#been meaning to put these quad workouts to good use too

[asteroidaffection]

[healthnhumans]

51+ Weight Loss Exercises

The best exercise for weight loss can be termed as prevention of excessive gain of weight which is unwanted or harmful for the body. However, this concept is not much considered by many in the population of the world. It is very easy to put on weight but at the same time, it is ferociously...

The best exercise for weight loss can be termed as prevention of excessive gain of weight which is unwanted or harmful for the body. However, this concept is not much considered by many in the population of the world. It is very easy to put on weight but at the same time, it is ferociously difficult to shed those extra pounds and attain a healthy body back again.

Most people are aware when they are in the progress of gaining unhealthy weight of their body. However, some are too busy to look into solutions for rectifying the same while some others are too lazy to care anymore. While there have been various awareness campaigns run across the globe over the last decade to increase knowledge about the harms of an overweight body, a very small percentage of the world’s population would have taken it seriously.

However, there is also a class of people who really wish to lose weight under the expertise and supervision of a fitness expert. But due to money constraints, they would be unable to hire a personal trainer or go to the gym for the same purpose. Hence, they resort to exercising at home themselves. Nevertheless, this attempt has its own demerits as well such as injuries, incorrect style, etc.

How to Lose Weight through Exercises

Once a person understands the need for exercising, then he only needs to make up his mind to follow the procedure on a regular basis. At the same time, he should also realize the importance of maintaining a good diet which is balanced in nutrients because doing either of these may help only up to an extent beyond which it becomes difficult to achieve the goal.

For people who exercise on their own from home, at least at the beginner level, the above mentioned access to workout videos is highly recommendable in order to avoid any challenges in the progress. Considering a combination of cardio exercises and strength training workouts give the best results, mentioned below are 51+ weight loss exercises.

Walking: The easiest way to lose weight is walking. Brisk walking is what is recommended to attain the end result of weight loss. At least 30 minutes per day of regular brisk form of walking could help in burning a minimum of 150 calories a day. The more time one performs this exercise, the faster the chances of losing weight.

Swimming: It has been known that people who see swimming as a means to maintain fitness as well apart from the enjoyment spending time in water provides, have been able to successfully reduce excessive fat from their body. Swimming an hour continuously could facilitate burning of at least 500-700 calories every time. It has been noticed as a combination of both cardio workout as well as strength training as it trims the inches as well as makes the body stronger.

HIIT: HIIT or High Intensity Interval Training is a form of workout wherein the intensity of the exercise is given utmost importance. It is done in short intervals, but intensely focused on. Even if done for just 20 minutes in a day, it burns more calories throughout the rest of the day compared to what a jog could do. It is seen as one of the ways to lose weight faster.

Surya Namaskar: Being one of the traditional forms of exercise derived from India, yoga is on its track of popularity about the benefit yielded from it with regard to weight loss. Surya Namaskar or the Sun Salutation is one of the most effective exercises in yoga which helps in losing weight if practiced regularly. It is a set of 12 yoga poses which focus on different parts of the human body resulting in reducing excessive fat accumulations for the entire body.

Zumba: Some people just hate exercising at the very thought of going to a gym. This could be because the routine appears to be boring and they would love to engage in a workout which is fun to do. Dancing is one such form. But not everyone can learn and follow dance steps that easily either. However, Zumba proves to be one such form of dance where people enjoy doing it simply for the reason that no one orders anyone to follow steps to perfection.

Dancing: There are various forms of the art of dance. In India, classical forms include Bharatnatyam, Mohiniyattom, Kuchipudi, etc while regional types include Bhangra, Kathakali, Gidda, Bollywood, etc. The modern ways if dancing have brought in several other forms as well such as Hip Hop, Freestyle, Contemporary, Desi Jam Cardio, and so on. Every such dance form has its own routine which if followed regularly can help a person maintain or reduce weight as per the intensity of each dance.

Running: Known as the king of exercises related to weight loss, running not only strengthens the legs but also reduces belly fat. A minimum of 30 minutes of running every day or at least 5 days a week shows tremendous results if done regularly. It can be done outdoors or on the treadmill as well.

Cycling: Cycling is a form of cardio exercise. It is a fun version of running in which a cycle is also used to make the ride of workout more enjoyable. Strengthening of the muscles of the leg as well as reducing abdominal fat constitutes the main benefits from cycling.

Squats: This is one exercise done or recommended by most of the people who are fitness experts. Some people have a slimmer upper body; however, the part starting at the end of the midriff will be bulged because of huge thighs and buttocks. The more number of repetitions of squats are done, the more fat from the area of thighs and glutes burn out.

Push-Ups: Strengthening of arms happens by doing push-ups. Also, the entire body gets toned up by doing this exercise.

Plank: This exercise focuses on strengthening not only the core but also the arms. It helps in improving the balance of the body as well.

Triceps Push-Ups: A form of push-ups which involve cutting down the fat accumulated at the triceps is called triceps push-ups.

Boat Pose: This focuses on balance of body weight along with reducing lower belly fat.

Crunches: Crunches work majorly on the abs.

Spider Push-Up: This is another form of push-ups which focus majorly on the arms, shoulders, legs and glutes altogether.

Low Belly Leg Reach: This exercise helps in toning the sides and getting rid of the love handles.

Strength Training: Strength training is as important as cardio workouts. However, some people have a wrong perception of this form that by lifting weights, the body becomes huge. But the fact is that weights help in burning fat and shapes up the muscles appropriately.

Lunges: Focusing on the lower body, the traditional form of lunges of forward movements help in fat reduction by working the muscles at the glutes, hamstrings and quads at the same time. This helps in burning of calories at the maximum level.

Forearm Plank: It is another version of a normal plank wherein the person rests the body weight on the forearms. It strengthens not only the upper arms but also the shoulders and the core.

Burpees: Burpees are one complicated type of workout; very effective in targeting the chest, core and legs all at the same time.

Plank Push-Ups: Plank plus push-ups ends up as one of the best exercises for arms.

Double Jump: A slight mix of cardio and strength workout is what a double jump consists of. It includes 3 exercises in one consisting of the squats, jump and lunge. It is effective for the abs, butt and legs.

Mountain Climbers: It would be noticed as one of the difficult exercises for overweight or obese people. However, once they do mountain climbers regularly, they would surely see positive results in the areas involving the buttocks, obliques and hamstrings.

Jump Rope: Skipping is the term that one must have given to rope jumping activities as a child. Over the years, it has been understood that skipping rope has been effectively known to reduce weight as it mainly helps in toning of the complete human body.

Kettlebell Swings: When it comes to achieving the goal of weight loss effectively for the entire body, kettlebell swings prove successful. It is because the whole body gets engaged even if with low impact yet higher intensity.

Jumping Jacks: Jumping jacks are always recommended to affect the fat accumulated parts of the entire body and have proven to be successful in doing the same. These are one of those cardio exercises which stimulate functioning of all organs.

Cross Trainer: Most people who go to the gym or health clubs love to use the cross trainer. It is also called an elliptical trainer and helps in building the leg muscles and reducing arm fat simultaneously.

Butt Kicks: Like jogging, butt kicks are another form of cardiovascular activity. The only difference is that the legs are made to touch the butt alternatively. With more speed, the intensity of the exercise increases as well.

Plank Jacks: This exercise is another version of the normal planks involving cardio workout as well. Hence the result of doing a cardio exercise as well as a plank is derived from plank jacks.

Side Plank: Working out a plank pose on one arm with the body facing any one side is called a side plank and it helps in toning obliques and losing the fat at the arms.

Bridge: Bridge dips and bridge pose are effective in strengthening the abdominal region and as well as a stress reliever.

Squat Jumps: A combination of squats and jumping brings out effective fat burning results.

Side Lunges: A version of lunges wherein the inner as well outer thighs along with the butt is focused upon.

Bicycle Crunches: Lower belly fat problem? This is the best suitable exercise to reduce that!

Triceps Dips: Toning triceps effectively made easy by this exercise.

Bridge with Leg Lift: Another type of the usual bridge pose and dips with one leg lifted up straight, this exercise helps in focusing more on the lower abs as well as the muscles at the butt.

Jackknife Sit-Ups: This exercise focuses the upper and lower abs altogether.

Lunge with Bicep Curls: Work the lower body along with the arms simultaneously!

Grinding: It is one yoga pose which helps in getting rid of the belly fat.

Squat with Punches: Strengthen those arms as well as tone them along with the glutes.

Pike Push-Up: It is the downward dog pose from yoga which works on strengthening the shoulders as well as the arm fat.

Frog Jumps: It is a plyometric move and the more repetitions are done, weight loss is made more effective as well.

Chair Pose: It is a yoga pose resulting in strengthening of legs and toning of butt.

Dead lifts: The focus point in this exercise is the booty majorly apart from the hamstrings and this is performed using dumbbells.

Triceps Kickbacks: Pick a pair of dumbbells and start working on those flabby arms to get back in shape with triceps kickbacks.

Overhead Press: Targeting the fat at the upper back and the triceps as well as strengthening the shoulders is the main idea in this workout.

Front Kicks: Toning of legs, buttocks and abs happens in this workout.

Split Lunge Jumps: With the use of dumbbells and inclusion of jumps, it is an advanced version of lunges.

Walkout: It is a simple variation of push-ups and works effectively on the whole body.

Warrior Pose: This is another yoga pose which helps in strengthening of the lower body. It has 3 variations as well.

Vinyasa: A part of Surya Namaskara, this exercise helps greatly in weight reduction.

There are various workout related videos available online on several websites that could be accessed from a desktop computer or laptop and in various applications which are present in the virtual stores of smart phones. Some of these are made available to the public free of cost while some others can be bought at a price by them for a fixed period of time or in general without any time limit.

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[clandonnachaidh]

Light Across The Seas That Severed (Ch2)

Read on AO3

Jamie was sat, feeling maudlin and staring into the depths of his pint after a particularly difficult day. If Jenny had been beside him, she’d tell him to wise up and be grateful for the situation he was in. But he still wasn’t used to being so far from home, away from his parents and Lallybroch. He wouldn’t let himself say it out loud but he even found himself missing the tinny aftertaste of a pint of Tennents that he had yet to find on sale south of the border.

He knew his parents were over the moon about his acceptance into Oxford, how could they not be? Jamie had walked around Broch Mordha with his mother and father a few days after he’d received the happy news and found that the standard twenty minute scoot around the shop was considerably stretched out to allow his parents to stop and boast to every person they could about their youngest son’s achievement. Jamie had smiled sheepishly and thanked people for their well wishes but if he was being entirely honest, there was a knot in the pit of his stomach every time someone mentioned him leaving home.

Jamie tried not to let his nerves get the better of him as he settled into his new home those first few days. It wasn’t just that he stuck out like a sore thumb as the 6’ 4 red headed Scot that was almost as broad as he was tall. It was the fact that the people seemed to be looking at him funny. He made the mistake of asking someone for directions and ended up on the receiving end of a joke about his accent, the man making a mean comment about Jamie being asked to join Oxford University as some attempt to reach whatever entry quota of undergraduates hailing from underprivileged backgrounds. It didn’t matter that he was there on the merit of his exam results that he had worked his arse off for, the same as everybody else. Jamie Fraser was a working class lad from the Highlands, not some self-entitled Etonian arsehole whose father knew somebody who knew somebody. He was surrounded by future Lords and Dukes and he knew that if he heard the words ‘titan of business’ again, he was going to have to start cracking some overprivileged skulls.

And so he sat in The College Bar on a Friday night, hidden away in the corner upstairs where he could sit in peace and brood over his very fortunate situation that he didn’t feel so fortunate about. The only thing that he made the whole thing worthwhile was the girl who lived a few doors down from him in Merton College.

The first time he saw Claire Beauchamp she was fighting a losing battle with a cardboard box that looked like it had already taken a few bashings. Jamie had moved into his dorm a few days prior and was out that morning in an attempt to scout a route for his morning runs. He was keeping a close eye on his AppleWatch, making sure that his heart rate was staying in the optimal zone when he encountered one of the more colourful expletives he’d had the pleasure of hearing before.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ!”

His head swivelled on his neck and his eyes landed on her.

Her long arms were wrapped around the box, trying to keep it steady on a propped up knee while the glaring at the taxi driver who was stood fiddling with his phone rather than helping the poor lass. Irritated at the absence of chivalrous manners, Jamie jogged towards the car to offer help.

“Are ye managin’? Here, let me,” he moved to her side and grabbed the next box, lifting it without thought and immediately straining as gravity worked quickly against him. “Christ, lass, what have ye got in here? Rocks?”

“That one contains books, laddie,” she spat back in frustration at him, trying her hand at matching the Scottish brogue and failing miserably. Jamie found it utterly adorable and couldn’t help but smile as he placed the box on the pavement and unloaded the next one which was thankfully much lighter. After wrangling her suitcase from the boot of the car, he tried not to watch the delicate movement of her limbs as she paid the fare.

Trying to pretend that he hadn’t been avidly watching her, he faked a jump of surprise as she thrust her hand towards him, “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.”

He liked her instantly. He found himself thinking, who the hell introduces themselves with their full name anymore? What an interesting wee thing she was.

“James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser,” he returned the gesture, shaking her small hand in his large one, damning the tough skin of his calluses for keeping him from feeling the exact texture of the soft skin of her palm.

“That’s too many names.”

“What?” The question burst out of him in an exasperated laugh. “No, it’s no’. ’Tis the number of names my parents gave me and if ye want tae live a good long life, Sassenach, ye winna get intae the bad books of my wee ma.”

“What’s a… sassanatch?” Her head tilted to the side in curiosity.

“Sassenach,” he corrected her pronunciation with a wry smirk. He knew that if he tried to give her anything but the truth, she would see through him in an instant so he decided to answer honestly. “It means ‘outlander’.”

She snorted at him and rolled her leopard eyes into the back of her skull.

“Sorry to break it to you, Toto, but I have a feeling we’re not in Scotland anymore.”

“Now that I am painfully aware of,” he sighed, sending a cursory glance around the quad that they were standing in and almost willing it to magically transfigure itself into the hills of his home.

“Not enjoying it so far?”

“Jus’ takin’ me a while tae get used tae it, naebody spiks tae ye here. Said hullo to the man in the shops and he looked at me like I’d twa heids.”

He was putting it on a bit, thickening his accent to amuse her but he was delighted to see that it was working. She laughed, looking at her feet and then sighing at the boxes that he had stacked into a neat pile on the pavement. She looked wistfully at them and cast a sideways glance at the man in front of her, an idea forming in her mind.

“Rather large, aren’t you, Fraser?”

He grinned wolfishly at her, “That I am.”

“What if I make you a promise to say hello to you every time I see you? In exchange for a small favour?”

“And what would that be?”

“Help me to my room with my things?” She sent him a dazzling smile to try and convince him but he had already resigned to himself that his morning workout had changed from cardio into upper body strength training.

“Wisnae going tae let ye carry these yerself, I’m no’ that cruel,” he smirked as she triumphantly pulled out her phone, bringing the information of her dorm up on her screen.

“You’re a saint. I’m staying in Merton, you wouldn’t happen to know where that is?”

He tried not to look too enthusiastic as he felt the universe click things into place, “As a matter of fact, I do.”

And that day was the first day of their story together. With Claire holding open doors, Jamie managed to get her boxes to her dorm in three trips and they bantered the entire time, her quick wit shining from her and almost doubling him over with laughter at one point. Without really making an effort to do so, they seemed to find themselves in each other’s orbit more often than not, walking to lectures together despite chasing completely different degrees and finding that they enjoyed the same very specific spot in the library that offered the most sunlight with the least amount of noise. He surprised her the first time he appeared with the correct number of sugar packets for her to dump into her coffee and he beamed when she peeled the gherkins from her burger and dropped them onto his plate, knowing that he would eat them for her. They came to know each other, slowly showing the parts of themselves that not many people were allowed to see. She banged on his door in the late afternoon after a particularly bad seminar and his hand found the perfect purchase against her shoulder as she laid her head on his and cried, admitting to feeling overwhelmed and burnt out in such a competitive environment. In turn, he let her in on his feelings of inferiority which she quickly shot down, telling him that he was not only the smartest person she knew but the kindest and that was no small thing. Soon enough, they were practically inseparable, both having their own friends but somehow always ending up in each other’s company. Jamie began to relax into his life in Oxford, knowing that as long as he could do it with Claire, well, it might not be so bad.

“Nice to see you didn’t wait for me, Fraser,” she puffed as she sat herself down on the stool across from him at their usual table in the pub, unwinding her long scarf from around her neck as she greedily eyed the pint that was sat waiting for her. Claire took a long drink before setting it down again and sighing heavily as her fingers, stiff and bright red from the cold, attempted to undo the buttons of her coat.

“Ye call me and tell me tae meet ye in the pub in ten minutes and then ye show up half an hour after. What am I meant tae do, just sit and stare at the ‘hing?” Jamie muttered in response, not meeting her gaze as he picked at a piece of dried candle wax that had dripped and solidified on the table. He had been studying in his room when she had called, demanding that he meet her and even though he would rarely say no to her, it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t let her stew for a bit. Trying to hide a smirk, he pulled his eyes up to see her face, immediately regretting his teasing. “Sassenach? What’s worst wi’ ye?”

“It’s nothing, it’s-“ she finally managed to pull her arm free of her coat only to thrust it deeply into her pocket, retrieving her phone and staring at it with a furrowed brow. “Bloody bastard, he hasn’t even text me.”

His ears pricked up at the mention of a ‘he’ but Jamie kept his mouth shut, raising his pint glass to his lips to stop himself from blurting out all the questions that were brewing behind them.

“Why are all men total pricks, Jamie?” She took a deep drink from her own glass, her eyelids drooping slightly at the relief the cold liquid brought her before she wiped her lips with the back of her hand which she then waved in his general direction. “Present company excluded, of course.”

“Och, I dinna ken, ye’ve called me worse things in our time thegither.”

That earned him a laugh and he watched as her shoulders relaxed slightly, her slight frame melting back into her chair.

“Bad date, was it?”

Claire snorted, the sudden expel of air causing one of her curls to dance around her face, “I don’t suppose it counts as a bad one if the guy doesn’t even show up.”

“He pied ye?” Jamie’s skin felt hot as anger licked at his insides. Her face scrunched up in confusion, as it did sometimes if he used a colloquialism from home that hadn’t quite found its way across the border.

“What?” she asked before deciding that it didn’t matter, carrying on in her irritation. “He didn’t show! No call, no text, nothing.”

“Good riddance then. Where did you find this one?” He asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

Part of being her friend was watching from the sidelines as men, and some women, fell at Claire’s feet. Not for the first time, Jamie found himself ruminating on the fact that her name in Gaelic, Sorcha, meant light. She drew people in and without meaning to, they soon found themselves to be in her orbit.

“We quite literally bumped into each other in the library. He’s reading History.”

“And what would a history man be doing in amongst yer medical textbooks, Sassenach? Sounds like a bit of a creep to me. Or mebbe he was lookin’ up some horrible rash he’s got on his-”

“Same again?” She interrupted after downing more than half of her pint in an attempt to catch up.

She was already out of her seat before he had the opportunity to answer. He enjoyed, probably a little too much, watching the sway of her hips and the way her curls bounced as she bounded down the stairs towards the bar and he leant backwards, letting his head rest against the wall and sighing in frustration. She was going to spend the rest of the night sneaking glances at her phone, hoping that this new guy would try to get in touch with her and he would have to suffer in silence. He would tell her that she has nothing to worry about, that whoever this guy was would have to be a fool not to crawl over broken glass to get to her.

Because that’s what Jamie would do. If she ever asked him to.

After a second round and a third and a fourth, they came to be sat on the same side of the table, hidden away in the alcove that their table was situated in. They were both drunk although Jamie would never admit to it, saying that a Scot was never drunk as long as they could stand upright. Their shared laughter was getting louder and Claire’s gestures were getting bigger, sloppier, as the frustration began to pour from her.

“I mean, I’m reading medicine, for Christ’s sake! I have good prospects, I’m only minimally neurotic, I don’t think I’m that terrible to look at. So what’s my problem? Am I just destined to be alone for the rest of my life?” A massive hiccup ripped through her, followed by a laugh as she brought her hand to her chest as though the act would calm them. Jamie’s eyes fell to her hand, trying so hard not to let his eyes focus on the breasts beneath it. Realising that the drink had made his reflexes slower, he pulled his eyes to face forward, staring at the floor and worrying that he’d been caught.

“I dinna think so.”

Her index finger stabbed a little too hard at her phone, the screen lighting up and showing no notifications, “It’s not like there’s a line of men waiting patiently at my door.”

“Then they’re eejits.”

A whirlwind of curls twisted towards him, a slight smile that was playing on her lips admitting to her surprise. The words had left his mouth before he realised it and the moment he did, red creeped insidiously up from the collar of his shirt, seeping into his cheeks.

“Eejits, huh?”

He looked at her then, blue eyes fixing onto their honeyed counterparts, humour dancing across her face mixed in with the light that was cocooning them.

“Every man who doesnae fall at yer feet tae do yer bidding is an eejit,” he conceded.

“Are you including yourself in that list, Fraser?”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes, not needing to lend even more credence to what they both already knew but were too afraid to speak out loud. That he was completely under her spell and happy to be there.

“I think ye’ll find ye had me cartin’ yer wee boxes tae yer room within minutes of meeting ye, Sassenach.”

Claire bit her lips between her teeth, trying her hardest not to smile, “Your mother raised you to be a gentleman.”

“That she did. Which means I buy the next round and then I’m walking ye home,” Jamie said.

“Not heading to see Annalise tonight?”

Rising to his feet, he fought back the urge to snap at her, irritated at the mention of the girlfriend that he hated being reminded of when he was with Claire and simply replied with, “Not tonight.”

Something playful and dangerous glinted in the amber eyes and she leaned forward on her elbows, as though she was stalking her prey.

“Then I shall delight in having you all to myself.”

By the time Jamie returned with their drinks, the moment of flirtation had passed. Claire was back frowning at her phone and tapping a single bitten fingernail against the wood grain of the table. Determined to distract her from falling down the rabbit hole of despair, their final drink was spent teasing, telling funny stories to each other about the idiotic things that had been said in their seminars, gloating about who got the best marks on their last essay. Before they knew it, Claire’s scarf was being wrapped around her neck once more as the two of them stumbled into the cold night air.

They had stayed a little later than last call, a classmate of Claire’s being the barman on staff and allowing them to finish their drinks while he wiped down the bar and cleaned the lines. It meant that they were alone as they walked, not amongst the mass exodus of warm bodies that had left the bar twenty minutes previous. Jamie watched from the corner of his eye as Claire furiously rubbed her hands together in an attempt to introduce some heat. With the alcohol loosening the usual restraint that he kept firmly in check, he turned to her and grabbed her small hands in his and brought them to his mouth, blowing the hot air from his lungs against her skin. Even through the drunken fog, he felt the flickers of electricity that seemed to pass every time their hands touched. It wasn’t unheard of for their hands to find their way to each other’s in those long study sessions when both of them were tired and stressed and in need of a comfort. A gesture that said ‘It’s okay, I’m here with you’. Things were always easier if they touched.

Slowly, he became aware that she was holding her breath, confirming it by sweeping his eyes from her hands to her face. She was staring at him, like a leopard stalking its prey. No smart remark or witty retort fell from her lips which were parted, allowing her breath to leave her in little bursts that betrayed how fast her heart was beating. The drink making him bold, he began to lace his fingers through hers, the only sound on the street being her sharp intake of breath as he pressed their palms together. Jamie became immediately more aware that their faces were closer than they ever had been before, that her body was pressed lightly against his and he suppressed a groan at how easy it would be to pull her closer and lose himself in her. His eyes caught her her tongue darting out to wet her lips and he wondered if she realised that she had done it. He couldn’t stop looking at her mouth, her pretty pink lips forming shapes that he wanted to know the taste of.

“Jamie…“ her breath was sweet against his mouth. It was an invitation but there was a hesitance there that he recognised and he knew that she was thinking the same thing he was. That if they did this, if they kissed, nothing would be the same again.

“Aye?”

“Can I…?”

An imperceptible nod of his head was all it took for her dart towards him but she stopped himself just shy of his lips. His mouth was hovering above hers, so close that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face. Jamie held himself there, basking in the anticipation of a moment that he had dreamed of so many times. This wouldn’t be another first kiss to regret.

A small whimper escaped Claire’s lips as she softly pressed her mouth against his and it was all it took to undo him, his whole self filling with the need to taste her the moment that their lips met. Jamie raised a shaking hand to her face, to cup her cheek and kiss her slowly, deeply, wanting to drink in every part of her that he could.

He was kissing Claire Beauchamp. And it was everything.

[ubemango]

one time, in your room (m)

note: I wrote this after receiving such an enthusiastic response to my virgin!jk drabbles. I really can’t thank you guys enough for expressing interest in this story, it really helped jumpstart lunyua lol 😭😭🥰🥰!!!!!!! I’m happy she’s back:) I would be absolutely nowhere without it heheh. My thank yous are also due to Violet and my crème de la crème for helping me write this back in March--I love you both very, very much!!!!!! Enjoy :D

DISCLAIMER. there’s one scene based off a tweet that I can’t find the link to lol... it’s about getting fingered till u cry. You’ll know when you get there 😭

PAIRING. jeongguk/reader GENRE. romance, college au RATED. M WORD COUNT. 17.3k WARNINGS. alcohol, oral (f receiving), cum shot, fingering, sexting, phone sex/masturbation, face sitting, riding, talks about Babies, jk loving oc A Lot SUMMARY. There are papers to write, and virgins to daydream about. (You can think about Jeongguk’s dick later.)

                                          part 1: emergency tactics

It started five months in.

Jimin probably didn’t mean anything by it. There’s talk and then there’s inebriation, and Jimin slurred roughly between the two like the drunkard he is. But Jeongguk was still hurt and you didn’t know what to do.

“He called me a pussy then told me to fuck one instead,” Jeongguk said under the strobe lights, the plastic ones you buy at the dollar store and you know it’s Hoseok who got them because he’s frugal, not cheap. The couch was itchy under your skirt. “Am I—is it really that bad? Like am I doing this wrong? Am I taking too long, or—”

“No, oh my god. Babe,” you said, and the cooler in your hand found the floor before you cupped his face. He was pouting. “Doing things—like that—it’s—it shouldn’t be something you stress over, okay? Don’t listen to other people. I like you. And Jimin is a whore.”

Jeongguk snorted. You could still see the doubt in his eyes, though. Shiny because he’s tipsy, but that downward droop still there. “You’re the best,” he said as sincere as he could sound.

And he’d left it at that. He got way more drunk though, definitely influenced by his post-teen-pre-adult angst but what’s a 21-year-old supposed to do with ample service of alcohol and an aching heart? You’d left him to it and cleaned the vomit on his shirt after. It was an okay party.

It stayed okay for a bit, too. Jeongguk isn’t an insecure person, but his bouts of uncertainty were getting more and more frequent. Especially when all his friends were naturally horny and really fucking stupid.

“So you’ve been dating for almost eight months and you—still haven’t defiled him,” Jimin says, now absolutely sober and still absolutely dumb.

You can feel Jeongguk’s ears heat up. “Dude.”

Jimin ignores him and turns to you. “Aren’t you like—bored?”

“When will you stop talking,” Jeongguk murmurs through a bite of his burrito bowl.

“I’m not,” you answer Jimin, flipping through another page of a study on birth control. A convoluted piece of shit, as Taehyung put so eloquently, but he left a couple minutes ago for a study group. “And stop bullying him.”

“I’m just shocked,” Jimin continues. “How does someone so hot end up with someone even hotter and like—not immediately participate in procreation. This is a crime!”

“Look.” Your textbook flips closed. “I don’t know what your obsession is with this guy’s dick over here, but it’s mine to worry about.”

“I think you upset her,” Jeongguk says.

“I know what it’s like to be pressured into sex,” you say. You feel Jimin lock up. “Look—sorry, that was baggage and I’m stressed.” Jimin nods. “But seriously? It’s—he’s—Jeongguk’s fine the way he is, alright?”

You taper off. It’s silent save for the milling of other students in the quad, but the air is thick. Sliced through with your anger but you’d rather have this conversation in private, without Jimin and his probing. Unnerving Jeongguk was like lighting the fuse in you, and maybe it was the instinct to preserve whatever purity Jimin keeps insisting on but you’ve never seen your boyfriend so upset about something. It kind of hurt to see him like this.

You get back to taking notes when Jimin talks again. “I’ll go,” he says. “Jeongguk I—”

“It’s fine.” Doesn’t sound like it though because he’s tight-lipped. 

Jimin salutes and sidles away. A bubble of unfinished conversations swells around you.

“Thanks for—that, I guess,” he says.

Your highlighter squeaks against the paper. “Jeongguk.”

“M’yeah?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

Maybe that was a bad start because Jeongguk sputters. You think he squawks, too—and he’s definitely fidgeting, lots of cut-off noises in his throat as he tries to say anything coherent. You look at him and he finally takes a breath in. “I—”

“You’re worried.”

His face contorts in confusion. “About what?”

“I don’t know. But I can feel it.”

“Same wavelength,” he laughs. Empty but he knows you’re just trying to help.

“Look.” He doesn’t but that’s because you’ve turned back to your books. “We have sex when we have sex. And if someone tries to—bother you about it, you can tell them they can suck on my fat cock.”

You hear him chortle. “I’ll do that.”

The conversation ends. You study. You still feel Jeongguk fidgeting.

Now there’s three weeks left till the term is over.  

“My—brain. It’s exploding. There’s too much going on.”

Jeongguk’s desk is a cramped space—the only place you can prop your textbook up against is his sweatshirt wrapped into a wrinkly ball. Graciously taken from his hamper because he still hasn’t done his laundry. The chair creaks when you spin to look at him: a dejected blob of comfy clothes surrounded by looseleaf paper and sticky notes. “Break time?”

He slumps against his pillows, arms out like a sad toddler. “Break time.”

This probably means you’ll cuddle for the next three hours but there’s little to complain about when Jeongguk purrs into your hair once you settle into his chest. There’s a warmth to him you can’t get anywhere else. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Just working too hard.”

“Okay,” you murmur. Jeongguk’s breath evens out the way it does when he wants to stop thinking. You can hear the hum of the fridge outside. 

“Want this to be over.”

You trace your nail over his collarbone. “I know.” 

“When’s your awards ceremony?”

“In two weeks,” you say.

“Same time as our final game.”

You lean your head up when he sighs, watching his eyes flutter in the afternoon shade of his curtains. A calmer period right after a hectic schedule of school, because you have Professor Kwon to thank for her excessive meetings about tutorials and assignments. It never occurred to you that you might’ve been imposing when you showed up to Jeongguk’s dorm with your homework, but he’d been studying too. Same wavelength, he’d say.

“Jimin been bothering you lately?”

“No, thank god. Don’t think I could take anymore prodding.”

This is the first time you’ve asked since that afternoon in the quad, though now Jimin’s been less annoying whenever you see him with Jeongguk. You know he’s just itching for your boyfriend to finally get his dick wet. 

And you can’t blame him—that was his intention when he finally got Jeongguk to ask you out. Friendship with Jeongguk was a weird stretch of time, especially when he’d spent the entirety of it silently pining for you: involuntarily single, but so preoccupied with the care and keeping of your GPA you’d been blind to any advance. Not that he tried anything, though. 

He’d been in his second year, still getting used to the enormity of campus grounds as a scholarship-bound athlete. And on top of all his schoolwork he had to balance the fragility of having a crush on an upperclassman well on her way to PhD candidacy. It was a good thing he was cute, though, and Jimin had no qualms about embarrassing Jeongguk any chance he got when you were around. The blush when Jimin had pushed him to your desserts table at one of the indoor Farmers’ Markets still burns in the furthest love-lit corner in your mind.

“You remember when you asked me out?”

“God.” A too-late night in the library that prompted the chivalrous part in Jeongguk because he’d brought you to the bus stop too close for campus police to escort you. You’d been good friends for a while already, the hurdle of skirting around each other knocked down when Jeongguk finally got the guts to insert himself in the your friend circle. In that wet shelter, a quivering lip. The sure that now has you seven-and-a-half months down the line with arguably the best thing that’s happened to you since you started your college career, but you won’t tell him that. “Why are you bringing that up?”

“I don’t know. Just—feels like forever ago.”

“Sappy.”

“Maybe the stars are aligning,” you say.

“Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know, just. Sometimes when I lie down with you I feel like I have to—lay myself bare.”

“Then bare yourself.”

You pause. “I’d like to suck your dick.”

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna need you to elaborate,” Jeongguk says like he’s winded.

“Two weeks of me finishing assignments and you at hockey practice. You know. Take advantage of the time we have with each other.”

“Good point. But I have a counter offer.”

Jeongguk is always a giver. “Which is?”

“I eat you out instead.”

“You’re too good to me,” and this is the only response you can come up with without sounding too shocked. Or horny. Not that you’d ever shy away but Jeongguk had a way of burning you up from the inside. “You’re down for that?”

“Always,” he says, then rolls you over. All that muscle from his workouts barring you from even thinking about fighting him back so you let him push you till you’re comfortable. But this isn’t about you. Not at the moment, anyway. 

“Take your shirt off.” Jeongguk does this so quickly his face almost crashes into yours when he comes back down, gasping a laugh that he breathes into you when his mouth meets yours. A quick tangle of your legs around his waist has him lying over you with ease, caught in his cage of pressed-down elbows and intimacy. 

“Wanna—take care of you.” He trails his mouth down your neck, bed squeaking when his knees pad down. Lips tasting lower and now he lifts your shirt up to your chest, pressing wetness to your stomach and you’re quick to discard your clothing if only to see Jeongguk pause at the zipper of your jeans. “Can I—?”

You nod. 

His fingers don’t shake but he’s blinking fast, pulling on the waistline of the rough denim and shucking it past your feet, sighing when your panties come into view. A short-lived reverence when he leans down to mouth at your sex above the thin cotton and your legs spread wide for his arms to cling onto.

“Tell me—tell me what you like,” he says. A shy demand.

“Take my underwear off then I’ll tell you.”

There’s warmth lost when Jeongguk slides your panties down to one ankle but he’s over you in the second it takes for you to flick it off. No pause in his eagerness but now he lies in wait for your instructions. The way he pauses for you is so agonizingly hot you might combust.

“It’s—I like it when… I feel you lick at my…” God you sound fucked. But Jeongguk’s a wild card and takes it in stride, hands once again finding purchase around your thighs and you feel his hard tongue on you, a wet slide that has your stomach caving. It’s the natural twitch in your fingers that prompt you to keep a loose grip in his hair, other hand tight in the bed like your proxy anchor. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah…”

Jeongguk laves your core, pressing harder the higher he goes. Contingency he takes advantage of because you get louder. It’s the lick on your clit that has you sighing. “Oooh, you—use the… tip of your tongue. And lick right—there.”

He’s so pliant you feel like you’re throttling him. There’s a forward insistence of his head until you feel the flat of his tongue pressed fully against you, his neck rolling with every shift of your hips. In control of your pleasure and he makes it feel like this is what he was made to do. His fingers get tight. “You taste good,” he exhales right onto your sex and you nearly crush his head with your thighs.

“Oh my god.” Your breaths are lost. You might hide your face but that would mean losing sight of Jeongguk providing a service only he can spell out with his tongue. “Ah—”

There’s a little squeak further down the bed and you notice the small flutter of his groin caught in the warmth of him and the sheets. His lips close around your nub before you can say anything, slurping that has your gut wrangled, your fingers gripping his hair as you get lost in his love. Your eyes roll back. “Oh fuck, that—agh—”

He’s made you come before. And the familiar tone of your incoming bliss is something he can memorize—he probably already has judging by the train wreck of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you. A swindler of your orgasms but you’d gladly hand yourself over if it meant deceiving your pussy into its own demise.

“Fuck you’re—so sexy like this,” Jeongguk mumbles. You whine at his attention but now you’re running even hotter than ever.

You’re not even telling him what to do anymore but you know he knows it’s good, a message sent with every twitch of your sex into his mouth and now his fingers are splayed along your pelvis to keep you from bucking up. He doesn’t even need his fingers. It’s the hardened tongue, the little slashes on your clit as his head swings back and forth that have you squealing: “Yes, like that. Oh I’m cumming—fuck—!”

Jeongguk hums when you jerk your hips up, convulsions in all your sweetest parts and your throat is dry from all your moaning, the swell of your lungs so hard to keep up with but he always has you losing your breath. Spit collects in its warmth down your ass but it’s a lost thought when Jeongguk lathers you into your come-down, legs like jelly and he helps your knees together when you finally stop trembling. You don’t realize your eyes are closed until you feel his lips on your mouth, complaint of catching a break right behind your teeth when you kiss with what little strength remains in you. 

“That was. Really good,” you whisper. Jeongguk laughs. And he doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with his wet mouth and red cheeks. “Do you wanna cum?”

He looks like he’ll say no. A bitten lip instead of confirmation. “I—”

“Please, I want you to.” Like a switch turned on he lights up, head bobbing and now he’s shoving his jeans past his ass, underwear down too. “You wanna—come on my face?”

His eyes look like they’re leaking out of his face. A strangled noise escapes his throat. He probably thinks you’re on crack but it’s just in his nature for him to assume a dazed auto-pilot whenever you say shit so outlandish. “You—I—I-I—Can—?”

“You can cum—god you can cum anywhere. I’m yours. Remember?” Reaching behind, you feel for the clasp of your bra, flinging it off before you pull on Jeongguk by the dip of his back until his knees straddle your ribs. “Is this good?”

“Can—could you—spit… on it.” His voice dwindles like he’s caught between the threshold of dirty and pushing it. You don’t answer because your neck straining for the tip of his dick and down the rest of his shaft is all he needs for one. Jeongguk bucks into you. “Oh fuck—ngh—ah!”

If his grinding on the mattress was a ticking bomb, your tongue on his cock is the thirty seconds till detonation. And by the sounds of Jeongguk groaning into the mid-afternoon sun slipping through his curtains you know he’s almost there. “Lie down, lie down,” he instructs, hand replacing your mouth in a stroke so quick you’re scared he might get cum in your hair.

“Agh—fuck yeah I’m—”

A spurt of his cum stains your lip, then your cheek. You feel some on the tip of your nose too but Jeongguk points his dick down to your tits, spilling all his hot frustration on your even hotter skin and you might cum again from the visual of him looking so spent. “Wow.”

“Yeah, that—” Jeongguk swallows twice— “I… wow.”

His dick is getting soft. There’s sweat pooling where your body meets the sheets. “Wanna pass me tissues?”

“Oh fuck. Yeah, yeah—here, sorry.” Jeongguk makes soft passes with a wad of cotton over your chest, handing one to you for your face. “Do you—do you like it? When I… cum on you?”

“Yeah.” You think about making a weird comment about sipping on his juice but you’ll save it for later. You focus on not letting his spunk flake on your cheek. “It’s hot. Really.”

“Good,” he says. Flopping down after shooting the soiled tissue into the basket and now he seems exhausted. “Do you feel gross or is it just me.”

“Gross how?”

“Gross like I need a shower.”

You can’t deny him. “Wanna shower?”

“Yep,” he says with no hesitation, and he doesn’t let you say anything else when he grabs you by your wrists. Somehow, everything feels lighter.

Sometimes Jeongguk invites you out to practice. It’s boring and you don’t know a single rule about gameplay, but the presence of him despite being a ways away on the ice is still a comfort on its own. 

The arena is frigidly cold, and while you aren’t without distraction (re: Assignments) it’s still one you can barely get yourself to really focus on. You rub your face in frustration. You hear the sound of the hockey puck passed around in harsh slaps.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“Jimin,” you acknowledge. He drops down next to you. “Here to spy on hockey ass too, huh.”

“That and Hoseok promised to get me dinner later.” You raise your eyebrow. “Did one of his assignments.”

“Forgot you were a chemistry genius.” Clicking your tongue, you watch the big 97 of Jeongguk’s jersey as he glides around behind the glass. He waves when he sees you looking. You’d greet him back but your hands are too perfect where they are in the heat of your sweater pockets so you wave your head in what you hope looks like excitement. 

“Been holding up okay?” You turn. Jimin’s eyes are a blaze of concern. “The other week, in the quad. You were pretty stressed.”

“Final paper.”

“Dissertation?”

“Working up to that,” you say.

“So you’re a scholar scholar.”

“Mm.” Your laptop screen blinks to black. “Something like that.” You hear Jimin snicker. He’s coiled up, stomach caved in a tiny laugh, eyes crinkled. Too amused. “What?”

“I’m just—” Jimin takes a breath in to stem his impending laughing fit— “so confused. Like, there’s Jeongguk who can eat eight cups of spicy ramen and literally bomb the bathroom with his shit—and then right next to him is Jane Goodall but with human babies.”

“He loves spicy ramen,” you comment.

“Yeah but do we like his stank? Nope. And you really just compared pronatalism to liking ramen. You know you’re out of his league.”

Jeongguk, completely oblivious to Jimin’s really weird anecdote, brings a fist up in cheers when he shoots the puck into the net. “Well. At the very least he’s cute.”

Jimin heeds with a hum to watch the play on ice. Seeing the team skate around with their broad-shoulders and thick helmets is an odd kind of relaxation. A team of huge men cutting the ice with knives on their feet but the sound is a swish satisfying enough for those kinds of videos that put you to sleep. Rough and gentle, just like Jeongguk. “I’m glad Jeongguk met you,” Jimin starts again.

“Mm. I think he has you to thank.” You boot up your laptop once more in the hopes you get inspired to type, but now Jimin has you distracted even more. 

“He just… used to be so quiet. And I’m gonna brag here but he’s got good friends. But meeting you was a game-changer.”

“Hm.”

“He was so passive.” You think to Jimin almost two years ago, pushing a slightly-smaller Jeongguk towards your table at the market. One look in your eye; pointing to the donut closest to him. Your finger touched his palm when you dropped the chocolate-glazed on it and he looked lost. “But now he’s just. Happy. All the time. It’s nice to see.”

There’s 97 again. Then Jeongguk turns and glides closer to the rail. He holds up ten fingers. Ten till over. You give a thumbs up. You feel yourself shivering but you’re not cold anymore. “Then I’m glad, too.”

“Good kid.” Jimin waves too, and Jeongguk skates off without looking at him. “Bitch! Anyway.” He leans back on his hands, feet perched on the row in front. “You guys… good now?”

And your screen fades to black again. “Oh god.”

“Sorry, fuck. Sometimes I think—no sometimes I don’t think. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, whatever.” You turn to Jimin looking very apologetic, keeping mum with his lips folded in. “It’s—he’s. A lot more eager, I have to say.”

“And are you okay with that?”

You hesitate. “I mean if we’re getting vulgar here—”

“Absolutely not, you are not telling me what he did with his dick.”

You raise your hands in surrender. You wouldn’t have told him anyway. It’s just nice to see a flustered Jimin, especially after what he’s subjected you and Jeongguk to. Good-natured but overtly so, and now you’re both blushing. “It’s been good.” 

Great. Now you’re thinking about Jeongguk and his cock again. Obviously it’s not unwelcome but riling you up is getting too easy.

“Then that’s good,” Jimin says. You hear the blow of the whistle. A congregation of fist bumps forms at the exit of the rink, and Jeongguk lets everyone pass him to get off. “Well I’m gonna go get ready for some free food. See you, yeah?”

He offers a high-five you hit hard. “Bye.”

“Oh. And good luck on your paper. You coming to the game by the way?” Jimin asks. He jumps off the bleachers, leaving you to stare at your honest attempt at getting work done. You close your laptop with a sad click. 

“I have an awards ceremony that day,” you explain. “I’ll try and catch it.”

“Don’t work too hard.” Just then, Jeongguk runs up behind Jimin not at all silently—his gym bag is ginormous—to catch him in a headlock. “Wha—”

“Why are you talking to my girlfriend,” Jeongguk interrogates. He’s probably wet with heat because Jimin scrunches his nose and shoves him off.

“You’re a pig, did you even shower.”

“Smell my armpits and you’ll get your answer.”

“Anyway,” Jimin groans. “I’m off.” He walks to the changing room in a swagger so calculated you’d yell at him for showing off his ass. But Jeongguk drags your attention away when he steps in front of the bleachers, leaning over until you greet him with a kiss.

“Hi,” Jeongguk says against your mouth.

You plug your nose for effect. “So you didn’t shower.”

“I rinsed! Don’t be mean.” He watches as you shove all your things into your bag, his hand poised for you to give it to him, and inside you falter at his generosity but you shoulder the strap and use his outstretched palm to help you up instead. “I wanted your bag, miss.”

“No, you already have a heavy one.”

“Let me carry it for you—” But you shut him up with a tiptoe and a peck to his open mouth. “Don’t distract me!”

You ignore him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him toward the exit. “Let’s go, I might miss my bus.”

Eight p.m. is a dead hour on campus grounds. You see only a handful of straggling students going back to res, even more going into the library building. The lamps guide your every step. Jeongguk’s fingers tangle in yours. “So you aren’t free at all the rest of the week right?”

“Yeah.” You try not to look at him because you know he’s pouting. “I didn’t get any work done thanks to your shouting.”

“That was Yoongi,” Jeongguk defends. “And sorry.”

You reach the bus shelter. “I’m kidding.” The neon sign overhead says your bus is due in three minutes. “I’m—I like going to your practice.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I like seeing my star hockey player tear it up on the ice,” you joke. Jeongguk laughs into your lips when he bends down lock them with his own. 

“Was it sexy enough for you?”

“Oh yeah. Got my pussy rumbling.”

He balks. “You’re so annoying.”

Two minutes. “It’s starting again.”

“What is?” In the dark light of the evening moon rising, you are reminded of this bus shelter seven months ago. A tower of nerves over you. If you think hard enough, you can still hear the shaky question he’d let dangle from his tongue, the one that has you here with him now. But now Jeongguk is nervous for different reasons. “Oh, like when you disappear on me for like five years.”

You see the light of the bus coming. You wrap Jeongguk in your arms. “Yeah. I’m only free next week.”

“Take it easy,” he says. Only one person gets off at the stop. “Just text me. Don’t need a repeat of last time.”

Last time—a month into your relationship. When you texted him every four days because of your midterms and he’d gotten so worried he genuinely wept when you showed up to his doorstep. It was a good thing you’d brought food too; not that you were expecting a cry fest but he’d felt better once he was filled with fried noodles and your affection. You concede to his request with a nod.

He lets you leave with one last kiss to your forehead. “See you,” you say. The air is alive with what you have to leave behind for the time being.

The week is rough. Professor Kwon asks you to submit marks sooner than you anticipate, so the need to get your paper done becomes a lot more urgent. One student hasn’t even handed in her assignment, which—fine. You don’t have any qualms about the zero you input. But the angry email with the threat to report you to an academic advisor the next day has you so on edge Namjoon agrees to grade half your assignments next time.

Jeongguk, somehow, eludes you too. Graduate school demands more tears than sweat and blood and while he tries his best to comfort you during your work-filled days, he’s been getting busier with hockey practice too. The added thought of starting to study for your exams is just another cake-topper. And it isn’t as if you’re going days without talking to Jeongguk, but it’s still a sting to the romantic part in you that misses him.

A week and a half before your big paper is due is a Tuesday. The girl who dissed you in your email doesn’t show up to tutorial. Everyone is dismissed for the evening. It’s good. 

Nothing beats the giddy jump in your step when you find a cubby in the library close enough to an outlet, though.

Then you get a text from Jeongguk.

[8:07 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m free the rest of the night!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me love u bich u really deprived me of touch for an entire week  [8:07 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wya

He meets you at the library with sweaty bangs and indents on his cheek from his helmet. You briefly contemplate jumping him. The feeling is quelled with the reminder that the library doesn’t tolerate loud noises and Excessive Romantic Gestures, so you opt for:

“Sexy.” You’re up on your feet to give him a quick hug and he makes a disgruntled face before dropping a kiss to your mouth.

“You wet yet?”

You glare to hide the need to balk. You plop back down. “You ate pussy once, don’t think this gives you free points to get so cocky.”

He pauses. “Sorry?”

“Sit. And don’t—ask me that again.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jeongguk cowers into the seat next to you. “What’s my scholar up to tonight?”

“Researching about Western Europe and their refugee policies.”

He doesn’t look like he’s interested but he makes a contemplative noise. “Very… educated. But anyhow. I’ve been thinking.” Uh oh. “And I have something. It was a week-long thought process but I have it.”

Your pens roll along the wood of the desk. “Have what?”

“A plan.”

“For?”

“For how I’m gonna fuck you. Eventually, I mean.”

“I leave you for a week and this happens,” you answer, but he’s not fazed. You feel yourself melting. Something you learned about Jeongguk during the preliminary stages of your relationship was that he liked getting things right. And if that meant practicing until he was ready—well. There’s a part in you that fears for the livelihood of your vagina. “Babe. That’s—you know we don’t need some sort of… five-steps-to-success thing.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” He pouts like you have it all wrong. Maybe you do, but it doesn’t sound so convincing to your—to be frank—non-virgin ears. “Good practice.” 

You knew he would say that. “You have something in your noggin already, boy?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna elaborate?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “What do people normally establish before they start having sex?”

“Well I don’t have lice in my pubic hair if that’s what you wanna know,” you offer.

He scrunches his face. “Don’t—joke about that.”

“Sorry.” Jeongguk gives you an incredulous look because you both know you don’t mean it. “But you really wanna do this here?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, lay it on me.”

“Wait—really?” 

You’re starting to think you won’t get any work done for the night. Like all the nights you spend with Jeongguk and you realize the pattern now, so you might as well indulge in him. “Yeah, go pull on all your pornographic roots.”

“Ha ha.”

“I’m not into getting tied up, first of all.” You flip a page in your textbook to feign nonchalance as Jeongguk wheezes.

“Stop that!” But he just takes a piece of paper and readies a fist to write. “You’re so crude.”

Now you really can’t focus. “Are you seriously going to write about my sexual preferences?”

“No, I’m writing a detailed observation about how to go about. You know.” He purses a lip in thought. “Navigating the ocean of your pussy and its desires.”

You didn’t think the library would be home to both of your sexual awakenings, but Jeongguk makes it hard to be shy when he’s this motivated. “Weird way of asking me if I’m into watersports.”

“Okay you have to take back asking me about my pornographic roots because it sounds like you’re the freakier one.”

“You like me being freaky?” 

He reddens. “Anyway!” (Silently, you revel in your power to tease.) “I was thinking. Since we can’t hang out too much the next week-ish, that we save all the good stuff for later.”

Good point. “Define good stuff.”

Jeongguk gets smaller. Eyes drilled into yours, he whispers, “Putting my penis inside you.”

“Okay now it’s getting weird.”

He drops his pencil in disbelief. “Only now? Tell me how any of this wasn’t weird in the first place.”

“You’re literally the one who took out a pencil to jot down my sexual preferences, don’t act like you’re innocent.” Now he has the decency to look sheepish. He doesn’t say anything. “Jeongguk. It’s fine to be nervous. But I don’t want you to feel like you need to do this.”

You might as well be talking to the wall but he nods anyway. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No! Just… you don’t owe anyone anything.” Something in you longs for him to understand that. You hate to make him nervous but Jeongguk is so adamant you almost want to wrap him in your arms from the sexually-inclined horde that came in the form of Park Jimin. “Remember that.”

He deflates with a sigh. “Then… can you come over tomorrow?” He’s squirming. “I’m done practice at seven.”

“If my advisor’s nice enough she’ll let me off at six,” you confirm.

Jeongguk takes a notebook out but makes no effort to open it. “And. I missed you. Just. Wanted to get that out there.”

There’s only so much texting can do, you get it. The pit of your stomach simmers with affection for the dumb boy sitting next to you, legs jumping the way they do when he’s nervous. “Love you.” And he smiles. Fuel for your listlessness. There are papers to write, and virgins to daydream about. Especially about the one who just propositioned you with absurdities. But now his pencil is out, and the moment is lost. 

You can think about Jeongguk’s dick later. For now, you settle in the quietude of his presence with yours.

It’s a colder day today.

“Hi!” Taehyung opens the door, bouncing in his pyjamas from the rush of freezing air. “Come, come. Please don’t ask me how I’ve been, I’m so tired of school and that’ll be my answer and I don’t want to talk about it.”

You swallow your pleasantries down. He’s a stressed Neuroscience major. “Fair,” you greet instead, toeing your boots off.

“Coming from somewhere?”

“Tutorial evaluation,” you say. Taehyung lets out a low whistle, closes the door behind you. He knows your shoulders are stiff because of Professor Kwon’s watchful gaze. Sitting at the back, ramrod straight with that black clipboard, taking down notes on your performance as a first-time TA. 

She’d let you go after with a smile, though. Let you know you did fine. You’d practically glided to residence when she’d given you the go to leave for the day. 

“I have a question for you,” Taehyung says. He sits on the couch, watches as you take off your snow-soiled scarf and jacket. “Has Jeongguk been more… fidgety lately?”

So he’s noticed too. “Yeah, I’ve—seen it. Why?”

“I don’t know, he sort of just—” Taehyung scoots over when you plop down next to him— “he came out of the room yesterday squealing, then ran around the living room for a bit then just. Went back into his room.”

Oh. So that’s what he was off to do when said he needed to get something after you linked him to your favourite porn accounts on Twitter.

“Maybe it’s just. I don’t know, pre-game jitters,” you lie. Taehyung’s giving you the look. Like he’s not satisfied with your answer and the only way to sate him is if you let him do one thing. “You can ask.”

“Did you fuck him yet?”

No reservations. As expected, because he’s just as nosy as Jimin and the rest of their friends annoyingly concerned with Jeongguk’s hesitation in the bedroom. “Nope.”

“Okay but like—can you fuck him already? I’m gonna be rolling in my grave by the time his penis passes the two-inch border of your personal space.”

You can’t keep in your snort. “Oh my god.”

“Just. We really don’t mean to be so standoffish but he just likes you so much it’s insane. Like I’ll see his phone light up and he will too. He’ll literally—he just glows. It’s kind of creepy actually but like. Cute creepy.”

The rush of praise runs through you. You don’t like to brag, but you really did snag the campus boy crush. You were popular enough with academia, but after the first time Jeongguk posted a picture of you two at the Christmas market, though—the entire student body went ballistic. It was the nascence of a fairy tale; movie romance budding in the grey concrete of campus grounds. 

No one saw it coming. And knowing that the one everyone has their eye on has its eyes on you—it’s a good kind of blow.

“He’s my baby,” you say, and Taehyung coos. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of him.”

There’s a rattling of the door knob. The sight of a ragged Jeongguk stumbles in, gym bag dropped on the floor and he disappears down the hall with the call for a shower and a brief smile your way. “I’ll be five minutes, babe.”

That’s Taehyung’s cue. “Well—I’m off to study group. Take care of him, yeah?”

“You know it.” You offer a fist bump. Taehyung’s knuckles are bony on yours. 

The trek to Jeongguk’s room isn’t unfamiliar. You bounce back on his bed, willing yourself not to close your eyes because you know you’ll just crash. A headache prepares right behind your temple, as imminent as rumbling thunder. Something in you calls for Jeongguk to hurry the fuck up before you succumb to Stress and those horrible, horrible thoughts of due dates.

It doesn’t take that long. There’s the squeak of the shower handle turning off and the black of your closed eyes, the scurrying of an unseen body; the lifting of your shirt for a very heavy weight of a hockey player blowing raspberries into the skin of your stomach. Jeongguk chortles when you nearly break your back trying to dislodge him. “You’re—oh my god—hey stop!”

“Hi,” he says, laugh caught in his breath, “I’m clean.”

“I see that.” He’s in his pyjamas. You let him settle on your side. The lingering heat from his shower makes you clammy but you let him hold you tight. “How was practice?”

“It was nice.” This is code for: I wasn’t yelled at by Yoongi. “I’m excited for our game, I’m feelin’ good. Did you find out if you could make it?”

You were blessed by the gods, because not only were your days coinciding, they were also starting an hour within each other. You’d be at the podium with a flowery speech while Jeongguk tears the ice rink with his pretty skates. And if every award recipient’s was longer than a minute then you might miss the entire game. Two hours past Jeongguk most likely scoring the winning goal; an infinity lost to see your star in action. 

(And seeing Jeongguk play is really attractive.)

You settle with: “I’ll try my best.”

“Okay,” he says. The crown of his head digs into your neck. You feel his lips when he speaks. “How are you holding up?”

“Barely.”

“Did you get your paper done?”

“Barely.”

“So it’s done.”

“Let’s not talk about school,” you dismiss. He leaves the conversation to wither with a suction to your skin. Wet where he lines your neck with quick kisses and you soften into the sheets. “Is this your way of—executing your plan.”

“Hm?”

“You know—your—guide to putting your penis inside me.”

He leans up on his elbow. Unimpressed because his eyebrows are scrunched. “Funny.”

“You love me.”

“And what about it?” His eyes shine the way they do before he tells you he loves you too. “It isn’t even a plan it’s just—a buildup. To when my penis goes inside you. Like a countdown but with orgasms instead.” You snicker. He drags a light hand down your front, settling his palm right over your pussy. “Let me touch you.”

You forget how to breathe for a second. “Yeah—I’m—yeah. Please.”

“Sit up.” Jeongguk plants himself near the wall, not unlike the position he was in when you sucked his dick for the first time. Instead of the afternoon heat, you’re caught under the dying evening rays of sunset: not as hot but still you feel the spark in your belly when Jeongguk lifts your bum to settle you between his legs. His nails play with the button of your pants. “I wanna try something.”

“Sure.” And he helps you wiggle off your clothes, bottom bare to his graces. Doesn’t say anything, just lets his mouth meet yours slowly, tasting the day off your tongue, your worries behind his teeth. 

“Anyone ever fingered you so hard you cried?”

“You wanna make me cry?”

“Don’t say it like that.” Jeongguk nips at your lip. “But yeah, I guess.”

You’re wet. This is a fact you come to realize when you feel him spread your legs, feet planting in the mattress in an attempt to ground yourself.  “Okay,” you agree.

His mouth’s busy with yours, lips unyielding like he could do this all day. It’s almost picturesque, the way he has you: head turned over to meet him in his love, arms wrapped around your own. Yours for him to savour and he always tastes good.

He doesn’t wait anymore. Your clit throbs with the passes of his fingers, head falling back to rest on Jeongguk’s shoulder when he dips in the pool of your heat and drags it back up. Groaning when he spins tight circles like you taught him and your hands find his thighs. “Feels—good,” you utter. Already you’re gone but Jeongguk feeds into your pleasure with no qualms for your embarrassment.

“Can I—put in a finger?” He asks shyly, but playing with your slick like he’s known how to make you putty in his hands this whole time.

“Yeah. Please.” You welcome the insistence in your sex with the buck of your hips. Jeongguk curls his middle finger up, the heel of his hand smooth on your clit and you sigh, “Ooh, fuck yeah.”

He kisses your cheek. “Another one?”

“I can take it,” you say, and he has another finger in you, hooking into your nerves. You might moan but Jeongguk turns your head and molds his mouth into yours, stealing your breath with his tongue. He curves in a little too hard and you squeal. “Oh my god, too—much.”

“Sorry.” He adjusts, fingers straight again. “M’gonna go faster, if that’s okay.” You nod, restless, and then he adds: “And you can’t look away from me.”

“Yes please—”

You couldn’t look away even if you tried, because the hand not fucking you into oblivion catches your cheeks, locking you to Jeongguk’s gaze. It’s a fucked out one too, and now you notice his hard dick pressed up against your back. 

It’s a storm of thrusting: wet and more wet and now he abruptly pulls out, smears your slick on your clit in a rub so fast you would squeal louder if it weren’t for his lips swallowing your sounds. 

“Oh-h—!”

You burn. Jeongguk enters you again and your cunt feels swollen. Fucking all the deepest and dirtiest parts of you and you take it, yielding to the draw on your tight walls. The squelch gets louder. So do you. 

“Oh yeah—” And you don’t cry but the feeling of him inside is so overwhelming and all that you need and it’s there— “Fuck, y-eah. Gonna cum soon—”

“Give it to me.” Punctuated with a twist in your sex so rough you would have twitched him off but his legs cage you. Jeongguk smiles. “Come on babe—”

“Nnn—ha J-Jeongguk—” You grab his wrist, the one knocking his fingers so good though he doesn’t stop under the tight hold— “B-Baby—”

“I want it, I want it,” he chants into your mouth, like he’s eager for a release conducive to your early death just so he can say he did that. Awful cocky but you can’t dwell on it. “Just cum for me.”

“Fuck—” He makes you look at him when you do, eyes wide to his imploring ones. He has it in his fingers, a climax that wrangles the most obscene noises from your throat. Your hips grind up uncontrollably, clit a pulsing pain but his thumb rubs it all the same. Jeongguk doesn’t stop till you whine, “God, please—I can’t."

“You’re crying.”

“Am not.” But you feel the sting of heat in your eyes. Jeongguk rubs his nose with yours, wrapped in his arms and affection.

“Was it good though?”

“Was it good, he says.” You kiss him with no bite. “Loved it. Best ever.”

Jeongguk lights up, corners of his mouth lifted into a sated grin. “Woo,” he says. You’re about to ask if he wants one rubbed out but he continues speaking. “So plan’s going well if you wanted to know.”

“Shut up. Shut up!” You make a point of getting up with as much force as possible, disturbing the coils the mattress as Jeongguk laughs. “You’re so gross.”

“You love me.”

Your panties are sticky against you. You turn to see him staring at you already. “I love you.”

The room glows in the last few minutes of red, coated darker and darker. But the look Jeongguk gives you—maybe astonishment, maybe longing—casts a glow that blazes within. Like all he wants is for you to be here and you do too. He breaks the silence with a smile. “You’re the best, you know that?”

You climb back over him, unable to resist anymore. “So I’ve been told.”

“I mean it though.” He shifts so you’re lying down again, head on his chest. Warm again. “Sorry if I’m—pushing the agenda. And I know I say Jimin’s not getting to me and it’s true but it—makes me want you. All the time.”

You settle for the truth with a kiss to his sternum. “I have no free time after today though.” 

“That’s okay,” Jeongguk whispers. “Just love me now and you can always love me later.”

“I can do that,” you say. 

He lets you dig into his side even further. “Are you sure you don’t wanna talk about school?”

“Mm.” You know it’ll help to air your dirty laundry. But knowing Jeongguk has his own shit to deal with is enough for you to hesitate. “Nothing I—haven’t said before. Just stressed.”

“About your last assignment?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re smart. And for whatever reason, really into baby-making in foreign countries.” Jeongguk groans when you pinch him. “But I know you. And you’ll do well. Also it’s official that you’ll do well because you’re dating someone really good at what they do, and I was just inside your body so technically my energy transferred to you.”

“Very solid process.” 

His breathes warmth into your skin. “Believe me. You’re gonna be fine.”

And it’s not the end of the world, not being able to see him for a bit. You both know this. You hug him tighter to you regardless, like making his skin stick to yours was an actuality. You know he feels it too when his arm locks just a tiny bit harder. An unspoken longing for the mold of your body.

You’ll get there.

It’s been four days since you’ve seen Jeongguk, so Namjoon takes the responsibility of keeping you sane. He books a study room for three hours and meets you with a two cups of coffee and three extra pens just in case they run out while you mark your assignments together. He takes the stack of papers from you with a frown, and you work.

The paper is coming along well. You think you have a good five pages to go, but the amount of hounding Professor Kwon has done is scaring you into another late night-in. More and more marks are due, and Namjoon has his own work to deal with. You hate to burden him with your own but now you’re really feeling the Stress from school.

[6:01 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hey what are you doing [6:02 PM] You: i’m doing work :(( [6:02 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Poo poo [6:02 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m bored [6:03 PM] You: 💩💩 [6:03 PM] You: sorry bout it !!!!!!! [6:04 PM] You: wait how can u be bored ur @ practice ?? if ur just…. doin practice [6:05 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: On break [6:05 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: And I miss you [6:06 PM] You: omg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [6:06 PM] You: my heart

Namjoon’s eyebrows are scrunched. “I can’t tell what this student is saying.”

“Read it out loud.” 

“I will argue that the legalization of crack cocaine will act as a beneficial potential towards the bettering of society. With the advent of legal marijuana usage in Canada—yeah.”

“That’s… an abuse of thesaurus privileges,” you comment.

He hums. “They’re young, let them live.”

Again, Jeongguk texts you.

[6:09 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: When are you free [6:10 PM] You: tonight [6:10 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m not 😩😩 What about Wednesday? [6:11 PM] You: i’m only free rn baby :( might have to wait till after friday [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Damn [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I need to go now text me when you’re done k?????? Love you [6:13 PM] You: okay ! 💜

You hear Namjoon snapping at you. “You’re getting distracted.”

“Sorry.” Your pen twitches in your grip. This is your third cup of coffee. “Just—need a goddamn break.

You can sense Namjoon’s nerves grating too. “I get it.” He looks at his watch. “Well. We need to leave in five minutes.”

You graded almost all of your half of assignments. You let yourself breathe a sigh of accomplishment, clearing your work into your bag. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“Buy me lunch someday and we’ll call it even,” Namjoon says. He swipes the papers your way to collect. “And by the way—” he takes one last sip of his coffee— “I caught wind that one of the Commissioner-Generals is coming to the ceremony.”

You stare. “From which agency?” 

“No clue. But I just thought you should know.”

Of course he would. The one time you don’t clear your search history and now Namjoon is up your ass helping you find any potential global PhD programs. And it wasn’t unimaginable either, some higher-up coming to see the semester-end awards the department heads organized, and the student chair had a lot of say in it, current one being Kim Namjoon: a lobbyist, a smart guy, and Twitter-sort-of-famous for being really damn loud about inequality.

But they’re probably not recruiting me, you think. Best not to get your hopes up lest it go to a well-deserved head who apparently doesn’t get distracted by the potential of finally squeezing their boyfriend’s dick. 

Namjoon sighs. “Hey, isn’t the ceremony the same day as the game?”

“Yep,” you confirm. For a split second, an image of Jeongguk giggling pops up into your head.

“Do you think you’ll make it?”

You sling your bag over your shoulder, standing outside the door until Namjoon turns off all the lights. “I’m gonna try.”

The hallway to the main entrance of the Humanities wing is quiet. “Speaking of the game. Any intel about your current… predicament?”

“Jimin?”

“Jimin.”

“About Jeongguk?”

“About Jeongguk.”

“Fuck,” you murmur. And you thought he’d be kind enough to keep your secret, but Namjoon is to Jimin like a big is to a little except they’re both too posh to be in a frat. “Not really. And stay out of it.”

“I will,” he says. He opens the door, winter wind as brutal as ever. You think about Jeongguk walking you to the bus stop but he’s probably already back at his dorm. You shiver. “But if I catch you distracted on your phone again I might have to ask.”

You cower into embarrassment.“Sorry.” 

Namjoon waves you off. “Just get home safe, yeah?”

Getting home isn’t that bad; late enough for the absence of the rush hour crowd and you get to sit on the bus the rest of the ride. You all but book it to your place to escape the frost nipping at your cheeks and into the nest of your textbooks. Plans to demolish at least a tiny bit of your not-so-tiny pile of work come to a stand-still when you hear your phone vibrate.

[7:46 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hey did u finish yet [7:46 PM] You: fuck sorry forgot to text [7:46 PM] You: yeah i did, i just got home [7:47 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: That’s good [7:47 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Do you have a lot of work to do tonight?? [7:48 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Please say no [7:48 PM] You: ….. [7:48 PM] You: why [7:48 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: The plan [7:50 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Still building [7:50 PM] You: should i be scared [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I know you wouldn’t like it if I didn’t ask, and I’m a good boy, so [7:52 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can I send you a picture of my dick?

A boot hangs limply from your toes from when you were trying to tug it off. Dumbly, you’re gaping. Gaping at this transition from shy Jeongguk to… whatever the fuck this was. The pulsing of your sex betrays your shock.

It’s not like things were changing fast, either. That moment in his bed—after he fucked you with his fingers—was the last time you’d been together. A solid evening of knotted arms and Jeongguk’s breath down your neck. He’d only let you go because your complaints to do homework got too loud for him to sleep properly, and you left him in his room like that: heavy-eyed and full of low murmurs for you to come back.

“You’ll miss me, right?” He’d asked. It sounded so innocent. Looked like it too when he stood next to you as you slipped on your shoes. The answer was easy.

“Duh.”

And it wasn’t like you weren’t affectionate. Sure, gaining the impulse to hug and squeeze him was one you had to work up to, but this came with new relationships, that novelty of being someone else’s: one that Jeongguk had no problems getting used to. Took you a little longer to warm up to his kisses in public but you’re here now. Here, slack-jawed at this distant intimacy. Feet mired in your shock, on the carpet of your front door.

You don’t remember feeling this desperate for Jeongguk before. 

[7:54 PM] You: i [7:54 PM] You: definitely wouldn’t be opposed

You lock your screen fast. Fling your shoes off, slap your jacket onto a hanger. You nearly bust your bedroom down in your hurry to get the fuck on the bed, like the rush of a late night with a stranger but Jeongguk is wholly familiar and isn’t even here to touch you. The ding of your phone is enough to keep you on your toes. You don’t swipe yet because already you’re sweating.

Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 1 Photo and 2 Messages

Should you take your clothes off? Or is he supposed to ask you to do that? Should you ask? What the fuck. This was too much.

You open it. It takes one second to download.

That’s his dick. Jeongguk’s dick, flash on, held up by the tips of his fingers at the base like he knows his angles. The tip is flushed with a wetness you’d lick right up if you were there just to feel the way he shivers under you.

[7:55PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Baby I’m so hard [7:55PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wanna kiss you all over

You squeal. 

This was your boyfriend, mister-campus-hotboy, the one literally everyone got hard over and now he’s sending you his own personal dick pics. Maybe you do need to thank the high heavens one day because

What

The

Fuck is going on.

No matter. 

[7:57PM] You: i want u to [7:57PM] You: want u on top of me [7:57PM] You: with ur lips on my neck [7:58PM] You: getting me wet. u always make me. wet

You can’t wait anymore. Your shirt is off, bra tossed, back bare on your sheets. You shimmy out of your pants just as Jeongguk texts back.

[7:58PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Fcurck baby [7:59PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can’t stop thinnking abt u [8:00PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: The way u sounded [8:00PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: When I was e ating u out [8:01PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: u tasted so good on m y tonguel fucckkkk [8:01PM] You: are u jacking off rn ??? [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Yess [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Touch urself [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Please?

Panties come off. It’s not a surprise when your finger is soaked in your arousal, teasing your clit and you sigh.

[8:02PM] You: fuck im so wet [8:03PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Yeah??? [8:03PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: What r u thinkgnin about [8:03PM] You: your mouth [8:04PM] You: on my tits [8:04PM] You: my cunt [8:04PM] You: u got me off sooo good [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Fuucckckk baby [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You’re so hot ho ly shit [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Want u so bad [8:06PM] You: how??? [8:06PM] You: u already treat me so good [8:06PM] You: maybe i’’ll take care of u now hm? ?? [8:07PM] You: mymouth on ur dick [8:07PM] You: taste so good [8:08PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Shit

Everything was jumping out of your head so quick your one hand couldn’t keep up. The two fingers on your pussy dipped again, jolts of sweetness straight through your nerves when you rub yourself faster. Focusing on his texts was as easy as trying to stave your orgasm off, which… really wasn’t going too well, pelvis meeting the palm of your hand in a desperate kick.

[8:08PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Take your clothes off [8:09PM] You: past that

It takes him a minute.

[8:10PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Could you send a pic [8:10PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Pleas e

Oh. Okay.

You lean up on your elbow, push your chest against your bicep in the hopes that your cleavage could somewhat be evocative enough in the weak light of your phone. (You notice you forgot to turn the lights on.) The picture cuts off right above your nipples, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t do that just for the possibility of a desperate plea. You lie back down.

Sent.

[8:13PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: urruhguhgkehrdhfg [8:13PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Baby pleease I want more [8:14PM] You: of what ??? [8:14PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: FUck [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I want you [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: On top of me [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Grnding yuor pretty pussy on my dick [8:16PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You’re wet ik ur wet

Of course he would. He knows your body better than ever before, and you might tease him but the throbbing you’re attending to is too much of a distraction.

[8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can you imagine that [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Teasig my cock into you [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I won’t putnit in yet [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Bc I want u squirming o n top of me [8:18PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Ik u don’t beg [8:19PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I would ask u anyway if u want me to sink u down on my cock

Oh my god. The soft sucking sound of your fingers inside your cunt isn’t enough to drag you out of this reverie. It just sinks you deeper into this bliss Jeongguk spells out for you so well. He has you like putty. Your knuckles curve you into a hopeless whimper.

[8:20PM] You: i want that [8:20PM] You: iwa nt that so bad pleas [8:21PM] You: let me feel your dick inside [8:21PM] You: u want that so bad baby [8:21PM] You: to feel me squeezing around u [8:21PM] You: im so tight and wwt [8:22PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wanna hear u  [8:22PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Ft [8:22PM] You: just call

You don’t think you could handle seeing his dick now. Especially when the build in your pussy is this close to tipping you into a climax he probably wants to hear.

Your phone blares in the quiet. “Baby—”

“I’m so close,” Jeongguk says. He sounds like he’s panting. “Tell me you are too. Please—!” He cuts himself off with a gasp.

“Y-Yeah.” You burn in his desperation, curling into your cunt in the spot you know would have you keeling over. “Ngh—!”

“I wanna hear you. Wanna—hear you when I fuck you. So—good.”

“Oh fuck—”

“You want that too baby?”

You heave. “Yes!”

“Let me hear you cum. Please. I’m so fucking close—”

“Jeongguk!” You sputter, moaning loud, crying in the extremity. It zips through your core, has you reeling, legs shaking as you rub it out so hard you arch from your bed. You barely register Jeongguk’s own completion.

“Fuck I’m cumming—shit!” He groans, long, noisy on the line but the image of his cum onto his hands has your stomach clenching. Clobbered by his own doing and it’s almost endearing how fucked out he sounds. There’s a moment where you hear fumbling, a distant breath; shifts in the mattress probably. “Baby…”

Your phone lights up again. 

Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 1 Photo

You don’t hesitate this time. 

His dick is wet, probably with his spit, but now his entire first is closed around it, dregs of his cum pooling in the suction of his palm against the pink skin. The urge to put your mouth on him is so over-whelming you groan in frustration.

“Want it in my mouth,” you say.

“You’ll make me hard again,” Jeongguk murmurs with a laugh.

It’s just past 8:30. “So. What got you so hard that had you begging for me over the phone?”

“Hm.” You move until you’re under the covers. A makeshift warmth because you don’t have Jeongguk to cuddle you for post-sex softness. “I don’t know. Just missed you. Again. Sorry if you had work to do.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yeah I’m not.” You think you hear him in the washroom. The vent is loud. “Made a mess.”

“Not my fault.”

“Uh, it kinda was. Hoping for more nipple next time.”

“Now you’re asking for too much,” you sigh. There’s a sleepy pull in your head, dragging you through the waves of feelings that currently bombard your heart. “I miss you too. Hope you’re not working too hard.”

“I have a bruise on my ass! Oh my god I forgot to tell you. But Hoseok checked me so hard for no fucking reason and—boom. Landed right on my booty.”

You coo. “Aw. Want me to kiss it better?”

“Yes please, it’s on my fatter butt-cheek I think.”

It dies down again. “So what stage are we at for your build-up?”

“Close to the finale.”

You can’t stop yourself from smiling. There’s only three days left till your prospective hells come to a head. Then it’s back to loving Jeongguk but closer to him this time, not through the cracked screen of your phone. “Can’t wait.”

“Me too,” Jeongguk says. “Guess—I should leave you to your work?”

As much as you want to say no, the pile of essays on your desk is calling for your ass to get moving. It sends a quick ripple of nervous tension down your spine but the sooner you get it done the sooner it is to texting Jeongguk again. You know he’s impatient too. “Yeah. Might stay up.”

“Not too late, okay? You’re almost there. And make that tea I bought you, it’s supposed to help with your headaches.”

You’ll cry. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Text me when you’re gonna sleep.”

You’re probably ovulating because a tear really does slip over your cheek. The stickiness between your thighs rubs your skin when you finally get up, avoiding the offensive stack of work in your periphery when the hints of a new headache start to come up. 

Jeongguk probably knew you were heading straight into another painful night of working. There’s a tin of loose leaf tea sitting patiently for you in your cupboard. And maybe taking on the teaching position wasn’t such a good idea, but then again, dates where everything loomed over you were inevitable. School’s a bitch. But you have an attractive boy waiting for you to finish, and that’s what prompts you to face the music. One more time.

Three more nights. 

The first night is actually okay. You get a page and half done, and Namjoon checks in with a text in the evening to make sure you aren’t pulling your teeth out. Jeongguk has practice the whole day. 

During the second night, you forget to save one of the articles you cited, and you spend a frantic hour searching through all your sources to trace it back. It’s a painful process and you almost cry, but you text Jeongguk and he sends you a selfie of him sending you a thumbs up. Your phone lags trying to scroll through the gigantic box of of hearts he texts you. You find the article. It’s good.

Third night and you’re about ready to give up. Jeongguk and Namjoon are both out of commission because apparently the universe hates all of you and you’re all busy with your respective work. But you have a page to conquer, and the onus is on you to show up with nice skin tomorrow because the department likes to take pictures to post online. The tea Jeongguk got you steams as you type diligently.

One

More

Word

Andit’sdone.

“Oh god,” you whisper to yourself. You scroll through your paper, making sure all your citations are right. Page numbers there. No excessive use of the first-person, your professor’s name spelt correctly. Formatted correctly.

It’s done.

You bask in the harsh light of your desk lamp, weight lifted off your shoulders the instant you save your document to submit online.

The assignment page loads, and you hit the button.

The line of your phone rings twice.

“Hello?” Jeongguk groans. It’s three in the morning. “Babe? Are you okay?”

“I FINISHED I SUBMITTED IT IT’S IN!” You yell. A genuine rise in your throat that has Jeongguk whooping with as much energy as his sleep-ridden voice can allow on the other side of the line.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I wanna hop on your dick right now.”

Jeongguk just snickers. Your eyebrows raise, because for sure he would’ve been choking. But maybe it’s because he’s tired. “Don’t tempt me into a boner, it’s too early for this.”

“Fuck—sorry. You have your game. Okay I’ll hang up. I’m gonna—sleep. Try to. Okay I love you! Sorry bye!”

“Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You knock out the second your light is off and your head hits the pillow.

You asked Namjoon earlier in the day to call you awake because your ringtone is more annoying than your alarm. And even though the ceremony is later in the evening, you’re scared that you’ll sleep the entire day away. 

Jeongguk texts you before you’re up. A congratulatory message, and another saying that he’ll be at practice the whole day so he’ll try to text you at lunch. But the afternoon sun sees no text from him and you know it’s because he’s sweating his balls off on the hockey rink. Stubborn like you know he is but now you miss him again. 

One thing that sticks in your head the rest of the day: the thought of it being over. Because once you get your awards and hopefully get to see the end of the game, you get Jeongguk to yourself again. Two weeks of agonizing to get to this point all but crashes into your loins to spark a frighteningly hot fire, and now, once again, you’re left to fantasize about Jeongguk’s dick. You force yourself not to dwell on it too much, makeup a risk to your fidgeting and if the reason why you have an ugly picture up online is because you were longing for dick then—well. 

It’s Namjoon who greets you when you get to the conference hall downtown.

“You look good,” is all he says. 

You stick your tongue out at him. You had to redo your lipstick twice. “Shut up.”

He leads you to where he was sitting: the massive table stuck in the middle with the microphones sticking up along the perimeter. Maplewood and entirely unfitting for the green carpet, though Namjoon beats you before you can say anything mean. “If you look up front, that’s the Commissioner-General I was talking about.”

You look. She’s a petite woman, scarily thin, wearing a bright scarf. “Yoon Soomin,” you recognize.

“Correct.”

“Namjoon!” You hit his shoulder, and he winces with a grin. “Why didn’t you tell me!”

“Because I knew you’d get stressed!”

Well he’s goddamn right you’re stressed now. Yoon Soomin, Commissioner-General of one of the programs you had your eyes on for the past year now. Applications are open next week. You’ve had yours done for a solid six months, and now the head of the program is right here. In the flesh. Watching you about to get your award.

The chatter of all the other students is drowned out when the program head gets up for the commencement speech. “Good evening everyone. My name is Bae Joohyun. Thank you—”

Ding.

Namjoon kicks your shin. You silence your phone. It’s Jeongguk.

[7:39PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hi babe hope u had a good day!!! Sorry I got distracted [7:40PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I know ur gna win like fifty awards so advanced congrats!!!!!!! Proud of ur big brain [7:40PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Love you [7:41PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I hope you make it later pls try ur hardest but if u can’t it’s okay but like I would really appreciate if you. Came [7:41PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: OJO [7:42PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Heh Taehyung said that looks like me 

There’s clapping. You don’t know why everyone’s clapping but you do it too.

[7:42PM] You: pls don’t break any limbs while i am here i won’t be fast enough [7:42PM] You: love u. play smart not hard. i’ll be there for ur final goal 🤪 [7:43PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Anything for my scholar [7:43PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You r so cute please come soon [7:44PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I have to go now I LOVE You

“I will now invite the Student Chair Kim Namjoon forward to deliver a speech,” Professor Bae says.

No last text to Jeongguk because now you join the applause once more. Namjoon gets up with practiced ease, staggered steps of confidence because if anyone is going to get a PhD first, it’s him. And you know he applied for the program too.

It starts simple: “Thank you for coming today.” A celebratory gathering, gratitude for everyone’s hard work and commitment. A call for everyone to continue being ambassadors for the Humanities. Nothing you haven’t heard before. 

“I would also like to announce that the department has decided to award a special recipient tonight for their academic work and contribution to graduate research,” Namjoon continues. “The award will be presented by Yoon Soomin, Commissioner-General of the Anthropology for the Humanities Global Network. Please give your warmest applause to Doctor Yoon.”

Oh god. Your literal idol because she was just as interested in babies as you were and Jeongguk would for sure be goading you into a frenzy because of your shaking. But you clap as normally as normal clapping goes, and Doctor Yoon takes the mic.

“I’ll just head straight into it,” she says with a pretty smile. You catch Namjoon looking at you. He raises an amused eyebrow, and now you’re suspicious. “It is an honour to call upon ___, for their recent submission of pronatalist work based in Europe for the research study funded by the Global Network.” That’s—you. That’s you, and these are your legs moving on their own accord to the beat of the eager applause. You don’t look at Namjoon but you can hear him, because he’s clapping the loudest. “___ has been recognized before: for an outstanding submission in undergraduate research on cultural genocide, as well as active participation in the Anthropological department.”

Yoon Soomin extends a hand to you, as well as a pretty certificate gilded with bold letters in the form of your name. Again: all offered by Yoon Soomin. Again, you are shaking. 

“T—hank you,” you stammer, and her hand is soft in yours and you really just might cry but it’s probably because you’re exhausted. You’d slept for a solid ten hours but no amount of rest would have ever prepared you for her pretty voice congratulating you again. “I—It’s an honour.”

“Picture time,” Namjoon interrupts. He’s got his phone up. “Smile!”

“Congratulations again,” Doctor Yoon says. She grins like she knows something too, and the rest of the ceremony is static in your ears.

Like always, it’s repetition. A name called, award presented. Your name is exhausted three more times, and you’d cower under the attention but you worked too goddamn hard not get to this point. You think of Jeongguk, probably three to none even though it’s only been half an hour into the game. You and Namjoon are practically trembling when Professor Bae dismisses everyone.

Your jacket is on, purse about to swing over your shoulder when someone comes up to you.

“Hello.” Doctor Yoon again. “Oh—are you in a hurry?”

“Not at all,” you rush out. You can feel Namjoon vibrating too. “I—Thank you so much for presenting the award.”

“It was my pleasure. The overseas program application opens next week,” she advises, and you really might scream but you will yourself to stillness. “We don’t know where it’s based yet, but I hope that doesn’t discourage you from submitting your application.”

“Oh she’s been interested for years,” Namjoon offers. You elbow him. Doctor Yoon laughs. 

“I’m glad to hear that. Keep up the good work!”

You all but skirt around her with a quick thank you again! and make a mad dash out the building and to the underground train because Namjoon sucks and can’t drive on highways yet. “Good thing you didn’t wear heels because you’re so fucking slow.”

“Shut up,” you growl. The people on the sidewalk offer no space for you to slither through, and you grind you teeth with impatience. “And don’t give me shit when I beat you four to one.”

“Not everyone’s into babies like you are, genius.” You reach the closest subway entrance, a seedy staircase down into the dirty cement and your fare is paid with a drop of a coin; running for the departing train and you make it by the wisp of your hair. You sigh into an empty seat, Namjoon right next to you. “Time.”

It’s nearing 9:00. “Oh my god it’s almost done.”

“You’ll make it,” Namjoon says. The jostling ride is another twenty minutes, and you know it’s cutting it short but you promised Jeongguk. He’s so close. You’re out of breath. “So you’re free now, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“You worked hard.”

You scrunch your face in embarrassment. “Thanks Joonie.”

“I mean it,” he says. “No one deserves this more than you. Yeah? Cut yourself some slack.”

“I know—it’s just—I couldn’t be there for Jeongguk as much as I could have—” And it’s all coming out now. There’s only one other person on this cart other than Namjoon so you let yourself have the moment, the breakdown. The awfulness of preoccupation and missing your boyfriend and too much work. You don’t want to cry but the screech of the metal tracks makes it easier to hide. “‘M so fucking tired.”

Namjoon pats your back when you heave. “Two more stops. Then you can curse the gods all you want.”

Good incentive, because once the doors slide open on your stop you book it up the escalator as fast as your fatigue can allow. Luckily campus is right around the corner, cars taking up all the space on the road. Probably all here for the final match of the year, your university against the one a city over, and the cheers are so loud you hear it from the two sidewalks over. “Let’s go let’s go!”

And you and Namjoon run again, down to the set of doors of the arena nestled into the corner of your school. The doors are heavyset but you yank them like you’ll die if you aren’t inside within the next twenty seconds, and it’s only now that you feel the buzz of your phone from a text.

[8:58 PM] Jimin Bimin: I’m on the east side with taehyung, third from the bottom bleacher, mostly in the middle. hurry!!!!!!

Namjoon’s no doubt just following the beeline you make because even you can’t feel where your legs are taking you. All you know is the rush of school pride and the deafening yells of the crowd, lost bits of popcorn on the floor scrunching against your shoes as you search for Jimin. You see Taehyung first: warpaint on his face and he waves you over quickly, scooting over with a pull on Jimin to make room for Namjoon too.

“You made it!” Jimin screams and it still sounds like a squeak with the roar of the people everywhere.

But you ignore this, laser-beaming the rink for that familiar 97. You catch Jeongguk closely following the puck, stick clenched tightly in his fists, legs quick in their glide as the offence. You feel everyone’s bated breath, hands grabbing Jimin’s arm—the other team’s members flying past Jeongguk, the raise of the wood, a slap to the puck—

The red blares. The crowd goes wild. 

“HE WON!” Jimin screams and so do you, the wave of excitement passing over you like fairy dust and now everyone’s cheering. You have no idea what went on. But now all the boys off the rink jump over the barrier to grab Jeongguk in a hard throttle, arms tangled around each other, chant lost on your ears but they look so happy. 

Somehow, a body breaks away from the huddle, and now they’re skating in your direction. 

Jeongguk waves. You smile. A wave back, and now you have each other again.

You wait outside the building, watching as the throngs disperse. Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jimin already said their goodbyes, last felicitations from them both and a promise for lunch from you somehow gets squeezed from the conversation too. The brick is hard against your back.

[9:30PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: WHERE ARE YOU [9:30PM] You: i’m outside already!!

A door bursts open. There’s an inhale, then you turn your head. Jeongguk drops his bag the second you charge for him, arms ready for your attack as you jump and wrap your legs around his waist, arms caught on his neck. You think you hear someone gasp but it’s all lost on you now. “Oh my god I love you,” he breathes, and you cry. “Babe—”

“I watched you,” you sniffle, and you frown when he laughs. “Watched you win.”

“I’m glad.”

You kiss him. “Missed you.”

Jeongguk looks like he might cry too. “Mine again?”

“Yours again.” And you mean it. 

“I would—I would invite you over to the after-party but I’m sleepy,” he says in between presses of his mouth, “and I ran out of contact solution the other day so I can’t invite you over and also Taehyung’s probably sleeping right now.”

“Then you come over.” You melt into his tongue, his feet staggering in your grind and he bites your lip.

“R-Really?” 

“Yeah, actually get some shut-eye.” He lets you off when you wriggle your ass against his hands, dragging him to the bus stop before he can put them back against your jeans or else you might really fuck him this time. “Because Taehyung snores too loud anyway.”

The ride to your apartment totals eight minutes because it’s late, and living on the edge of the suburbs means no one’s up this late anyhow. Jeongguk hadn’t even let you find a seat, balancing through red lights on his feet just to fly out the door when you’d reached your stop. You’ve already done too much running today but Jeongguk still rushes you up to your floor, and before you can get the key to your door he has you pressed up on it instead.

“Want you,” he says. Hard against your throat like he means it.

“God—let me—open my door and you have me,” you say through your teeth, gritted because the hallways echo and now Jeongguk has his thigh pressed up against you. “Babe let go—”

He does, but only with a lingering kiss promised by your burning attraction. You don’t fumble with the lock but you do stumble in from how quick you open the door, slamming shut in your haste and you hear his duffel bag meet the ground and now your back meets the hard metal again. “You have to stop shoving me into this thing oh my god.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jeongguk whispers. He’s kissing you again. Lifts you up with no warning and you yelp into his curious mouth, dick grinding into the rough of your pants. “Fuck I—”

“Did—you want to—”

“No—wait yes, yes—I just—” He doesn’t let up. You can feel his cock straining against his sweats, flimsy layers you could just shove down but his hips are glued to your own. “I can’t—cum. Right now. Too much. Wind—wound up.”

Your tailbone is starting to dig into the door. “Then let me down and let’s just—sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. One last kiss, nose meeting yours. “Still on my hockey grind.”

“Ew,” you snort. “Also don’t wear your pants to bed.”

“Oh.” He shoves his shoes off when you do. 

“I don’t like it when people wear their outside clothes on my sheets.”

“Oh.”

“But it’d be nice to wake up to your dick on my ass,” you add. Jeongguk makes a strangled noise, then carries you to bed.

“I’ll brush my teeth tomorrow,” is the last thing you remember him saying. 

The morning rushes in too soon. Your curtains aren’t closed and Jeongguk hogs the blanket, sprawled on your side of the bed no less. You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to spoon but at least his cock is warm with something just as soft as your ass.

You settle in the calm. Jeongguk isn’t one to snore but his soft breaths are just as jarring, disbelief apparent when you realize this is the first time he’s ever slept-over at your place. As convenient as it is to live somewhere that only needed one bus ride, you’re on campus all the time; making sense meant taking up space in his res instead. But now the lump he occupies in your bed is something you think you could get used to.

(Even if he hogs the blanket.)

You’re still in your clothes from last night, but at least you had the decency to shuck off your jeans. And you’d gotten up well past Jeongguk-sleeping-hours to take off your makeup because it took you forever to pry his ridiculously strong arm off around you. You get up with a kiss to his mane of bedhead and a silent reminder to grab an extra toothbrush.

The next plan to execute on your list after washing the tired off: breakfast. And you know you don’t have eggs but you open the fridge like you’ll see the carton sitting there anyway.

You’re standing, coming to a blank for what feels like forever. You think briefly about ordering in, then remember the guilt of just grabbing groceries instead. The internal battle is cut short when you hear the creak of your bed, a long groan. Then, footsteps.

“You look sad,” Jeongguk croaks two seconds later.

You frown for effect. “I want eggs. And why are you up.”

“Come here, egghead.” Jeongguk is groggy. The sexy kind too, because his voice is a tenor that scratches the needier part in you, the one telling you to bury your face in his chest and you do just that. “I felt you move. Sorry I couldn’t wake you up with my dick against your butt.”

“S’ok. And go shower because you’re stinky.”

He lets you go. “Good morning,” he says for the first time. A domesticity you feel lightheaded from. “You should shower with me.”

“Unless you’re scared of detachable shower heads I think you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be cocky,” he whines. “And you’re dirty too, you sweat a lot just like I do.”

That’s true. “But it’s not even a hair washing day.”

“Why are you resisting me, woman.” He brings two hands up, wiggling his fingers. “I’ll tickle you.”

“You will not—”

“I will tickle you and if you don’t shower with me I will cry.”

You huff. “Fine.” He leads you down the hall to the bathroom, satisfied in his quick win, back flexing when he takes his shirt off. “And I’m the cocky one.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says. You know he’s baiting but you don’t want to resist him anymore. “You need to turn the shower on because I don’t know how to.”

Getting naked is a different kind of intimate when you’re not in the bedroom. You know this because Jeongguk can’t even look your way when you’ve stripped, but you’re shivering like he’s staring.  You step into the tub before he can back out. He doesn’t come in till the water’s running.

You like it hot. Jeongguk—not so much by the looks of his hesitation, so you compromise with a slight shift of the knob and a switch in place so he’s under the pelt of water. He’s all hard muscle under your hands. “Hope you like cherry blossom.”

He doesn’t say anything. Grabbing the loofah you spurt your pink soap, lathering it on his chest first. Jeongguk just stares. “I really missed you,” he says.

You nod. Nodding fast to keep yourself from thinking too hard because then you might start getting soft. “Me too,” you croak out. “Want me to wash your hair?”

Jeongguk just brushes his lips against yours in answer. You’ve just reached over his shoulders to get the back of his neck but he forces you back into the tiles, back inundated with cold hardness and there’s no room for complaint when your tits press against Jeongguk’s skin like this. He groans a desperate sound into your pliant mouth. “I—I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

You pause. “For what?”

“I don’t—know—I—just having you here again. Makes me want to do everything.”

You are enveloped in mist and so much longing. “Let me finish then we’ll—go back.” You don’t know if you want to focus southward because one look at his dick and you’ll fall to your knees. “Turn around.”

He does. The glass of the divider fogs up in your intimacy. You give a half-hearted scrub along his skin, focusing on the grime you can’t see. Can’t think.

“Okay you know—I think we’re good,” you say, voice tight.

“Come here.” Jeongguk spins to find you again, a hard kiss into you and you feel his dick press up against your stomach. “Towels.”

“Turn off the shower.” You push open the door, shaking legs dripping onto the floor as you scramble to wrap yourself in warmth other than Jeongguk. He grabs the other one, quick passes over his skin before he drops it to the floor and nearly bowls you over to get you out into the bed room.

It’s bright. Jeongguk reads your mind. “Can I—shut the blinds?”

“Please.”

He goes to twist the plastic while you dry off the last remnants of water clinging to your skin, and before you know it Jeongguk has you lain flat across the tangled blankets, legs dangling from the side of the bed. “God I tried really hard to have a normal morning with you but I—just can’t anymore.” He kneels over you. “Please tell me you feel the same.”

You could go on about how quick the one-eighty was. From your thoughts about breakfast to this absolutely insatiable need for your boyfriend to insert whatever valid body part he could use into your pussy. But you and Jeongguk are never conventional, and going too fast is an illusion now. 

You have each other again, and no one’s counting the seconds anymore.

“Will you fuck me?” You ask.

“Yes,” he decides, and he unwraps the towel you’d clung onto before pressing downwards and caving into your lips. “I—have never wanted you so goddamn bad in my life, oh my god.”

“Good,” you choke on your breath because Jeongguk slips down your throat with his tongue and a pucker of his lips. “Ah—!”

A bloom of your slick runs through your cunt when he sucks hard on your skin, thumbs a shy presence on your breasts but they peak under the pressure. “You have the cutest tits,” he says. 

“Shut up.” You flare with embarrassment. “You can—be more rough.”

Jeongguk twists your nipples and you pant. “Like that?”

“Suck on them too. Make it—hurt.” His eyes flutter, determined in your command. Mouth a hot suction, laving you with his spit. His teeth graze in a bite and you moan. “Fuck—yeah. That’s so good…”

He stays like this: feeding into your sounds with sloppy grips of his tongue, suckling till your tits pop out his mouth and your hands find the nape of his neck in desperation. “Ugh—please—”

Jeongguk slurps on a nipple. “Get up there.”

You scramble up the bed, comfortably nestled in the centre and Jeongguk’s fingers go to spread your pussy,   cheeks heating in the sound of wet. He sighs.

“Do you want to cum now?”

You dip your head. “Please.”

He settles on his stomach, diving in to latch onto your clit, sucking that has your head thrown back further with every inch he covers with the jerk of his tongue. Honed in on the dangerous tip that could have you teetering over in a second and your hips pull back, but his hands take your bucking and locks you down to his attention. Too much so and now you wail. “Oh my g—od.”

Curses caught in the grit of your teeth because now he licks the stretch of your cunt like he’s thirsty. Jeongguk’s good at making you want more when you don’t know what means. “Gonna—use a finger.”

“Fuck, yeah. Yeah.” He curls in and up, a sweet crevice touched. Eyes rolling back as you puff. “Holy fu-uck yeah, finger it.”

“Wanna beg?” He suggests. Challenging.

“You’re asking me to?”

“I’m begging you to,” Jeongguk snickers.

“Then—” you settle up on your elbows, watching the minute thrusts into your cunt like a lazy cartoon— “please use another finger. And—make me cry this time.”

His eyes bulge in your confidence. Pulls out; now there’s two hard intrusions and it digs into a sweeter part inside, a touch that has you keening right into the pillow, drool smearing on the sheet. Clit sitting pretty on his wet tongue and you’d let him have it all day if he asked. Then Jeongguk thrusts in a drill so hard you vibrate. “O-O-Oh my fuuuuuuck—”

He curves into your loudness. “So fucking sexy,” he praises, rushing right through you and onto his fingers. “So wet—”

“Ugh—!” Your sobbing isn’t a tearful one but the scratch in your throat is smarting. Jeongguk swipes right over your nub. Leans up, fingers still a consistent presence and now his tongue is teasing yours, a muscle spasm more than anything and you can’t fucking breathe.

“Sit on my face,” he says.

“You—really?”

“I might cum.” Oh. He looks at you, eyes a wonder of pleasured agony. Probably because he’d been grinding into the sheets like last time but now you’re even more gone.

“Okay,” you gulp, and Jeongguk rolls over. Knees above his shoulders, using his elbows to slide along the mattress till you’re settled comfortably over his eager mouth. “You okay?”

“Fuck yeah.” He pulls on your thighs until his neck doesn’t strain up anymore, a stretch you can ignore if only to feel the traction of his rough love on your sensitivity. “This is—so hot.”

“Are you—pulling on pornographic roots right now?”

He hums into a suction. “Yeah.”

“What else have you thought about?” You can’t see his entire face from your view, but his forehead is scrunched. Thinking hard for you.

“Nothing—crazy,” he says. He kisses your leaking cunt. “Always wanna make you feel good. But it’d be hot if I choked you, yeah.”

“Oh—”

“Whatever you like,” Jeongguk decides. “I like whatever you like.”

“I would like it if you made me cry,” you contend.

He doesn’t say anything else. Jeongguk squeezes your ass, neck straining to get you dribbling on the tip of his tongue, pleasure pulled from the bottom of your stomach into moaning so loud you’re worried for the thinness of your walls. “Oh my god I’m close—don’t stop—”

Your pussy grinds right into it. His fingers are lax on your skin like he’s given up if it means you feed into your own demise. And you do: grating all your nerves from Jeongguk’s insistence into your sex and your hands tangle into his hair. “Oh fuck I’m—Jeongguk—!”

The feeling settles heavy in your pussy. Taken with a vehemence you’d praise forever and Jeongguk is nothing but passionate, a power translated through all his work and one he insists on when he paints your cunt like it’s his favourite thing to do. His hands tighten their grip on your ass, nearly falling over when his tongue slides like that—

“I’m cumming—oh my god I’m—fuck!”

Your eyes sting. It bursts—starting on Jeongguk’s tongue and spreading so fast you can’t tell up from down.  Moans wrenched from your chest and you can’t catch your breath, even when you push yourself off from Jeongguk because you can’t stop riding into it. “Ah—oh fuck.” You’re sniffling.

“Babe wait did I actually make you cry?”

“Yes you idiot, come here.” And Jeongguk crawls over you, kiss-ready, lips wet on yours. “Do you—is it—are you okay? Do you wanna try now?”

“Sure,” he says. “I just—might not last too long.”

“We take it slow,” you say. He nods. “Got condoms?”

Jeongguk looks sheepish but he nods again. “Please don’t ask me why I have them on me.”

“I’m asking why you have them on you.”

He groans. “Let me just—get them from my bag.” And he runs, hard penis and all, outside to the bag he’d left outside in your haste to the bed. He’s not even gone for two seconds before he has the string of foil in his hand. “Remember there was a party last night? Taehyung gave them to me just in case—you know. Something happened.”

“Good friend. Do you—have lube too?” 

Jeongguk pales. “No.”

“Come here,” you order instead, because you’re ridiculously wet anyhow. He gets closer, lying down when you push his chest down. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just wanna kiss you.”

He lets you. You stay in this moment, a precursor to a new era if you were being dramatic about it. But having him so soft and yielding under you like this makes you want to enjoy it, bit by bit. “I love you,” he says.

You mold into him. “I love you too.” Reaching over for one of the foils, you tear it as Jeongguk stares with a still chest. The condom rolls easily. “Okay?”

“Yep.”

Then you sit on top of him, your own breath caught in the butterflies jumbled in your stomach, a flit when his hands come to rest on your thighs. Nerves tangling with his and you feel the low tremors in his body. Your pussy glides along his dick lying pretty on his stomach. You tangle your hands with his. “Don’t be nervous,” you whisper.

Jeongguk gulps. “Just—kiss me again.”

You lean back down, his hands tightening yours when you meet him again. “Are you okay?”

His eyes are closed. “Yes—yes. You can put it in. Please.”

“Just—say the word and I’ll stop.”

He nods.

There’s a lump in your throat. You want it to be good for him. The griping all his friends did had done a great deal for your sex life, yeah. But the point of his comfort was crossed so many times you feared he’d back out by this time. And now he waits: waits for your go, on your own time, because the last thing he wanted to do was pressure you too. You know it in his attention, his quiet insistence on making you cum first. His patience for you to come back to him. Waiting so that you could get comfortable before he did, because he’s only ever comfortable when you are. 

You hold the base of his dick, tip straight below your core, positioned at the height of both your breaths.

You sink down.

It’s a scarcity, to feel this good from the get-go. A prodding that pinches a little stretches you right, Jeongguk’s length gloved in your heat, so much heat because he groans. “Oh my god.”

“Is that—okay?”

“Yes—”

His hands find your hips when your knees drop down even further. Slow, slow, slow; so wet because he makes you feel it—until you bottom out. Jeongguk shivers. “Tell me—when I can move.”

You watch his eyebrows scrunch up, teeth gritting when you shift to ease the weight on your legs. “I’m good. I’m good, please move, fuck.”

You do. You pick up to an easy pace, not straining yourself but enough for the tip of his dick to hit a spot in your gut that has you cooing. Your hands find his chest. “Ooh—fuck yeah.”

“Is it good—for you?” Jeongguk pants, bucking his hips when he watches your tits bounce. 

“Yeah. Feels so good…” You trail off, getting used to the feel of something so much thicker than his fingers. A burn you can’t say you haven’t missed, teasing your insides and you squeeze.

“Baby—that—fuck—” He’s sweating. His forehead shines, hair caught on his skin. His chest is a flushed, wet where your palms meet him because you’re getting a little winded now. But the little grunts he lets out every time you bounce is enough to keep you going. 

“Do you think—you can cum like this?”

His grin is sheepish. “N-No.”

You opt for a closer grind then. “How do you want me?”

“Your back,” he says, hesitant. “Let me—fuck you from the edge of the bed.”

You can do that. You lift up till his dick lies wet on his belly, sheets a mess under your bum when you let Jeongguk get up to move you the way he wants. He stands, one knee on the mattress as he spreads your legs, pussy served like it’s his to take. Makes a grab for his dick; jostles around a bit on your clit to see your hole tighten, stomach clenched. 

He presses in slow just to see you shiver. In control of your pleasure again, and you sigh into the sheets. 

“Oh my god.” You grasp the blankets, elbows strong to watch what you now know is the visual of Jeongguk fucking you. A little stilted in his rhythm, but only because he’s getting used to the feel of your pussy like this. 

You don’t care for the semantics of proper fucking. As long as his hips meet your ass in the beat you can only call nasty. The squelch of your arousal is loud. “Fuck—baby…”

“Yeah—feels so good.” Buried deep in your walls and maybe you could learn the ridges of his dick like this: lain here for him to use, cunt fit only for his pleasure. A position you’d gladly take everyday from now on because fuck if this isn’t heavenly. 

You know he feels it too when his chest picks up in his panting, dick a piston now and you mewl. 

“Yeah—faster, baby—like that—!”

“Shit—” Smearing your walls with your own slick, made for him to dirty. A push so vigorous you would be sliding if it weren’t for Jeongguk’s tight hands on you, and all you can do is take it. “Babe I’m close—”

And he bends down, kissing you with a pant into your mouth because he’s getting spent, efforts all going into your pleasure. He still thrusts. “Cum. Cum when you can, fuck.”

“What about—”

You shut him up with another press of your lips. “I’m fine.”

He leaves it at that. Jeongguk leans up again, adjusting one more time till he’s got both knees on the bed, cock a heady presence inside your sex and he gives it hard now. You’re trying not to squeeze so hard around him but it’s getting difficult; seeing him so focused, his eyes wild, sweat dripping on his shoulders. Sweltering in your heat and love and novelties—defiling him but in the best way possible. “I love you,” he chokes. “Oh my god I might—”

“Give it to me,” you whisper.

He does. Your pussy is still in Jeongguk’s indulgence, his whines escalating until he groans out: “I’m cumming—”

Jeongguk slams into you, a final push for your core and he croons into your neck. Streams of his pleasure in the form of a long sigh, his pulses inside. And maybe you’re dumb but you’re laughing and crying again, arms wrapping around his neck, swaying him back and forth as he calms down. 

“How was that?” You ask.

He’s crying, too. You wipe his under-eye when he takes one more kiss. “Best ever,” he says. “I’ll make you cum.”

“You don’t need to—” But his thumb is already on your clit, still wet from his doing and you force your hips to stillness— “Jeongguk no—”

“I wanna feel you cum around my dick,” he says, and the plea is enough for you to tighten and cry even more. It hurts, a nudge of pain but it’s already beginning to spread into pleasure—

“Jeongguk—”

You cum into his kiss, walls clenching into an orgasm so sweet your toes tingle. A ripple of pleasure running through all of you and he moans like he feels it too. 

Out of breath. It’s hot under his skin.

“So. Who do we tell first?”

Jeongguk laughs. “Maybe we can decide over breakfast.”

And you feel something, better than orgasmic bliss, the pleasure of a tryst: the simplicity of being in love. Jeongguk makes you feel like you can do anything.

“Eggs?” You ask.

His tongue is sweet. “Eggs.”

[modecaisnow]

Fitness Roommates

**This story contains topics suitable for 18 YEARS OR OLDER! Read at your own digression. This story contains themes of realistic(ish) weight gain (ie. 150 pounds – 800), mentions of challenges being overweight. This story is 3360 words, and 6 pages long, was gonna be part 1+2. This was a story I had saved for a bit. ENJOY!**

[This story follows Tyler and Zach, a dynamic duo of health and fitness. Zach, a bodybuilder with all the know how of exercise, and Tyler, a healthy and fit nutritionist, have teamed up and opened a business together. However, their business has gotten slow and not as many people are getting memberships anymore. As a marketing experiment, Tyler agrees to pack on some weight with the ultimate plan to lose it all following their dieting and exercise plan. But, it turns out gaining weight is a little more enjoyable than Tyler expected.]

Zach and Tyler have been friends for years. They first met in their freshman year of college, and Zach and Tyler were both fitness buffs. Their bodies were toned with dense muscles, but Zach was much larger. Zachary studied Athletic Training and Tyler studied Nutrition over the years. After 4 years of college, they decided to open a gym together and become business partners. Zach would help train people and show them how to exercise, and Tyler would teach them about nutrition. However, a couple of years later things have changed. Zach walked into the living room of their apartment. His face was akin to a greek god – high cheekbones, square jawline, and a strong nose. He was a tall, tan-skinned, with a body covered in rippling muscles. From his thick neck and massive traps to his softball-sized calves, which everyone used to tease him and call them ‘steers’, Zach was the personified ideal of fitness. His broad shoulders and flared out lats created the classic ‘V’ shape all bodybuilders aspired to get. His arms were absolutely massive, with cannonball-sized biceps, horseshoe triceps, and forearms that were as large as a normal man’s biceps. Zach’s torso and legs were just as impressive. His barrel chest must’ve been 60 inches and was covered in brown hairs. Beneath his meaty pillows that were his pecs was a wall of abs that looked like bricks. A dark trail of hairs led down his carved abs and into his boxers, which were being stretched from both ends. Zach was blessed with large junk in the front and a lot of junk in the trunk. His bubble butt was made of pure steel and bounced along everywhere he walked. Further down were two thick quads with equally powerful hamstrings. Bellow the knees were the most well defined and muscular looking calves anyone has ever seen. Tyler, on the other hand, was not nearly as much of a ‘greek god’ as Zach. He was very toned, but also on the skinny side. His face was square with a pointed chin and a sloped nose. His hair was cut short, and he didn’t have much facial hair. Being a nutritionist, he knew all the ins and outs of healthy eating and dieting. He was part of the reason why Zach looks the way he looks. He kept Zach on his meal plan. Tyler has helped countless gym-goers reach their goals faster and easier with the help of his dieting plans. Tyler looked up at Zach. He stood in his boxers in front of the TV, blocking his view of it. Zach crossed his arms, causing his large slabs of chest meat to squeeze together. Tyler grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. “Is everything okay, man?” Tyler asked. “We have to talk about business.” “What’s up?” “It’s been slow recently-“ “-Yeah-“ “-and I have an idea,” Zach sat down on the brown, cloth couch next to Tyler. Zach widened his eyes and tried to look innocent. “Well, …what’s the idea?” “Well, bro, what if we have an experiment where one of us puts on some weight, and then we both work together to try and get that person back to a healthy weight?” “That might be good, but it might take too long. We need people to join now, not after months of gaining and months of losing weight.” “Well, with our expertise, we’ll be able to lose the weight pretty quickly,” Zach snickered. “Also, I’m sure you know of some quick weight gain techniques.” “I mean…I guess,” We both sat there quietly for a moment. Zach continued to stare deeply into Tyler's eyes. “So…do you want me to put on the weight?” Tyler hesitantly ask. “…Do you mind?” “I mean…I guess…” Zach jumped up. His face brightened up and he fist pumped into the air. The two immediately started to plan out how this would work, and Tyler got to work researching foods and gaining techniques. He started planning out a grocery list filled with unhealthy fats, carbs, protein, sugars, as well as a plan for minimal movement for himself. Zach started to create exercise plans so when Tyler finishes putting on the weight they’ll be all set to take off the pounds. Before starting it all, Tyler stepped up on the scale to take the initial weight. He was 154 pounds. At first, gaining was an awkward feeling. Tyler’s flat abs slowly started to look more and more like a gut. He was continuously shoveling food into his mouth, even while at work. It made it difficult to work with new patients, given that their nutritionist was eating junk food, and had a little bit of a belly while trying to give tips on staying healthy. After explaining the experiment to every single patient, they all seemed to understand. After the first week of constant binging, eating even while Tyler was stuffed in order to expand his tank of a gut, he had managed to pack on 15 pounds. His flat wall of abs had officially become a rounded, flabby belly. When he sat down, it would flop over the waistband of his pants. Tyler’s hips were stretching his pants to their max. The waistband would dig into his hips, and his thighs actually ripped the seams of one of his favorite pair of pants. And still, Tyler continued to gain weight. He added more meals into his daily diet and doubled the serving sizes. Tyler added two snacks between meals, as well as a “weight gain” shake between snacking. All this food, along with his restricted movement, helped him gain weight exponentially. Tyler’s face was looking rounder and fuller. His arms were softer and would stretch the sleeves of his tightening shirts. The once toned chest started to sag down over his belly, which was spilling down lower and lower towards his crotch. Even his pubic area was softer – a layer of fat was forming and starting to creep towards his junk. Everything about Tyler was getting flabbier. This continued for weeks. Tyler had to expand his entire wardrobe. One day, when he went to sit down, his shorts gave in and ripped all the way down his ass cheeks. From that day on, Tyler only wore stretchy pants – no more khakis, or dress pants, just the stretchy kind. His shirts also went from XL to XXL, and then just as quickly to XXXL. Tyler was officially 330 pounds. His chest continued to sag lower and lower as his belly continued to get larger and larger. Tyler had patients who were as large and some who were much, much larger, and they used to tell him what it was like to be big. However, now he lived it. The sagging breasts slid and rolled over his belly, which seemed to weigh him down. As Tyler walked, he needed to lean back a little bit so his substantial belly wouldn’t pull him down to the ground. Even sitting in chairs, which now had to not have armrests so his hips could fit, he needed to slouch and lean back so his belly could spill over his lap. It was quite the feeling. After a while, Tyler started to like it. It felt nice to be big, but he didn’t feel big enough yet. Zach asked him if he was ready to start their little experiment. Tyler told him that he wasn’t ready, and Tyler asked for a couple more weeks – business picked up anyway since it was about a month away from New Years. Tyler continued shoveling fattening treats into his mouth. Serving sizes became even larger, he went from 6 meals a day to 9, and he started doubling the size of the gainer shakes. This was to help break out of his weight plateau. His arms started to feel even heavier, and Tyler’s thighs always brushed against each other. His feet also started to get fatter, to the point where he needed to purchase ‘wide-fit’ shoes. At night, he would slouch on the sofa, which started to feel slightly smaller, and he would balance a 60ounce cup of soda on the crest of his soft belly, and slurp it down. All while lazily watching whatever was on TV. After chugging the entire soda, Tyler would rub his belly to help with all the bubbles. His blubber was warm and malleable. He could no longer see his belly button, or feet as a matter of fact, but Tyler could still poke a finger in the deepening cave that was his belly button. When he waddled onto the scale, it showed he was about 423 pounds. Eating only got easier and easier as the holidays came. Zach and Tyler usually went their separate ways to see their respective families, since Zach’s are out west, and Tyler’s are up north, but this season they had decided to just relax and focus on the experiment. Tyler continued to bloat up and shovel food into his face, and now that holiday cookies were out and on sale, he made it his goal to eat at least 3 boxes of cookies a day. Zach would tease him and say that Tyler surpassed ‘Santa-size,’ and Tyler laughed along with him. Deep down, he was excited to see how far he could push this. Tyler’s neck had officially disappeared into the fat on his shoulders and chins after a couple days of gorging. Actually, his chins were now flopping onto the crest of his flabby chest. Tyler’s moobs hung down, almost as far down as his elbows – not quite, but close. His fat arms started to feel very heavy. Despite always being hungry, after hours of grabbing for food, it started to feel like an arm workout. When sitting down, he would have to spread his legs far apart to give his substantial belly room to flop down. On the topic of his belly, a fold had started to form above his belly button, creating the double-belly look. Tyler’s belly was getting hard to contain in shirts, so instead, he started to get even larger pants to pull the waistband over it. Speaking of, Tyler’s pant sizes went up a lot faster than his shirt sizes did. He needed extra stretchy, 6XL pants in order to try to contain his growing belly. The fat over his junk also grew, making it hard to reach down there, as well as use the bathroom. However, he figured out how to manage in both areas. Tyler started to just sit on the toilet when he needed to pee, and just reach around and push his fat pad down towards the toilet bowl. Tyler also started to sleep on his side at night, it was much more comfortable, and whenever he’d need to shift his belly, Tyler could just dig a finger in his belly button like a hook, and shift it manually. After the holidays went, Tyler stepped on the scale for the first time in a few weeks. He was officially 546 pounds. Zach was proud and impressed. He asked Tyler when he would want to start buying healthy foods and start training. Tyler told him to instead buy a larger scale. Zach looked a little concerned at first, but Tyler explained that in order for them to make a bigger impact, they would need a bigger test subject. Zach eventually agreed and continued to go along with everything. He even did buy a larger scale, one that went up to 850 pounds. At this point, food became really expensive for them to afford on their own. In order to eat a meal every hour, on the hour, the two needed to dip into their company’s profit. It would be fine since it would all work out in the end. Thanks to their excellent accounting skills, Tyler was able to eat as much as he wanted, when he wanted. Tyler truly blew up in size after this. Walking became really difficult…well, if you can call it walking. It was more like a waddle. Tyler mostly spent time sitting on the couch, eating, watching TV, with the occasional trip to the fridge, or to the front door to great the delivery boy. After a while, Zach mentioned it would be best that he didn’t walk too far, so he moved the fridge into the living room, and anything else that was needed, he would get for Tyler. Tyler rarely went to the gym anymore to meet patients in person. Instead, Zach set up an online messaging system for him to reach out to their “premium” customers. That way they wouldn’t be able to be turned off by what a huge blob of lard Tyler was becoming. His ass cheeks started to take up a considerable amount of space not only on the poor little couch but in his bed as well. Tyler was just about as wide as his full-sized mattress, so Zach thought it was best to buy him a larger one. Zach was about to buy a larger sofa too but figured that he didn’t need to since he never really sat on it. Zach was rarely in the living room anyway, unless it was to drop off Tyler’s next heap of food. He was always working or working out. Shirts and pants both struggled to contain all of Tyler. Folds and rolls of flab started to ripple and slide over one another as he walked, hiccupped, or burped. His breasts had become so large that a pillow of flab had connected his moobs to the wings of back flab. This gave Tyler’s arms more support, which made it less work to shovel food into his fattening face since all he needed to do was just bend his elbow. Tyler’s cheeks were very fat and flopped down his face and onto his shoulder flab. Sweat almost constantly dripped down from his brow, and he was almost always out of breath. When Tyler finally stepped on the scale, he was up to 623 pounds. He still shoved on…well, he still shoveled more food in. At this rate, he was just eating one large, nonstop buffet of food a day. Tyler was always ordering pizzas, Chinese takeout, donuts, and delivery from every fast food joint in a 10-mile radius using those new food delivery apps on his phone. Tyler continued to gorge, slurp, and chomp down food for a few more weeks. As it got closer to the end of January, he had officially changed his wardrobe to 12XL shirts, and God only knows how many X’s for his XL sweat pant shorts. It was interesting to wear them because, with each day he grew fatter and fatter, one could see the ends of the drawstrings slowly disappear, as they were pulled deeper into the expanding stretchy waistband. As Tyler’s stomach grew so did his fupa. It became impossible for him to reach even close to his fat pad anymore. Whenever Tyler used the bathroom, it came to the point where he would have to just sit and pray that it went in. His old technique of digging into that deep belly button to shift his mound of a gut had officially been rendered impossible. Tyler couldn’t reach down that far anymore. Tyler sat on the ever-shrinking couch, with his ass cheeks spilling outward on both sides and behind him by a foot, and shoved more food into his deep mouth. His moobs had officially started to hang lower than his elbows, which were now a series of folds of flab. Tyler’s arms were incredibly flabby and even when he raised them over his head, some of the fat would still be weighing down against his torso. That massive belly of his hung down, past his knees as he leaned back. Tyler’s fat feet didn’t fit in normal shoes anymore, and Zach had to measure them to get custom made ones. Tyler was a mound of flab, and he loved every soft, wobbly inch of it. When Zach finally brought the large scale into the living room, Tyler placed his feet down and rose up off the couch. He was officially 710 pounds, and he was not quite done yet though. Tyler had one more goal he wanted to reach– to officially take up all the space on the couch. Zach, after trying to convince him that enough was enough, finally caved in and agreed to help Tyler gain even more weight. To do so, Zach raised the price of their gym membership. He told people it was for “marketing purposes,” and most people thought it was a good idea. Little did they know, it was to stuff Tyler’s fat face with food. It only took a couple weeks before he met that goal. It was hard to increase the frequency of Tyler’s feedings, so instead, he increased the amount he stuffed in at one time. Since his cheeks had bloated up, Tyler found there was more room in his mouth to hold food. As a result, he ate multiple pizza slices at once, instead of one at a time. He also would dump food in by the containers. This included containers of french fries, chicken nuggets, candy, Twinkies, devil dogs, breadsticks, bowls of pasta, you name it – Tyler just dumped it in. It must’ve been the sight to see. His downstairs neighbors hated it though. They had started to leave complaints about an “elephant” walking around, making their ceiling rattle. Tyler used that as more fuel to his fire. He continued to stomp around his apartment like the whale of a man he was, in order to get to his next source of food. The ground would groan and the couch would creak with every little shift of motion. Tyler’s folds and rolls of flab rippled and jiggled as he chewed, burped, hiccupped, scratched, pretty much any type of movement caused him to undulate like a waterbed. Tyler’s arms were extremely heavy and tremendously difficult to move. However, his insatiable desire to eat and feast gave him all the strength Tyler needed. As his hips started to finally touch the armrests of the couch, he called out for Zach. Zach was thrilled. Not only for Tyler, but also for the publicity this would get the two of them and their business. Tyler couldn’t help but smile and think about how much larger he could get. To celebrate, Zach went all out and hired caterers for the evening. That night, Tyler went all in on the food. The caterers pulled in carts, and tables of food, and set them up all around Tyler. They all circled around him, and he would eat from whichever one was in front of his fat mountain range of a body. As Tyler finished off one table, they wheeled the emptied table away, and immediately wheeled in the next one. He just ate and ate and ate all evening, until there was absolutely nothing left. Tyler probably could’ve eaten a little bit more, but his arms were incredibly tired. As the caterers all funneled out of their place, Tyler’s stomach gurgled and growled for more. He rubbed and pat his fat sides with his hands sending tiny ripples reverberating through his gelatinous form. Tyler leaned forward and moaned as he felt his heavy love handles slide against the armrests of the couch. His folds all glided against each other, and the two massive ass cheeks seemed to rise up out of the deep crater they formed in the cushions. He was massive. Zach quickly grabbed the massive scale and placed it right under Tyler’s fat feet. His massive thighs made it hard to keep his feet close enough to stand on the scale. Zach grabbed Tyler’s fat fingers and pulled him up onto his feet. Tyler’s bulky flab slid off of the couch and flopped downward. As he stood up, the scale buzzed. “What…does it…say?” Tyler huffed, out of breath from standing. “It says ‘Error.’ Damn…” Zach muttered and smiled. “What’s the…weight limit?” He wiped the sweat from his brow. “850 Pounds.” Tyler was massive…and he loved it… -THE END-

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

Your Hand In Mine ~ Bucky x Reader Oneshot (Request)

A/n: Hi my lovelies! Happy weekend, I hope everyone is doing alright and staying healthy. So I received this request I think like two days after I announced my hiatus and it’s been sitting in my inbox since then. But it’s also been percolating in my brain since then and I’m finally happy with how it turned out.  I hope you will enjoy it too. 

Thanks for the request @ashhys-lost-in-fanfics-again​

Request:  Hi! I love your writing! I have a Bucky x Reader idea, iydm. R's a powerful Avenger. She has a RIGHT(important it's her right) metal arm. It's rose gold when it's not covered by her skin graft. Bucky is being teased by team&gets upset. He yells no one understands how hard the burden is and storms off. R goes after him to comfort, he turns on her, asking how she'd know? She gently disables her skin graft&shows her rose gold metal arm. Fluff & Angst please!

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x reader, Sam, Steve, Clint, Nat and Tony are mentioned. 

Rating: T 

WARNINGS: Trauma, loss of limb, mild language, angst, but there’s a lot of fluff too! 

Disclaimer: My medical knowledge is limited to what I could glean from google so if there’s anything that doesn’t make sense I apologize. 

Word Count: 4230

Bucky grunted as he attempted to reach the knot that had formed in his shoulder blade but no matter which way he twisted or turned he couldn’t get the right pressure. He gave up on using his flesh arm and went in search of a tennis ball or even better a softball.

After finally locating one in the equipment closet, Bucky found the nearest wall and set to work maneuvering the ball into position. He had just found the right spot when you and Sam entered the gym, chattering happily about the movie you’d seen the night before.

Your animated tone made Bucky smile.

“Morning, Bucky,” you greeted him cheerfully.

“Morning, y/n.”

“Turning into a cat, Barnes?” Sam called when he spotted him shimmying his back against the wall.

“Can it, birdbrain,” Bucky snapped, smile falling.

Grumbling about being interrupted when he’d finally started feeling relief, he pulled off the wall and pocketed the ball before storming out of the gym.

“Sam,” you sighed as you dropped your bag and began stretching.

“Don’t ‘Sam’ me. Last week he disconnected his arm enough that I yanked it off and hit myself in the face when he helped me up. It’s fair game.”

“I suppose.”  

Bucky gave as good as he got, and you all knew neither of them meant anything by it. But today you could see he was in pain, but mostly he was frustrated.

“You can’t treat him with kid gloves,” Sam stated firmly.  

“I know. And I don’t think we should, but this is more than him being grumpy. He’s in real pain.”

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll lay off until he settles down a bit.”

“Thank you.”

The two of you started stretching.

“You know, if you’re really worried about him being sore, you could always offer to give him a massage,” Sam smirked and waggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes before you actually considered at.

“Actually. That’s not a bad idea.”

His eyes widened as he froze.

“Wait. You’re really going to offer to give Barnes a massage.”

“Not exactly. But I think I have something that could help.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll tell you later. After I kick your ass.”

“Oh you are on.”

After a full morning of sparring with Sam and then a round of weight training with Steve you were more than a little sore. You settled yourself in the living room post shower with your foam roller and your trigger point massager.

“How was your workout?” Bucky asked as he closed his book, watching you roll back and forth to relax your quad.

“It was good. I think Steve is trying to make sure I can bench press him soon.”  

“I’d pay money to see that.”

You huffed out a laugh which quickly turned into a groan when you started rolling out your other leg.

“It would be pretty hilarious,” you agreed wincing slightly when your shoulder twinged. “I’m not far off. I’m at 220 now.”

“Pretty impressive considering you started lifting like a month ago.”

“Started lifting again,” you corrected him. “I used to lift when I was in the marines.”

“I didn’t know you served.”

“Marine corporal y/n y/l/n at your service.”

Folding yourself so you sat criss cross, you pulled out the trigger point massager debating which end to use.

“What’s that?” Bucky asked as he watched you.

“It helps me get the knots out of the hard to reach places without putting me in more pain. It was a lifesaver when Nat decided I needed to be able to do a full rings performance.”

“Um. Why?”

“They needed me to go in as a gymnastics coach for the men’s team. Had to prove myself.”

“Wow. You’re something else.”

You sighed out your thanks as you hit the knot just the right way to get it to release. Bucky eyed you curiously trying to figure out if it would help him, but also not wanting to ask. You had to bite your tongue to keep from offering it; you knew he was apt to refuse.

“Y/n, can you come help me with dinner?” Sam called.

“Coming, Sammy!”

You started to push yourself to your feet but your arms buckled and you fell back onto your butt with a grunt.

“Need a hand?” Bucky teased, already on his feet.

“No,” you tried again with similar results. “Alright, maybe I could use some help,” you finally sigh.

Chuckling, you grabbed both of Bucky’s hands as he hauled you to your feet.

“Thanks, Buck,” you breathed, caught off guard by the spark the contact gave you.

“Any time, doll,” he promised quietly, earning him a bright smile.

Neither of you had let go yet.

“Shake a leg, y/n!”

You rolled your eyes at Sam’s impatience.

“I’ll see you at dinner, Bucky.”

“See you.”

You squeezed his fingers lightly before releasing him. You tucked the foam roller and massager into the corner next to the couch and slipped out of the room, humming as you went.

“So did he go for it?” Sam asked as he handed you an onion to chop.

“We’ll see.”

 Bucky stared at his hands for a moment; he’d felt a spark when he touched you. And he was almost certain you did too. It was the most contact the two of you had had since you joined the team six months prior, and it damn near knocked Bucky on his butt.

Shaking away the distraction he moved to return to his book, but hesitated as he looked at the massager. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt if he tried it. You had always been very generous with things far more valuable and personal than this. Bucky picked up the massager and settling the curve over his shoulder gasped in relief as it hit where he needed it immediately.

This particular pain had been plaguing him for weeks and to feel it recede was nearly euphoric.

 When you passed by the common room to call everyone for dinner, you noticed Bucky was no longer there and your massager was precisely where you’d left it. Frowning, you gathered everyone you could and asked FRIDAY to call the rest.

Bucky and Steve were the last to join the table, laughing boisterously as they entered. You could see the lightness in him as he sat next to Natasha, and Sam shot you a knowing smile. And, if you happened to notice a massager of his own arrive in the mail a few days later, you didn’t mention it. If you did everything in your power to have more casual contact with Bucky, then you didn’t mention that either.  

The phantom pain was the worst in Bucky’s opinion. All of the other aches and pains he could at least try to alleviate them. But the phantom pain, he simply had to wait it out. Sometimes he would try to work out until his body was exhausted, but still the pain came. So he turned to distraction.

Which is how he found himself sitting in the common room glaring at the television on his third round of channel surfing through nine thousand eight hundred and twelve stations. This was after nearly an hour of searching Netflix for anything to hold his attention.

“Hey, Bucky,” you chirped as you breezed into the room.

He merely grunted out a hello.

“I made tea. Thought you might want some,” you explained as you raised the deep blue mug that he favored.

A smidgen of his gruffness slipped away in the face of your thoughtfulness.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You smiled and handed him the mug before preparing to retreat to your room to give him some peace and quiet.

“Did you – I mean, you’re welcome to sit. I mean stay if you want. I was just going to find something mindless to watch.”

Your bright smile continued to chip away at the pain induced grumpiness.

“I’d love to.”

You grabbed your favorite blanket and wrapped it around you before settling on the couch to his left.

Bucky tensed as you took your seat. His left side was always left open, he felt caged in, waiting for you to remember the horrible atrocities that hand had borne witness to and get as far as way from it as you can.

But instead you plucked the remote from his metal hand, unthinkingly brushing against it without so much as a flinch. Bucky wasn’t sure what to make of that, but it relaxed him.  

“So what did you wanna watch?” you asked as you blew on your tea and opened the app menu.  

“I dunno. Any suggestions?”

“Well my favorite brainless show is Galavant.”

“What’s that about?”

“It is a comedy musical extravaganza,” you quoted the tag line. “Basically Monthy Python meets Princess Bride meets my high school drama club.”

Bucky chuckled at the explanation.

“You were in the drama club?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Please tell me your performances are on video.”

“Even if they were, they would not see the light of day.”

“Why not? I bet you were adorable.”

The words slipped out without him thinking about it, and you turned quirking an eyebrow and trying to hide a smile at the blush rising on his cheeks.

“I just mean, I’m sure you were a great actress. You’re one of the best spies we have.”

“Believe it or not, that’s a skill not a talent.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d still love to see that footage.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes.

“I bet you would, Barnes. But they are under lock and key.”

“So they do exist!”

“Let’s just watch Galavant?”

Bucky yielded with a triumphant smile.

“Let’s give it a shot. It certainly sounds interesting.”

“Yay.”

Bucky was skeptical throughout the first couple of episodes.

“It gets better,” you promised ardently when you glanced over after the third episode.  

“I’m sure it does,” he hummed, sipping on his tea to hide his smile. “This is really good. What kind is it?”

“It’s a mix of chamomile, lavender, a little lemon, and a touch of peppermint. It’s my favorite. Always helps relax me after missions.”

Between the tea and your enthusiastic sing along during the first season, Bucky’s focus was slowly diverted from the lingering ache in his arm.

When you had started yawning, you readjusted your blanket and snuggled into his side unthinkingly. You had fallen asleep shortly after. He left his arm along the back of the couch, and angled his body slightly so your head rested on his chest instead of the hard metal of his shoulder joint. He turned off the TV, content to watch you as you slept. Soon though your deep even breaths soothed him and he fell asleep as well.

 The first thing Bucky became aware of as he woke up was a weight on his chest. Your head was pillowed just above his heart and you were sound asleep.  The second thing he noticed, but couldn’t quite believe, was that your right hand was interlaced with his left and resting on your stomach.

You were completely at peace and he had no idea what to do, so he stayed still watching you. Your other thumb stroked lightly along his forearm as you cuddled the metal like a teddy bear. Bucky hadn’t experienced this much tenderness since before the war. He hadn’t experienced this much casual affection ever.

He watched as your fingers flexed ever so slightly between his. If he closed his eyes he could feel warmth and the softness of your touch. And for the first time since he fell from the train, he wished a phantom feeling would last forever.

Over the next few weeks you always seemed to manage to brush up against his metal arm in some way – passing food at dinner, or reaching for the elevator button at the same time. Dozens of times. And each time Bucky’s heart would beat just a little bit faster.

But then a mission went wrong. You’d been posing as a married couple vacationing in the Cayman Islands as you tried to get close to the banker for a number of the major criminal syndicates around the world.

Pretending to be in love with Bucky Barnes was easy when you were halfway to actually being in love with him. You were close to the end of the mission when there was a problem and you had to drop Bucky’s hand and distance yourself from him. It brought enough attention that you got made. And soon you were fighting for your life.

It had been a week since the mission and Bucky hadn’t spoken a word to you since debrief. Today was the first time you saw him for more than three minutes as he sat on the floor fiddling with the wiring in his wrist while his arm kit lay open in front of him on the coffee table as you, Steve, Sam, and Clint were playing gin.  

Steve was watching you sneak glances at Bucky. You had tried to find him to apologize, but when Bucky Barnes didn’t want to be found. He wasn’t.  

“Gin!” You announced happily.

“Again?” Sam groaned.

“Tally up, boys.”

“Seventy-five,” Clint grimaced before tossing his cards on the table and turning his attention to Bucky, concerned by the odd sparks coming from his arm.

“Whatcha up to, terminator?”  

“My arm hasn’t been working right since I got shocked on that last mission,” he replied without looking up.

“What do you mean not working?” Sam asked.

“Can’t really control it. My touch is too light or too harsh. I can’t regulate it.”  

“That didn’t happen last time you got hit,” Sam observed.

“Yeah, but last time I wasn’t shoved into a lake while being electrocuted.”

The younger man hummed, dipping his head in acknowledgment. You grimaced knowing it was your fault he got pushed in the lake.

“Should we call Shuri?” Steve worried.

“It’s fine. I’m sure I can fix it.”

“It’s been a few days now.”

“Drop it, Steve,” Bucky nearly growled.

“Did you try turning off and back on again?” Clint offered before he and Sam broke out into a fit of laughter.  

“Maybe you should stick it in some rice.”

“Enough,” Steve warned as Bucky gathered his things and headed for the door.

“Come on, Barnes, we’re only joking.”

“It’s not a joke! Just leave me alone. None of you know what it’s like living with this… this thing every day,” Bucky shouted as he rushed out of the room.

Steve made to go after him but you stopped him, with a gentle hand to his chest.

“I’ll go.”

“Y/n.”

“Steve, it’s time,” you told him pointedly.

Narrowing his eyes, Steve nodded after a moment of internal debate.

“Your choice.”

Offering him a reassuring smile, you turned towards the elevator.

“Y/n,” Clint murmured, making you pause. “Tell Barnes we’re sorry.”

“We didn’t realize it was an over the line day.”

“I’ll tell him,” you agreed.

You hurried towards the elevator, leaving the apologetic superheroes behind.

“Seventh floor please, FRIDAY.”

“Yes, Agent Y/l/n.”

Stepping out onto Steve and Bucky’s floor, you took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

“Go away!” He shouted from deep within the room.  

“Bucky, it’s me. Please can I come in?”

“Just leave me alone, doll,” he insisted but you could tell he was just behind the door this time.

“Bucky, please. I just want to help.”

Silence.

But you weren’t ready to give up yet, so you leaned against his door.

He only lasted a couple of minutes before unlocking the door and allowing you in. His head hung low as you stepped past him and he recoiled when you reached to comfort him so you let your hand drop.

“Can I take a look? I think I can help.”

“I tried all of the normal fixes, and last time I checked you weren’t a biomechanical engineer so I’m not really sure how you can help,” he explained, trying to hustle you out the door.

You tried not to be annoyed by his dismissiveness, but it ruffled you nonetheless. If only he knew.

“I may not be an engineer but I have a lot of experience with prosthetics. I understand-“

“Oh really?” he snapped, frustration getting the better of him. “What the hell do you understand? Do you understand the phantom pain and the way my skin feels like it’s still ripping apart? Do you know how it feels when you have a part of you that you can’t control sometimes? Do you understand how much I wish I didn’t have to be afraid of touching someone with this thing? No? Then just leave me alone,” he growled, though the despair cut through the bite.

“Bucky.”

“Please, doll. Just go.”

His head hung low and his tone was utterly defeated.

“Bucky, I do understand you. I understand all of those things,” you murmured.  

“How could you possibly?”

There was an almost hopeful undercurrent to the disbelieving question as his eyes met yours.  

“Because they happen to me too,” you sighed softly as you extended your right arm in front of you, tapping your pulse point twice to disable the holograft.

Bucky’s eyes widened as the graft retracted into a thin bracelet of rose gold, which matched your newly revealed arm.

“Wha-, how? When?” he stumbled over the questions as he examined your arm.

“I was stationed at a base hospital. There was an accident with the autoclave they used to sterilize the instruments. The steel door blew off and pinned me to the ground, which I probably would have gotten out of, but the impact sent a ton of heavy equipment piling on top of me. By the time they got me out, the damage was done and they had to amputate.”

“That’s… I had no idea.”

“Most people don’t,” you agreed quietly, averting your eyes and resisting the urge to hide your arm behind your back.

“Who does know?”

“Natasha who recruited me. Tony who built my arm and the holograft. And Steve because it glitched out on a mission and he paid the price. Like you almost did.”

“What?” he asked, his brows furrowing.

You finally looked at him.

“When we were undercover last week and I yanked away, it was because my arm was glitching and I could control my fine motor skills anymore. The last time it happened to Steve I actually managed to fracture a few of his bones. I forgot that you wouldn’t have the same problem.”

“So I didn’t hurt you?”

His body was tense as he waited for your answer.

“Oh no. Of course not.”

You heart sank to the floor as he shoulders slumped in relief.  

“Bucky, is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” you asked softly.

He nodded, meeting your gaze through his lashes.

“I thought I hurt you and that’s why you pulled away.”

You were shaking your head before he could finish his sentence.

“No. No. Oh I’m so sorry you felt that way. I didn’t want to hurt you. When it all went to shit, I regretted not telling you so much.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honestly? Because I didn’t think you’d take me coming up to you and saying ‘hey, I’ve got a metal arm too let’s be friends’ as a good first impression.“

Bucky chuckled at the mental image you conjured eyes crinkling as they found yours.

“It certainly would have been memorable. But I suppose that’s fair.”

You hummed softly as you waited for his next move.

“So all of the things you did for me… the massager, the tea, the weirdass show?”

“All things that worked for me. And Galavant is a treasure,” she added as an afterthought.

Pursing his lips deepened his frown.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Bucky. You didn’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he argued. “I never should have yelled at you or taken my frustrations out on you. Please accept my apology.”

His oceanic eyes implored you.

“Of course. It’s all forgotten.”

“Thank you. I owe the guys an apology for today.”

“They understand,” you assured him. “They said their sorry.”

“Still, I should-“

He turned towards the door but you quickly moved in front of him.

“Will you sit your butt down.”

Bucky was shocked by the authority in your tone and immediately complied without thinking, plopping down on the nearest surface which happened to be the bed.

“Now, can I please look at your arm?” you asked softly.

If he still truly didn’t want your help you would back off.

Bucky nodded his assent, swallowing harshly.

“Where’s your kit?”

“On the desk.”

Grabbing the small screwdriver and a set of tweezers from the worn leather pouch, you sat on the bed next to him and got to work.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you mumbled as you focused on tracing the currents in his arm.

“Why do you always wear the skin graft?”

You were quiet as you thought about your answer.

“From a tactical standpoint, I’d stick out like a sore thumb. So it’s a necessity on missions.”

“But around the team?”

“I wanted one less thing for them to make assumptions about when I joined I guess.”

Before Bucky could ask what you meant, you continued on.

“After the accident, things were hard. It was a major loss, and I wasn’t quite sure how to cope. I didn’t think my life could ever be normal again. But my rehab team were great and they’ve made such amazing advances in prosthetics that life was different but it was okay. I found a new normal, and I could live my life the way I wanted to for the most part. But other people when they met me couldn’t see that. It was like I was nothing more than my arm and my accident. So when Natasha recruited me and Tony offered me the holograft I took it.”

“A chance at normal.”

“Exactly. Fortunately, I’m not known for my metal arm so no one questioned it.”

You offered him a sympathetic smile, knowing he would likely never have the luxury of anonymity. Baseball caps and sunglasses weren’t as good of a disguise as some super soldiers might think.

“This is true. Do you hate it?” Bucky almost whispered and you froze.

The super soldier’s eyes darted to yours when you didn’t speak and your hands stilled.

“I did. For a long time. I’ve known a lot of friends who’ve lost limbs, lost lives, because of i.e.d.’s and landmines, so honestly I did my two tours expecting to not come home in one piece. The fact that it was a random accident in a low risk assignment, made me feel like I’d swum across an entire ocean just to drown in a wave pool. I hated that it made me feel weak. But over time, it became a part of my life. And after attending too many funerals my life was more than enough to be thankful for. And now, I get to use my arm to help people. So no, I don’t hate it. Not anymore.”

Bucky was quiet as he observed you, trying to sort out all of the new information. You returned your attention to his arm, carefully ferreting out the problem.

“Aha! Gotcha. Little piece of… there.”

You stripped out a bit of exposed wiring and tightened a bolt and eighth of an inch.

“That should do it,” you announced. “How does it feel?”

Bucky swung his arm in a wide circle and flexed his fingers.

“Much better. What was wrong?”

 “The shock fried on of the connections that translates the electrical impulses from your nerves. It made it hypersensitive.”

“Thank you, doll.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help.”

You returned the tools to his kit, taking your time to precisely arrange them so you could try to think of what to say next.

“How are your tactile sensations?” You asked when you sat down on the bed again.

“They feel okay, but I should probably test it to see. Make sure it works on precious things.”

“Got anything precious nearby?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky cautiously raised his hand toward you.

“May I?”

You nodded, holding your breath.

The silver hand continued its path to your cheek, cradling your face tenderly as you leaned into his touch.

“You are beautiful. And I have to thank you for being there in quiet ways when I wasn’t ready to ask for help.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you know how much we all care about you. I hope you know how much I care about you.”

“I do.”

Slowly pulling away from your cheek, you pouted until Bucky threaded his silver fingers through your rose gold ones as he lifted your right hand. Admiring the delicate craftsmanship and the way it caught the light, he gently turned it so he could press a kiss to your knuckles.

You gasped at the sensation. The holograft, much like a glove, dulled your sense of touch. The feeling of his lips against your hand was overwhelming.  

“This feels…” you breathed unable to find the words.

“Right,” Bucky supplied. “It feels right.”

You nodded, swiping at tears.

“Like it’s the way it’s meant to be. Your hand in mine,” you mused quietly.

Bucky’s answering smile was brilliant as he squeezed your fingers.

“That’s because it is.”

~~~~~~~~ The End 

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this. And @ashhys-lost-in-fanfics-again​ I hope that I did your request justice. Thank you again for the request, I loved writing. Will reblog with Tags 

[samwellmarinesociety]

Be Still, and Know That I am Near

[I’ve also posted this on my AO3!]

As a freshman at Samwell University, Connor figured that he'd be leaving his home life behind in Arizona. However, an early morning encounter in the locker room provides him with the opportunity to grapple with his faith as well as find some sense of closure.

(A special thanks goes out to Emiliana [ @lifeofthetryhard on Tumblr] for her help with translating the Spanish. Although Connor is Mexican-American and she’s Venezuelan, her grasp of Spanish is much better than my own.)

“¿Estás seguro de sabes dónde está la pista?”

Connor pinched the bridge of his nose as he glanced up at the clock above his dorm door. “Sí, Mamá,” he answered, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice lest he be called out for  using a tone. “Tengo el mapa que me dio.”

“Solo pregunto porque me preocupo de ti, mijito,” his mother reminded, still using the sickly sweet tone that she used when he was a baby. “Trajiste el-”

“Me tengo que ir, Mamá. Te quiero.”

“Te quiero, Connor.”

Putting his phone away, Connor picked his gear bag off the floor and quickly made his way out the door and down the lobby stairs. The fading summer sun was already halfway to its throne at the top of the sky, bathing Lake Quad in its brilliant golden light. Since the semester had not officially started, he could walk along the cobblestones without fear of crashing into someone.

As clichéd as it was, the photos on the official Samwell website could not compare to the beauty of the real campus. Given how the weather along the Eastern coast had been much warmer this past year, the trees were still lush with their leaves. It wasn’t nearly as warm as it would have been back in Arizona, but the feeling of the sun on his back was like a hug from an old friend.

Faber Memorial Rink was a decidedly modern building, especially in comparison to the more colonially-inspired architecture of most of the campus. It was almost intimidating in the way it loomed over the trees and shrubs that dotted its exterior. To some, sports were akin to a religion, so Connor supposed that Faber would be a cathedral. The giant windows that captured the morning light only more strongly enforced the metaphor.

“Mamá would probably have my head for talking about religion like that,” he grimaced as he entered the main hall of the rink. Still, Connor couldn’t help but compare the giant crimson banners that adorned the walls to the purple flags that his home parish would put up during Lent. Signs and symbols of what each institution held dear were woven into both. Even the Latin motto of “Penitus Potes de Fonte Sapientiae” was a reminder of the life he’d left behind at home.

Or rather, the life he was trying to leave behind.

The lights already being on in the locker room was strange, but Connor brushed it off as one of the custodians passing through earlier. The expanse of rooms that he’d toured through after officially accepting his admission offer was by no means the most extravagant he’d seen. In fact, it disgusted Connor just how much money some schools put into their sports teams while letting their libraries and lecture halls fall into squalor. It was, however, nice that he didn’t have to worry about tripping over ripped carpeting.

He paused for a moment before the trophy case. In the aforementioned light, the wood finish of the cabinet appeared to be the same shade of crimson as the Samwell crest. Connor wondered if that was an intentional choice on the commissioner’s part. Beyond the glass panes were the various trophies, plaques, and medallions that had been awarded to Samwell players of yesteryear, though the majority of them were more recently dated. The name Jack Zimmermann seemed to be part of ninety percent of all the awards- he even had one all to himself for being voted team captain three years in a row.

“I guess he really was well liked, both on and off the ice.”

Another award that caught his eye was the John Carlisle Award. “For exemplification of team spirit through enthusiasm and devotion to the game,” Connor read aloud, his eyes falling on the only recipient of the award. “Eric Bittle, 2013.”

News about Eric Bittle had spread through the college hockey channels even before Connor had decided to accept his offer to Samwell. He was just rather different compared to almost every other up and coming forward- a background in figure skating, a fondness for baking, his… general demeanour, to put it lightly. Connor supposed it was noble in its own way for Eric to stick to his ways rather than try to change his personality for the sake of a sport. As long as Eric was good on the ice, he didn’t really care about what the guy did in his spare time. 

Hockey wasn’t what Connor pictured himself doing after graduating- part of it was the lack of privacy associated with professional sports. Even if he didn’t do post-game interviews or speak to reporters, his whole identity would be up for the world to speculate about. That was the sort of perpetual attention that he couldn’t stand.

As he came out of his labyrinth of thoughts, he became aware of a repetitive sort of sound that couldn’t be attributed to the sound of the water pipes up above. Grabbing his bag, Connor tried to move towards the locker room as quietly as he could. Fear wasn’t something that ran in his blood- not fear of noises anyways.

Connor stopped just by the doorway. His grip tightened around the handle of his bag, as though he could swing it in self-defense. Most days, he paid more attention to his legs than his upper body. One of the upperclassmen- Chowder, he thinks their name was- had mentioned something about Coaches Murray and Hall being strict about workout regimens. That was the kind of infringement that Connor didn’t quite appreciate, though he understood why it’d be important. With bated breath, he whirled around and nearly stumbled into the locker room.

“Hello, Connor!”

“Tony?” he replied in surprise before quickly correcting himself. “I mean, Tango?” The nickname culture was still something he was trying to get used to. Prior to coming to Samwell, he had simply gone by Connor or, more rarely, ‘Con.’ The others on the team, however, were insistent on giving him a new nickname; he’d be damned if it was something silly like ‘Whiskers’ or even ‘Whiskey.’ 

“I don’t even like the taste of whiskey.”

 “You’re on the floor.”

Tango’s eyebrows shot up as though he were surprised by this observation. “I was pretty much done anyways!” he answered as he got back on his feet. “Did you want some privacy? My stall’s over there anyways; I just like the airflow from the vent here and-”

“Hold on.” Connor sliced his hand through the air, his lips tight as he tried to keep his expression neutral. “Done with what, exactly?” It was only then he noticed that Tango had something in his hand that was also looped around his wrist.

With that, Tango simply opened up his fisted hand to reveal a rosary, its glassy blue beads refracting the overhead light. “Praying- I try to get a decade or two in before practices.” When Connor didn’t immediately respond, he started to explain. “Oh, it’s a rosary- Catholics use it to pray and we count along the beads, but we start here with the crucifix-”

“I know what a rosary is, Tango,” Connor quickly interjected before he got a Sunday school crash course. “I was just, I don’t know, surprised, I guess. To see you, you know…” He gestured at the part of the locker room floor where the other man was just kneeling.

To his surprise, Tango didn’t seem quite upset by his rather abrupt response. Instead, he simply ran his fingers over the beads before looking back up at Connor. “I didn’t scare you, did I? I’m just used to being the first one in a locker room since my dad was responsible for maintaining the rink back home.”

“No… Look, can I ask you something that’s probably a bit personal?”

“Of course! What is it?”

Connor sighed as he looked up at the vent Tango had mentioned earlier. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he began, a sentence starter that was rarely, if ever, followed by an easy question. “Why here, why now? You could always go into Boston on Sunday.”

As the words left Connor’s lips, there was an aching at the back of his mind. He knew exactly why Tango would be praying the rosary. It was as if he couldn’t believe himself- the truth sounded like an utter lie when he said it.

Doubt, he had been told all his life, could not coexist with faith. In fact, it was the absence of faith. Connor wondered if the priests back home just had a script to follow when it came to quelling uncertainties about the hows and whys of Catholicism.

“You know in your heart that the teaching is clear.

Faith in the Father has led your soul here.

Bear up the cross, let the Church be your spine.

Don’t question too much,

And you’ll get along fine.”

Eighteen years of being told to follow, obey, and believe had caused Connor to falter in all three aspects. Actually, scratch that- it was easy to follow. Perhaps too easy at times. He went to Mass every Sunday because his whole family went- one had to be on their deathbed to miss out. Knowing his family, they’d even wheel him in and park said bed in the aisle during the Mass.

Obeying was similar in most respects. Connor knew the rules and why his family insisted they follow them. That was the difference, really- to obey was to intentionally follow, to be mindful of why the rules are what they are. Funnily enough, he had to look into the history of the Church’s customs to understand their context. The priest at his home parish always glossed over those in favour of condemning the ways of the world in his homilies.

To believe… that was the hardest part of his faith. Catholicism, like so much of life, was full of self-contradictions. Having existed for over two millennia, such was inevitable. Yet rather than try to reconcile the conflicting doctrines, the faithful were expected to accept it all as God’s will.

“What good is it to blindly accept it and believe? Do you really have faith if you don’t know who or what you’re putting your faith in? Not that I could ever ask that out loud- those would be grounds for excommunication. Or worse, rejection from my family.”

It seemed that Tango was also deep in thought because it was only now that he gave an answer. “I know I could pray at church, but why not make use of my free time right now?” He gestured to the still, empty locker room. “Everyone’s got their pregame rituals, their ways to clear their minds. Mine just happens to be prayer.”

“How can you believe in something that doesn’t make sense, in something that condemns people for things they can’t control?” Connor could feel a hauntingly familiar tightening in his chest and his throat. To keep his hands from shaking, he balled them up into fists, his nails digging into his palms. The thoughts bouncing around his head were no longer under his tight mental control- it was as if Connor was now feeling everything he’d been bottling up for so long all at once.  “It doesn’t fucking make sense!”

Tango, by virtue of him being, well, Tango, was probably preparing to ask a question. So Connor steeled himself in preparation so that he wouldn’t end up lashing out at his teammate. His own questions about their apparent shared faith were already volatile enough, so he wouldn’t be surprised if Tango was offended by his language and gave him the cold shoulder from now on.

Yet, instead, Tango took Connor’s hand and just gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know it doesn’t make sense- if the Church couldn’t figure it out after two thousand years, they probably never will.”  He looked up to meet Connor’s eyes. “There’s not a lot I’m sure about, Connor. But I know that praying helps calm me down. That and going to Mass are just things my family has always done- so I guess it’s like bringing a part of home with me?”

“Part of home,” Connor echoed as he reached into his bag and pulled out the rosary his Mamá had packed into his belongings before he left Arizona. The dark green glass of the beads were almost black in the shadow of his fingers, but the medal of St. Sebastian at its center seemed to sparkle nonetheless. “Jesus, I- wait, no, shouldn’t have said that. I just- I haven’t really prayed this in so long. Most of the time, I just followed my family when they moved their fingers.”

Tango’s eyes went wide as he looked at the rosary in Connor’s hand. “Woah, did you get that for your first communion too?”

“Uh… probably?

“Me too! Unless this was my confirmation rosary… or maybe it was my graduation rosary? What is it with relatives and giving rosaries as presents?”

Connor shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re telling me- my abuela gets everyone in the family a rosary every Christmas, Easter, and September 8th. Somehow, she hasn’t bought any duplicates so far.”

“My aunt makes them with string and those plastic beads little kids use to make art- like this!” Tango gestured to a bead lizard that was hanging off the side of his own hockey bag. “I can’t even imagine how long it takes her to make them for all of my cousins…”

Instead of using the extra time on their hands to get changed, Connor and Tango ended up sitting together in the former’s stall, just talking about their families and lives before Samwell. For Tango, it seemed that praying the rosary was less about delving into his connection with God, but rather, about keeping his connection with his family. 

If Connor were a philosophy or theology major, he’d be tempted to say that those things were one and the same.

As Bitty called everyone out to the ice to begin practice, Connor took one last look at his rosary, now hanging from a hook in his stall. Even if he wasn’t any closer to understanding the faith he’d been raised in, he at least had a friend to take this journey with.

⁂

Sundays, according to Bitty, were generally free days for the Samwell Men’s Hockey team unless they made it to the playoffs. So the following week, Connor met Tango in the South Quad early in the morning before heading into the suburbs around the university. He was thankful for the rows of trees that lined the campus sidewalks- it was always gross to sweat through his dress shirt.

Mass at the parish of Our Lady of the Incarnation didn’t start until 11:00 AM, so after they sat in one of the pews, Tango pulled down the kneeler. With a nod from his new friend, Connor fished into his pocket and took out the beads his mother had packed in his belongings.

“Go for it, Whiskey.”

His rosary, once a foreign, almost unnerving memento, now felt intimately familiar in his hand. He pulled out a small paper from his other pocket and began to read it, the pewter crucifix held reverently between his thumb and pointer finger.

“En el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo y del Espíritu Santo. Amén. Creo en Dios, Padre todopoderoso, creador del cielo y de la tierra…”

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

Mafia (Part VIII/XI [Alt Endings])

Notes: Hi! So I definitely was never expecting Mafia to get popular or for anyone to enjoy it as I thought it might’ve been too violent. I also want to note, as I don’t think I was clear, that this was requested by @mrskamilxh and the original idea was not mine. I’m actually happily surprised by the positive feedback on this series because it grew on me as I wrote it, although I still think some chapters were better than others. I will post the three alternate ending either across the day tomorrow or throughout the week, once all three endings are posted I will make a masterlist for the whole series. On some unrelated notes, I strained my right shoulder/upper back today during a workout so that either means there will be lots of new fics coming in the next week and a half or I will go MIA for a while, just a heads up. I’m also not super duper proud of this chapter, I feel it was kind of rushed but again, I will reiterate, keep your expectations of me low and I mean boots with the fur low low low low. 

Pairing: Kamilah x MC (Amy Johnson)

Tags: @mrskamilxh @cheeto-choices @slytherinthoughts7 @made-me-deep-blue @scarlet-letter-a0114 @lightning-fury @uselesslesbianfr @kamilah-sayeed-let-me-love-you @bellaraines @kamilahsayeet2063 @nydeiri 

Warnings: Violence, Language (I wouldn’t recommend this series for anyone who has military PTSD or any sort of trigger from violence as this is based in a fairly violent environment)

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII

“We have to move locations, Darius, we’ve been compromised.” Kamilah pulled Darius aside from the rest of the members, he gave her a knowing smile.

“I saw her outside. You call that a kiss?” Darius smirked as Kamilah whacked him on the shoulder, shooting him an eye roll.

“Shut up.” They broke into laughter, as they called attention to the rest of the mafia members. 

-----FBI HQ-----

“Did you find a location, Detective Johnson?” Leo stood across from Amy, his hands folded on the desk as he held out photographs of familiar mafia members. Amy’s eyes roamed the pictures, her heart nearly stopping at the picture of Kamilah, she slowed her breathing so she wouldn’t turn pink.

“Yes, they moved back into an abandoned base. I was able to get in and out undetected.” Amy sat back in her chair triumphantly, Jackson patting her on the back firmly. 

“Good, we’ll send a squad in quickly to secure the area. Maybe they’ll leave a trail to their next location there.” Leo stood up, reaching out to give Amy a handshake. Amy smiled, giving a firm handshake to Leo before retreating into her office. 

She pulled out her phone, turning off wireless network connection before texting ‘Holland Jaeger.’

All clear, better get moving. 

Will do. Are you going to rendezvous with us? 

I’m not sure. I don’t want to leave a trail or blow my cover. 

A knock on the door caused Amy to nearly drop her phone, she jumped out of her seat as Jackson slowly opened the door. 

“Good work Amy. Maybe we can corner the Mafia Dealer and end her once and for all.” Jackson grabbed Amy’s shoulder firmly, causing her to suddenly flinch. “Whoa there. You seem hella tense, what’s up?” Jackson swung a wooden chair in front of Amy, sitting down while resting his hands on his quad. 

“PTSD I guess? Kamilah may not have killed me but she still dished out an ass whooping.” Amy’s voice softened, remembering how it felt to have Kamilah’s hand smack her across her face. Her mind drifted to Kamilah’s warmth, her heated gaze, her eyes, her lips, her sweet soft lips..

“Amy? Do you need a medic?” Jackson appeared next to her, concern written across his chiseled face. Amy stood up from her desk, her cheeks a faint blush as a smile creeped onto her face as she got herself a bottle of water from the mini fridge. 

“No I’m okay. I’m just excited? It seems everything is working out perfectly in our favor.” She gave him a small smile.  Jackson stood, moved towards the door, giving Amy a firm nod of approval before exiting. Amy plonked herself back into her chair as she closed her eyes. 

----Kamilah----

“I think you’ve outdone yourself Kamilah,” Darius placed a wood crate down in the doorway of an abandoned warehouse in Staten Island, he took off his jacket, placing it on a dusty table, before turning back to Kamilah who was hastily typing on her phone. “Is it her? You know...the other members...you can’t let them know. Not now at least…” Darius walked over to the crate, using a crowbar to open it. He examined the guns inside, matte black with embroidered gold initials and symbols. 

“They won’t know Darius and they answer to me, not the other way around.” Kamilah put her phone in her pocket, exchanging her M-9 for the black one with her engraved initials. She placed it in her concealed holster before walking towards Darius, “anyways we have a task at hand. We need to lie low until she gets them off our back.” 

“That won’t be easy, we’re so used to gunfights and not laying low.” Darius let out a sigh, crossing his arms as gazed to the floor. 

“Nothing is ever easy for us Darius,” Kamilah gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “nothing worth having was easy to get...don’t you want to lose the FBI?” 

“And if it’s a trap?”

“We’ll have another fight on our hands.” Kamilah had a devilish grin on her face, Darius shook his head before grinning back. 

“So we each need an alias’...cover stories..definitely some accessories…” Kamilah walked out to the truck where a few other members waited patiently for orders. They turned and nodded silently as Kamilah approached, lowering their weapons in her presence. 

“Your orders Miss Sayeed?” 

“Lie low.” A murmur arose from the mafia members, angry and confused looks written on their faces. Kamilah took a deep breath, waving her hand for their attention again. “That doesn’t mean function under the law, it just means anything that would leave an obvious trail to us. This is New York, crime happens all the time. Don’t let it get traced to us.” The members hesitated before nodding, giving Kamilah their silent approval. She pulled Darius aside, handing him a file.

“Here, can you create some alias’? I’m assuming nobody is going to remain in a legal state so we should be prepared.” Kamilah folded her hands behind her back and Darius nodded before retreating to the hideout. 

Kamilah checked her phone, wanting to text Amy, to know she was safe from the FBI. The thought danced in her mind as she resumed her normal assignments, plotting the occasional “disappearance” along with more illegal exchanges. She unloaded file after file, debriefings and mafia member profiles, among crucial government members that were high ranked. She tossed most of them aside before revealing Keeping you a Secret from the bottom. She sighed softly to herself, reminiscing on the feeling of Amy, the way she tasted, the softness in her touch. 

“God I hope I’m not wrong about you Amy..” Kamilah jumped at the sound of gunfire, screams and running. She grabbed an assault rifle and moved towards the commotion. Darius leaned against the doorframe, his hand covering his stomach as he gave Kamilah a knowing look. 

“Kamilah you have to go…” He grimaced, pain written across his face, he pulled his hand back revealing two deep bullet wounds, “there’s too many...you won’t make it out alive…” He paused, his eyes near watery, he took a deep breath before moving towards Kamilah, attempting to push her towards the back door. 

“I’m not sacrificing my team for my own life!” kamilah pulled him into the office, sitting him in the chair before rushing out, “you’re going to be okay!” Her face flared with anger, frustration. “Please don’t be Amy…” She rushed into cover, using the scope of her rifle to assess the situation. 

Mafia members dropped to the ground as what appeared to be twenty FBI agents pressed forward. She looked for Amy, hoping this hadn't been her idea, praying she wasn’t turning on her, that the kiss meant something. “I can never catch a break can I..?” She whispered before shooting, striking down 5 agents before ducking again. 

She peered over the side as she heard tires screeching and Amy’s familiar voice calling out. 

“Stop! Stop firing!” Kamilah watched as Amy ran out of the car, rushing to stand in front of the FBI members, “Kamilah? Kamilah?!” Amy rushed towards the house, Kamilah keeping her cover out of caution. She wanted to run to Amy, pull her close but she couldn’t take that risk, not now. “Kamlah come on!” Amy pleaded, her eyes near watery. Kamilah thought what did it matter, most of her team was dead or had fled, she didn’t have much to lose. 

“Here.” 

[veridium]

the kids aren’t alright

college au update aka I’m finally getting to write some wonderful dating fluff so what if it’s all nervous and a bit clumsy? it’s so stinkin’ adorable. have fun, readers! 

special thanks to one of my favorite Fall Out Boy songs for the title. 

chapter index + previous episode

--

So they are dating.

Not just friends, not just hanging out. Dating. Dating? Dating.

When Olivia says goodbye to Cassandra on Sunday night, first order of business is to sit on her bed and overthink things, of course. Even while doing homework with her typical fearsome dedication. They’re dating. It’s a step that needs getting used to all of Monday while their days keep them apart: Cassandra has an evening exam to work on, and Olivia needs her alone time to process, anyways. They still text, though; they’re good about that when they want to be.

But then, it’s Tuesday. Tuesday, when they can cross paths. They lose the ‘privacy’ of a weekend free of classes and intermingling with the rest of the student body. How is that going to go?

It’s just past 8:30am and she’s putting in silver stud earrings when someone knocks on her half-open door. “Look alive,” Ellinor says as she enters, backpack on with jeans and a long-sleeve pullover on.  Both look clean. Hm, she must have found time for laundry in between her stringent schedule of being Cullen’s respirator and procuring flowers for her nice plastic vase.

“Morning!” she runs her fingers through her loose and combed hair. Waves of blonde that look effortless, but are really the work of a 7:30am shower and a 7:45 blow dry.

“Fun plans for today?”

“Class.” She’s curt, but she means it. Class is fun. Yet Ellinor only groans and kicks back on the freshly-made bed. Living in a single occupancy dorm room has its perks, but with her friends, the term ‘single’ doesn’t really hit home. More like ‘selective.’

“Class. What, no…?” Ellinor tries to tease it out of her. She can’t blame her -- it only takes 30 seconds and a brief glance to know Olivia is on edge. She sucks at retaining some semblance of calm. Then again, Ellinor of all people could be trusted to do well by it. She’s kind and wonderful like that.

But the question remains: what’s going to happen?

“Uh, no,” she shakes her head, assembling her notebooks from her desk table. Two, both political science, just with different course numbers written in sharpie on the front. She’ll need the third one already in her backpack for the class she TA’s for, and then she’ll be set.

Her phone vibrates on her pillow but she’s too distracted to run for it, leaving Ellinor the perfect, gaping open window to do the honors herself. She makes a “tsk” sound.

“You’re a dirty liar, Olivia Sinclair. You’ve been texting her all morning! Who texts this much at 7am?”

“It is not that much!” she hisses, rushing over and swiping the phone away from her. It isn’t all that much: just a good morning, then some playful wordplay, and about plans for the day...she answers more in depth than she did Ellinor: classes, possibly a workout in the afternoon if she feels up for it. Then she’s subbing for an evening dance class because her coworker is out sick still. Cassandra shares much the same detail. It’s perfectly normal. Right?

Ellinor doesn’t flinch. “Alright then…”

“It’s...I’m…” Olivia clicks her home button and tossing the phone on her desk by her bag.

“So, are you going to invite her to the party, or blindfold her until we pull up in the driveway?”

Maybe. Could that work? “No! I’m telling her, okay, it’s only Tuesday. Shit.”

“Only Tuesday. You said you’d ask her yesterday when we got Boba. Soon it’ll be Wednesday, then Friday, and she’ll be wondering why you aren’t around for your brooding Planet Earth marathon date.”

“Hey! Planet Earth is a masterpiece!” She’s never seen more than 15 minutes of Planet Earth in her entire life thanks to a High School Biology class Sub.

Ellinor rolls her eyes, air blowing out her puffed cheeks as she lazily slides feet first off the bed like some all-knowing smug-slug. Back on her feet, she hooks her thumbs on her backpack straps and shrugs. “Liv, you know I’m not her biggest fan--”

“Oh! Ohoho! Bombshell tonight! Call Nancy Grace!”

“Man,” Ellinor winces, eyes closed as she heads for the door, “you are still terrible to be around under-caffeinated. Look, all I’m saying is, the writing’s on the wall. You want your girl--”

“We are not using labels yet.”

“--to come to a party with you, you tell her about the party. Step one.”

Olivia sighs and leans against her chair, legs crossing. Their Sunday heart-to-heart only 24 hours gone, and Ellinor is back to pushing sense. Who gave her the right? If Olivia hadn’t been just as terrorizing with her, she’d call foul. Only, with one park bench rant and Rutherfaker stand-off in the hallway under her belt, she knows she’s the last sinner to throw a stone. Besides, Ellinor is right.

Ugh, Cassandra hates parties. She hates parties and she hates drama. Since they have collided, Olivia has introduced a bounty of both things. But this is who she is: she works hard, dances on tables on the weekends sometimes, and lurks on soccer field grass with her best friend like a fool. The everyday college student, she is.

“You’re worrying.” Ellinor cuts in, and Olivia comes to. They’re both still standing there, like statues, while she has descended down the rabbit hole of internal questions and concerns. With renewed gusto she tosses her notebooks in her bag and adjusts the way her black jumpsuit fits around her waist.

“I’m worrying. But I have a right to.” She walks over to where her shoes are neatly stacked on the a rack, and picks out her dark red velvet boot heels. “Even if she does agree, she definitely isn’t wearing a costume.”

“Oh, LORD forbid,” Ellinor rolls her eyes, hands up in the air before she slips out the door. Probably to immediately pull out her phone and gawk at whatever cutesy bitmoji Cullen sent her after five minutes of not messaging.

It’s not like her and Cassandra couldn’t have the exact same glee about things. Shouldn’t they be gleeful? Is that the correct term? After all this would be the honeymoon stage in all the stereotypical romantic comedies. Bleh.

She continues to mull over it throughout her back-to-back morning classes, and her notes are uncharacteristically direct and thorough, even for her. When she writes, she exerts her anxiety on the page -- this is why she stopped using mechanical pencils after freshman year. Poor .7 lead never stands a chance. Coming out of class, she decides it’s her turn to make the plan.

Hey, meet me for lunch after class at 12:30? Or do you have somewhere else to be?

Cassandra, within a minute or two:

Sure. I just have to drop off books to a Professor. Meet me by the benches on North side?

Olivia: Yep! Sounds good! :)

Lunch plans. Those are good. Those are nice. Maybe they can talk and be cute, and she won’t revile it or find some reason to feel uncomfortable with it. It’s just...so surreal. Lucky enough, it’s a beautiful day outside. Fall is in full bloom, and the leaves that were once changing color are now beginning to release themselves from the abundant trees all over campus. Quad is especially scenic, so much so when she parks herself with her butt on the top of the bench and her feet in the seat, she actually enjoys the moment. Taking perhaps her first long, relaxed breath of fresh air she has had all day.

“Olivia!”

Well, that was short-lived.

Opening her eyes and looking up and down the concrete path, the first thing she sees is a nice grey peacoat buttoned around a nimble and tall body. There’s a strap of a backpack on one shoulder only, and a white and gold glittery beanie on a head of auburn red hair. Oh, not again.

“Leliana.” She braces, her flight or fight instinct dueling for dominance in her head. If she can projectile spit and then run, she could make it. It’d be fine. Or, even better, kick some muddy leaves on her expensive looking shoes. 

Leliana approaches as if there’s absolutely no problem with her existence as far as Olivia is concerned, hands in her pockets and grin on her face. When she reaches the ground in front of the bench, she halts and rocks onto her toes.

“Hey. It’s been a while!”

“It’s been a week.” Not long enough, would be my true answer.

“I...can’t believe how fast the semester’s gone. It’s almost Thanksgiving. And Halloween is tomorrow!”

“Yep. Tomorrow.”

“Got any fun plans?” she keeps smiling.

“Uh, no,” Olivia manages to animate herself with a shrug. Otherwise she’s pretty much a gargoyle on the poor bench. “I don’t really go out during the Holiday itself. It’s a lot of...unnecessary antics.”

Leliana nods and steps even closer. “Yeah, you have a point. Hey, could I talk to you for a second?”

Oh Jesus please take the wheel and drive me promptly into a brick wall. “Uh...well, I’m supposed to be--”

“Meeting Cassandra for lunch. I know! I won’t stay long.”

Oh, will you? Olivia fights off a scowl. She can only hope Leliana found out about their lunch plans the old fashioned way called ‘texting’ or ‘pleasant conversation,’ but a part of here fears her phone camera’s been hacked. Nevertheless, she scoots off to the side, thereby inviting her to sit down. Once seated, Leliana pivots towards her, and crosses one leg over the other. The well-meaning smile then dissipates.

“Look, I know...you may not have the best opinions about me after what happened at the Gala. If you’d let me, I’d like to explain myself.”

“Oh?” Olivia raises a brow, back arching. “And what possible explanation could make me understand why you felt the need to take digs at me in public so that I would become upset? You barely even know me. What gi--”

“You’re right, I barely know you. But, try to look at it from my point-of-view: one of my good friends suddenly perks up about a girl, after denying herself the chance for so long. She starts getting all wound up, and before you know it, she starts hanging out with her, only every few days when you reach out to check in, she says she’s upset about something or other. If you’re me, you’re pretty damn concerned as to what this girl’s intentions are, and you want to investigate for yourself. So I...got a little carried away. I can admit that.”

Olivia is side-eyeing her so hard she wonders if she’s using x-ray vision through the bridge of her nose. Once again someone has been a dick for the sake of friendship, then. Fine, she can understand that...but the one thing she can’t figure out is how Leliana seems to come out of nowhere. Cassandra had never mentioned her throughout any of their hangouts or conversations. For all she knew, Cullen was her one companion.

“Thanks for that. I guess.” She does her best to loosen up, but her pride gets in the way of a lot of things. Shit, maybe she is Pride. Maybe that is what she’ll be for Halloween. Priorities, Liv.

“You’re welcome. I can see now you aren’t just spinning for a good time at the expense of someone else’s feelings, or else you wouldn’t have bothered coming back around after what happened. Cassandra is difficult sometimes.”

“She isn’t difficult, she’s just deliberate.”

Leliana grins. “Cassandra is many things.”

“How do you two even know each other? I never saw you around when we were first starting to hang out. She doesn’t…”

“She doesn’t mention me?” her grin grows into a smile as she rests her elbow back behind her. “I know. It doesn’t bother me. She and I met when we were both involved with the Campus Chapel. Josie might have told you I was a Student Chaplain last year?”

“Uh…” she hesitates on whether to admit they’ve discussed her, but she can’t resist the chance to know more about Cassandra even if it’s through her. “Yes.”

“Yeah! We ended up working together a lot on events and volunteer stuff. It took awhile for us to be anything but that. She’s a hard cookie to crumble. I am, too, though.”

“She’s...she’s a cookie, alright.”

Leliana giggles, and her gaze returns to her. “On a...well, okay,” she adjusts, “can I be real with you?”

“Real? Have you not been real this entire time?”

“Oh, hush,” she giggles some more, “I’m serious.”

“Sure.”

Leliana’s face goes back to that mature expression she had when she first sat down. Solemn. “I know that it may be easy to believe Cassandra is as put-together and unbreakable. But...you should know, it’s not all there is to her.”

Olivia shakes her head a bit. “I didn’t think it was.”

“I know, but, just trust me on this one. I know from experience.”

“Experience?”

She sighs under her breath, and dares to place a hand on Olivia’s knee. “Just be careful with her. I tease, but, she is my friend.” She then stands, facing her head on. It’s slightly intimidating -- scratch that, considerably. Leliana is jovial, but there’s an intensity to her. One you catch if you look long enough.

“I trust you get me when I say I would do anything for my friend’s happiness,” she adds, taking hold of her shoulder bag handle. Olivia doesn’t know whether to take that as a compliment, or a threat. Either way, she continues to eye her but play along.

“I do,” she answers, tucking some hair behind her own ear. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Leliana waves her hand, before looking over her shoulder. They both do, because coming up the path is a well-dressed woman with short black hair, a knee-length blazer coat, and those black leggings Olivia cuddled against on the couch Saturday afternoon. In that moment, Leliana’s reply hits home.

Not long after it does, she is smiling at Olivia and stepping back onto her merry way. “You’re turning heads. Take care.” She walks with a pep in her step, departing just as Cassandra draws near.

Well, that wasn’t foreboding at all, Olivia thinks to herself as she watches Leliana’s beanie grow smaller and harder to see through the neighboring figures walking to-and-from her direction. Cassandra’s boots scuff onto the grass, jerking Olivia’s attention out of her staring.

“What did Leliana want?” she asks, already folding her arms. Her nice leather satchel shines in the sunlight like it’s polished.

She sounds displeased. “Leliana?” Olivia blinks, “Oh, she just wanted to clear the air about the Gala. To say sorry.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrow and gaze down the path where her very nice and peculiar friend had gone. Not convinced. “Really. That’s it?”

“Yes!” Olivia smiles and hops off the bench, nearer to her. Her movement distracts Cassandra, which is what she hoped for. “You said it yourself, she’s your friend. You don’t trust her to make things right?”

“I trust her to do a lot of things. Namely: too much.” She starts to get caught up in it, but rather than raising the heat, she loosens up her shoulders. It’s like a well-oiled machine of emotions.

Cassandra then changes the subject to salvage the moment. “Anyway, I thought we could try the Greek place on the corner by Williamson?”

Olivia smiles. Now she’s talking. Dusting off her thighs, she follows at her side as they walk. The first bit of their journey is quiet, observant of the goings-on. It’s peak campus foot traffic, as people hurry to overwhelm the different food hubs all around. Cassandra doesn’t just have good taste, she has smart taste: Williamson is in a tucked corner, perhaps the most removed from the rush hour. Olivia had learned this when she went with Ellinor once, trying to satiate her Greek craving with the nearest place on Google Maps.

As they near the shop, Cassandra breaks the silence. “Yesterday was fun. Thank you again for making breakfast.”

“What? Oh!” Olivia waves it off, “It’s no big deal, stop thanking me! It was good to...to cook again.”

“Everything okay?” Cassandra notices the slight low-tick in her tone at the end. It’s almost cliche, the way it happens -- and she hopes she wouldn’t catch it. But she does.

“Yeah,” she brushes it off, “I’m just still processing lecture.”

Cassandra smiles, and lowers her gaze to the ground in front of them as they round the corner. It’s easy being like this with her. Easier than all the hype Olivia builds in her head about the way things are, the way they should be, and what they aren’t. In the moment, in the thick of it, it all makes sense. No comparison and no longing.

She folds her arms against her chest as they keep going. Only a minute or so ‘till gyro goodness.

--

An hour later they are sprawled on playfield grass nearby the shop, under the sparse shade of old trees planted around the perimeter of it. A bit like the Siberia of the campus athletic areas, out on its own in a nook of campus not many people frequent. For casual picnicking with food and bare feet in the grass for two women who say they have distaste for exhibiting affection, though, it’s perfect. 

Besides, they’re sharing bites of each other’s food, now. That shit is damn-near explicit. No one wants to see that rated X, woman-on-woman action. 

“I think we had a practice out here, once,” Cassandra balls up her gyro foil, the remnants of a meal long-gone. “It was miserable, actually.”

Olivia has long-devoured her gyro into oblivion, and is laying flat on her back beside her with her glasses on, taking in the blue and cloudy sky. “Oh? Is the grass not...green enough?”

“Is that a serious question?”

“I don’t know! Is grass...like...a factor to consider?”

“In a way, yeah.”

“Oh…” she wrinkles her nose, a foot itching the other with toes. “Huh.”

“Think of it this way,” she says as she twists open her hydroflask, the squeaking sound of the seal an echo of every single time a person does during class seminar discussions. “You’re a dancer. Flooring matters, right?”

“Pff, yeah, you won’t catch me launching myself six feet in the air to land on gravel.”

“See? It’s like soccer. Or any field sport. The grass you land on, run on, fall on. It matters.”

Olivia stares up at her shoulder, and can only imagine what her face looks like. It must be beautiful, because there’s an excitement in her voice that is almost infectious. Maybe, if she stays exposed to it, she could grow a...tolerance, of athletic occupations. Maybe. Maybe with Cassandra, she could do a whole lot of things.

She’s been to quiet. Cassandra glances down, looking like she’s expecting Olivia to be asleep or something. But when their eyes meet, it’s all grins and unexpected butterflies.

“You’re teaching me something new every day,” Olivia remarks as she lifts herself up, propping on her hands. “I like that. Keep doing that.”

Cassandra reclines back to be shoulder-to-shoulder with her. “I’ll keep doing it as long as you want,” she says sweetly, “even if you wish to argue about it sometimes.”

“It helps me process information. If I can’t fight about it, it isn’t worth knowing.”

“Socrates, reincarnated.”

“Not even!” Olivia chuckles, nudging her. She lingers in the lean-in a bit indulgently. Cassandra nudges her back, until they are both veering into one another and away like haphazard pendulums. Then, their faces still in suspension close enough to tempt. And then, the lean...the closing in...slow closing of the eyes...and then the kiss. If anything could convince Olivia movie scenes in life were real, it was the way it felt getting used to kissing her. To being kissed by her. To be the person she kissed, out of everyone.

She gets into it. Too into it. It’ll overwhelm things. She stops herself and pulls back. Her lip rolls as their eyes open into each other, and Cassandra looks a bit surprised.

“Um…agh,” she says, a bit short on a breath, but happy. 

Olivia grins. “Yeah. I know.” It’s terrifying. And so good.

Cassandra exhales in a smile, and they separate. This, this is the honeymoon sensation. Everything feels right, and generous. This is what makes brave risks happen.

Olivia pulls her knees up against her chest and opens her mouth. Pausing, and struggling, but she gets it out. “H-hey, I keep meaning to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“This weekend. Do you have anything planned?”

“This weekend?” Cassandra tilts her chin, gazing out at the empty half-brown field. “Not really. I mean, if you wanted to do anything, I was going to…” she trails off. The butterflies hum in Olivia’s core, but she does her best to stay steady.

“Oh! Uh, yeah. Well, that’s what I was gonna say. Our friend Dorian, he’s having this Halloween party thing. Ellinor and I were invited, and we can bring plus ones. I was...I mean I know you’re not into parties like, in the...the Hangover sense…”

“‘The Hangover’ sense?” She asks, alarmed. 

“Uh y--no! Not that bad, just!” she laughs anxiously, “okay more like...like Clueless.”

“The one where the guy is an asshole and she and her best friend get a fight ab--”

“No, try...uh...fuck,” she shuts her eyes hard and taps her forehead, “well, okay, it’s a thing. It’s just...a production. Dorian, he--”

“Dorian Pavus, right? I know him.”

Olivia’s train of thought, derailed in a half-second’s worth of what the fuck. Her eyes go wide, and she whips her head around. “You know Dorian Pavus? God, please don’t say Church. Don’t say it.”

Cassandra raises a brow. “No. Not Church. I don’t know him well, but I know of him. He’s...interesting.”

“He’s really cool. I mean, we go to the same gym and he works there part-time like me. I mean, he’s...he usually just calls me the name of a blonde character. Like Elle Woods or...you know, Piper Chapman.”

“Piper Chapman.”

“...Yeah.”

Cassandra nods slow. “Okay. So, I was right to say...interesting.”

“Okay yeah fine. But he throws amazing parties, and all of my little crowd will be there. Ellinor and Cullen are going!” She throws it in like it’s a last ditch brownie point to take her over the edge. The look of overt skepticism on Cassandra’s face is telling, though.

“I imagine this won’t be no small backyard BBQ,” she rejoins, taking a second sip from her open canteen before putting the cap back on. “But this also explains why Cullen all of a sudden started his laundry this morning.”

“Does he not do his laundry?”

“He…” Cassandra looks for the words, “He does. It’s not that he’s not all about that kind of stuff. It’s just...for some reason laundry is like a tell-tale sign he’s emotionally preparing himself for something. Once, his sister tried to run off to Nevada to be in some cover band her friends made and his half of the suite smelled like lavender linen on steroids.”

“Oh…” Olivia frowns, “that’s...intense.”

“Yeah. It was fine though, in the end. Don’t say I told you that. He’d die if anyone found out. Especially you, or the team.”

“No worries. I don’t really hang out in that crowd anyway, you know that. I mean, Ellinor and I showing up at Rylen’s party...”

“Rylen doesn’t throw parties, he throws beer in an ice cooler and pulls out a frisbee yelling at everyone to dare him to ‘Air Bud’ it,” Cassandra jests harshly, her legs criss-crossing as she sits up.

“I wasn’t saying...well, I just meant that it’s not the same thing. Dorian’s parties aren’t small like that, but they’re fun! And good people will be there. I’d like you to go with me.” With me.

Cassandra quietly looks ahead. Her fingers pensively tousle and twist at the grass, but she doesn’t prick or pull. Only feeling, only tactile.

“Liv, there’s…there’s reasons why I tend to keep things lowkey.”

“I know,” she’s quick to offer compassion, perhaps a little too quick. “I get it. No drama, the better. I just didn’t want to go on ahead without considering you. We did say...well, you said we should be compassionate with each other, and communicate.”

Cassandra half-smiles, and her shoulders roll straight. “Yeah, but there’s...well. thank you for considering me.”

Her heart flutters. “Anytime.”

“Does this mean you’re asking me to be your date?”

Olivia purses her lips, and her shoulders bunch. “Maybe. You don’t even have to wear a costume. I’m doing the ‘deadly sins’ thing with Ellinor. You can just wear whatever you want.”

“So that is why you were arguing about Ellinor being Wrath. Hm. You have a point, there.”

Oh, God, if she ever heard you say that. Olivia’s reaction is half smile, half grimace. “Yeah. She’ll warm up to it. I think I might go as Envy. Make things fair so that neither of us win the coveted and almighty Lust mantle.”

“That would be the favored one, between you two.” Cassandra takes Olivia’s hand into hers, so cooly it makes Olivia blush. “I don’t think you’d be Envy though.”

“What? Oh, is this where you call me Sloth?”

“No way,” Cassandra huffs, “I was going to say Pride.”

She echoes her thoughts back when her and Leliana talked on the bench. A second affirmation of her search. Pride? Pride. Alright. She looks out, her head going from side-to-side as she thinks it over.

“Pride. How would I dress as Pride, though?”

Cassandra’s tongue is quicksilver. “Simple, wear what you had on when you came to Rylen’s with Ellinor. You could have been the dictionary image for it.”

“Oh, fuck that! You!” Olivia has urge to do something she hasn’t done in years. And certainly not to anyone she’s been involved with. She shoots her arms out to Cassandra’s sides and begins to tickle her, fingers spindling up and under her arms. It’s a daring move, one you’d think someone like Cassandra would stiffen and admonish. Yet, in a strangely amazing twist of fate, she lurches and begins to laugh. Laugh, and laugh, and laugh. Falling back onto the ground as her knees bend towards the sky, curved and kicking as Olivia rushes up and over her. Laughing,right along with her out of sympathy.

It’s a light she’s never seen, Cassandra losing control like this. And she loves it. She is so stunning.

“Stop it! S-stop!” Cassandra cuts in between laughs, breath escaping quick and shallow. “Y-you! Ahh!”

Olivia gives an Aha! To her tone, Then, it all starts to slow down. Laughs ease. Cassandra’s snuck her arm around Olivia’s waist, holding her close despite having been held captive. Chuckles boil down to snickering, and then recuperating heavy breathing.

“You...you didn’t tell me you were ticklish!”

“I-I,” Cassandra bubbles out the remainder of her glee, “I don’t think that’s something you...you brag about.”

“I think it is!” Olivia argues, chest half on top of hers. “You, ticklish? It’s like the world’s best kept secret.”

“Well, now I have to kill you, so it will stay that way.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Cassandra smiles and clings to her, the strength in one arm enough to nearly crack the spot in Olivia’s back that’s been a problem for her since 9th grade. Good to know for future amateur chiropractor needs.

The romantic position they’ve found themselves in sticks, the Siberia soccer field enough of a stowaway place for something considered ‘PDA’ to be acceptable. Olivia is engrossed, her chin resting on her chest. A subtle, lucid breeze combs through the edges her hair.Cassandra’s olive skin basks so well in the sunlight overhead, especially when she’s contented.

“This party,” Cassandra says after a few moments of wordless admiring, “it would be fun?”

“Hmm, Yes. I’d be there, after all.”

“Well, then I suppose it is my kind of fun then.” She agrees, but there’s a touch of carefulness to the end of her sentence. Carefulness from trying despite implicit reluctance. Olivia pauses to examine, but is only met with a well-meaning stoicism.

“You mean it?” she questions, sliding her knee in between Cassandra’s to rest.

“Yeah. If you can handle Rylen and the others, I should be able to handle your crowd.”

Olivia is reminded of Ellinor’s eye-for-an-eye logic, and her brow furrows. “My crowd is...I think you’ll like them. I mean, they’re all just really gay and well-dressed.”

Cassandra holds back a chuckle. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah! You saw! And besides, we can join them. Be gay, and well dressed, and if you’re lucky we can also be gay and well-dressed in taco bell,” she whispers the ‘taco bell’ part like she’s a screaming concert-goer, something that provokes Cassandra into poking her ticklish waist in return. More giggling, more effortless giggling, and it’s all even.

“See! I am the master of persuasion!” Olivia rejoices, still stuck on the feeling of lounging on her. Class where? Campus whomst?

“You have talent, I think you’ll go far in life.” Cassandra rubs up the side of her back, before laying her head into the grass and closing her eyes. Grinning and inhaling, nice and deep. “Alright, a few more minutes, and we have to head back. Or, at least I do.”

“So we do.”

Cassandra opens an eye at her, but Olivia only winks. A last exchange before she lays her head back down on her chest.

Cassandra exhales. “So we do.”

It’s all so good. No dramatic fights, no screaming matches, no salty comments. Just them. It’s so potent, Olivia understands why Ellinor was so moth-drawn-to-flame when her and Cullen started...doing things. This is fucking great. It’s like...nothing can touch her, and everything is as good as it’ll ever get. Which is pretty damn good, by her standards. Not even Leliana’s odd behavior can get her down.

Though, admittedly, as they took the last minutes they could to rest in the sun-baked grass, she wonders. If Cassandra was not all alright, then, what would she ever have to hide? She peers up, tempted to ask straight out. Cassandra has her eyes closed, and she’s so tranquil. Her hand wrapped around her, making her a part of it. Olivia can’t stomach the idea of ruining it.

What goes on inside that head of yours when no one thinks to ask? If you have your reasons, what are they?

She gives up, and lays her cheek back down, and the world washes away for a moment longer. The trees and their enduring leaves sway gently up above in a wind, A moment that screams ‘take your time.’

[itsbuckysworld]

Little One

Request: @hat-r said: hiiii can i have an imagine where the reader is part of the cast and its an off day for taping so she goes to work out w the cast and evans and seb notices a guy checking her out and they go extra protective since shes young like holland and they see her as their little sister, thank youuu

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader x Sebastian Stan (platonic)  Guest Appearance: Anthony Mackie, RDJr, Elizabeth Olsen, Mark Ruffalo, Tom Holland, Chris Hemsworth, Scarlett Johansson, Benedict Cumberbatch.

Warning: NO INFINITY WAR SPOILERS. Just cute platonic fluff. A random guy being v pushy.

A/N: I got this request and really liked thinking about Seb and Chris being protective over you, that just melts my little babbu heart. I bet they would be so cute and caring, and the cast as well, so it was very fun to write this. Smooches! xoxo, - L 

MAY I JUST ADD I WROTE EVERYTHING IN THIS WRONG? LIKE A COMPLETE DIFFERENT THING IN THE SAME WAVELENGTH AS YOUR REQUEST, AND THANK GOD I REALIZED BEFORE I FINISHED IT, BUT I WROTE A FULL 1K WORDS OF SOMETHING YOU DID NOT REQUEST AND THEN I WAS LIKE WAIT WHAT AM I WRITING THIS IS NOT WHAT THE PERSON REQUESTED! SO IT TOOK ME A LITTLE LONGER CAUSE BASICALLY I WROTE TWO BLURBS. Maybe i’ll finish the other one day and post it separately lmao im stupid. 

REQUESTS ARE OPEN FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED!

Y/N your name   |   Y/L/N your last name   |    masterlist

To say you were the happiest person on earth would be an understatement. You were beyond ecstatic to be working next to the avengers once more, and now with the full team, no less.

When the Russo brothers called your manager to inform you that your character played a role in the Infinity War movie you nearly fell out of your seat. You had always loved all of the Marvel Universe, and two years ago when you were cast for a small yet somewhat important role in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, you couldn’t care less about the size of your part, you just wanted to be there. In the end it seemed like your character played an important detail in Infinity War as well and there you were being called back to set with the world’s mightiest heroes. 

The first week of table reads gave you the chance to meet the few of the team you had yet to know and thanks to the previous movie you were in, you were quickly engulfed in Mackie, Scarlett, Sebastian and Chris’s arms upon arriving. Out of the whole cast you knew them the most, and throughout the filming you had formed quite a bond. 

Sebastian even pulled out a chair, forcing you between him and Chris as you joked around before getting serious and in character for the script reads. 

Now, almost a year later, Infinity War was almost wrapped up and it had been the most amazing time of your life. The cast was a delight and the team making all the movie magic happen was even more so. You were glad to have landed yourself a spot in the middle of the crazy family that The Avengers were on and off set. Getting a chance to talk all girl-things with Scarlett and Elizabeth, cracking jokes and sharing memes with Tom Holland who was around your age, having arguments over food with Mackie and Chris Hemsworth, and sharing words of wisdom and never-ending banter with Benedict and Robert. Not to mention teasing Ruffalo over the fact that you had read the full script, and he couldn’t know because of his tendency to spoil everything. It was a very gratifying experience, and you didn’t mind the early calls and late nights a single bit as the movie geared up to be one of the greatest from Marvel so far. 

And it was that family-like mindset they shared, on and off set, that quickly made you the little sister of the bunch. This was your third big role ever, so it was fair to say you were kind of new to the whole filming industry. CA:TWS had put you out there, and landed you a couple of guest appearances here and there, along with an upcoming TV show that even had Sebastian cast for a couple of episodes later in the year about which you couldn’t be more excited about. It was always fun to have him and/or Chris around, and they had named themselves your protective on-set-dads thanks to the love they had for you.

That protectiveness shone through each time you insisted on doing your own stunts and they double and triple checked with you more than the actual stunt team, just making sure that you were ready for that 13 feet drop or that mortal flip. “It’s okay, dads” you’d joke, but smile at them thankfully because it was nice that they cared. 

But you could only do your own stunts thanks to the amazing workout schedule and routine the film helped you obtain. The whole cast needed to be on top of their physical activity for the movie and you were grateful for the bonds you made because you had never been a fan of the gym, except there was always someone ready to train with you on off days and the gym was never boring for once. 

It was one of those rare but wonderful break days, and a couple of you decided to go train together. Chris and Seb hit the weights, starting with their arm routine, as you rushed to join Mackie who had arrived earlier and was doing – of course – legs.  “Gotta get those quads ready for action Y/N” Anthony joked the moment you sat by him ready to stretch and follow his routine for a bit. “I’m doing a bit of everything today, Mack. Didn’t exercise at all last week” you give him a soft smile and continue pushing and pulling your limbs to warm up. 

A mere thirty minutes later you were doing a set of warm up lunges and squats without weights by the aerobics section of the gym. Your legs were already burning, and you had to admit you had a love-hate relationship with lunges. God did they hurt but god did they work. 

And you weren’t the only one who was thinking that they worked. Right behind you, but still at a safe distance – the few spaces the gym-logic demanded people respectfully kept between you and the next person going through their workout – was a man, in his late thirties and with the type of workout shorts you always thought were too short for men to wear to the gym, could affirm that yes, lunges do work, as he stares you up and down without you noticing. 

He had started looking the moment you walked into the gym with three other dudes, his mind wondering if he could get in on that action. And when you finally separated from them, his ogling turned more obvious and more careless. He was eating you with his eyes and you hadn’t paid attention to him, to engrossed in your work out and focused on getting the best results to care for stupid distractions.

Not to busy to stop being protective and attentive, Chris and Sebastian had taken note of the man very early on. They hadn’t said a thing because every body looks when someone enters the gym, and they were getting looked at by girls all around too. It was normal to peek out of curiosity, to wonder ‘aren’t those the actors?’ or something of the sort, but they never stopped looking over every once in a while, just making sure the staring stopped or it was as innocent as when they looked at you in your skin tight suit that resembled Scarlett’s, when on set.

It wasn’t like that. 

As Chris set down the dumbbells and started switching positions for Sebastian’s turn, Anthony approached them. “Gonna hit the showers” they both nodded and their eyes followed Anthony’s body for a moment before landing on you. “Dude” Seb announced, slapping Chris’ shoulder and lifting his chin in your direction. Immediate worry and slight rage coursed through their veins. “Are you serious?” Sebastian muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair to get the medium length strands back in check. “What the hell’s wrong with this pervert” Chris murmured, the two men not realizing that their feet had started to slowly move them towards you, ready to take off in case you needed their help. They let Anthony know that they had noticed the creepy weirdo since they arrived but now he was being really disrespectful and not at all innocent or cautious of his looks.

The man started stepping closer to you, chatting you up as you took a break from your routine and that’s what immediately set them off. They couldn’t tell what the creep was saying to you from where they stood, but they could tell you were uncomfortable and his intentions weren’t the best. Hopping over bars and equipment they charged over to your shrinking body. If this dude laid a finger on you or made you an ounce more uncomfortable and creeped out than you already were, they would put their good superhero training to good use and cause a ruckus for sure. 

“That’s a good routine you’re doing there” they heard the man say as they closed the few feet between their bodies and yours. “Uh” you didn’t know what to say, all you wanted to do was run or tell the man off, but he looked like the type to not leave after a simple warning. Looking to your side to find Sebastian and Chris, with their mean faces on and bulging muscles thanks to their workout, had never made you feel more relieved.  “Everything okay here?” the blonde one said, putting his body between yours and the guy’s, eyeing him up and down, forcing him to step back and not invade your personal space any longer. Before you could say anything, let them know how uncomfortable you were, Sebastian laid a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile before turning back to angrily stare down the guy.  “Hey man, just making conversation with the pretty girl” the sleazy man said with a grin that made you want to puke. “I think the pretty girl doesn’t want to talk, so take a hint, yeah?” Sebastian murmurs, blue eyes piercing, as if he’s telepathically communicating to the guy ‘back the fuck off’. It seems to work because he’s taking a small step back. “Jeez, didn’t think people had guard dogs in 2017” “Well she has a couple of those, and they bite” Sebastian smirked at him, one smirk that let him know if he wanted to so much attempt anything against them or come close to you, he wouldn’t live to tell it. “Chill dude” the guy said shakily, clearly scared off as you relaxed into Sebastian’s embrace “Of course, dude” Chris faked a dry laugh along with the line, one of his hands placing itself on the man’s shoulder and squeezing, hard enough that you can tell it must have hurt “Tell you what” he smiled at him “how about we don’t harass young girls at the gym anymore, yeah? And then we’re all ‘chill’ ” He let the guy go with a small shove and you looked from behind Chris’ broad shoulder in time to see the creepy man scurry away and out of the building.

Your cheeks flush red at the situation, how you totally froze when the weird guy approached you and how you felt a little embarrassed that Chris and Seb had to swoop in and save the day, yet grateful that they did, like the superheroes they were on camera.  “Are you okay? Did he touch you?” Chris asked worried, hunching down to your height and running his electric blue eyes over your frame, looking for who knows what, but just making sure you were 100% perfect.  “I’m okay, and no he didn’t. I just... that was weird, I feel gross” “It’s okay, doll” Sebastian finished, pressing a quick kiss to your temple and pulling you into his arms for a quick hug. “We’re always looking out for you, little one” and you smiled up at him, moving your arm to get Chris in on the hug as well. You felt very protected if they were around, like you would never be alone and in danger if they had a say in it. “Yo, I saw a little bit of that, everything okay?” You heard Anthony say. He had a fresh set of clothes and his gym bag on his shoulder as he rushed to where the three of his friends shared a comforting hug. “Just a creep trying to hit on Y/N here” Evans said with a grin. “Yeah but my two over protective and ever so caring dads roughed him up a bit” you say, a little more calm now and poking your blonde and brunette friends on their side. Anthony chuckled lovingly, crossing his arms in front of him. “Well you’re about to have a third dad scaring off creeps whenever you need, cause I care about you too, Y/N” Anthony said causing you to laugh and bring him into the hug as well.

[buchanannn]

Seconds: Part Three (Bucky Barnes X Reader)

Part 1

Part 2

Summary: After your night with Bucky, Nat seems to be a little clued into your feelings about a certain soldier.

Word Count: 2369

A/N: OKAY more fluff that is kinda lowkey filler but whatever I’m a sucker for characterisation and friendships ://

You woke again, earlier than Bucky, the sun only just peaking through the clouds past your window. He'd rolled over during the night,body half uncovered as his left arm lay half off of the bed. His hair was messy and his face was squished adorably. You wondered why, before a conversation about sex that started as a joke, you'd never really seen his as more than just a friend. For Steve it'd been instant. He was tall and broad and handsome and a gentleman, and something in your brain had just slipped and insisted on infatuation. But for Bucky, it'd always been comfort. He was always there when you needed someone to talk to and he always tried his hardest to make you laugh when you were on the verge of tears. It wasn't beyond friendship for you, but now seeing him half naked, sprawled over your bedsheets, it seemed normal. Like it was meant to be that way. You felt a sudden urge to kiss him, to worship every limb and tell him how beautiful he really was but instead, you just slipped from under the covers and tip toed across your room, snagging your robe from the back off the door, and slowly inching it closed after you, as to not wake him. Your laptop was were you had left it on the kitchen bench the night before, so you perched yourself up on one of the stools, beginning to browse the day's news. It was the same: depressing, but in the dullest way.

A buzzing sound erupted in your apartment, coming from the general direction of your sofa and you immediately dove towards it, hoping to catch it before it woke Bucky up.

"Hey." Your voice was hushed.

"Hey, you running late or something?" It was Nat. You furrowed your brows, confused about what she was saying when it hit you. You were supposed to be working out with her and you were already late.

"Oh my god, Nat, sorry, shit, I completely spaced, I'll be there in like fifteen." You rushed.

She let out an airy laugh. "Don't stress, but know that I have been waiting for you for ten minutes." You felt guilt all over your entire body. Of course you forgot, Jesus, how could you forget? "I'm so sorry, Nat."

"It's fine, Y/N. Seriously. I'll see you soon?" She sounded chirpy.

"Yeah, see you soon." You hung up, silently speed walking to your bedroom. You crept in, pulling your workout clothes from your closet as quietly as you could and leaving. All the while, Bucky didn't stir, still softly snoring away. You slipped into your bathroom, washing your face, pulling your hair back and getting changed in a world record amount of time and then you were off. Before leaving, you quickly scrawled a note explaining your absence to Bucky and left it on the kitchen counter. Luckily the traffic wasn't too bad due to the early hour but you still took 18 minutes to get to the training room. You were short on breath as you burst in, Nat waiting expectantly standing over the speakers that she plugged her phone into. "You took your god damned time." She smiled, noticing your frazzled state.

"Yeah, I know. I suck." You stripped your jacket off and tossed all your things onto the bench at the side of the room. "At least I got a bit of extra cardio in, though." Nat laughed, meeting you in the centre of the room as the two of you stretched. "Big night?" She asked.

You shook your head. "Just stayed in. Watched some shitty TV. Went to bed. You?"

"Yeah me too, I watched that horror movie you always talk about. Wasn't that scary." She stretched her arm over her head to loosen her triceps as you bent your knees to stretch out your quads.

"You're just a weirdo. It's impossible to scare you." You rolled your eyes.

"I guess you grow out of it." She shrugged.

"You should come over and we'll have a horror marathon. There's gotta be something your afraid of." You stretched down to touch your toes.

"Yeah, maybe on a night when your not having sex." She chuckled.

You sprung up. "What?"

Her laugh became louder as she abandoned her stretching. "Is that why you didn't invite me last night? You already had someone over?"

"N-no." You stuttered.

"You're such a bad liar!" She laughed. "You totally had someone there. And you smell like a dude."

"I'm wearing cologne." You countered, putting your hands on your hips, feigning certainty.

"Okay, nobody is buying that." She rolled her eyes. "Who was it? Was it fun? Were they good? You sore? Is that why you were late?"

You took a moment to catch up with her quick fire questions. "I didn't have sex last night!" You insisted. She raised her eyebrow and tilted her head to tell you wordlessly that there was no way that she believed you. You let out a sigh, caving. "We just cuddled."

She grinned, shoving your shoulder slightly with a childish joy in her eyes. "Who?"

"You wouldn't know him." You lied.

She bit her lip with a tiny giggle. "Can't wait to meet him."

"Oh my god, it's not that serious." You exhaled heavily. "Now are we here to work out or not?"

"You're right, you gorgeous minx, you." She gave you a little wink as she approached the treadmills. You followed, your cheeks burning bright red, hoping that you wouldn't give yourself away. An hour and a bit later, you were sweating by the bucketload, your hair a mess and your muscles aching. Nat looked great, as usual, convincing you further that she was actually superhuman. Or an alien. Or a figment of your imagination. Wouldn't that be fun. "God I would murder for an omelette right now." She said, wiping of the, maybe three, droplets of sweat of her forehead.

"That's such a weird craving." You puffed out, wincing as you walked over to your stuff. "But now I really want one too. My house?"

"Sure!" She grinned. The two of you headed out of the compound's gym, you wiping your sweat of the back of your hand, which was also wet. Nat handed her, pretty much dry, towel to you and you thanked her with a smile. You were glad you had her. Everyone needs someone who would let you borrow their sweat towel.

You only split at the lobby, you heading to your car and Nat to her room in the compound. It was pretty much only used to store clothes when she needed a fresh set after your workouts. You told her you'd meet her at your place and with that the two of you separated. You climbed into your car and once again started on the road toward your house. You felt completely wrecked but also sort of energised in a way that only a difficult work out could do. You wondered, on the road, how you lived before all of this. Before the team, before your friends. You hadn't ever been this happy, and definitely never this healthy. It'd been a long and winding road of staying on the run and squatting in houses and couch surfing from apartment to apartment until you found them. It was as if some miraculous trial had paid off and you were finally useful to someone. And loved. Nat was one of the first to embrace you with open arms, seeing you as more than an asset to the team but a friend. She helped you set up your place in the living quarters, introduced you to everyone, took you out, trained with you. She helped you feel not so alone. And it was something you'd be eternally grateful for. She was one of your best friends and it was something you'd thank your lucky stars for until the day you died. You parked in your usual spot, taking your time in climbing the stairs and suddenly wishing you lived somewhere with an elevator. You were glad to be way from Nat, never feeling great about her seeing how weak you are. It seemed that as much as you worked out you could never keep up with everyone else. Your diet of takeout and beer and pretty much nothing else might've had something to do with it, but it wasn't your fault you never learned how to cook. You were glad, though, that she wasn't too far away because she knew how to cook and her omelettes were to die for. You fumbled through your bag for your keys turning the lock and pushing open the door only to be hit with the smell of smoke.

"You look awfully sweaty, doll, you been seeing somebody else that you should tell me about?" Bucky stood, shirtless in your kitchen, flipping pancakes with a wide grin on his face.

"Bucky!" Your eyes widened, your belongings dropping from your arms as you quickly shut the door behind you. "What are you doing?"

"Cooking pancakes." He held up the pan as if you needed evidence. He looked down at his work and winced a little. "Burning them, really."

You approached quickly, glancing over your shoulder. "Oh my god. You're literally the sweetest person alive but you need to go."

He frowned, confused. "But, I-"

"Nat is coming upstairs in like five minutes." You explained.

His eyes widened. "Oh, well, shit."

You nodded, his response appropriate. "I'm so, so sorry, I should've called, I just blanked. I'm so out of it this morning."

"No, no, it's fine, I just." He walked around you. "I'll get my stuff."

You turned off the stove, scraping the burnt pancake batter into the sink and pushing aside the evidence to the side of the bench. You hoped that Nat took her sweet time in getting changed. You walked down the hall quickly to where Bucky was getting dressed in your room.

You peeled off your sweaty clothes and pulled on a fresh t-shirt and a pair of sweats, ignoring Bucky's eyes on you. He grabbed his shirt from the end of the bed and pulled it over his head.

"You know, I should really start working out with you if this is the show I get after." He said.

"Oh shut up." You rolled your eyes, pulling your hair out of its tie and shaking it out. You turned around, both of you fully dressed now. "I'm really sorry, Buck. I feel like a total ass."

"It's okay. I mean you're always a total ass so I'm used to it." He walked towards you, pulling you by the waist into him. He leant down, planting a firm kiss on your mouth. "And plus, you can just make it up to me tonight. Dinner at mine? If you don't have plans with Nat."

You smiled, nodding. "Of course. Hopefully this time you don't burn it."

He chuckled, brushing some stray hair out of your face. "That's probably not likely."

You laughed, and then immediately stopped upon hearing the front door open. "Jesus it's smells like a wildfire in here. Did you try to cook without me?"

Your body tensed and Bucky's eyes widened.

God damn, curse Bucky for being so adorable and making you give a long winded goodbye apology. He mouthed the words 'what do I do?' And you mouthed back 'I don't know.'

"Y/N?" Nat chimed, starting down the hall.

You winced, holding up a hand. 'Stay here' you mouthed. He nodded, watching as you walked out of the room, closing the door behind you nonchalantly. "Uh Yeah, sorry. I tried to start some eggs and forgot about them while I was changing and I completely fucked up my frypan." You laughed. She rolled her eyes at you. "Dude that's ridiculous. This is why you should wait for me."

"Well I figure I've got to learn one day." You shrugged, trying to keep the conversation light but you couldn't take your mind off the boy in your bedroom.

"Well here's a tip; don't start cooking something and then walk away for five minutes." She laughed, admiring the charred mess in the sink. "You gotta learn the basics before you can become the grand housewife to a certain super solider." Oh my god, did she see Bucky? How could she have? Maybe she heard him? Your heart raced.

Upon seeing your reaction she laughed. "What, you didn't think I noticed your crush on Steve? You're smitten, kid. It's so obvious."

You breathed out a sigh of relief, too thankful to be embarrassed. "Oh, that. Yeah. I forgot about that."

Nat furrowed her brows giving you a quizzical look. "You and that guy last night should've screwed, this dry spell is making you weird."

"Should we go to that cafe down the block?" You suggested with pink cheeks, wanting nothing more than a subject change.

"Yeah, sure. I'll teach you how to cook another time when your kitchen doesn't smell like shit."

You laughed at that. "Okay, sweet, I'll go get my coat. Just give me a sec."

You turned back towards your bedroom, opening the door to see Bucky perched on the side of your bed, lacing up his boots. You rolled your eyes at his smug smile as if silently telling him to fuck off. You grabbed your coat from your closet and began to leave but Buck ceased your wrist, pulling you back towards him. He pulled you down so he could whisper in your ear, his breath in your neck sending shivers down your spine. "Be at mine by seven and wear something pretty. I'm taking you out for real."

You smiled, his face looking up at you with a determined smirk. You nodded, leaning down to quickly peck him before pressing your spare house key into his palm. He released your arm and you began to head back out to Nat, holding up seven fingers to Bucky for confirmation that you'd see him then. He returned the gesture, a distant smile on his face as you left.

[fit-as-fxck]

Push update 

I moved my push workout to today and I really tried to keep it under an hour and a half. I only warmed up on the rower for 5 minutes before I went into some dynamic movement and mobility work. The bench felt really good even though it was challenging by the 4th set and I had no one there to spot me. I combined chest, shoulders, triceps and some leg in there too. I tried my PR on dumbbell shoulder press and got it up 5 times before I had to drop down in weight. I basically performed it pyramid style - dropping weight as I went and kept going until failure. I really just tried to burn my shoulders out as best I could. I started with 25 lb dumbbells and went down to 20, then 15. Increasing my reps each time till failure while I dropped weight for 4 sets. I did that thing again where I barely ate all damn day and it started to have an effect on me. I performed bench press, one leg hip thrust, skull crushers (pyramid style), weighted decline sit ups, standing military press, Bulgarian split squat, DB shoulder press, cable front delt raise, side lateral raise until failure and then dropping weight and continuing, tricep kick back and hold, single arm tricep press down, and ending with pallof press and some more ab work. I spent 1 hr and 10 minutes. I think I moved rather quickly between sets once I got going. In fact, there were two men lifting in the gym with me and I might have accidentally almost run one of them over. Very unintentional and I really hope he knows I didn't mean to. But he definitely gave me “a look”. No idea what that was though. (awkward)

I’m really trying to eat but its just not happening. I end up fasting almost all day or having a small snack and then panicking and trying to get all my calories in at the end of the day. Oops. I’m really focusing on proper nutrition and I've been keeping a super close eye on it.. but its hard to do when you aren't particularly hungry much. Intermittent fasting made my appetite adapt like crazy. Not that I don't love food, I really do, but jeez. I made breakfast for dinner just trying to get in the calories I need. I’m so scared to screw up my metabolism like I did before. Technically, my metabolism is on fire right now. I want to keep that going.

I was feeling a tad insecure about some of the weight I was lifting and then I saw on Instagram that some fitspo chick sponsored by a clothing company I like was lifting the same amount and then less than me, so it gave me some perspective like snap out of it bitch. But we’re all human, so, it happens. I don't feel so bad because some of my numbers are pretty high, some not so much. Numbers don't matter - they say don't lift with your ego. It’s a good way to fuck up if you lead with that. And considering only about 10% of the female population actually lift weights seriously, I would say I'm not giving myself enough credit lololololol again. I know most women are scared to turn overly muscular but seriously I've put in so much work since I started lifting a few years ago... and its difficult to turn into that without some serious “help”. I remember when I was a cardio bunny and wondering why I kept getting “smaller” but my shape never changed to what I wanted. My legs were chicken legs and I relied completely on what genetics blessed me with. I made the mistake of not supplementing running with proper strength training and that did me in. I still remember the first time I stepped into the weight lifting part of the gym. I had a male friend who invited me to join him and that first day was the best and worst day for me. I looked like a scared chicken but I adapted quickly and it became one of my favorite hobbies. Unfortunately, I based all my information off “bro-science”. Smh @ myself. Not anymore. My first leg day destroyed me and I had to ice my quads and couldn't even walk. I was a pretty beaten down person when I walked in there, but it built something stronger.

Posterior chain is tomorrow and I will force myself to eat before that one because its a rather heavy day for me. Lots of heavy work to do. Saturday will be my cardio/work capacity day and I'll use it as “active recovery”.

[heavensigh]

I’m siiiiick.

I had a pretty bad flare up this morning and I’m not sure what triggered it. The last couple of days my stomach has been bothering me. I stuck with my “safe” foods like chicken and turkey and tried to cut back on sugar and such. I guess that turkey meatloaf I made the other day had other plans. I was able to go to the gym yesterday but my glutes were not activating at all and I began to get frustrated at my lack of coordination. One of the main reasons I use to hire personal trainers was to help correct my rotten form. Having “sway” back for all these years has really screwed me over and I’m quite skilled at recruiting other muscles to do the work as to not disturb my glutes. So for years, YEARS, I’ve been overworking my quads and lower back for basic ass movement. So my ass is just pure fat. Nice and jiggly fat, but still fat. So when I go to focus on glute workouts my body immediately starts using any other muscles besides my ass. So I have to do special training to help rework the muscle memory and to really get it fired up. It’s such a pain and at times a hit and miss. I’ve been watching more videos concerning it from health professionals but its really slowing down my progress. My backside would be the main event at the competition, along with my abs. If I can’t get this right in time I won’t be able to compete. My legs got a good workout yesterday, even though I was floundering about on my form but I need to put in some serious work for my tail to be in peak condition.

I’ve decided to get a food tracker app. Despite me working out like a dog I’ve gained weight and its not muscle. My eating habits have been all over the place and I’m not sure what’s causing it. Maybe I’m self sabotaging. I’m never tempted by sweets or junk food but lately that’s ALL I’ve been craving. I can’t say I’m going to work on my portion control without my body going into overdrive and wanting everything under the sun. Of course it does because I’m denying it. But I hooked up the app to track my calories and best of all, offer me new and fun recipes that I can make. It even generates the shopping list for me and I can plan and track each meal weeks ahead of time. That means I’ll be eating on a regular schedule. Which is sure to help my IBS. It also means I will eat healthier, which should mean no more flare ups? The fact that I had to take 3 pills this week is unbelievable. I can’t afford to skip any more days. The app is like 4 bucks a month so its a small price to pay for eating my eating habits back on track. I really need to make these next 10 weeks count.

School is going well. I got an A+ on my first assignment so I’m feeling pretty good about that. I’m currently ignoring 2 other assignments I have to do but  you know the drill. Massive amount of procrastination and then like 2 hours of hard work and hey...I’m done.

The business side of things could be better. I set up my ads again with new product pictures because the old ones kept getting rejected. I got a little traffic but I need to mess with it a little more. My health and gym journey is taking up so much time I need to find a new balance. Especially if I’m going to start working soon. Chu still hasn’t gotten his updated pay yet so I have to be better at counting our coins. I pray that scholarship money comes in soon. That will def lighten the load a bit.

A part of me is toying with the idea of creating a youtube channel or separate IG for my workout journey. I’m leaning toward youtube channel but I suck at creating videos. Plus, I don’t know if I can handle something else on my plate right now.... It might be fun though. I don’t see too many black women in the space, it might inspire new people. I can’t teach them anything though. It would literally just be a vlog type thing. I’m not qualified to workout with anyone since I have body issues concerning my form, low glute activation and overall being a lazy f*ck. I don’t want to start something I can’t finish. I’ve done it in the past but I want to be better this year. Besides I had to talk myself out of buying a tablet yesterday because I thought it would make me more productive but I’m not sure why or how that would be since I’m already pretty active on my hard planner... 

I know me, I’ll want a new camera and such and I’ll overthink all the small details...but it could be fun...and it might make me more accountable...

Please someone...talk me out of this.

[livehealthynewsusa]

‘I Did Vanessa Hudgens’ Workout Routine For A Week’

Two things I know: I’ve been a fan of Vanessa Hudgens for * a while * (read: since I saw High School Musical for the first time) and the celebrity looks super fit. Just stop by her Instagram to see what I mean.

So, when my editors came up with the idea, I thought, why not train like the star for a week? And TBH, the task came at the perfect time. In the months leading up to this task, I largely stuck to cardio workouts, alternating between indoor cycling and outdoor runs. It was time to mix it up – Hudgens style.

Short disclaimer: I don’t know exactly what a week’s training has been like for Vanessa lately as I couldn’t really text her a short text and personally accompany her (but a girl can dream!). Instead, I created a plan based on Instagram posts, her previous interviews with Women’s Health, and advice from celebrity trainer Isaac Boots, who worked with the star firsthand.

Let me walk you through * everything * that I’ve done and how badass and strong I felt afterward.

The training program …

Five torch training sessions

Isaac pointed out three of his torch workouts (here, here, and here) that he and Vanessa did on Instagram Live to raise money for No Kid Hungry. They are approximately 50 minutes long, and while each is unique, they all include dance-based movements, jumping, and planking exercises to start with, as well as arm exercises with dumbbells and / or resistance bands. At Isaac’s recommendation, I did a torch’d workout every day for five days in a row, doing each one once before repeating the first two.

Three yoga workouts

Vanessa tries to practice yoga three times a week, reported WH in March 2020. So for this week I did three yoga workouts from the Peloton app.

I first tried a 15-minute standing yoga class. Then I went from a 20 minute vinyasa style session for beginners to a 30 minute advanced flow.

Two resistance band workouts

I came across videos of Vanessa training with looped resistance bands, ankle weights, and battle ropes at Dogpound. I had a lot of ankle weight doing the Torch’d workouts, and right now I don’t have access to battle ropes. Hello Resistance Bands! Fortunately, Dogpound trainer Julia Brown posted some banded prey workouts on Instagram. I did this exercise which included moves like glute bridges, frog pulses, and leg raises, but I used a chair instead of a bench. I also did this HIIT workout that involves more steps, jumping, and squatting.

All of this took place over six mornings, as Vanessa previously told WH that she likes exercise and does at least six workouts a week. That, of course, meant I had to double up on most days. I don’t know Vanessa is pulling doubles, but what can I say? I wanted to try as much as possible in just one week.

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My souvenirs …

1. Ankle weights are heavier than they look.

Confession: I was a little too ambitious the first time I tried torch’d practice. In the video, when Isaac and Vanessa grabbed their ankle weights, I strapped five pounds to each leg – although Isaac assured viewers that they would still do their job without the weight. Big mistake! Luckily my weights are adjustable so I quickly scaled down to 2.5 pounds per leg.

Erin Warwood

Beginners should actually wait to gain ankle weight until they get used to their new fitness routines, Emily Diers, a certified personal trainer and founder of Bodycraft, previously told WH. Once you’ve mastered the bodyweight exercises, you should start with 1 or 1.5 pound ankle weights.

Luckily, I had four more chances to try these torch’d sequences at a reduced weight. I even did two of the remaining workouts without ankle weights. (And they still kicked my butt … in a great way.)

So why wear ankle weights at all? For one, they’re a great addition to exercises that work the leg and hip muscles, such as leg raises, according to Harvard Medical School.

“If you add resistance to any movement, your muscle will demand more,” Diers told WH. “And if you do it without a break, it will add a cardiovascular element.”

But remember, don’t just throw up ankle weights for any type of workout: they’re not as good for walking or aerobic workouts, according to the same Harvard article. In fact, they can pull on your ankle joint (which can lead to other injuries) and cause muscle imbalance by forcing you to use your quads, not your hamstrings.

2. Yoga in the morning has helped me feel calmer.

Vanessa previously told WH that her yoga practice was like therapy, and after that week I could just add it to my morning routine. At the beginning of my second yoga class, I felt super stressed about everything I had to do that day. But slowing down and focusing on my breathing really seemed to help: by the time I finished the 20-minute flow, my outlook for the day was noticeably more positive.

Erin Warwood

As it turns out, science can explain my mood-lifting experience. While all exercises can improve your mood, yoga could have additional benefits, according to a recent Harvard Medical School article. In particular, it can increase levels of gamma-aminobutyric acid (GABA), a brain chemical that has been linked to better mood and less anxiety.

3. Resistance bands became my favorite device.

For these workouts, I used a resistance band that basically looks like an oversized rubber band. Mine came in a three-pack with different resistance levels indicated by color. (Side note: I learned my lesson from working too hard with the ankle weights and started with the purple, ultra-light tape. That was a good decision.)

I had never used looped resistance bands before this week, but I will incorporate them into future workouts. I love how versatile they are: Isaac put them in some of the Torch’d Arm sequences that made my shoulders burn. And of course, they were the stars of Julia’s Banded Booty workouts.

The bands have many other advantages. Because they are small and light, they are easy to take with you when you travel. They can also help build muscle endurance and correct muscle imbalances, previously reported WH.

4. Exercising with a buddy is really more fun.

Another confession: I’m usually more of the solo training type. Even though I knew Vanessa enjoyed working out with friends, I did all of my workouts on my own for the first three days of the week.

Erin Warwood

But when I watched Vanessa and Isaac (and in one of the workouts GG Magree) interact while torch’d, I started to question my loner mentality. After all, it looked like they were having a lot more fun together – even virtually.

To train like Vanessa, I invited my partner Brent to join in on days four, five and six. We moaned and laughed together during the toughest parts of Torch’d, which was much better than sweating it out in silence. We also put on some of our favorite songs for Julia’s HIIT workout and danced / sang our way through all of the banded booty chores. Conclusion: You will surely catch me celebrating National Workout Buddy Day for years to come.

5. Most importantly, training like Vanessa gave me a huge confidence boost.

This week has helped me, an absolute perfectionist, feel strong and proud even when my training wasn’t perfect. Let’s face it: Torch’d took me * a lot * of breaks. But Vanessa inspired me. Not only did the celebrity show himself off doing these workouts live on Instagram, but she was also aware of how tough they were. Her vulnerability gave me permission to step in and give it my all, even if that sometimes meant struggling to keep up. I look forward to continuing to try Torch’d and feeling myself get a little bit stronger every time. My next goal? Do it through one session with no breaks.

Here’s the thing: I’m not a trainer, so I’m not going to endorse the training plan I created as the * best * way to train like Vanessa Hudgens. But I have to say I had a lot of fun – and worked hard – with torch’d, yoga, and those banded butt workouts. If you’re interested in trying any of these, make sure to consult a doctor before you begin and, as Isaac once said, get ready to carve this real estate baby!

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source https://livehealthynews.com/i-did-vanessa-hudgens-workout-routine-for-a-week/