoping all your wishes come true <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Marlene waved to the camera as she wove a small whisk into her bun; behind her, five young men sat in front of a well-lit industrial kitchen. “Hello, Lions, and welcome back to Lion Pride! I’m your host, Marlene McKinnon, and we’re here today to celebrate someone we all love very much.”

“Some more than others,” Leo corrected.

“Today is Finn O’Hara’s 25thbirthday,” Marlene continued. “And my gift to him was letting him pick what our next video was going to be. Being the agent of chaos we know and love, he chose to force his friends to make him birthday cakes. Cap, Knutty, I know you two are feeling pretty confident about this. Tremzy, Kasey, and Loops, how are we feeling today?”

Logan’s expression was rather pained. “Can I apologize in advance?”

“I have…a history with ovens,” Kasey said carefully. “Kind of like Britain’s history with the rest of the world, except I’m the rest of the world and the oven wins nine times out of ten.”

“I don’t bake,” Remus sighed. “This is going to be an adventure. Can I leave if I already got him a present?”

“Nope!” Marlene chirped. “To your stations, everyone!”

The five of them trooped to the countertops, which had been covered with a colorful assortment of baking supplies; Logan’s smile grew even more nervous. “Is there a guidebook, or something?”

Marlene ruffled his hair as she passed. “Where’s the fun in that? You have two hours to make a unique birthday cake. On your marks—”

Kasey went pale. “Wait—”

“—get set—”

“Marlene, please,” Remus begged.

“—go!”

“Oh my god,” Logan muttered. “Uh, I don’t have a recipe.”

Marlene’s grin was wicked. “That’s the extra bonus fun.”

Leo paused from where he was measuring flour into a sifter and raised his hand. “Finn’s not actually tasting everyone’s cakes, right? ‘Cause making him sick on his birthday seems a bit mean.”

“He only has to try one bite of each,” Marlene assured him as she stopped by Sirius’ station, where he was gathering his ingredients in a line. “Cap, what are you making today?”

“Vanilla with chocolate frosting. I know the recipe by heart, but I only make it when I’m stressed.” A furrow appeared between his brows before he straightened up and raised his voice. “Hey, someone stress me out!”

“Playoffs!” Kasey shouted from across the room. All five men immediately hurried to knock on the wooden cabinets.

“Thanks!” Sirius gave him a thumbs-up and Kasey winked.

“And somebody won’t be sleeping tonight,” Remus muttered, flicking sugar at Kasey. “Thanks, Bliz.”

Logan was still bracing himself against the countertop when Marlene arrived at his table. “How’re you feeling, Tremz? I see you haven’t chosen any ingredients.”

“There’s a very fine line between making your boyfriend a birthday cake and poisoning him,” Logan said after a moment. “And I think I’m about to find out where it is.”

“What are you making?”

“I don’t know yet. Whatever happens, happens.”

“Fair enough,” Marlene laughed as she moved on. “Leo?”

“I’m gonna make a lemon cake,” he said with a proud smile as he mixed the dry ingredients. “And it’s going to be delicious.”

“Do you bake at home very often? You sound confident.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “For special occasions, yeah. I vaguely know what I’m doing, so I feel pretty good.”

“How do you think Logan’s cake will turn out?”

Leo paused and glanced up. A beat of silence passed before he bit his lower lip. “I think it’s a really good thing that Finn has two boyfriends that are making him cakes.”

“Rude,” Logan grumbled as he dumped another cupful of flour into a bowl to Sirius’ obvious horror. He stuck his tongue out. “Don’t give me that look, Cap, this cake is going to be fucking amazing.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows and turned back to his own batter. “If you say so.”

Logan stood on his toes and poured the next cup directly over Sirius’ head in a poof of white. The studio went silent. With a cough, a bit of flour puffed from Sirius’ mouth. “Cap?” Kasey ventured.

“Hmm?”

“You okay?”

“Mhmm.” He slowly took a towel off the oven door and wiped his face with it, then whipped around and snapped it at Logan’s thigh—it connected with a sharp sound, followed by a yelp as Logan shoved Leo in front of him as a makeshift shield. “You can’t hide behind him forever!”

“Remember, you only have two hours!” Marlene called as she dodged a patch of flour on the floor. Sirius scowled and put the towel back down on the counter; Logan backed away to his station with a suspicious glare. “Loops, how are you?”

“I’m minding my own business,” he said innocently. “Staying in my lane. Paying no attention to the idiots behind the curtain, if you will.”

“Impressive. What are you making for our wonderful Harzy?”

“Spite cake.”

“What?”

“Spite cake,” he repeated with a shadow of a smile. “It’s carrot cake, but with no special ingredient of love or appreciation, because he knows how much I hate baking and he’s been making fun of me over text all morning.”

Leo frowned. “Weren’t you two bonding over how much you hate carrot cake when we went to lunch yesterday?”

“Hence the name,” Remus said as he pulled a cheese grater out of the lineup.

“And last, but certainly not least, Kasey.” Marlene leaned against the edge of his table. “How’s it going over here?”

“So far, so good.” He eyed his batter and poked one of the lumps with a fork. “Does this look ready to you?”

“Seems a bit wet, to be honest.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Do people put milk in cake batter?” On the other end of the kitchen, Sirius and Leo shared a look.

Marlene patted his arm. “Good luck, Bliz.”

The camera cut for a moment—when it returned, the three bakers on the far end seemed to be even more flustered than before. “You have one hour left!” someone off-screen announced.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Logan held his spatula up. The batter remained stuck to it in a doughy lump. “Is this supposed to happen?”

Leo’s eyes flickered between Sirius, who was clearly shocked into silence, and Logan, who was growing more distressed by the second. “Sure, honey.”

“Baby, it looks like jello,” Remus called as he shook his mixing bowl with a nervous glance to Sirius. “Why does it look like jello?”

“Mon dieu,” Sirius muttered as he crossed the room; the second he looked over Remus’ shoulder, his eyes widened. “How did you…?”

“I don’t know.”

“You put flour in, right?”

“Hey, no helping!” Kasey protested, swatting Sirius on the shoulder with an oven mitt. “We all fail on our own merit here. Tremy’s making concrete, Loops has jello, and I’ve got soup, so you and Knutty can fuck off back to your perfect batter and let us suffer in peace!”

“Jesus, Bliz, did you put water in that?”

“No! I put butter and milk in!”

“Why?”

“Because!”

“One hour left!” Marlene shouted.

“Fuck it, it’s good enough.” Remus grabbed the nearest cake pan and dumped his batter in, then put it in the oven. He turned the heat on and faced the camera guiltily. “Harzy, I know this was meant to spite you, it really was just meant to be a carrot cake. Not…that.”

Logan sprinkled a handful of chocolate sprinkled into his mixing bowl. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he singsonged. “But I know I’m doing it poorly!”

“Oh my god,” Remus said suddenly as he licked some of his batter off his finger. “Oh my—oh my god.”

Kasey looked up from pouring his batter into a pan in mild alarm. “What?”

“Oh my god, that’s terrible. Here, try it.”

Kasey put his cake in the oven before swiping a bit off and tasting it. His whole face scrunched. “What?”

“I know,” Remus laughed, passing the spatula to Logan. “It’s like getting punched with a cinnamon stick.”

“I can feel it in my nose,” Logan coughed. “Here, try mine.”

Leo regarded them with a healthy amount of disbelief. “Why are you all tasting it if you know it’s bad?”

“Because Marlene needs workable content.”

“Do it for the vine.”

“Because I’m a dumbass, rookie.” Kasey lifted the spatula up. “Cap, your fiancé made toxic sludge in cake form. Want some?”

Sirius hesitated, then sighed and headed over. Leo threw his hands in that air. “You, too?”

“What else am I supposed to—” Sirius faltered with a harsh exhale and braced his hands against the counter, licking his lips. “How many eggs did you put in that?”

“Four? Five?”

“How much cinnamon?”

“A teaspoon?”

Sirius took a fortifying breath through his nose. “Teaspoon or tablespoon?”

“Tablespoon,” Kasey answered for him. “Definitely a tablespoon. Try mine.”

“You two are never allowed in a kitchen again,” Sirius said, though he swiped his finger along the inside of Kasey’s bowl and tasted his batter with a grimace. “Ugh. It’s just melted butter.”

“How did you make it taste like salty butter and nothing else?” Logan asked, sounding genuinely interested.

“Well, Tremzy, I put salt and butter in it.”

Leo’s phone timer went off and he opened the oven door; four faces turned toward him in shock as he pulled a golden cake out and checked the center with a toothpick. Logan closed his eyes and bent closer, taking a deep inhale. “I wish the viewers could smell this, because it’s heaven.”

“Can it be my birthday instead?” Kasey asked. “Please?”

“Get back, you hyenas!” Leo whacked him lightly on the hand with a spoon when he reached out to poke the cake. “That oven was 350 degrees!”

Sirius glanced up at the camera. “That’s 177 degrees, for all you smart people out there.”

“Boo, Celsius.” Remus kissed his cheek. “You smell like sugar.”

“How much time do you all have left on your cakes?” Marlene asked from her perch next to the sink.

Logan, Remus, and Kasey shared a look before Logan turned back to her. “I don’t know?”

“You can’t answer that with another question,” she laughed.

“Ten minutes,” he guessed.

“Whenever it starts to smell good,” Remus said. “Though I doubt that’s going to happen.”

Kasey cocked his head and scanned Leo’s cake for a second. “When it starts looking like that.”

“It won’t,” Leo informed him.

“Damn, Knutty, okay.”

Marlene shook her head. “We’re going to cut filming until everyone’s cakes are out of the oven, but in the meantime we’ve got some special messages for our favorite redhead.”

A banner reading Happy Birthday, Finn! appeared on the screen with a burst of confetti before the usual studio replaced it, with its white walls and folding chairs. Dumo crossed one leg over the other with a soft smile. “One thing I admire about Finn is his tenacity. When he wants something, he’ll go for it with his whole heart.”

“I love his humor,” Leo said in the next short video. He was smiling as well, and had a faint blush on his freckled cheeks. “And the way he makes breakfast in the mornings. All the little things he does to make the people he loves happy. And he really does love with his whole heart. There’s no holding back with him.”

“Finn?” Sirius thought for a moment. “He’s a good person. I know that might sound lame, but he’s one of those people that you meet that always makes you feel happy, and confident, and supported. Anyone who meets him should count themselves lucky.”

Logan’s face was filled with nothing but affection. “I love his patience and his kindness. Whether that was helping me work on my English in college, or making the rookies feel welcome, or even the way he talks to complete strangers when they ask for directions on the street. Everything about him is kind.”

“Ah, jeez.” Remus bit his lower lip. “I think—I think what I admire most about Finn is that he never lets anyone else define who he is. He’s comfortable in himself and makes everyone around him feel safe. It’s sappy, but it’s true. He’s one of my best friends and I’m grateful for him every day.”

“He’s one of the most reliable people I’ve ever met,” James said. “Both on and off the ice. He will be there to support his friends in any capacity and I think we all need to be a little more like Finn that way.”

“Great player.” Arthur nodded. “Great player, and an even better teammate. I can put O’Hara anywhere on the ice and he’ll throw everything he’s got into doing his best. I can’t think of a single Lion who doesn’t love being on the same shift as him.”

Talker grinned, leaning back in his chair with a shake of his head. “Finn just loves hockey. He takes it seriously, of course, but he loves being out there with us and I’m always happy when we’re on a line together. He goes out there every night and has a blast. I admire a lot about him, but especially that.”

“It’s hard to pick one specific thing that I admire about him,” Kasey said, shifting in his chair. “He’s Finn. He’s annoying as all hell, and I love him for it. I’m not sure. Can I make a list?”

“Harzy is very cool,” Olli laughed. “Very cool and very fun to be around. He has a quick wit and truly cares about all of us.”

Kuny raised his eyebrows. “What I like about Harzy? Oh, everything. Everything. He is good friend, good teammate, always there when we need him. Good for Tremzy and Knutty, too. He would turn red like fire engine if he heard me. Don’t tell him I say that.”

The video changed to a wide view of the whole team as they waved to the camera. “Happy birthday, Harzy!” they chorused. “Bitch ass moves!”

The kitchen was much cleaner when the video resumed; all the cooking supplies had been taken away, leaving five hockey players with their cakes in front of them. Leo’s cake was a bit lopsided, though the yellow frosting was cheerful and even—next to him, Logan’s cake looked more like a squished loaf of bread. Sirius’ was plain and elegant, while Kasey’s frosting was still dripping as the camera zoomed in on it.

“Wow,” Finn said after a moment of silence from his seat at the main table, where five slices of cake had been placed on small plates with a label for each name. “Just…wow.”

“You can start with whichever one you want,” Marlene told him.

“I think I’ll save Cap and Leo’s for last. Uh, Kase, what happened here?”

Kasey sighed. “I wish I knew.”

Finn gave it a wary look, then took a bite; his chewing slowed to a stop almost immediately and Logan’s shoulders started to shake from his suppressed laughter. “You know it’s burnt on the outside and not cooked on the inside, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Just checking.” With great effort, he swallowed. “Why is it wet?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, man.”

Finn took the next plate, then paused. “Re, I love you, but…”

Remus shook his head. “I know.”

“I’m genuinely afraid to try this.”

“You should be.”

The second it touched his tongue, Finn started laughing. “Jesus, it’s a straight shot of cinnamon. Why is it crunchy?”

“It’s carrot cake!”

“You know I hate carrot cake!”

“Look, I gave it my best shot. It really wasn’t supposed to do…” He gestured at the plate. “That.”

“Lo, baby, please tell me yours is better than the last two.”

Logan thought for a moment. “It was made with love and that’s all that matters.”

Finn took a deep breath before taking a bite. A range of emotions washed over his face—pleasant surprise, then confusion, then horror, and finally disbelief. “I…what?”

“I don’t even know.”

He swallowed, then ate another bite. “Oh, bad idea. This—are there chocolate chips in here? And almonds?”

“Yeah. You like those, right?”

“Usually, yes. It’s kind of got the texture of fruitcake, but—” Finn broke off and picked the slice up, giving it a shake. Not even a crumb fell out of place, and the rest of the boys burst out laughing. “Lo. Logan. Light of my life, what the fuck?”

“Happy birthday?”

“This is the best birthday present ever. Alright, Cap, your turn.” He took a piece of Sirius’ cake and nodded. “Yep, that’s cake.”

Sirius blinked at him. “And?”

Finn shrugged. “It’s cake. Classic flavors, good texture. I like it. Definitely tastes like a cake you would make.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s calling you basic,” Kasey said, patting Sirius’ shoulder sympathetically. “But hey, at least yours was cooked all the way.”

“And now for boyfriend number two,” Finn continued.

Leo rolled his eyes. “Boyfriend number two.”

“Oh, that’s so good,” Finn groaned around a mouthful of cake. His eyebrows pitched. “I love it.”

“What about it?” Marlene prompted.

“For starters, it’s cooked all the way through. The lemon is freakin’ amazing, and the frosting isn’t melting off the sides or anything. I can’t even taste everyone else’s anymore. It’s a helluva cake. Happy birthday to me. Will you make this every day?”

“No,” Leo said, though there was a pleased flush on his face. “But maybe on the weekend.”

Finn scraped the last of the crumbs off his plate. “Alright, everyone, come get a piece of this magic. Thank you for doing this, by the way. I know three of you hate baking.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Logan admitted as he settled himself on one of Finn’s thighs with a slice of his own and kissed his temple. “Sorry for almost poisoning you. Oh, that is tasty.”

“I love you anyway. I think Loops and Bliz were actually the closest to doing that, so you’re all good.” Finn raised his eyebrows and craned his neck over Logan’s shoulder. “Speaking of…”

“Lasagna or chicken piccata?” Remus asked. Sirius took advantage of his moment of distraction by stealing a bite off his plate and received a playful glare in response, though it was soothed by a kiss on his cheek.

“Lasagna, please.”

“Does Friday work?”

Finn gave him a thumbs-up. “Sorry, Harzy,” Kasey said as he carefully got the last bits of frosting off his fork. “I have no marketable skills to apologize with. You don’t want me anywhere near a stove or an oven.”

A gleam lit in Finn’s eye. “Will you get in all your pads and play chicken with Knutty and I?”

“For the twentieth time—”

“It’s my birthday,” he wheedled, pouting his lower lip out with the Bambi eyes turned to full blast.

Kasey sighed. “Fine.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Thanks for joining us for our birthday celebration,” Marlene said with a smile. “The best estimations of these recipes are linked on our website, with a few tweaks to make sure none of your loved ones get food poisoning this August. Have a great day, Lions!”

#finn ohara #leo knut #logan tremblay #kasey winter #sirius black #remus lupin #marlene mckinnon #sweater weather #vaincre #my fic #fanfic #finn's birthday #coops #o'knutzy #social media #lion pride #birthday cake

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hwangsies · 3 years

Text

zephyr

(n) a gentle breeze

pairing: seo changbin x female reader (hwang hyunjin x female reader)

genre: rebound to fwb to dumbasses to lovers(?), college!au, undergroundrappers!3racha

warnings: angst: mentions of infidelity, heartbreak and abuse, seemingly unrequited love, they are both so dumb and prideful its annoying, fluff, bad attempt at comedy, minsung on the side, cursing, alcohol consumption, smut: protected piv, oral (f), studio sex, praise, mild degradation, hair pulling, mild spanking

wc: 10k

enjoy <3

September

"y/n?" you hear your roommates faint voice calling out your name.

You dont bother to answer because you know she's going to come into your room at any second now.

And you're right. "y/n??" Your door opens a few seconds later.

You groan in response, not looking up and instead staying in your little cocoon of blankets.

"no babygirl what are you doing?" you feel the bed shift under lias weight when she sits down.

"what does it look like i'm doing?" you grumble back, her hand gently rubbing over your arm.

"sulking, babe" she replies, dropping her purse to the ground.

"10 points for griffyndor" you sniffle as you scooch and sit up, pushing the blankets half off of you at which she sighs.

"wooyoung was not that good of a boyfriend for you to still be crying over him" lia presses her lips together concernedly.

She's right, you know it. It has almost been two months and you still feel like crying everytime someone mentions him.

"i know" you nod somewhat defeatedly "still, i was with him for almost a year and" you hiccup "he literally ripped my heart out and trampled on it"

"i know" lia nods understandingly "but i do think it would help if you went out again, even if its just for a night, you know just to be around people"

"it probably would but i just dont have the energy for it" you shrug your shoulders.

"i get it, girl, i really do" she pats your knee "both of my exes cheated on me, my only luck was that they were both awful at hiding it so i found out pretty quickly" she huffs.

You force out a chuckle, from what you heard from one of the girls that wooyoung cheated on you with, was that it started 3 months into your relationship.

"this the most humiliating thing ever, lia" you scoff "being with someone for so long, trusting them and telling them all your secrets and you think they are doing the same for you but then realizing that they were faking it all along to have multiple side chicks, and the fact that i was too oblivious to figure it out is the icing on the cake" you rub your forehead, feeling a migrane approach due to the sheer amount of crying you've been doing.

She seems to know what's happening and hands you the water bottle next to your bed "hydrate, sis"

So, you do. Taking four big gulps out of the water bottle.

Once you place the bottle next to you and tie your hair in a messy bun, you look at your roommate more thuroughly now that the tears are wiped away.

"you look pretty" you compliment her makeup and casual yet chic outfit "what'd you do tonight?"

Her contagious grin spreads over her face, eyes turning into little crescents.

"chris took me to the fair in town" lia grins before her face drops "I'm sorry, this is maybe not the time to ta-"

"No! It is, tell me about it" you interrupt her.

"O-okay" she nods hesitantly "well, i dont know if you've been keeping track but today was our fourth date and it was amazing" she gushes.

"I cant believe how much i like him, like, its crazy" she squeals a little, at which you giggle.

"so, fourth date huh? And he hasnt tried to get into your pants yet?" you quip.

"nope, i initiated our first kiss and other than that nothing" she whispers the last words before laughing.

"thats great" you smile, genuinely happy for her.

"Hmm yea" she sings as she gets up "i'll go to bed now too"

"Oh, hey, i have an idea" lia speaks up when standing in your doorway "chris has this performance thingy in two days, you should totally come!" she offers enthusiastically.

"he has a band?" you ask, partly to distract her from her offer.

"Hmm not really a band, they're a trio and there is this performance on saturday where a bunch of underground artists perform, i didnt fully listen if im honest" she giggles "but you should come with me!!" she jumps excitedly.

"i dont kno-"

"y/n pleasee? You'd do me a huge favor too because i dont know anyone there" lia pleads, clutchig her hands together.

"you know chris" you rebuttal.

"and what am i supposed to do when he's performing? stand around like an idiot? please y/n" she pouts.

"I dont really think this is my type of crowd..." you scratch your head.

"please please please" she jumps once more.

You sigh and tilt your head as you look at her sternly.

"one of his friends is single" she adds carefully.

"and cute" she sings "from what ive seen in pictures" she adds.

"lia" you groan.

"I'll do your laundry for two weeks if you come with me"

"you will?" Your head snaps towards her.

"yes i will! i promise, just come with me, please?"

A long sigh leaves your lips "okay"

The strong bass of the loud music rings in your chest as soon as you step foot into the club where “3racha” is supposed to be performing tonight.

Lia comes to a halt and you almost run into her because you were to busy checking out the venue and the other people around you.

“sorry” you mumble and hold onto her arm to avoid getting lost in the crowd.

She pulls out her phone and clicks on her and hers and chris’s chat, to figure out where to meet them, you assume.

“okay” lia puts her phone back into her jeans pocket and grabs your hand “they’re backstage, lets go”

“can we just go there?” you almost yell for her to understand what you’re saying.

“yea! Chris said he’ll make sure we’ll get in, come on” she tugs at your hand for you to walk faster.

You waddle behind her, barely dodging some drunk guys beer that goes flying before you arrive at the sign that says “artists only” and a black curtain behind it.

The guy standing infront of it raises a brow at the two of you before pointing at said sign “read ladies, no fans allowed”

“hey, they’re with me” a guy, you assume to be chris, taps on his shoulder and shows his artists badge, half of his body still covered by the curtain.

The bigger guy sighs and lets you through.

“thank you” lia lets go of your hand to loop her arms around chris’s neck once behind the curtain, they kiss and you look around.

Not because you are particularly uncomfortable, maybe still just a little bitter at happy couples.

You audibly clear your throat when they are still making out after a good ten seconds.

“oh-uhm” lia looks back at you after breaking the kiss “chris, this is y/n, y/n, chris” she giggles.

“hi y/n, nice to meet you” he gives you a quick hug and a smile full of dimples, finally understanding why your roommate is always swooning about him.

“hi” you smile back, somewhat forced.

“lets go to our dressingroom” chris suggests and leads the way.

Opening the door, he lets you and lia walk in first.

One guy is dancing around in the middle of the room, singing along to the current song that’s being played in the background with a water bottle as a pretend mic.

Another is one sitting on the small couch and laughing at him.

“oh, hi” the guy stops singing and quickly hides the bottle behind himself at which chris chuckles.

“guys, this is lia and y/n” chris points at the two of you before closing the door behind him.

“ooo the lia?” the waterbottle guy wiggles his eyebrows, at which you cant help but laugh as well, he isn’t very tall but looks lean.

“what is the lia supposed to mean?” lia laughs when chris comes up and slings an arm around her waist from behind her.

“I..well-I talk about you sometimes-“

“sometimes my ass” the guy sitting on the couch scoffs amusedly, your eyes shift to him.

He’s wearing a white baseball cap and a pretty tight fitted black Versace shirt, making his shoulders and arms look broad.

His hands clad in black half-gloves, he adjusts his cap before locking eyes with you and quickly looking down again.

“channie hyung must’ve forgotten his manners, I’m jisung” the waterbottle guy speaks up “and that’s changbin hyung” he points at the most intimidating-looking of the three of them, on the couch.

“channie?” lia squeals as she sits down with chris on the couch changbin is sitting on as well, jisung coming up to you.

“hey, you want something to drink?” he asks, pointing at the mini bar feigning cockiness “we have a mini bar”

“woow” you chuckle, playing along “sure I’d love a drink”

“how come we’ve never met on campus before?” jisung asks after mixing you a vodka soda and sitting down on the second couch in the room.

“oh, you all go to uni here as well?” you ask surprisedly as you sit down next to him..

“yea” he grins “that’s how we all met” he points at lia and chris almost sitting on top of each other “and those two”

“oh I didn’t even know that” you take a sip, trying to loosen up “I guess I wasn’t listening when she was ranting on about him”

Jisung laughs and changbin joins the two of you as he sits down next to jisung.

“they just started calling each other bubs I feel like throwing up” changbin groans as he drinks from his beer.

You huff before jisung speaks again, looking from his friend back to you “he’s usually more romantic” he quips.

“I bet” you joke with him.

“yup” changbin locks eyes with you “that’s why I’m single, I’m just too romantic” he shakes his head sarcastically.

“ooh” you squint your eyes “emotional unavailability? love that in a man” you grin, at which his eyebrow quirks up amusedly.

“speaking of man, did minho hyung text you when he’d be here?” jisung asks his friend.

“yea he said he’ll be here in 5 and that you should finally buy a new phone” changbin answers, reading it from his phone at which jisung scoffs before turning to you.

“minho is my boyfriend” he explains “he’s hot” he grins at which you laugh “I bet”

“so, y/n, do you have a boyfriend?” jisung asks after taking a sip of his drink

“not anymore” you scoff, jisung inhales excitedly “guess what, changbin is single as well” he grins from ear to ear, comically looking back and forth between you two.

“oh, please dont start like lia” you chuckle, leaning forwards to lock eyes with changbin “no offense, but I only attract assholes”

He shakes his head, amusedly raising his brows “none taken” he grins at which you huff before a young woman comes into their dressing room to tell them they’re up next.

Back in the crowd, you and lia find a good place just as the lights dim and the music begins to play.

Suddenly you feel someone run into your side “woah I’m sorry” he quickly apologizes “this guy pushed me” he looks behind him.

“its alright” you nod, loud enough for him to hear.

Once they come outside, the crowd goes wild.

“jisungieee” the guy next to you all over sudden screams, you have to smile when looking at him.

“are you minho by any chance?” you ask him.

He nods aggressively “yea! do you know jisung?”

“I just met him backstage” you yell over the loud bass.

Minho laughs and nods before the bass drops and chris starts the first verse.

“he’s great right?” lia screams into your ear when the first chorus ends.

“yea” you nod, actually surprised at how good their music is, now understanding as to why the crowd loves them so much.

Changbin starts his verse and suddenly you feel somewhat entranced, his voice is rough and his bars are hard, definitely fitting his appearance but what entices you is the passion with which he appears to be performing.

Throughout their whole performance you cant take your eyes off him, the way his arms flex when he grips onto the microphone a little harder or the way his jugular sticks out when he growls into the microphone.

Not to mention the thighs you somehow didn’t notice in their dressing room, you watch them strain against his leather pants and feel even hotter suddenly.

Their last song ends and lia is quick to be in your ear about going backstage to chris again.

“oh you know chan hyung?” minho overhears and chimes in.

“yea she’s his date” you point at your overly excited roommate.

“changbin just texted and said they’re upstairs in the vip lounge, come with me” the brunette holds out his hand for you to take, which you do and grab lia with the other one.

“do you know where you’re going?” you ask minho after a minute of pressing yourself along sweaty dancing bodies.

“yea! they’re here a lot” he yells back “its right over there” he points to a flight of stairs where yet another bouncer is standing in front of.

“hey minho” the bouncer greats him with a fist bump “these girls are with you?” he points at lia and you.

“yea” he nods.

“trying something new, I see” he laughs atw hich you frown.

“oh, nono” minho chuckles uncomfortably “I’m still with jisung”

“ah-alright well, have fun” the bouncer moves after looking you all up and down, letting you walk up the stairs.

“wow, you’re famous” lia giggles at which minho huffs and shakes his head amusedly “yea, for being the only non-straight person they know”

“baby” you see jisung jump up from his seat in the spacious lounge as soon as you enter.

“hii” minho holds out his arms for him to run into, you cant stop yourself from smiling when you see jisung jump into his boyfriends arms.

“lia, y/n come over here” chris waves at the two of you.

“you were so good, baby” you hear minho praise jisung behind you as you walk over to the large round sitting booth where chan and changbin are sitting.

Lia slides into the booth and cuddles into chans side “you were awesome” she squeals as you sit down on the other end and grab a fresh glass from the middle of the round table, holding it next to changbins where he’s pouring cherry vodka into.

“can i get some?” you ask, he glances at you and smirks before silently filling your glass with a double shots worth of the slightly rosy liquid.

“so, how did you like it?” he asks as he leans back, taking a swing of his drink.

“you guys were really good” you nod “to be honest I didn’t expect such high quality music”

He laughs, leaning his head back a little, his adams apple bopping with it.

You cant help but notice the sheer sheen of sweat that expands over his thick neck, obviously coming from their escapades on stage just now.

“what did you expect? a bunch of drunks playing wonderwall on the guitar for more drunks?” he grins, straight white teeth on display.

“hey, don’t come for wonderwall” you raise your hand jokingly at which he laughs.

“I wouldn’t dare” he raises his hands comically.

“hey” you whip your head around to see jisung and minho “scoot, please” jisung speaks again.

“oh-yea” you grab your drink and scoot further into the half circle-shaped booth.

“so what do you study?” changbin asks, his voice catches you off guard because you hadn’t calculated how close you’re sitting to him.

You turn to him to realise you’re close enough to smell his perfume and aftershave.

“uh- I- art” you answer shakily before taking a sip of your drink just to pull a face afterwards.

“jesus christ” you cough a little and hold your chest as changbin laughs.

“its stronger than you’d think” he grins “can you handle it?” he teases when your eyes get a little watery.

You stare at him for a second before playfully rolling your eyes “im good”

His eyes trace over your face as you look around before he breaks the silence ”i can get you something else if you want” he offers.

“oh-uh no, I’m just being dramatic its fine” you chuckle.

“so...what do you study?” you change the topic.

“I’m majoring in music” he says, stretching out his arms over the backrest “all three of us are”

“oh, so you like, produce all your own stuff?” you ask, your eyes jumping to where his forearm touches your shoulder, that’s leaning against the backrest.

“yea, channie hyung composes the most, me and ji write a lot” he explains,

“thats really cool” you nod, looking over to the mentioned guy.

Changbin follows your eyes and huffs when the both of you see him and your roommate sucking face again.

After a few seconds they stop and giggle before standing up to go somewhere.

“where are they going?” you huff.

“I guess they want some alone time” he chuckles, lifting the arm close to you to take off the cap he’s still wearing.

You flinch when his forearm brushes your shoulder.

“are you scared of me?” he asks slowly, stopping his movements, cap still in hand.

“no- no” you shake your head, chuckling “I- its just been a while since I’ve gone out and I don’t know” you shrug “I feel a little lost”

“hm” changbin cocks his brow at your words, running one hand through his dark brown locks.

You divert your eyes from his bulging bicep back to his face quickly when he speaks again.

“any reason why?” he leans back again.

“oh, just a shitty ex and a shitty breakup” you shrug “I’m gonna spare you the details”

“aw, no please, tell me he had a small dick and everything, now im invested” he jokes.

You tsk at him and push his arm playfully, feigning annoyance.

“that still doesn’t answer my question as to why you jumped like that when my arm touched you” changbin raises his brows expectantly.

You open your mouth to speak but-

“we’ll go get some more to drink” minho interrupts you at which changbin nods.

“so?” he asks again, once minho and jisung leave.

“did that ex hit you? give me his address I’ll beat him up for you” changbin deadpans.

“no” you shake your head after taking another sip “he didn’t” you huff incredulously.

“its just- you look kinda scary” you blurt out finally.

His eyes widen before he falls into a boyish laughter, which you cant help but join.

“me?” he points at himself before laughing again, the image you had made up in your mind about him cracking.

“yea!” you raise your brows “when you look like this” you furrow your brows and lightly squint your eyes to mimic his resting bitch face.

“what the-” he splutters laughingly.

“stoop, don’t laugh” you hold onto his forearm, still giggling yourself.

He calms himself, subconsciously scooting closer to you in the now empty booth.

“maybe scary wasn’t the right word” you snicker, looking down.

“I think the word you were looking for was: sexy, hot or mysterious, maybe handsome-” he quips, grinning to himself when you start laughing again.

“no, no, I know what I meant” you joke back, just now noticing how close he is, his knee touching yours as his whole torso is turned to you.

“so none of my suggestions are accurate?” he cheekily raises one brow at which you scoff playfully.

“maybe one or two” you see his eyes jump to your lips.

The air suddenly feels thick around you with tension, changbins tongue darting out to wet his plump bottom lip while his eyes are still locked on yours.

You breathe in before the two of you lock eyes again "so…are you gonna kiss me, or just stare?"

He raises his brows at your sudden boost of confidence, grinning amusedly.

"what happened to me being scary?" he counters before urging you to swing one leg over his thighs with gentle hands.

You take a seat on his lap, straddling his thick thighs before looping your arms around his neck "i dont know, i think i'm into it" you quip.

His hands wander up your waist "well then i wont make you wait any longer" he grins, looking at your lips one last time before closing the gap inbetween you two.

You meet him in the middle, changbins grip on your waist tightens when his plush lips land on yours.

He pulls you closer to him, pushing his tongue past the seam of your lips.

You can taste the cherry vodka on his tongue but it riles you up even more, sucking at the wet muscle before his hands wander over the swell of your ass and each grab a handful of the flesh; your short skirt riding up when you subconsciously grind against his lap.

“be careful” he mumbles against your lips, gently tugging down the piece of fabric so you don’t expose yourself to bywalkers.

“where’s the fun in that?” you cock your head to the side teasingly.

Changbin scoffs and leans in again but you get interrupted by jisung.

“hey, we-oh” you whip your head around.

Jisungs frown turns into a grin “uh” he chuckles “we dont mean to interrupt but chan hyung texted minho and they’re going to your place” he points at you.

“ugh, seriously?” you mutter.

“I’m sleeping at minhos so, hyung you’ll have our place to yourself” he winks at changbin.

“so, we’re out too, have fun you guys” minho waves teasingly as jisung drags him away.

For a second you stare after them, until a gentle squeeze at your waist makes you turn around again.

“you could come over to my place if you don’t want to go to yours right now” he offers, eyes flickering to your lips when you bite at your lower one.

This is usually like not you, letting some guy you barely know take you home.

But here you are the next morning, looking up at the ceiling, changbins room flooded with daylight.

You sit up and look at the still unconscious changbin next to you. His blanket had fallen down and exposes his toned torso, barely covering his private parts.

A tingle forms in your lower abdomen when you think of what happened here a few hours ago.

But you pull yourself together and start looking around for your clothes.

You spot your bra on his desk and your skirt and shoes on the floor, gently shimmying out from underneath the blanket; you grab your skirt and slide it on without your panties, not being able to find them anywhere.

Right as you clasp your bra behind your back, changbins morning voice makes you flinch “you would’ve just snuck out?” he grumbles, rubbing his eyes as you look back at him.

“what? did you take me for a breakfast lover?” you quip as you slide into your shoes, looking around for your shirt.

“damn, that’s cold” he chuckles lowly, sitting up and watching you stride around his room.

“where did you put my shirt?” you ask, bending down to look under his desk.

“maybe you should worry about your panties first” he snickers, eyes glued to your core when you look back at him.

You kiss your teeth and straighten up quickly, having forgotten about your lack of underwear.

“not that that wasn’t a great view just now-“

“you’re not helping” you interrupt him, eyes lighting up when you spot your shirt in the hallway.

“why so serious all over sudden?” he grins “last night you were everything but tense”

You scoff as you pull your shirt over your head and stuff it into your skirt before grabbing your purse and phone.

“I have an exam in 2 days and I haven’t studied yet” you exhale.

“I could drive you home-“ he runs a hand through his messy hair.

“I’ll call a cab, uhm- thanks for last night” you hurriedly smile before walking out.

“bye” changbin calls after you, frowning and dropping back down onto his bed when he hears the door shut behind you “have a nice day I guess” he mumbles to himself.

October

You cling your jacket closer to your body as you walk through the howling wind the seasonal change had brought with it.

When you arrive at lias faculty building you take out your phone to see if she texted you about when her lecture would be over.

lia : hey babe, chris took me to his place -received at 4:17 pm

You roll your eyes, typical you think.

you : are you serious? you begged me to walk home with you -sent at 4:25 pm

You see her the little blue bubble pop up, indicating that she’s writing a message.

lia : im sorry!! please don’t be mad, he surprised me :((( -received at 4:25 pm

You scoff and turn off your phone before slipping it in your coats pocket alongside your hands. Typical, you think, ever since that night at the club the two of them have become inseparable and lia cancelling on you had become a regular thing. You are happy for her but you also miss your friend.

“y/n?” a familiar voice calls after you right as you start to walk away, you freeze and turn around.

“yea?- oh” you swallow harshly when you see changbin walk your way.

“hey” he smiles brightly and you have to bite back a grin at the cute beanie he’s sporting alongside his slightly red nose due to the cold weather.

“hi” you smile timidly.

“you never texted” he tilts his head at which you nod.

“yea, sorry I actually never got your number” you look at the ground “uh- what are you doing here?”

“oh um im on my way to the studio” he points at a nearby building “that’s the music faculty”

“ah okay, well” you lock eyes “have fun then” you turn around again, ready to walk away.

“hey” he catches up with you “you wanna join me? check out some of our new stuff?” he burries his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

“I don’t know, changbin I really don’t want to date right now-“ you start at which he chuckles.

“I didn’t ask you to marry me” he stops in his tracks, grinning when you do as well, locking eyes “come on, I just need an unbiased opinion on some new tracks” he tilts his head.

You inhale before looking around you “I could drive you home after? So you don’t have to walk through this weather?” he offers, raising his brows at which you purse your lips.

“alright” you give in, changbin smiles and extends his elbow for you to hold.

You simper and coyly hook your hand around his arm as the two of you start walking.

“this is awesome!” you point to his laptop a minute after he played the first song for you.

Changbin grins bashfully and leans back into his desk chair “you think?”

“yea, the hook is super catchy” you bob your head as his eyes fix on your profile “you’re really talented, changbin” you catch him blushing before putting on another song.

After a few other songs, he takes off his headphones when you take off yours.

“can I ask you something?” he asks, you glance at him.

“you just did” you quip at which he huffs, “sure” you nod.

“how much of that night do you remember?” he fiddles with one of the rings on his left hand.

“why?” you ask back.

“well, you seemed really upset the next morning so I got kind of scared that you didn’t actually want it and I kind of took advantage of you” he recalls the night the two of you spent together.

“oh, no. you didn’t take advantage of me, I wasn’t even drunk and I would’ve told you if I had changed my mind or something. That was just the first time I ever spent the night at a guys house for a one night stand” you absently pick off some fuzzies from your jeans.

“plus I had just come out of a relationship so I was a little too emotional anyways” you chuckle.

“alright” changbin nods “just wanted to make sure” he smiles down at his hands “cause I remember all of it”

You whip your head, scoffing when you see him with a shit eating grin on his face.

“hm” you feign ignorance as you lean back “I don’t know, there wasn’t a lot to remember” you grin mischievously.

He laughs out loud, leaning forwards “no?”

You shake your head, pursing your lips comically “nah”

“cause I remember you shaking and screaming” he grins.

You shrug your shoulders “weird, must’ve faked it” you deadpan, fiddling with the headphones you’re still holding.

Changbins tongue prods on the inside of his cheek, huffing when he catches you grinning.

“right” he grins slumping into his seat a little further.

A thought flashes in your head when your gaze drops to his crotch and thick thighs, you swallow some spit in frustration as you feel your core getting hotter.

He was right, the night was amazing, maybe that was even part of the reason you stormed out the way you did.

You clench your thighs for some relief, anything really.

“want me to refresh your memory?” your eyes jump up to meet his, you open your mouth but nothing comes out; do you want him to?

Yes. Yes you do.

So, you get up and straddle him on his chair: his hands instantly gripping at your hips, pulling you closer.

“someones eager” he grins, pushing some of your hair behind your ear.

“shut up” you whisper before crashing your lips onto his.

Changbin groans when you tug at his hair, inviting you to slip your tongue in between his lips and grind your hips over his crotch.

He hisses before propping himself up on one armrest and holding your lower back with the other as he stands up; you squeal but he holds you before sitting you back down on the desk, next to his laptop.

“now who’s eager” you grin when his hands find the waistband of your leggings and tug them down with your panties in one.

He huffs as he bunches your leggings and panties around your ankles before slipping underneath the fabric barrier and inbetween your legs.

“by the looks of it..” he runs a finger through your wet folds “still you” he quips before pushing one finger in without warning.

You moan, you head dropping back onto the hard wooden surface.

“look at me” changbin orders as a second finger prods at your entrance, you whimper but prop yourself up on your elbows.

He curls the two fingers and pumps them almost violently, the palm of his hand smacking your clit with every pump.

“oh god-“ you yelp, your eyes scrunching together as your hips buck up.

“its changbin but god is fine too” he quips as he lowers his head, you curse at him, even though you have to laugh a little.

“you’re so annoy-ah!” you cry out because suddenly his tongue is lapping over your swollen clit, sucking on it forcefully when you claw one hand into his already messed up dark locks.

“fuck-bin- gonna cum” your hips stutter and you feel the pleasure that’s blooming in your tummy is getting ready to snap.

“mmh” he humms against you “cum then, baby” he moans, knowing full well what the added vibrations are doing to your body when your chest arches and your mouth drops open.

Your cries fill the studio as you clamp down on his fingers; he rides your through your high, holding down your hips with his unoccupied hand because you squirm with the euphoria that’s filling your veins.

“good girl” he mumbles, removing his fingers from you before bringing them up to your lips “now, suck them clean for me, yea?” he grins, lips and chin shiny with your cum.

“finally” you huff when arriving at 3rachas lounge in a club out of town; where they had just performed “this club is huge” you breathe, jisung scooting and changbin letting you squeeze past him to take a seat in between them as they chuckle.

Lia and chan already lost in their own world again as she drags him to the dancefloor, squealing when chan teasingly squeezes her sides as they disappear into the crowd.

“they are made for each other” minho sighs, sitting down and giving jisung the second beer from his hands.

“I know right” you lean back, breathing in.

“you’re still out of breath?” changbin laughs at you at which you hit his arm.

“stop it, oh my god” you feign annoyance “you know how exhausting it is to dodge beer bottles and not loose lia? she’s like a Chihuahua, I swear, you loose her once and its over” you chuckle, jisung and minho laughing too.

“you just don’t have any endurance, woman” changbin grins teasingly.

“that’s so not true” you laugh incredulously “what about two nights ago-“

“AH-“ jisung interrupts you, placing his hands over his ears “please spare us your sex stories, I hear enough of that when you’re over, babe”

You huff and changbins cheeks turn red.

“you guys are fucking?” minho asks, eyebrows raised as he takes a swing of his beer.

“good job keeping up, baby” jisung pats his boyfriends thigh teasingly at which he tsks at him.

“are you together or what?” minho props his elbow on the table to support his chin with his hand as he looks at the two of you expectantly.

“no, we’re not” you chuckle somewhat uncomfortably before looking over at changbin who just grins awkwardly.

“just here to be a good friend and keep the groupies away” you joke “right?” you nudge changbin with your elbow at which he nods swiftly, looking down again.

“yea, baby don’t be so old fashioned” jisung teases his boyfriend who just rolls his eyes playfully.

“speaking of groupies” minho mutters, spotting a group of girls just before they approach the lounge.

“hey jisungie, you wanna dance?” a pretty blonde girl bats her eyelashes as she leans down a bit to expose more of her cleavage, making jisung grin.

“baby, you’re gorgeous but I’m very gay” he nods apologetically, “Oh” she straightens up “really? You sure?”

You and changbin have to bite back a laugh when jisung nods again “very sure, thanks though, for coming”

She shrugs and looks at changbin “what about you? Wanna dance?”

“uh-“ changbin starts but you cut him off “he’s with me actually” you tilt your head.

“for real?” she stems her hands into her hips as she looks back at her posse, scoffing.

“yea” changbin loops his strong arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him “that’s my girl, so a little respect, please”

“aww” you coo dramatically as you play along, putting your hand on his jaw to turn his head towards you before you lock lips.

“whatever” you faintly hear the girls voice get quieter when changbin slips his tongue in between your lips.

“they’re gone” you hear minho but changbin pulls your legs to dangle over one of his thighs as he grips your waist.

“guys” jisungs voice only registers in the back of your head when changbin sucks at your bottom lip and you run your fingers through the hair on the back of his head.

“can I get you some more beers?” the waitresses voice pulls the both of you out of your trance as you break the kiss abruptly.

Jisung laughs, shaking his head at the both of you before turning to the waitress “we’ll take a round of shots I think”

November

“fuck-harder” you gasp “..mhh binnie-shit” you moan while changbin pounds into you from behind, gripping your hip tighter with one of his hands; the other one migrating up your back to gather the legth of your hair, twisting them before he pulls at their root.

You groan when you feel your hair getting pulled back, neck stretching as he picks up his pace.

“like this? fuck you love this don’t you?” he breaths ragged, but you can hear the dirty smirk that lingers on his lips every time you have rough sex..

You moan out loudly when he releases your hair and pushes your torso down onto the mattress, your hand pulling at the sheets , needing something to grip and release the pleasure.

“fuck- answer me, slut” he grunts and delivers a harsh slap to your ass.

You cry out “yes-yes-fuck-love it” you desperately gasp as he leans down to you, earning a low chuckle which sends shivers down your back.

His lips latch onto your shoulder blade and start sucking on the skin until a purple mark blooms under his lips.

“fuck” you let out a strangled yell when the hand on your hip makes its way to your front and he started circling your clit with his fingers, the pace and firmness matching his thrusts.

You cry out for him as you clench furiously around his cock “that’s a good girl” he whispers, only letting go of your clit when you flinch in overstimulation.

“cum for me- fuck baby, cum for me and let the others know who’s fucking you this good” he rasps in your ear. Not 5 seconds later, your orgasm ripples through you and you would’ve collapsed completely if he wasn’t holding you up.

You’re still panting when both of his hands go back on your hips and push them down, laying you flat on the mattress before he picks up his pace again with his last left strength to reach his own high.

“shit- y/n“ he grunts when you tighten around him again and you feel him filling the condom with some drawn out groans and a sharp hiss.

After a few seconds of nothing but heavy breathing filling the room, he pulls out and falls next to you on his bed.

You wince at the soreness that’s already presenting itself when you turn around on your back, looking over to him; you watch as he ties a knot in the condom and throws it into the trash next to his desk.

“kobe!” he exclaims gleefully at his perfect throw before looking back at you to see if you saw.

“jesus christ why am I sleeping with you” you hold your hands over your face, hating the fact that it made you laugh.

He gasps, feigning to be offended “that’s not how you speak to the guy that just made you cum three times”

“you are so full of yourself, seo changbin” you shake your head amusedly as you sit up.

“wait, I’ll clean you up” changbin is quick to rise from his comfortable position to grab some tissues from his nightstand.

“come here” he mumbles, gently urging you to lie back down before carefully wiping your own cum off your inner thighs and mound.

You watch him as he gently moves to wipe the tissue over your puffy folds, your hips jumping a little when he accidentally passes your clit.

“sorry” he grins, pressing a kiss to your angled knee; at which you feel your heart lurch forward a bit.

Woah, wait.

You’ve been seeing changbin just for sex for almost two months now, you’ve even gone with him other performances and after parties to keep groupies away and be his arm candy and never has your heart done this.

Mayday. Abort mission.

“should be good for now” changbin shrugs, shooting you a sweet smile before turning away from you to also get rid of the tissues.

You use the opportunity to shuffle to the side of his bed and slip on your panties before grabbing your bra.

“hey, you wanna leave already?” changbin asks “I thought we could hang” he tucks his hand under his head as you look back at him, clipping your bra closed “watch a movie or something”

“sorry, I promised lia I’d help her clean the apartment today” you lie, surprisingly quick, before pulling your hoodie over your head.

“so you’re just gonna fuck me and leave again?” he jokes dramatically “I don’t even get cuddles?”

“shut up” you chuckle.

“am I nothing more to you than a pretty piece of meat?” he continues as you slip into your jeans, rolling your eyes playfully.

“a toy you use when you need stress relief??” he holds his chest dramatically.

You step into your shoes and raise your brows at him.

“are you complaining?” you ask playfully.

“nahh” he pulls his covers over his abs as he watches you grab your jacket from his desk chair.

"At least give me a 'gopdbye, thanks for the bomb dick, kiss" He grins when you scoff at him. So, you lean over him and press a quick peck to his lips; he whines playfully when you lean back up again, sitting up and catching your lips with his roughly once more.

“alright, see ya” you shrug."

And shit, your heart does it again. What are you doing?

You break the kiss and ruffle through his hair.

“ugh” he huffs annoyedly, fixing his hair “I hope you have trouble walking” he quips as you go for the door.

“I’ll text you if I don’t” you wink at him before closing his door, leaning against it from the outside and closing your eyes.

“fuck” you whisper to yourself before making your way through the guys apartment.

“don’t break his heart, y/n” minhos voie comes from behind as you twist the doorknob.

“huh?” you trun around to look at him, he’s wearing a shirt that you know to be jisungs so he must be staying over.

“I’ve known changbin for a while, he seems tough but he’s a softie deep down” he crosses his arms over his chest “he hurts easier than you think”

“we- we’re both not in this for anything serious” you stammer “what do you mean?”

“I see the way he looks at you, y/n” minho smiles softly “I’m not telling you how to live your life, just, be honest with him… and yourself for that matter” he quirks one brow up, smiling before disappearing around the corner.

You squint your eyes as you’re trying to make out the label of the cereal boxes in the upper shelves, looking back at your phone you check to see what brand lia had texted you about so you don’t accidentally buy the wrong thing.

“fuck” you mumble when you see her desired cereal at the top of the shelf, so you reach up but to no avail.

“y/n?” you lower your heels to the floor again before turning around to see…

“hyunjin?” you face drops in awe.

“hey!” the tall young man smiles widely, opening his arms and inviting you to a hug.

“wow, hi” you hug him back.

Damn, what happened to him? The last time you saw him was before he moved away in 10th grade.

You used to be good friends with him, or, well, the freakishly skinny and lanky highschool version of him you met in dance class.

By the feel of it, even through the trenchcoat he’s wearing, you can tell he’s bulked up quite a bit.

After letting go of him, you cant help but stare.

His acne had cleared up and his brown hair is chin length with the top parts pulled back into a little pony tail, leaving some face framing strands in the front.

“wow- you look-“ you blink a few times to make sure you’re not dreaming “…really good, hyunjin”

He smiles on the ground, his pretty plump lips parting to reveal beautiful pearly whites which used to be covered by braces.

“so do you” he grins.

“no- I mean you look… good-good” you splutter, laughing awkwardly “like what are you a model now or something?”

“actually, yea- part time” he chuckles.

“oh” you huff “wow of course” you shake your head laughingly, blushing furiously when he doesn’t break eye contact.

“so- uhm” you gulp, making him grin even wider “what are you doing here?”

“I’m transferring here” he nods “better dance programme” he explains shortly.

“oh you still dance” you observe out loud “I haven’t danced in a while” you look down.

“you should come by after practice sometime” he offers “to catch up- or dance if you want” he giggles, a little dimple appearing on his left cheek.

“yea, I’d love that” you smile, nodding before he takes out his phone.

“put in your number, I’ll text you” he smiles softly when holding it out to you.

“mhm” you agree, saving your number in his phone and trying not to think about him staring at you the whole time.

“alright well” he checks his phone for the time, you guess “I gotta get going, only came here for this” he chuckles, holding up a carton of milk that you, weirdly enough, haven’t noticed until now.

“alright” you nod before he moves in for a hug again.

“bye” he smiles when loosening his arms again.

“bye” you mumble, staring at the back of his perfect head as he walks away.

You were about to pull out your phone and rant to lia about what just happened, when he stops in his tracks and turns around.

“almost forgot” he grins, reaching up and getting your cereal from the top shelf; winking when he places it in your hands, your body freezing.

“bye” he grins, walking away before you could thank him.

You had taken hyunjin up on his offer and met him in the dance studio after class where he showed you some of his contemporary pieces before you made your way to the popular coffee shop on campus together.

“-no seriously the second piece was my favourite I think, but they were all amazing!” you smile up at him at which he shakes his head cutely.

“can you stop complimenting me, y/n I’m getting all nervous” he laughs softly.

“oh please” you quip “with your talent and looks I would think nothing could make you nervous” you roll your eyes playfully.

Hyunjin huffs, opening the coffee shops door for you “you can” he says softly as you walk past him, you turn around to him to see him blush a litte but diverting his eyes to the big menu above the counter.

Did he just flirt with you? No, you must be tripping.

You look around to see only two other people sitting in one of the booths together, the cold must keep most people home, you think before hyunjin gently pulls at your sleeve to get your attention.

“what do you want?” he asks, the barista looking at you expectantly.

“uhm- a hot chocolate please” you say, reaching in your purse to get your wallet.

“I’ll take the same” hyunjin smiles politely, giving the barista money.

“on me” he smiles down at you.

“oh, thank you” you smile sheepishly, letting go of your purse again.

Once your hot chocolates are ready, you sit down in one of the booths, hyunjin sliding in to sit across from you.

“I was back home last week before I came here, you’ll never guess who I met” hyunjin grins.

“who?” you ask curiously.

“tim” he grins.

“tim?” your eyes almost pop out of your head “as in my first boyfriend tim?” you laugh, holding your hand to your face incredulously.

“but he moved away as well?” you half ask.

“yea he said he was visiting his grandparents, but guess the best part” hyunjin bites his lip

“what?” you chuckle.

“he got a nose job” hyunjin bites back a laugh when you gasp surprisedly “really?”

“one word” hyunjin says “botched…”

“aw no, poor tim” you frown, looking down at your hot drink as memories from back in the day come back to you.

“he always used to put his hand up my shirt when hugging” you frown, making hyunjin laugh.

“it was 9th grade y/n what did you expect?” you scoff at his rethorical question.

“I don’t know, some basic manners maybe?” you counter playfully…slowly letting the conversation die down as you both take sips from your cocoa.

“how come we never dated?” he asks softly after aminute of silence, looking up at you.

“we were friends?” you chuckle awkwardly.

“come on” hyunjin sits back in his booth “you must’ve known I had the biggest crush on you”

“you did?” you almost launch forwards in your seat, making hyunjin laugh.

“well, I guess you didn’t know then” he giggles, hiding his face in his hands embarrassedly.

“anyways, I would’ve paid good money to be able to slip my hand up your shirt” he jokes, cheeks reddening when you laugh.

“I honestly liked you a lot back then” you say “if you would’ve said something we might’ve actually gone out” you shrug gently.

“damn, way to rub that in my face” hyunjin grins.

You hold his eye contact for a few seconds before you feel your blood rushing to your cheeks again, quickly lifting up your mug to take a sip and partly cover your face.

When you put your mug back down, hyunjin grins widely, mumbling a “cute” before slowly bringing his hand to your chin and gently swiping his thumb over your top lip where a foam mustache had formed.

You gulp when he swiftly sucks the foam off his thumb, your eyes darting from his eyes to his lips.

When he notices, he leans over, slowly as if scared to overwhelm you.

That’s when minhos words pop up in the back of your head.

“be honest with him, and yourself for that matter”

But you aren’t together, and hyunjin is great and you want to kiss him but you know it would be wrong.

However, before you know it his lips are on yours and you’re not doing anything to stop him.

They are soft and inviting and you let him swipe his tongue over the seam of your lips, but then the little doorbell rings and you hear lias voice, followed by a male one before they abruptly stop, making you pull away abruptly.

Oh.

There they are, lia, chan, jisung and changbin; looking at you.

“y/n” lia grins widely, approaching your table “aren’t you gonna introduce us?” she squeals, hyunjin clears his throat and sits back down.

The three guys hesitantly follow lia when-

“woah- hyunjin?” chan speaks up.

“chan-hyung?” hyunjin gets up from his place to receive a hug from the older one as your eyes divert to changbin who is looking at the ground.

You aren’t together. Then why do you feel so guilty and why does he look so disappointed.

“he’s cute, girl” jisung grinningly interrupts your daydreaming, nodding towards chan and hyunjin who are still talking.

You force out a smile.

“how do you two know each other?” lia asks curiously.

“he went to my highschool, the last few years” chan grins.

“what a coincidence” you mumble, almost ironically.

“I went to highschool with y/n too, the first couple years though, then I moved away” hyunjin explains “oh, im sorry, I’m hyunjin by the way” he turns to jisung and changbin.

“I’m jisung, this is changbin” jisung smiles, pointing at his grumpy friend.

“I’m lia” lia grins “his girlfriend and her best friend” she points at chan before snuggling up to you, giggling.

Jesus, woman where do you get the energy? Is what you want to ask but you just flash another forced smile, hoping this moment will pass quickly.

“where were you guys?” you change the topic, hoping changbin would maybe look at you if you spoke up.

“oh, I caught them all huddled up in the studio” lia grins “they probably haven’t been outside in a week again” she giggles.

“true” jisung quips.

“hey lets all sit down” hyunjin suggests.

“I’ll get a coffee” changbin mumbles, walking back to the counter.

You usher lia to make way for you to get out of the booth, following him.

“bin” you stand next to him as he looks up at the menu but he ignores you.

“you could at least acknowledge my presence, your highness” you quip annoyedly.

“what do you want me to say, y/n?” he mutters.

“I didn’t know this would happen with him or I would’ve told you” you say, looking back at the other four talking and laughing in the booth.

“we’re not together y/n, you’ve made that very clear; if you wanna kiss lord farquaad go ahead, I’m not stopping you” he looks over to the booth as well.

“jesus christ” you huff “why are you so defensive then?”

“hi” changbin greets the barista who just came from the back “I’ll have an iced coffee to go, please” he orders.

“the world doesn’t revolve around you y/n, maybe I’m having a bad day” he answers when the barista makes his way to the coffee machines, you feel a lump from in your throat.

“yea, well thanks for making mine bad as well” you turn on your heels to join the others, hyunjin sees you coming back and scooches to make some space for you next to him.

You smile and thank him quietly when he also gives you your mug.

“everything alright?” he asks quietly, as to not disturb the others conversation.

“yea, just had to ask him some stuff” you smile at which he smiles back, turning back to the others.

After a minute changbin approaches the booth with his iced coffee “hey, I’ll run back to the studio I gotta finish that track”

“ugh, changbin I just dragged you out of there, stay for a second” lia protests and jisung nods along.

“nah, gotta get it done tonight” he shakes his head.

“alight see you later” chan nods.

“nice to meet you, man” hyunjin says, nodding at him as well.

“yea” changbin answers tight-lipped before walking out.

December

”I’m sorry, hyunjin” you frown “I’m just not ready for a relationship after what happened with my ex-“

“its alright y/n” his large hand encases yours “you don’t have to explain yourself to me”

You sigh in relief “I’m sorry I tried to rush things, it just, seemed to good to be true to find you here and everything” he says.

“but I’ll wait for you, if that’s what you want” he looks up at you.

“oh, jinnie you shouldn’t have to do that” you shake your head “I’m sure there are great girls out there who are emotionally ready to be with you”

“yea, but you’re the girl I want to be with” he says softly and your heart shatters into pieces because you’re not sure he’s the guy you want to be with.

You fight yourself through the crowd at 3rachas last performance of the year, at the same venue where you met them for the first time. Just like the time before, chan makes sure lia, hyunjin, minho and you are able to come backstage.

“I’m excited to see you perform, man” hyunjin grins at chan, patting his shoulder “your stuff was already dope back then…” they continue speaking as you enter their dressing room.

Jisung greets his boyfriend as you and lia sit down on the leather couch.

Changbin is standing in front of the mirror, fixing his hair before his eyes lock with yours through the mirror, but he just diverts them to chan who’s grabbing a beer for hyunjin and himself, you guess.

“did you have to invite him?” changbin semi-whispers to the older one, nodding at hyunjin, chan just frowns confusedly,making changbin shake his head and walk out.

You look at hyunjin who is talking to minho and jisung, and doesn’t seem to have heard changbin. So, you get up to follow him out but lia holds your wrist “y/n you cant keep running after him” she hisses.

“he cant keep treating me like im invisible, I just want to clear the air” you free your arm and walk out to see changbin almost at the end of the corridor, walking out of a heavy door which, you think leads outside.

After reaching the door you open it to find him outside, leaning against the brick wall of the building, looking down at his phone.

The cold air hits your skin and you shiver, only wearing a top and some jeans since its warm in the club.

Changbin notices you and looks up “what do you want, y/n?” he asks.

“that was real classy back there” you comment, holding your arms to your body to preserve some warmth. Changbin huffs, unfazed as he looks back at his phone “whatever, y/n”

“no, not whatever bin” you step closer to him “he asked me to date him” his head shoots up and you lock eyes, for a second they are soft in the way they look into yours but something changes and they turn mean when he speaks again.

“so? that’s a you proplem” he shrugs.

“its not a problem at all, he’s sweet and loving and cares about me but for some reason im standing here, hoping that you’ll give me a reason to not be with him” you feel your throat closing up with anger mixed with confusion when he starts chuckling.

“you’re not serious are you?” he squints and your heart drops, tears pooling at your lashline.

“of course not, I couldn’t expect someone as stubborn and- and comunicationally incompetent like you to understand anything about feelings” you turn on your heels when a teardrop rolls down your cheek.

A hand wraps itself around your wrist, making you turn back “I’ve wanted to be with you since that moment in the club where you kissed me infront of all these girls. It was always you who was stubborn y/n, you never wanted to spend anymore time with me other than fucking” he snaps at you, taking a breather to start another sentence but you cut him off.

“-then why didn’t you say anything?” you ask quietly and he looks down.

“because- fuck” he lets go of your wrist “I didn’t want to scare you away, you in my bed was better than no you at all. But then fucking prince charming appears out of no where and sweeps you off your feet-”

“but I don’t want prince charming I want you” you blurt out, tears now streaming down your face, making him take a step back as his eyes soften.

“then why didn’t you say anything?” a small smile tugs at his lips as he closes the distance between you, gently running his hands up your arms, feeling the goosebumps brought on by the cold.

You huff, looking down and watching one of your teardrops melting a tiny hole into the snow before looking back up “because I’m stubborn and comunicationally incompetent” you sniffle “and stupid apparently”

A grin spreads over changbins face as his hands cradle your cheeks, wiping your tears away with his thumbs “so, you wanna be stubborn and stupid together?” he whispers, locking eyes with you.

You press your lips together, trying to keep yourself from sobbing even more as you nod.

He chuckles softly ”you can stop crying now, baby” at which you nod beathing in shakily but smiling when he pushes some hair out of your face.

“can you kiss me now please” you sniffle whiningly, huffing in a laugh when he pulls a face.

“i dont know babe, you’re a little snotty right now-” he jokes.

“shut up” you hit him, chuckling when he pulls you even closer by your waist and gently connects his lips with yours.

A soft wind blows through your hair and you loop your arms around his neck even tighter, deepening the kiss at which he moans, holding your waist tighter to his body.

The door creaks open and “are you guys finally together?” minhos voice makes you break the kiss.

“yea” you grin when jisung comes out after his boyfriend.

“nice” he grins, nodding at you.

“yea yea nice, beautiful love whatever, hyung we’re up, lets go” jisung rambles, laughing and running back inside when changbin pretends to hit him, minho shaking his head and following him.

“you’ll watch me yea?” your boyfriend grins at you, taking your hand and planting a kiss on the back of it.

“from the front row, baby”

a/n: omg im finally done wth this took me so long yall, i started writing this sin september (which is why the fic starts in september as well lol) sorry about the winterly feelings i’m pushing onto you in the end but last week it literally snowed where i live so i was like uh?!?!?!? okay lets write some snowy shit, global warming ftw i guess....anyways i hope u liked it pls leave some feedback and/or ur favourite part ig lol i would appreciate it alot <33 (not proofred yet oopsie)

---

taglist: @kpopscape @oopsie-whats-this @zhaqifa @synnocence @changlix-mp4 + some besties who always inspire me wether they know it or not😭 @bangtantaegi @hanflix @bruh-changbin @hyunyin @yyxgin @hyunsluvv @unstableskzstan @violethhj @missskzbiased @cartierbin @dom--minnie

#kpopscape #skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids #changbin #seo changbin #seo changbin smut #changbin smut #zephyr

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hookingminor · 4 years

Text

4 times his friends posted you on their instagram + 1 time he did - mat barzal

a/n: I wrote this literally back in july so lets just ignore how idealistic this is regarding quarantine but im a slut for some barzy this is all fluff

word count: 4,733

summary: like the title says, some friends (with benefits?) to lovers + a tyson cameo, fluffy summer quarantine fic

tagging @davidpastrsnack so kate can get on the barzy train

To say the whole quarantine thing was an inconvenience was an understatement. School had ended online, your summer internship was cancelled, and it seemed like your summer would turn into an uneventful couple of months stuck in your apartment in, probably, the worst place to be stuck in during a pandemic: New York City.

Or so you thought.

You’d planned on having the most boring summer ever until your friend, Mat, had invited you to hole up away with him and a few friends in a lake house back in Vancouver. Well, friend was a loose term. The two of you were friends… just ones that kissed occasionally… and sometimes more than kissed. You’d met him about a year ago at a bar while he was out with his teammates after a game. A cliche meeting, but you hit it off instantly. Instead of ending up in his bed at the end of the night (which you would eventually end up at after a couple months), it turned into an exchange of numbers and an invitation to hang out later in the week.

You hadn’t thought anything of it at first, just thinking he was being friendly and wanting to end the conversation, so you were surprised to get a text the next day from an unknown number asking if you’d wanted to go on a bike ride.

Flashforward a year later and the two of you still went on bike rides together. At least, up until the pandemic started.

When the text came telling you to pack your bags for a month or so, you thought he was joking. Surely he couldn’t have meant you to join him in Vancouver over the summer? You were proven wrong when he showed up at your apartment the next day, two coffees in his hand.

“Uh, hi, Mathew,” you said hesitantly, opening your door to reveal your disheveled state, having just woken up.

“Why are you dressed like that? We have a plane to catch in four hours,” he said, pushing himself through your door, uninvited, to set the coffees on the counter.

“What are you doing here? What plane? You’re not supposed to be going out,” you reprimanded him for showing up unannounced and in the middle of quarantine.

“I told you we’re going to Vancouver, I know you read my text. Now let’s hurry up and pack, we gotta get going,” Mat rushed, already on the way to your bedroom.

You followed him after a brief moment once you’d processed what was going on. Mat had already pulled out your suitcase and set it on top of your bed by the time you entered the door. He was in the middle of rifling through your drawers and grabbing random garments to throw into the suitcase when you’d spoken again.

“You’re actually serious about this?”

“Of course I am. What better things do you have to do in a city on lockdown for an entire summer? Honestly, I’m doing you a favor,” he explained easily, turning back to grab more items.

“Oh, you’re doing me a favor? Thank you, Mat, for saving me from a summer of suffering. It’s not like I had other plans to find different internships or focus on my summer classes,” you replied sarcastically.

Mat rolled his eyes. “I am doing you a favor, and you’re doing me a favor by going. I need a hot piece of ass to get me through this, or I will lose my mind.” You slugged him on the shoulder in offense, but all he did was chuckle.

“And anyways, you can still do your classes in Vancouver. Instead of doing them locked in this apartment, you can do them lounged out under the Canadian sun. Preferably in a bikini,” he finished. You slugged his arm again, harder this time.

“In fact, you should take the red bikini, it makes your tits look amazing,” he said, noticing you shuffling through your swimsuits. You rolled your eyes at him but grabbed the red one anyway along with a couple others.

With both of you folding and packing, your bags were ready to go in record time.

“Alright, baby, let’s go.” And so you were off.

A week had gone by in total bliss. As much as you hated to admit it, Mat was right. Vacationing in Vancouver in a secluded lake house was a lot better than being alone in your apartment, even if you did still have classes to do. Mat teased you about it, but he always left you alone for a few hours in the day for you to focus on your work. Unless he really wanted something… like right now.

Mat had joined you laying on the couch while you were in the middle of annotating a book for class. He wiggled his way between your arms, causing you to break your hold on your book. He rested his head on your chest, arms wrapped around your middle, and nuzzled his face into your neck. Joining your hands back to your book and bringing your highlighter to the page, you continued to underline phrases you’d come back to later. A couple minutes passed in silence before Mat started sighing. And then he sighed again.

“What do you want?” you huffed out, closing your book with the pen marking your page.

“Let’s go swimming,” he said, pushing up to his elbows to look at your face.

“I have to finish, like, three more chapters today,” you explained.

“You can do that later. I want to go swimming now,” Mat whined.

“You know you sound like a petulant child right now, right?” you asked, moving a hand to his head, pushing his hair back as he pouted.

“Stop using big words on me. Let’s swim,” he said, rolling his eyes.

You paused to think about it for a moment, “Hmm… okay, I guess,” you said with a smile. Mat returned your smile with one of his own before hopping up to drag you to your room to change. It didn’t take much to convince you to swim. It was a really nice day out, and you didn’t really care to finish reading about 17th century philosophy.

You changed into your red bikini, Mat swapped his shorts for a pair of swim trunks, and threw on a backwards baseball cap. You went out back to join the rest of his friend group, who were in the process of loading up the boat with supplies and equipment.

“Oh, look, if it isn’t Brainiac and the Beast. Are you two finally going to go boating with us?” Tyson shouted from the dock. You rolled your eyes at his nickname they created for you and Mat. It had only been a week in Vancouver, but the chirps about you and school were tired by now.

“Princess here wants to swim in the pool, maybe next time!” you shouted back, pointing to Mat.

They laughed at your response, turning their attention back to the boat and running supplies to and from the house. You turned your attention back to Mat, who was taking off his hat and was about two seconds away from jumping in the pool.

“Mathew, stop!” you yelled out, “Get your ass over here!”

“What is it?” he asked, stopping just short of the deep end. He grumbled before marching over to you.

“You need to put sunscreen on first, dumbass,” you reprimanded. As you turned your back to grab the bottle of sunscreen, he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Mat,” you said sharply, turning back to face him with a raised eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

You ignored him, opening the cap and squeezing lotion onto your hands. You gestured him to turn around, and you spread the lotion over it, making sure to rub it into his shoulders.

“I don’t see why I have to put sunscreen on. It’s not even that hot outside,” he muttered.

“First of all, you’re a dumbass. Second of all, heat doesn’t automatically mean the UV rays aren’t strong. And lastly, you’re white, baby, you’ll burn like a sun-dried tomato and being in water only increases the amount of sun you’re exposed to,” you explained, reaching up to rub some on his face.

“Sorry, Miss Meteorologist,” he grumbled, clearly not happy he’d lost this argument.

“One of us has to have brains. We can’t all get by on our good looks and skating ability,” you replied, slapping his cheeks when you were done for good measure.

“Okay, well, if you’re finally done,” you nodded in confirmation, “Let’s go.” He picked you up from under your thighs and ran at full speed towards the pool before you could even process what was happening. You screamed his name in protest begging him to put you down, claiming you hadn’t had time to put on sunscreen yet. He ignored you as he jumped into the deep end, dragging you with him.

You emerged from the water clinging to Mat’s wet body, your hair sopping and hanging over your face like you had come straight out of the movie The Grudge. Mat was laughing at your chaotic look, knowing you were well pissed at him. You jumped higher in the water on top of him to dunk his head under and tried your best to drown him.

It wasn’t until you were relaxing on the couch later that night doing your routinely social media scroll that you saw one of the guys recorded your sunscreen interaction by the pool, you calling Mat a dumbass, and him throwing you in the pool onto their instagram story with a caption “all these two do is fight” with some laughing crying emojis added for effect.

After a long day or hiking, you’d immediately crashed on the couch once you’d gotten back to the house, not bothering to walk all the way to your room. It was only early in the afternoon but you’d been out since sunrise, and dealing with people for hours on end had drained you. The group laughed at you as you plopped your body down onto the couch, curling your head under your arm instead of grabbing the pillow two feet away from you. The rest of them gathered in the kitchen, refueling their bodies with assorted snacks as they started popping open bottles of beer, ready to start the night. It seemed that even an entire day on their feet had not emptied them of their, seemingly endless, energy.

“Jesus Christ, we hiked for, like, six hours and you’re all still bouncing off the walls,” you sighed deeply.

“We’re about to go hit the boat and go water skiing, too. I’m assuming you’re too tired to join us?” Tyson teased.

“I will not be joining you because unlike some people, I need a nap. Now get out of here, you’re all giving me a headache,” you said, pinching your fingers on the bridge of your nose to emphasize your point.

They all snickered but kept quiet as they shuffled around, packing up more food to take outside. You heard the sliding door shut and close a few times as they ran in and out before it was finally silent. You let out a sigh of relief as you took solace in the calm quiet.

That was until you felt a pair of arms shifting you closer to the edge of the couch. You peeked one eye open to see Mat rolling your body over to give him some space as he climbed over your body to nestle himself between you and the back cushions.

“Not going out on the boat?” You asked as he tucked a pillow under the both of your heads and pulled a blanket over your bodies.

“No. They’re exhausting. I need some time for myself,” Mat replied, wrapping his arm around your middle to pull you into his chest.

“No offense, but if you’re with me, you’re not by yourself,” you explained, closing your eyes again as you settled into a comfortable position.

“Yeah, but you’re you. You don’t exhaust me,” he said quietly. You didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t answer. Within a few seconds you heard Mat’s breathing even out, and you followed quickly behind him into a deep sleep.

A couple hours passed in a dreamless sleep when you heard the sliding of doors and laughter travel through the house. It stirred you from your sleep and you both shifted around, letting out displeased groans.

“Are they both still asleep?” You heard one of them ask from the kitchen. Neither of you wanted to answer in hopes they would leave you two to continue sleeping.

You were sadly mistaken.

“Hey! Sleeping beauties! Time to get up!” Tyson shouted from somewhere above you.

You both groaned out a “Fuck off, Tyson,” without opening your eyes, both of you giving him the middle finger. Tyson laughed to himself and you expected him to keep bothering you, but you heard his footsteps lead away from the couch. You turned over on your other side, tucking your face into Mat’s neck before falling back asleep.

When you woke up later that evening, you checked instagram again to see Tyson posted a new story. It was the video of him bothering you two and flipping him off with a caption that said “I get no respect around here :(“

It had been raining all day. Which meant everyone was stuck inside watching movies and eating pizza. It didn’t take long for you to get bored of lounging on the couch, especially when all they wanted to do was watch Fast and Furious movies. You sat on the loveseat you were sharing with Mat, and you distracted yourself from the boring movie by tangling your hands in your hair, French braiding the strands into pigtails mindlessly. You unbraided and rebraided your hair into a fishtail after the pigtails, and then into a regular braided ponytail after that. You let yourself get caught up in daydreams as you stared blankly at the TV when Mat started tugging on your leg. Dropping your braid, you finished tying it off with a hair tie and turned to look at him.

“Let me practice on you,” Mat said quietly.

“Practice what?” You asked.

“Braiding,” he said, shuffling to sit upright. He tried to gently push you off the couch until you got the hint and moved to sit between his legs on the floor.

“You think you can do it?” You asked, ready to offer him a demonstration.

“I’ve been watching you for the past half hour, I got this,” he replied, pulling out your hair tie. You rolled your eyes at his confidence, but let him continue unraveling the strands.

Every few minutes Mat would sigh exasperatedly before pulling out the twists he’d made to start over. Eventually, he’d almost gotten all the way to the end of your hair before he sighed again, clearly fed up by how long this was taking him. You didn’t say anything as he restarted for a third time, going for a straight back braid instead of a French braid.

After another ten minutes, Mat had finally completed his simple braid, tying your hair off with the tie. He tapped your shoulder to indicate he was done, and you pulled the long tail over your shoulder to look at it.

It was a braid.

An extremely loose one where he mixed up the strand order in a couple places, but a braid nonetheless. You turned around to get back up on the couch, and you were met with his triumphant smile.

“Good job, bud,” you complimented, leaving the braid in as you resumed your previous position on the couch.

You checked your phone to find a notification of a new story tag. You opened the app to see a picture of you on the floor, staring at the TV while Mat had his hands twisted in your hair and a confused look on his face and tongue poking out of his mouth. Next to your instagram tag was “he’s been knotting her hair on purpose for 20 minutes now”

Your final exams for the summer classes you were taking were in a week. Finals stressed you out more than anything else in the world, and when you were stressed, you did a lot of baking. A lot of baking. After finishing your finals study schedule and nearly breaking down almost twice because of the amount you had to get done, you decided to start baking instead of going to sleep. So, at 3 in the morning when everyone was asleep, you’d turned on the oven and brought out the bowls.

It began with a few dozen cookies. You figured everyone could at least enjoy the cookies. Who didn’t like cookies?

Cookies turned into muffins, muffins into cupcakes, and then cupcakes into pies. By the time everyone was waking up, it was nearly eleven in the morning. You’d gone to the store twice and had taken a few twenty minute naps while you waited for your desserts baked in the oven. And right now, you were in the middle of finishing off some cinnamon rolls for breakfast

“Oh my god, what the hell happened here?” Mat had asked with a scared expression, taking note of the disastrous kitchen. You didn’t answer him as you were topping off the rolls with some icing.

A few more bodies had gathered in the kitchen and began to fill the seats at the countertop while they watched you with worried eyes.

“What?” You asked innocently, placing the plates of cinnamon rolls in front of all of them. Their eyes followed you carefully as you pulled more goods out of the oven where you were keeping them warm. Plate after plate you set on the counter, all the cookies and muffins and cakes.

“How long have you been up?” Tyson asked cautiously. You swear you’ve never heard him use a softer voice than right now.

“I’m not sure. I never went to sleep, I guess? What time is it now?” You asked, pulling out glasses for orange juice.

“Nearly noon. You seriously didn’t sleep?” Tyson asked. The others had delved into the confections, eyes bouncing between the two of you as they stuffed their faces.

“She’s stress baking,” Mat replied quietly, helping himself to a cinnamon roll.

“What the hell is tress baking?” One of the other guys asked.

“Yeah she does this when she’s stressed. Usually when finals are coming up,” Mat said, directing it more towards you than his friend. You gave him a sheepish look, deciding not to comment since he already answered for you.

Mat was used to your stress baking as it resulted in you showing up at his place in the middle of the night with bags full of pastries in the late hours of the evening. It was always against his diet and he frequently gave most of your desserts to his neighbor, but he could never tell you no when you arrived with gifts.

“Well, I’m all out of flour, so, I’m going to run to the store again to get some more supplies so I can make a chocolate cake later,” you said hurriedly.

You did a quick double check of the kitchen, flashing all the guys a bright smile before heading out the door with your purse in hand, all of them staring until the front door shut behind you.

When you came back, you found Mat in the kitchen doing the dishes and nearly all the sweets you’d baked earlier were eaten or wrapped and put away. Maybe there was a plus side to being in a home with five other people.

“Mat, you don’t have to do that,” you said, setting your groceries down and hip checking him away from the sink.

“You’re already stressed, I figured doing the dishes would take away some of that,” he said with a shrug. He continued rinsing out some bowls as you gave him a small smile.

The two of you continued to wash the dishes in silence, moving to clean the countertops when you were done. After half an hour, the mess you’d made was gone and any signs of a baking breakdown had been erased.

It was a shame you were about to tear up the kitchen all over again.

“How about this,” Mat said, noticing the frown on your face at the thought of making another mess, “Let’s have a competition.”

You quirked your eyebrow, “I’m listening.”

“You said you were making a chocolate cake, right? How about we see who can make the better cake,” Mat propositioned.

You raised both your eyebrows this time. You both knew you were the better baker by a long shot. You did have this same breakdown at least twice a year. You weren’t even sure Mat knew how to make anything that didn’t come with box instructions or included possible salmonella-inducing ingredients.

You knew what he was really trying to do. He was trying to distract you from all the stress, and he knew you couldn’t turn down a competition. You were just as bad as him when it came to winning. Thankfully, this was something you knew you’d win.

“Fine, but I hope you’re prepared to lose,” you agreed with a smile.

“I don’t know, I have been practicing my cooking skills lately,” he said, grabbing the bowls he’d just dried off.

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it,” you replied with an eye roll and heavy sarcasm.

You joined him in gathering all the ingredients and materials on the counter, setting up your respective stations. Mat divided the workspace in half, drawing a line in flour which made you laugh. You split the bowls between the sides and set up the ingredients on the second counter just like an actual cooking show.

“Okay, ground rules first. Half an hour to make the cakes, we bake them at the same time, and then another half hour for decorating at the end,” you explained, tying your hair back in a ponytail. Mat nodded at your statement and set a timer on his phone for 30 minutes.

“Ready.”

“Set.”

“Go!”

After about two hours, your creations were done. Well, they were supposed to be. Mat’s cake looked more or less like a brown lump coated in frosting and stripes. You’d tried your best to decorate yours with small chocolate roses, but you could’ve turned out a plain cake and probably would have done better.

“I think I won,” you stated confidently.

“You’re not allowed to decide, you’re biased! I’ll make a poll on my story,” Mat said, going to grab his phone.

“You can’t do that, your followers are going to pick yours.”

“Fine, we’ll get someone else to do it— Josty! Come here,” Mat called to his friend passing through the kitchen. He hesitantly walked over to where you were, not wanting to come in the middle of whatever you two were shouting about.

“We need you to make an instagram poll to see who’s cake looks better. Oh, and you’re going to taste test them,” you said, picking up your cake to pose for a picture as Mat did the same. Tyson sighed before realizing you two were serious and he opened his app to take a picture.

He added the photo to his story with a poll asking “Which one is better?” With two options, Y/N’s or Mat’s.

After you set the cakes back down, Tyson picked up a fork before stabbing them to pick out a chunk from each. He ate yours first, nearly moaning at the taste.

“Holy shit, this is, like, the best cake I’ve ever eaten,” Tyson said, shoveling down another forkful. You gave Mat a shit-eating grin.

“Okay, okay, try mine now,” Mat said, displeased. Tyson rolled his eyes before forking out some of his.

“Uh,” he coughed, “it’s a little,” cough, “dry.”

“What? No, it’s not! Let me try,” Mat shouted, outraged, and grabbed Tyson’s fork to try for himself.

It took him two seconds before he was spitting the cake into a napkin.

“Fine. You win,” Mat conceded, throwing a dish towel against the counter in mock fury.

You gloated for another 5 minutes, pointing out Mat’s terrible baking skills as Tyson continued to eat your cake and laugh at Mat.

You won the instagram poll too.

+ 1

It was the last week before you and Mat were flying back to New York. The past month had passed quickly, and Mat needed to get back for the start of training camps. As the summer began to end, the whole crew thought they’d spend one last day on the boat before everyone started parting ways.

It’s not like you were opposed to being on boats, but when all the guys did was water sports and no one wanted to slow down to teach you, it wasn’t as fun.

Today, however, had been quite calm as you sat against the front of the boat, a seltzer in hand as you watched Tyson wakeboarding in the back. Mat was curled up behind you as you leaned back against his chest, tanned skin shining in the summer sun. You reached back to grab the baseball cap off his head, placing it on yours to shield your eyes from the sun. You’d forgotten to bring sunglasses, and you figured Mat could part with his hat since he had a pair.

The day passed peacefully as all the guys took turns until it was sunset. Mat had joined you back on the seat, skin wet from just getting out of the water. He wrapped you in his arms before pulling you onto his lap, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, Tys, take a picture of us real quick,” Mat said, shoving his phone into Tyson’s chest.

You thought nothing of it, you and Mat had taken many pictures together, and this was no different. Mat rested his chin on your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your stomach as you both gave your cheesiest smiles to the camera. A quick shutter indicated the picture was taken and Tyson gave Mat his phone back.

Mat called your name from your bed as you stood in the adjoined bathroom, finishing your nightly routine.

“Hey, do you mind if I post that picture of us on my instagram?” Mat called out.

“The one from the boat? Why?” You asked, drying off your face with a towel.

“It’s a cute picture,” he shrugged when you reentered the room.

“People are going to start talking if you do,” you warned with a cautious tone.

He paused for a second.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Mat asked quietly, looking up to meet your eyes.

You stayed silent as you climbed in under the covers.

“What are you trying to say, Mat?”

He took a deep breath, “I think you’re amazing, you know that. And we’ve been friends for so long, it kind of feels natural, doesn’t it?” His fingers began tapping against the sheets anxiously as he held his breath and waited for your response.

You gave him a small smile, moving your body around to fully face him.

“It does,” you agreed, “But if you want us to be something more, you’re going to have to ask me on a date first.”

“A date? After I’ve already gotten you into bed? What’s the point?” You knew he meant it as a joke since he could barely finish the sentence without laughing, but you gently slapped his head as he began to apologize.

“I’m kidding!” He said between chuckles, “Will you go on a date with me once we get back to New York and it’s safe to go out again?”

“I’d love to, Mat,” you replied, leaning in to give him a sweet kiss.

“I’m still going to post that photo tomorrow, though,” he said after a short pause, smiling against your lips.

The next day when Mat had gone on a fishing trip with the guys, you saw a notification pop up on your phone.

“@barzal97 tagged you in a photo”

You unlocked your phone.

“Isolation isn’t so bad when you have this girl to spend it with”

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #nhl fic #my writing #isles13

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kass-storycorner · 3 years

Text

Oh god, okay hear me out. I suffer from insomnia and I couldn’t get Childes letter out of my head (btw the English version is so much less “I am in love with you” than the German one. He literally says in the German version that he misses us and wants us to visit him, like straight up this is a love letter!! The English version is really toned down in comparison).

So. I know his birthday is over, at least where I’m from. But. I wrote this whole ass fan fic, that is way too long, because I was so inspired by that letter. I’m not really satisfied with the ending, I honestly wanted to add so much more fluff but… I also didn’t want to make this too long, I actually planned for it to be short??? help (also it’s 4am now noooo)

Happy birthday, Tartaglia

Genre: a little bit angsty, fluff, comfort

Rating: SFW, though mentions of kissing and sharing a bed

Content warnings: mention of a family death, Bennett’s bad luck lol but both are unrelated haha

Characters: Tartaglia x gn!reader, a guest appearance of Bennett, mention of Zhongli

Word count: 2,796 words (oooh f*ck haha)

You’ve been busy the whole day doing some commissions for the Adventures Guild and were now on your way to Mondstadt, when you heard a familiar voice call your name. “(Y/N)!”, Bennett called out to you and ran into your direction. A deep sigh left your throat, while you enjoyed Bennett’s company most of the time… you had to deal with a ton of your own bad luck today. Not one of the commissions today went the way they usually did, everything that could’ve gone wrong did go wrong. It was honestly just very frustrating, although you couldn’t be really sure if it was because of bad luck or because your mind was somewhere else most of the day. You shook your head, trying to get rid of the tiredness you already felt in your whole body and made your way towards Bennett. No matter what he needed help with you would be sure you could handle it. And in that moment, as the thought of how it wouldn’t be a big deal whatever Bennett had on his chest, you saw how the young adventure tripped over his own feet and fell face forwards into the dirt. ‘Ouch, that must’ve hurt’, you thought while running up to him. “Are you hurt? Here, let me help you up Bennett”, you asked while helping him get up from the ground. All you got as an answer from him was his usual laugh and smile. “Oh man, I really didn’t see that stone. Haha, thanks for the concern though!” You couldn’t help yourself and chuckled at the way he wiped off the dirt from his clothes. “So, what’s up? What do you want from me?.” “Yeah, right! I nearly forgot!”, he exclaimed and started fumbling in his bag. “Oh, got a present for me?”, you asked sheepishly. “Kinda, not really. Here!” Bennett held a letter in his hands, both bandaged again, and stretching it out to you. “A letter? For me?”, you took it in your hands. In a fine handwriting there was your name on it. It didn’t even took you a second for you to register who’s hand writing it was. What a surprise.

Before you could even start to ask Bennett how he got his hands on the letter he was already excitedly explaining it to you. “Today I had a commission on Dragonspine and to be honest, it didn’t really went that well until I ran into this one guy. I accidentally activated a few Ruin guards and well, even the most seasoned adventurer can’t fight more than one of these at a time and sadly the newest members of Benny’s adventure team had to go home again before we made it even to the mountain.”

The thought of Bennett nearly finding his end today on Dragonspine really… it really did not sit right with you. You made a mental note to ask him later who the new members were that ditched him. After you had your talk with them they wished they had stayed with Bennett on Dragonspine. “Well, in that moment when they approached me that one guy showed up and it only took him a few minutes to defeat them all. (Y/N) that was so cool! I tried to recruit him for my adventure team, but sadly he said he was already occupied with something else. Oh man, it would’ve been so cool to have him on my adventurer team, imagine with such an excellent fighter no one would be afraid of my bad luck to join my team.” While you enjoyed Bennett’s enthusiasm you had to interrupt him. “Wait, wait, Bennett. The person who gave you this letter is on Dragonspine?”

“Oh yeah! As I was saying I tried to recruit him for my team, but failed however we talked a bit and somehow he mentioned that he knew you! When I told him we were friends he asked me to give you this letter the next time I saw you.”

You felt how the excitement in you grew. He was on Dragonspine? He was so close to you again? Now you hardly could pay attention to what Bennett continued to say, all that was on your mind was the man, whom you saw the last time months ago in Liyue was so close again. “Bennett,” you interrupted him again. “Thank you so much for the letter, but I really need to get going. Thank you so much!”

And with that you changed your direction and made your way directly to Dragonspine. “Oh? Okay, bye (Y/N)!”, you heard Bennett call after you, but your mind was already occupied with opening that letter he gave you.

With shaking hands you read what stood on that thin paper in that neat and familiar handwriting:

“Hey, comrade! How have you been? You must have traveled far and wide since we last saw each other, right?

For me, I can only seek out some entertainment for myself. These past couple of days, I’ve used a work opportunity to explore Dragonspine and seek out some local specialties. I hope they will be of use to you.

The harsh cold of the snow-capped mountains is reminiscent to the scenery of my hometown…

Sigh, I’ve had many mundane days that makes me nostalgic of our time together. Whether it’s a fight or a challenge, I always feel that having you around is what makes life really interesting.

Haha, to be honest, I’ve been planning a special day to meet up with you, today could be that chance! If you have no special plans, how about you swing by my place?

I miss you, Tartaglia”

Quickly you put the letter in your bag with what accompanied it and now you were basically running towards Dragonspine. Right now you didn’t want to think about what kind of “work opportunity” there could be for the Harbringer on Dragonspine, all you could think about was seeing him again.

It has been months since you both parted ways in Liyue. You met him while being on a commission, funnily enough it was a bit similar how Bennett ran into him today. In one of Liyues ruins you looked for a book some historian in Liyue Harbour desperately tried to get their hands on. By the amount of Mora they were willing to pay it should’ve been obvious to you that it wasn’t a one-person mission… and still, you went alone into those ruins. You had no problem in destroying the first two ruin guards you ran into, but when three activated at the same time… If it weren’t for Tartaglia back then you would probably be dead. At first you were very thankful for his help, however when you found out he was also there for the book you needed your thankfulness quickly turned into anger. “Well, don’t you think I deserve a reward for helping you out, comrade?”, he teased you.

After that day you somehow always managed to run into him in Liyue Harbour or on your commissions. Back then you only knew him by his name used by the Fatui, Childe. Though it was well known in Liyue that he was one of the Harbringers, you somehow didn’t get that message after months of openly antagonising him. Only after Childe invited himself to your usual afternoon teas with your friend Zhongli you learned about his affiliations, but also more about him. If someone was hearing two people bickering, the people of Liyue knew it was you two. However none of it was malicious. Somehow it was the way you and Childe showed each other the appreciation you had for one another.

The first dislike you had for him grew quickly into a warm friendship. And that friendship grew in something more after awhile.

The first time you noticed a change in your feelings towards Childe was around the time of the Lantern rite festival. One night you were supposed to meet up with Zhongli - but Childe showed up in his instead. Apparently, so Childe, there was a lot to do at the Parlour because of a new promotion the director wanted to try and needed Zhonglis help with, so Zhongli asked Childe to accompany you to the Lantern rite.

Until this day you weren’t sure if this was just a set up by Zhongli, but even if it was, you wouldn’t hold it against him.

That night, when you and Childe walked around Liyue Harbour and watched the lanterns something fundamentally changed between the two of you. After that night you knew so much more about him and he about you. From that day on he wasn’t Childe anymore, he was Tartaglia. And both of you finally knew how the lips of the other felt on your own.

Now you were so close again to feel his warm arms around you, to listen to the sound of his heartbeat when you rested your head on his chest and to feel his lips on yours again. Oh how you missed him too.

Parting ways wasn’t easy. Both of you knew that it was best to not be so public with your relationship, for several reasons. On the one hand the Fatui weren’t what you would call popular - most people would use some stronger word to describe them. Being a Mondstadt citizen in Liyue openly dating a member of the Fatui, yeah no. On the other it was also not really well liked by the Tsaritsa for the members of the Fatui, no matter if you were just a low henchman or a Harbringer, to get involved in that way with outsides. With “not well liked” it was more implied that she forbade any romantic relationships outside and inside the Fatui ranks when they were on a mission. And Tartaglia was on a mission, a mission you knew nothing about, but to be honest? You preferred it that way. The longer you were able to ignore what it meant for him to be part of the Fatui, the better.

So because of all of this you both decided it would be best to keep the relationship in the shadows.

You both knew for sure was that you had to part ways one day, however none of you expected that you were the one going home before Tartaglia. There were a lot of nights of laying in bed with him, sharing stories from each of your homes. You told him about the Windblume Festival and Ludi Hapestrum, he told you about the festivals and traditions of Snezhnaya. When you shared stories of how your little siblings and you loved to collect as many dandelions as possible when you were children to pretend that it was snowing in the summer, he would counteract that story with the times he built entire fortresses with his siblings out of the snow in the winter. Only to then pull you closer and whisper in your ear that he’ll show you how to do that when you come with him back to Snezhnaya. You would always whisper back “okay, but first you’d need to glide with me off Startsnatch cliff”. The lovely nights you both spend together, telling each other of your homes and how much you want to show it to them were harshly interrupted by a letter you got from your family.

Life sometimes isn’t fair. It’s hard and it brutal and it’s short. So when you got the letter from your family informing you that the youngest member of the family had died, it broke you to pieces. They were only 14. That night Tartaglia held you in his arms, his hand on the back of your head, your head pressed into his chest and none of you could say a word. Only the sound of you crying piercing the quite room. Too heavy was the grief for anything to be said anyways.

The day immediately after you received that letter you and Tartaglia parted way, a quite and sad goodbye. None of you were actually sure when you would see each other again. With his hands against your tear stained face, the tears not only being shed out of grief but also out of the pain you had to leave your lover, he promised to write you as often as he could. You promised you would answer. And then you left, wishing he could come with you. Words you did not dare to speak, because you knew he couldn’t, no matter how much he wanted to.

Now you found yourself close to one of the Fatui camps on Dragonspine. It was quite irresponsible to just run up the mountain, without any proper preparation or knowledge where Tartaglias camp actually was. You sighed. The excitement of seeing him after such a long time, after just exchanging letters got the best of you. Frustrated with yourself you made your way towards the campsite, hoping that this time the Fatui henchmen wouldn’t immediately start attacking every stranger they see. However when you arrived at the camp site you saw that no one was there. Too exhausted from the commissions earlier in the day and running up the Dragonspine you let yourself fall down in front of the extinguished campfire. Slowly but surly the cold weather of the Dragonspine was catching up to you.

Going through your bag you were looking for the stones Tartaglia send with his letter, hoping to ignite a fire with them. But before you could find them you heart footsteps in the snow behind you.

You hadn’t even had the chance to turn around before you felt two arms looping around your body, immediately warming you up.

“Hey comrade, did you miss me?”

You felt his head on your shoulders and you couldn’t help but to lean your own against his. One of your hands made its way up to his face, touching his cheek. “Yes,” you whispered.

Turning your head you now looked into his deep blue eyes, they were filled with all the love he had for you. You wished he could look at you like this forever… that you could look at him forever.

Tartaglia leaned a bit forward, placing a soft kiss on your lips and you couldn’t help it but smile.

He slowly pulled away, entangling himself from the hug and holding his hand out to you. “Come, let’s go inside the tent. You must be freezing out here”.

Inside the tent Tartaglia threw one blanket on another blanket over another over you, while lecturing you on what appropriate clothing was for a weather like this. You really didn’t give it any second thought when you made your way to Dragonspine, still wearing the same clothes you would wear on a sunny day in Mondstadt. But you also couldn’t hide it how much you loved to just hear his voice, even when he was nagging you. “It’s fine really, now stop trying to bury me under all the blankets and warm me up yourself”, you took his hand and pulled him towards you onto the plank. “You know some people would find what you said very suggestiv”, he joked, joining you under the immense amount of blankets. “Mmmmh,” was the only thing you replied, completely enamoured with him having you by your side again. For a few minutes the both of you just laid there, close to each other and feeling each other’s heartbeat.

None of you could actually believe your luck to be in the arms of the other again. How much you had missed this. Missed him.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, making you look into his eyes again. “How you’ve been doing?”.

It was such a soft question and you knew what he meant. You wanted to tell him how exhausting everything has been since your arrival, how your family was breaking apart at all ends, what a shit show it all was. In your letters you only alluded to how bad it actually is. How it was all just made worse by him not being at your side. Though you knew you would have to tell him all of this sooner or later, right now you didn’t want to talk about it. Not in detail. Not when today was actually his special day. “It’s manageable, but better now that I’m here with you”, you replied to his question. “You?”

“Better, now that I have you here”, was his reply. You both smiled at each other, a warm and tender smile. Slowly you adjusted your position so that you now were laying on top of him, your chin on his chest. “Hey, there is something I forgot to tell you.”

“Oh, and what is it?”

“Happy Birthday, Tartaglia”, and with that you kissed him.

#happy Birthday Childe #happy Birthday tartaglia #tartaglia #Childe #Genshin impact #Childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin #Genshin fan fic #fluff #angst #comfort #okay I’m adding more tags tomorrow I’m tired and I want to post this now haha #well at least writing this brought me closer to dream land hurray

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tnystrk-exe · 3 years

Text

Repentance

Your choices led you here.

AN: Honestly I couldn’t get the idea for the last scene out of my head.

“Alright team,” you heard Cap through your ear piece, “time to go home.”

And you did. Without a second thought.

Tony had sent out a relief squad and different aids for people. He had hoped to help. There was no after party this time around. But you understood why. Especially after finding him in his lab, staring longingly at a bottle of scotch, a screen of names scrolling past. The mission had put him through enough to want to cancel his promise of good behavior.

You walked over to him. Replacing the bottle with a cup of coffee you had brought down. “Tony, you did what you thought was right.”

“That’s not enough for them… their families. For what? A fucking whim of ours?”

“I know,” you sighed, walking over to a sink and pouring out the bottle, “I think about it too. What we could have done. What shouldn’t have. But in the moment with you, Bruce, and I all in the lab it felt right.”

“You saw the recording of New York. How couldn’t I try, something? Anything.”

A shiver went up your spine as you remembered the helmet’s footage. As much as the team had done. It would have all been over if that ship had touched ground. “We need protection,” you confirmed, “but maybe not an A.I.. Honestly, we’re probably just going to have to rely on finding good people. You should look for them instead of…”

“Are you still going to that memorial?”

“Yeah, but not as an Avenger.”

Then it all happened. After Sokovia, you all knew in a way that pulling at the right thread would tear the fabric of the team apart. Too many conflicting thoughts. Placing blame on one another. The Accords. Not wanting to be held down by a contract even though you could work your way through to the top if you could play your cards right.

None of you had ever imagined it would end like this. Broken apart. Teared open and bruised.

You had found Tony using the suites intertwined tracking systems. A tape played on repeat. The Winter Soldier, murdering two people. On a second viewing, you finally realized who exactly they were. Bile rose up your throat, you needed to find him. That just left finding him as Steve had left him. Cut up, tears- that you wouldn’t dare mention- streaked his face as he angrily shoved off pieces of his suit. A wound he had tried desperately to heal ripped open again with betrayal to act as salt.

You didn’t take away his bottle that night. Hell, you joined him.

“I’m still against this, YN,” Tony sighed, looking at you with that tired look of his, “Why?”

“I don’t know, Tone. It just feels like something I need to do. For myself more than anything.” You placed the last of your things in the suitcase. “As much as I hate what he’s done. There are things I can understand.”

“He broke us apart.”

“We were already divided. As much as we tried to be a family, do all this shit together… The second there was pressure we went into our normal fractions. Honestly, it’s a damn wonder we trusted Double Agent over there.”

He nodded, understanding that you had made a couple of points. “That was a bad call, but hey you can’t win everytime. ...I’m glad you chose this side if anything.”

“Yeah sap, what would I do without your cash?” You joked, “We’re in this together old man. Thick and thin. You know that. Anyways, by the time I come back, I fully expect a ring on Pep’s finger.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hap’s been waiting for you for the past hour. Get going, come back safe and all that jazz.”

Walking through the prison was nerve wrenching. Honestly, even though you had planned out the trip, you really didn’t expect him to agree to the visitation. You followed the guard down the long, dim corridors, not knowing exactly what you’d do or why you were there.

“Here you are. Everything is being monitored.” With that he opened the door and slammed it shut behind you.

“Zemo,” you greeted when you laid sight on the man.

“Avenger,” he said it more as an insult, “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

“I owe you an apology,” you stated simply, “I really am. What you went through, it wasn’t anything I expected to happen.”

“I can accept it if that's what you wish, however what use does it have for me, really? You people do as you wish without a thought of what happens to others. People get hurt and killed. Then you’d all go home, back to your obnoxious towers and celebrate that none of you were killed. How many have taken your place?”

“That’s fair,” you nodded, looking at the ground, “I deserve that.”

“Did you celebrate the destruction Tony Stark created?”

You laughed humorlessly, “He always gets all the credit for that, probably because of the tin foil wrapping. It’s a shared burden, I’m afraid, Bruce and I worked just as hard to create Ultron. No. We didn’t celebrate.”

“Then we’re even. You took my family, I tore yours apart.”

“It’s not the first I’ve lost. Knowing my luck it isn’t the last.”

He tilted his head, signaling you to go on.

“We were some dumb kids at the time, maybe 16 or so. The community we lived in was an absolute shithole. Things would get swept under the rug. People would get hurt, killed, used for fun, just because that’s what people felt like doing. So what are a group of good for nothing orphans going to do, none of us really had much hope. We became vigilantis of sorts using ourselves as bait regularly. Did what we had to do. But we were young, dumb and things always have a way of catching up with you.”

“I’m very sorry for the pain you experienced in your youth.”

“Like you said…” you shook away the memories,you weren’t here to rehash those years, “The point is Zemo, I need you to know I do feel for you. I’ve looked into you and you were a good man, probably still are under all the pain. When we made Ultron we had hopes for the best, after what happened in 2012, we all knew something bigger would happen. Tony and I share that, we get paranoid, but how can’t you be when shit hits the fan like that,” you snapped, “It was just a matter of how, when, if we’d be prepared… and in all of that we failed. So honed in to the details of what we could do, we were blinded to what we would cause. Zemo, no amount of forgiveness would ever clear me of the guilt of just how badly we failed you.”

Zemo stared at you, searching for any sign that this was all just a show. When he finally decided you were sincere he gave you a nod.

“There’s something I want to ask of you…”

That’s how you found yourself in Zemo’s family grave. Each step brought you closer to three of the deaths you helped cause. His son was in between his wife and father. The bag of sweets at your side was held limply as you found your way to the right grave.

“Hey, buddy,” you set the Turkish delights on the grave, “Your father said he’s sorry, he couldn’t do this for you this year. But don’t worry, I’ll pick it up for him.”

A shuddered breath escaped you as you thought about the child in the ground. Only able to conjure up a picture of a younger looking Helmut Zemo. A soft round face, light brown hair that was combed neatly just to be messed up seconds later, eyes that questioned everything in the world around him. He should’ve been wreaking havoc, running throughout the home with his father chasing after the excited child. Instead of here, where your choices had placed him.

Sitting down on the ground you fished out the book Zemo had instructed you to get, “Now, I believe your father said he had been really excited to read this one to you. It was one of his favorites.”

#Helmut zemo #tfatws #helmut Zemo x reader #zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader

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kpopfanfictrash · 4 years

Text

Raise the Barre (Ch. 2)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Word Count: 6,436

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.

After the initial shock of your partner wore off, you decided spending the semester partnered with Park Jimin was, indeed, the dark sentence it appeared to be at first glance.

Jimin wasn’t happy with the situation either; that much became clear when Mr. Vlad said your name and Jimin instantly stiffened. You’d turned slowly to face him, your mind going fuzzy as you met his blank gaze.

The first two weeks of the semester had been spent wondering if this was some kind of cruel, cosmic joke. Maybe you’d been a terrible person in a past life and this was your bitter reward. If so, Jimin must have pissed someone off too, since he seemed equally perturbed by your new relationship.

Waiting in line at the water fountain, you checked the time once again and exhaled. Ballet began in five minutes and Miss Britt employed the same lateness tolerance policy as Mr. Vlad. Really, it was a blanket expectation by all the teachers at Russet. If you arrived after the door shut, you weren’t allowed in – and god forbid you missed a step the next week during barre. Motivated to avoid this, you’d arrived fifteen minutes early every day since classes started – it was hardest for 8:00 AM ballet, but that couldn’t be helped.

Once your water bottle was full, you screwed on the cap and hustled into the room with three minutes to spare. Miss Britt stood at the front beside the live pianist. She insisted on using one for all her classes, saying it was good practice for when you’d dance with an orchestra.

Arms crossed, she surveyed each student when they entered, and you hastened to stand beside Noelle at the bar. Placing your water bottle on the floor, you began to roll your neck and warm up your feet.

From across the room, you heard Jimin laugh and looked up on reflex – only to find him standing next to Sabrina.

Uncertain, you froze. You hadn’t made it a habit to follow Jimin’s movements, or even to learn more about him since your arrival at Russet. You saw him in class and occasionally on the weekends but had made it a point to keep your friend groups separate. As a result, you really had no idea what Jimin had been up to in his private time.

It seemed the answer to your question was: cozying up to the enemy. Since that first night in Grace Hall, Sabrina had proven herself to be as unpleasant as you’d feared. You’d mostly tried to steer clear of her path, but again, this was hard to achieve in a class of eighty students.

While you watched, Jimin laughed again and Sabrina smiled. She looked almost pleasant and in response to this, your eyes narrowed.

Objectively, you didn’t want Jimin as your dance partner, but he’d been assigned to you. It’d be incredibly embarrassing if he asked to switch midway through the semester. Everyone would know it was because of you and you’d have no other options when the New Year rolled around.

Faculty clarified the partner situation by the end of the first week. Apparently, only your first ballet partner at Russet was assigned. This was done on purpose, in order to get you used to working with new people, but you’d be allowed to choose your own partner starting January 1st. This was the only reason you hadn’t immediately marched to the front office and demanded a change. Clearly, this was a test of partnership. Jimin might be the devil himself, but he hadn’t asked to switch partners and you’d be damned if you gave in before he did.

On the opposite side of the room, Jimin smiled and you scowled, wondering what Sabrina could possibly have to say that he found so hilarious. In the two weeks you’d known her, Sabrina had yet to utter a joke in your presence. Suspicion clouded your judgement, since it was no secret amongst the class that Sabrina’s ballet partner wasn’t as talented as she was.

The idea that she might be after Jimin entered your mind while you watched. While you didn’t want to be Jimin’s partner, you also didn’t want Sabrina to be Jimin’s partner.

You were shaken from this thought by Miss Britt clapping her hands.

“Pliés, ladies and gentlemen!”

Miss Britt led ballet class on Tuesdays; right now, she stood at the front of the room while she waited for everyone to echo her movements.

“From first,” she said, adopting the same position. “Little breath on the intro, and – demi plié one, two. Demi plié three, up four. Grand plié five, port de bras six –up seven, eight. Rise to relevé on two! Hold three, four. Grand plié five, up six, tendu to second. Repeat!”

You followed her with half-movements, attempting to mimic her delicate port de bras. The grand plié was fast, which was tricky – you’d need to control your center as you rose from the ground.

“Start on the right,” said Miss Britt, turning around. “Skip third. I want to see you sweating by the end, everyone! Pliés should be as much effort as battements! If I don’t see sweat, we’ll do center barre again next week.”

A ripple of panic went through the class.

Center barre was a time-honored ballet tradition, loathed by all. It involved doing warm-ups in the center of the room instead of at the barre. This required additional strength and concentration; enough to cripple even the most stoic of ballerinas.

As the pianist started, the entire class inhaled and fell into motion. Hips square, core engaged, heels down, head tilted up and to the side. You let each breath you took flow through your body, mirroring the stance Miss Britt had shown.

True to her demand, your muscles were already warm by the end of the first side. Miss Britt made her rounds at the edge of the classroom, stopping occasionally to dole out corrections.

“Your back is arched, Irene!” she called. “There, that’s better. Louis, move through the motion. Save your ballistic stretching for jazz class. Good, good.”

“She’s coming,” Noelle whispered beneath her breath.

Hiding a smile, you ducked your head. Miss Britt was close – you could see her in the corner of your eye as she turned the corner, heading down your row with an eagle’s eye.

Dropping into the final plié, you struggled to keep your hips square while you rose from the ground. Miss Britt stopped alongside you, examining you for a moment before she began to walk forward.

“Heels forward,” she said, correcting your stance. “Imagine everything rotates from the hips. Push down through the ground and out! All motion is powered by the glutes. Yes… better,” she said, begrudgingly moving on.

A bead of sweat rolled down your neck and dropped into your leotard. You knew her praise hadn’t been as genuine for you as it had been for others. Noelle glanced your way from the corner of her eye, but you continued to stare straight ahead. Miss Britt was nearby, and you didn’t want to give her another reason to scold.

As the music came to a close, Miss Britt stopped at the front and began the tendu combination. You were soaked with sweat before rond de jambes ended, only the massive amounts of hair spray and gel you had used holding your bun in place.

Barre lasted over an hour, which was longer than usual. As you and Noelle dragged your barre to the side at the end, you felt your grip slipping on the silvery metal. Trying to stay hydrated, you drank half your water bottle on the side of the room.

The water break didn’t last long – soon you were gathered in the center of the room for adagio. Miss Britt was the kind of teacher who used both hands and feet to relay the combination. You stood on the sidelines and watched; a bit dizzy from how much you’d sweated already. More water before class would’ve been a good thing.

The one positive about the adagio was it was a solo, not a pas de deux. You had ballet partnering classes throughout the week, of course, but oftentimes your normal ballet teachers assigned partner work as well.

This was why Jimin stood beside you, hovering nearby in case he was needed.

Casting a withering glance at him in the mirror, you assumed fifth position and firmly squared your shoulders. Behind you and to the left, Jimin rolled his eyes.

Jaw clenched, you decided to ignore him.

Sabrina stood on the opposite side of the room, paired with Paulo Goncalves, a talented ballet dancer – just not as talented as she was. Before you could look away, she turned her head in your direction. You winced, ready to move but then realized she wasn’t looking at you.

She stared at Jimin. Sabrina looked at him in much the same way mothers examined produce in the grocery store, taking in every angle to determine if it was valuable.

You stiffened when you saw this, unsure what to do. Sabrina’s gaze moved to you before you could blink and when she saw you, she smiled.

It wasn’t a nice gesture.

This was disarming enough that when the music began, your mind went completely blank. The rest of the class started, raising their arms overhead and you could only stare, lips parting in horror. All steps of the combination had flown from your mind.

“Développé devant,” Jimin whispered behind you.

Instantly, the steps returned to your memory. Snapping to attention, you raised both arms overhead. As you caught up to the class, you extended your right leg in the air.

Miss Britt turned in your direction, luckily not noticing your momentary confusion and when she moved on to Brian, you exhaled in relief. As the combination continued, a question mark formed in your mind, and you chanced a subtle glance sideways at Jimin.

A vague sense of confusion settled over you. Jimin had helped you, which seemed extremely out of character for a demon from the depths of Hades.

When you glanced his way though, Jimin didn’t seem to notice anything was off. He looked almost peaceful as he moved through the combination, executing the steps with perfect timing. The sight of this made your blood boil, since the combination was difficult, and he had the audacity to make it look so fucking easy.

Each line of his body radiated grace and control; he truly was remarkable, it made you nauseous to watch. The lightest twitch of his pinky was purposeful, his body held perfectly still as he stepped into arabesque.

You lost sight of him when you penchéd, catching Jimin again in the mirror when you rose. Logically, you knew he was also working hard, but it didn’t show at all. You, on the other hand, were working and looked like you were.

When the combination ended, Jimin breathed easily, barely winded, while you felt as though you’d just run a marathon.

“Y/N!”

Head whipping up, you met Miss Britt’s gaze at the front of the room. For a moment, you panicked and wondered if she’d seen your lapse after all. If there was one thing not tolerated at Russet, it was failing to pay attention.

She looked at you for a moment, as though searching for what to say and then simply said, “Square your hips in arabesque.”

You sagged slightly in relief. “I will,” you promised, but she’d already moved on.

“Irene, less port de bras. Any more flapping and you’ll fly away. Paulo – you’re lagging on your transitions. Stay on the beat. Now,” she said, turning around. “Find your partner. The next adagio is paired.”

Jimin walked forward and came to a stop beside you. You stiffened at his proximity, uncertain what to say.

He’d helped you – Park Jimin had helped and you couldn’t fathom why. For the entirety of your teenage years, Jimin had been your worst enemy; it only stood to reason the trend would continue at Russet. When he glanced at you in the mirror, you found the silence unbearable.

“Thanks,” you said at last.

Jimin turned to face you, surprised. “What for?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to face him as well. “You know what.”

“I do.” Maddeningly, he smiled. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Well,” you said through gritted teeth. “We all have things we want but can’t have.”

Jimin was about to respond when you noticed Miss Britt starting the combination at the front. She had one of the students from senior class helping, an incredibly talented dancer named Seokjin. Seokjin was ridiculously beautiful and equally shy. This didn’t stop half the freshman class – girls and boys – from harboring a fat crush on him.

Holding out his palm, Jimin waited until you placed your hand in his. Pulling you close, his other hand went to your waist while Miss Britt began the combination.

“Start in fifth,” she said with Seokjin behind her. “Ladies – relevé one! Hold two. Both plié three, up four. Ladies – right leg to passé and extend seven, eight. Relevé one! Hold two, hold three, four. Bring leg to attitude efface – seven, eight.”

Already, you found yourself sweating and you were only marking the steps. So far, the adagio placed heavy emphasis on the female partner, with the male only offering support. This was frustrating, since male partnering was difficult, but in a different way than for women. Men needed exceptional strength and balance to support their partner, but oftentimes it was the woman executing the more technical steps.

After front attitude, you extended your leg, pliéd and Jimin lifted you up. This required great coordination and timing – both his hands on your waist, he hoisted you into the air. Miss Britt stopped the music at this point to give you a minute to practice.

Not that this helped. While in high school, you’d done minimal partner dancing. Your studio hadn’t had any male dancers in your level; the partnering you had done was mostly female, which was a different expectation than traditional ballet.

The lift was hard and even two weeks into classes, you and Jimin still hadn’t mastered it. You kept smacking Jimin’s chin with your head when you leapt from the ground. This time was no exception – you heard the crack when it happened, a sharp pain radiating from the base of your skull. Jimin swiftly let go, dropping you on your feet.

“Ouch!” he yelped, stumbling backwards.

“Sorry!” you said, whirling around. “Are you alright?”

Jimin rubbed his jaw. “Yeah,” he grumbled. “I’m fine. Let’s just… try it again.”

You nodded and maneuvered dutifully into position, his hands returning to the same spot on your waist. After a deep inhale, you pliéd and jumped – and Jimin immediately dropped you, your feet hitting the floor.

“What was that?” you demanded as you spun around.

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Why are you asking me? You’re the one whose weight was pitched forward!”

“It was not!” Despite this, you frowned. It was possible Jimin was correct on this one. “Let’s just… do it again.”

Jaw clenched, Jimin returned to position and you tried it again. This time was passable; no one smacked anyone’s chin when they jumped and you landed on the right count, but it still felt somehow off. You were working too hard; when you glanced at Noelle and her partner, Eamon, their lift looked so effortless. Such mastery escaped you, slipping through your grasp no matter how often you practiced.

At the next water break, you immediately left Jimin’s side. Going as far away from him as you could, you drank eagerly from your bottle and relished in the silence.

Someone coughed from behind you.

Turning around, your expression instantly soured when you found Sabrina inches away. She had nary a hair out of place and for a moment, you wondered what’d happen if you messed up her bun. You got the feeling Sabrina was used to being in control.

Before you could speak, she took a small sip of water. Her gaze searched the room and landed on Jimin, who was saying something to Seokjin with a laugh.

“He’s talented,” she remarked.

Ignoring this, you drank from your own water bottle. “If you say so.”

Her gaze returned to yours, lips curled in a smile. “I do say so. You know it’s true, too. Jimin is talented, which makes me think you’re the reason you two can’t get that lift.”

Stiffening somewhat, you slowly bent to place your water bottle down on the floor. As you rose, you took a step forward and lifted your chin.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” you told her.

Sabrina’s lip twitched. “Oh. Touchy.”

“You should leave. Isn’t your partner looking for you?”

“Hm, not sure. He might not be my partner for long.”

Unthinkingly, you stiffened. “What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said.” Sabrina examined the nails on one hand. “It’s a pity Jimin has to be partnered with you when he could have the best dancer in the class. I plan on letting him know I’m available, if he ever wants to switch.”

“Are you seriously–”

“Miss Y/L/N!”

Both of you shut up, your heads snapping sideways and Sabrina immediately took a step backwards. Miss Britt stood before you, but how long she’d been there, you didn’t know. Desperately, you hoped she hadn’t heard the entire conversation.

Sabrina immediately turned away; Miss Britt let her go, which didn’t bode well for you. You’d been holding out hope this had something to do with your conversation, but this didn’t seem to be the case. Miss Britt watched Sabrina leave before she turned to you.

“I’d like to speak after class, if that’s alright,” she said, her voice low.

She didn’t sound angry, which made it even worse. Anger was a fickle emotion; it came easily and left easily. The calmness was worse, since it sounded like Miss Britt had something serious to say.

“Sure,” you said, managing to nod. “I’ll stay.”

She nodded and turned away, walking to the front while you stared at her back. After a moment, you shook yourself free and moved towards the center. A dull roar pounded your thoughts. Thousands of worries pressed from every side, each one more worrisome and insistent than the last.

This was it – you were finished. Russet was kicking you out. Somehow, you’d been sent an acceptance letter in the mail, but it was a mistake and you were being sent home.

When you returned to the center, you dully stood by Jimin’s side. He glanced at you curiously, sensing something was wrong.

“Are you –”

“Let’s just dance,” you said, moving to fifth position.

Jimin wisely let it go, stepping behind you to place his hands on your waist. The pianist began to play and you started the combination but the entire time you danced, your mind was somewhere else. You couldn’t help but think about what Miss Britt might have to say, each possibility you considered being worse than the last.

Things went smoothly for the rest of the class, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Everyone else picked up on steps easier than you did; Sabrina was right about that. Jimin was a talented dancer and he had experience with partnering.

He wasn’t the problem here – you were.

Jimin was quiet for the duration of class, which was unusual. You wondered if he was annoyed by your incompetence and again, your mind flashed to Sabrina’s words. She wanted Jimin as her partner. This made you feel a bit desperate because as much as you didn’t like Jimin, it would be humiliating for him to switch on you mid-semester.

If you were in Jimin’s shoes though, you would consider it. Sabrina had flawless technique, was beloved by the teachers and would only help his star to rise. They also seemed to get along well together, unlike you and Jimin, who were constantly at odds.

Realizing this, your stomach sank. Yes – if you were Jimin, you would consider switching partners.

When the hour hand on the clock finally met the twelve, you hastily gave your applause and bolted towards your dance bag. You lingered here, waiting for class to clear out, but you couldn’t stand being next to Jimin for one second longer. Thanking him had been humiliating enough for one day.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Jimin hesitate before he walked out. The rest of the class began to pack up, chatting with one another while they left the classroom. Miss Britt stood at the front with the accompanist, likely going over music for the next class.

Noelle also paused before leaving, but you told her to go and said you’d catch up with them later. You waited until most of the class had left and then you took a deep breath and walked to the front.

“Miss Britt?” you said, coming to a stop.

She faced you with a smile. “Ah, Y/N! Good, good. Let’s talk. You can go,” she said, dismissing the pianist.

Once she had left the room, Miss Britt again turned to you.

Your stomach twisted in knots. Now that you stood here, the worst kinds of scenarios ran through your mind. Miss Britt would kick you out of Russet; you would have to enroll in second semester at a local college. You’d have to return to your hometown with your tail tucked between your legs and all your dreams of a dance career would be ruined.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted before she could speak. “I didn’t mean to argue with Sabrina in the middle of class like that. It was unprofessional and I promise it won’t happen again.”

Miss Britt blinked. “Well, that’s good,” she said slowly. “But that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“It… wasn’t?”

A small part of you had been holding out hope that this was it. That you would get a mild talking-to and be on your way soon.

Miss Britt was known as a strict, but fair teacher. When she wasn’t yelling corrections at students across the floor, she came across as laid-back. There was a reason Mr. Vlad was the terror of freshman students and not her. Although Miss Britt was demanding, she tended to offer dancers advice as opposed to cutting them off right away.

“Talking in class is one thing,” she said with a stern look. “I don’t need to tell you how prestigious this institution is. I’m sure other teachers have emphasized that point enough. You’re only throwing away your own time and money by not taking this seriously.”

Your stomach sank, since you did take this seriously and hated the idea that Miss Britt might think you didn’t. It didn’t seem like the right time to interrupt though, so you let her finish.

“More than that,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you about your progress.”

“My… progress?”

“I understand you were a competitive studio dancer before this, Y/N?”

Warily, you nodded. “I was.”

“I thought so.” Gently, she smiled. “I remember your audition tape – impressive, I must say. Your solo was exquisite, and your performance quality was one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

Hearing this, your heart began to swell with pride. Perhaps this wasn’t the terrible conversation you’d been expecting after all.

“But your ballet technique is behind the other students.”

Like a balloon popped, your chest swiftly deflated.

Miss Britt continued. “I see this often in competitive dancers, even if you did ballet in addition to other styles. People who trained as ballerinas before Russet usually have a more solid grasp of the fundamentals. People like Sabrina.”

“Ah,” you said, careful to keep your voice neutral.

“I know Miss Ernst isn’t always the easiest person to get along with,” Miss Britt said. “But she trained at our prep school before she entered the Academy. It might be helpful for you to ask her for some pointers.”

“Right.”

“Or even your partner, Jimin,” she offered, noticing your hesitance. “He’s a studio dancer too, but he trained more extensively in ballet. I don’t know if you know this, but he won the Grand Prix two years ago.”

The Grand Prix was a national ballet competition – no, not a ballet competition. It was the ballet competition. You knew that Jimin had competed and won the Classical Ballet solo category. You hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time, since you hadn’t been there, but Jimin’s smugness the month after remained burned in your mind.

“I may have heard something about that,” you said at last.

“Or someone outside of those two.” Miss Britt gave you a small smile. “I do offer solo sessions, but I’m unfortunately all booked for the semester.”

“That’s alright,” you said faintly. “I appreciate the offer.”

“Of course.” After a moment, her gaze became scrutinizing. “I don’t want you to feel discouraged by this, Y/N. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to have this conversation with a freshman, and it won’t be the last.”

You nodded and hesitated. She may have intended her speech to be comforting, but you couldn’t stop the vague sense of panic which spread through your limbs. The next words out of your mouth left before you could stop them.

“But how many of those students were given an offer to the Company?”

Miss Britt paused, and you glumly realized the truth. Not many.

The Company was what this was all about, of course. Russet Ballet Company was known not only for impeccable traditional ballet, but for their recent expansion into jazz and contemporary. Only fifteen offers to the Company were given to the graduating seniors at the end of four years.

Heart sinking, you realized this meant you were at the bottom. Perhaps not in every dance style; as Miss Britt had noted, your performance quality was exceptional and you were a strong contemporary dancer, but freshman year focused on ballet.

If you couldn’t last the first year at Russet, there wouldn’t be any opportunities later for you to prove yourself.

“Alright,” you whispered. “Thank you.”

Miss Britt straightened. “Find someone to train with,” she said. “Ask your classmates for help. I wouldn’t have this conversation if I didn’t believe you could do it, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you said, trying hard not to cry.

Seeming to realize you had enough to consider, Miss Britt nodded and stepped back to rearrange her sheet music.

“I’ll see you in class next week, then,” she said with a note of finality.

Sensing the conversation was over, you nodded and turned to walk across the room. Fingers tightening on the straps of your bag, you stared straight ahead and focused on something else. Something – anything but the terrifying idea of your dreams crumbling around you.

Coming to a stop at the water fountain again, you filled up your bottle and focused on breathing. Most of your sweat had dried, loose strands of hair sticking to the back of your neck. You screwed the cap on your water bottle, shoving this in your bag to head towards the stairs.

You were so lost in thought, you didn’t hear the sound of your name being called until you’d nearly reached the end of the hall.

“Y/N – wait!”

Stopping short, you paused to glance over your shoulder. To your surprise, Jimin was hurrying towards you down the length of the hall. He was dressed in black sweats and a jacket, his hair still slightly mussed from the class you’d just left.

Coming to a stop before you, Jimin cracked a smile. “Damn, Y/N. You walk fast.”

“What do you want, Jimin?”

His smile disappeared. Straightening, Jimin’s fingers played absently with the strings of his hoodie. Some of his usual haughtiness reentered his gaze.

“Why do you always assume I want something?”

“Because I know you,” you said. “That’s how we work. You say something asshole-ish, I respond with something rude and we both move on. So, come on. Out with it.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “I – wow, Y/N.”

You waited a beat.

“Was that it?” Dully, you arched a brow. “Not your best insult, Park. Anyways, if that’s all you have to say, I have to go.”

“What is your problem?” Jimin said, wonderingly when you turned to leave.

Halting your step mid-stride, you stared at the wall for a moment before you turned around. Stalking towards him, a part of you knew that deep down Jimin didn’t deserve this, but it’d been such a long day and you were just so tired. The suggestion to ask Jimin for help was the final straw.

“My problem?” you said, coming to a stop before him. “My problem is having you for a partner.”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed. “Hey. It’s not my fault you messed up in class today, Y/N.”

“Of course not,” you snapped. “It’s never your fault. Perfect Jimin, beloved by every teacher and student.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means!” Realizing how loud you were being, you lowered your voice. “You’re a guy, Jimin. It’s easier for you.”

His jaw dropped a little. “Are you… are you being serious, Y/N?”

“Oh, come on,” you said, giving a bitter laugh. “Are you honestly going to say you’ve never noticed? It’s easier for guy dancers. All the teachers love you because you’re a novelty. You can do the exact same thing as a girl dancer, but everyone looks at you because oo, a boy! Even your fucking center of gravity is higher than women! You have an advantage in dance, and it sucks.”

Jimin’s face had gone slightly sallow while you spoke.

“Some advantage,” he sputtered. “I never felt advantaged when I was strapping myself into a dancer’s belt before class.”

“Oh, how sad. Your penis is uncomfortable.”

“I – let’s stop talking about my dick,” Jimin muttered, his cheeks turning red. “There’s an equal number of girls here as guys, Y/N. I’m not any sort of novelty compared to you, so why don’t you let the past go? Who cares who won between us during high school?”

“Let the past go?” you repeated. “That’s a lot coming from you. You’re the one who suggested our bet in the first place.”

“Whoa, hey.” Jimin frowned. “You’re the one bringing that up now, not me.”

“I’m just bringing it up to prove a point.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I even tried to collect on my winnings.”

Still facing him, you scowled. “You didn’t win.”

“Technically,” Jimin said, holding up a finger. “We said the first person to get three trophies. I got three.”

“Three trophies at competitions we both competed in,” you shot back. “I didn’t compete in the last one, so you didn’t win!”

“A technicality.”

“See!” you said, in clear disbelief. “You’re still harping on this and then you turn around and tell me to ‘let the past go.’”

Jimin’s smile disappeared. “Listen, Y/N. If I had an advantage in high school, it’s gone now. There’s an equal number of girls as guys here at Russet and I’m working just as hard as you.”

“Wrong,” you said. “I have to work twice as hard to get the same result.”

“That’s just not true!”

“It is! That’s the only reason you won against me as often as you did in high school.”

“Hey,” Jimin snapped, finally sounding annoyed. “Fuck, Y/N – are you being serious right now?”

“I don’t know,” you exhaled, tearing your gaze away.

Taking a deep breath, you stared at the staircase and willed yourself not to cry. The two of you were being so loud, you seriously hoped Miss Britt hadn’t heard. It would be just your luck to get in a fight with both Jimin and Sabrina on the same day.

Everything hurt. The words from Sabrina and Miss Britt continued to run through your mind and the last thing you wanted was for Park Jimin to see you cry.

“I just – have to go, Jimin,” you managed to say. “I’ll see you later.”

Pushing past him, you avoided eye contact and left him standing alone at the top of the stairs. Jimin didn’t respond, but you heard his ragged exhale behind you as you left.

Shoving open the door to outside, you pulled a sweater from your bag and wrapped this around you. Blinking in the sunlight, you took another deep breath and began to walk down the street.

Jimin wasn’t the main reason you wanted to cry, though he was a part of it. Years of tension, resentment and competition had finally led you to explode – but beneath that, there ran a current of confusion.

Jimin had been waiting for you out in the hall.

Every explanation to this that you thought of sounded ridiculous, since Jimin hadn’t seemed mad or angry when he’d first called your name. An inkling of regret swirled through you and, somewhat uncomfortably, you wondered if you’d misjudged him.

Maybe you really were the only one holding onto this dumb rivalry. It’s just that Park Jimin could be so infuriating without even trying.

He had to know men had the advantage in dance – they always did. It was obvious each time you turned on the TV and watched any dance reality show. Women needed twice the stage presence, athleticism and musicality just to get on the same stage as a guy who taught himself to pop and lock in his basement.

It was even more infuriating because objectively, Jimin was better than you and – rationally – you knew you should ask him for help. This was the logical thing to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to dismiss your pride. Asking Jimin for help would be like admitting he was better and you absolutely refused to inflate his ego.

A few steps from Grace Hall, your phone dinged in your pocket and when you pulled it out, you saw Finn’s name on the screen. Rather than be elated by this, your heart sank a little. You two had made tentative plans to hang out but right now, the idea of seeing other people made you a bit nauseous.

Finn: hey, babe! Want to grab dinner tonight? My roommate is crashing at his family’s house this weekend, so we’d have the place to ourselves ;) [11:22 AM]

Your thumb hovered over the keys for a moment, wanting to say yes but Miss Britt’s words from earlier lingered in your mind. You were behind your fellow classmates. You needed a teacher, you needed a tutor and at the very least, you needed more practice.

Slowly, you typed out a response.

Y/N: Last minute practice was scheduled for tonight ☹ rain check for tomorrow? [11:23 AM]

Finn responded fast, somewhat disappointed but agreeing to your abrupt change of plans. You didn’t respond, shoving your phone in your bag to walk up the steps of your dorm.

You had lied to Finn. There wasn’t practice tonight, but you knew he wouldn’t agree with your assessment of the situation. Finn didn’t understand your world of dance, which wasn’t his fault. It also wasn’t his fault that his girlfriend had chosen such an intense career path which left little free time. Finn was a normal college student and understandably, he wanted to spend time with his girlfriend.

Once in your dorm room, you tossed your bag on the floor and slowly exhaled. Noelle wasn’t there, so you stood in the center and tightly closed your eyes. You allowed the silence wash over you, taking several deep breaths and when you finally opened your eyes, you felt a bit calmer.

The day consisted of lunch and two more classes – variations and pointe – but at the end of it all, you returned to your room and changed from your clothes. Tugging sweats and a t-shirt on over your body, you placed your leotard in your laundry and left the room.

Danley Hall was a short walk away; you’d heard from upperclassman that studio space was available on a first come, first serve basis. It got crowded at the end of the semester, when people were practicing for showcases, but it was fairly empty when you arrived at 7:30 PM.

Climbing the steps to the fourth floor, you let yourself into the first empty room you found. Setting your bag on the ground, you waited a moment before facing the mirrors.

The practice room smelled like wood, rosin and whatever cleaner they used on the glass. Outside the room the sun had begun to set, casting misshapen shadows over the floor. Plugging your phone into the speakers, you stepped from your shoes and slowly walked to the center.

As the first notes of music left the speakers, you closed your eyes and inhaled. For the first time all day, some of the tension drained from your body.

With wood beneath your feet, dust motes in the air and a familiar song on the stereo, you finally felt at home. Stretching both arms overhead, you rose on your toes and hung there a moment. When the music changed, you dropped to a lunge and let yourself be pulled by the music, your body one step ahead of your thinking.

Miss Britt was right; you weren’t a ballerina. You had no idea if you ever would be, but this was something known, this was something you were good at and something you loved. This was a moment where you came alive.

The longer you danced, the more frustrated your movement became. So much emotions swirled beneath the surface, frustration chasing each step as you danced across the floor. You tried to stay ahead of it, tried to dance beyond its reach but the emotions caught up in the end, dragging you down and swallowing you whole.

When the song ended, you found yourself breathing raggedly in front of the mirror. Staring at your own reflection, you felt your heart sink. It wouldn’t matter how much you loved this if you didn’t even make it through the first year.

After another moment, you turned and walked towards your phone. Switching the song to a classical one, you took a deep breath and went to stand at the barre.

As the first notes began, you rolled your neck and waited to count yourself in. While you couldn’t bring yourself to ask Jimin for help, that didn’t mean you couldn’t take matters into your own hands. You’d seek out other teachers, you’d find other students and you’d do this barre twice as often until you began to improve.

Opening your eyes, you began grand pliés.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre will be posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

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