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meazalykov · 3 months ago

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gold or silver

laura freigang x reader

summary: you say words you don't mean.

warnings: reader's mentality is.. harsh in the beginning. jealousy. bits of angst.

it's the 40th minute and you were frustrated.

as an attacking midfielder, it seemed like you were doing everything.

you were helping the offense with your creative chances, you were clearing goals to help with the defense, picking up any pieces that horan or coffey failed to receive.

your body was tired and your mindset started shift into playing aggressively, anyway that will help you win against the germans.

by now, you'd start your aggressiveness with any other team-- but the germans had something special with you.

having two german parents made you eligible to play for the german national team. you were born in the United States and were raised in the US for your entire life-- the decision to pick a national team was hard.

back in 2018 when the united states promised to put you on the 2019 World Cup roster, you accepted.

it didn't help that they were the best team in the world at that point.

it made it special that you played for bayern munich, a bavarian club. most of the german girls on the gerwnt were your bestest friends, you've considered them to be your non-biological sisters.

one of those non-biological sisters, sydney, introduced you to laura back in 2021.

the both of you hit it off, the chemistry was undeniable and you've been with the older girl for 3 years now.

mallory swanson shoots the ball towards the goal in the 44th minute but it deflects off of the goalpost, the ball lands on your foot and you shoot the ball-- only for it to launch into the crowd.

you yelled in frustration as sam reassures you that you'll get it next time-- again. this was your third huge opportunity of the night and you didn't make a single goal yet.

nobody did. its nil-nil.

when the referee blows the whistle for halftime, you groaned out in frustration. hearing this, trinity jogs by your side as you both head back to the dressing room.

sitting down by your locker in the dressing room, you cling onto the bottom of your red shorts and take a sip of water out of your gatorade bottle.

the entire dressing room was frustrated-- the many missed chances wasn't acceptable.

after emma came in the dressing room, surprisingly calm while talking about the switches in play, you look up to the ceiling in silence.

"hey y/n." sophia places her hand on your right knee. you look towards her and raised your eyebrow, signaling for her to talk to you.

"are you okay?" sophia asks with a light smile.

"not really, are you okay?" you ask back.

sophia shrugs her shoulders, "I've been better."

that response breaks a smile from you.

"I just want to help you guys score, or at least score myself, I hate this deadlock we are in." you speak, going to take another sip of your water bottle after.

"I'll score for you and the team in the second half, I promise." sophia says.

"but honestly, I thought that your bad mood might've been about playing against laura and your german friends." sophia continues.

"no-- not really." you place your water bottle down and bend down to fix your cleat laces.

"huh?" sophia says, surprised.

"I mean, I am determined to help us get a medal. I'm not letting a relationship get in the way of our dreams." you say.

"and I know laura thinks the same way. yes, I am a little scared that she will resent me if we win and she doesn't-- but if that is a huge problem for her, maybe we aren't meant to be." you continue.

sophia knits her eyebrows together as you finish tying your cleats.

"she wouldn't resent you. are you saying that you would have resent for her if germany wins tonight?" Sophia asks.

"no, because I'll make sure they wouldn't win." you say, standing up and jogging out of the dressing room.

in the 61st minute, you push down and block a huge chance coming from nicole-- your girlfriend's frankfurt teammate.

seeing her fall after her failed chance, you walk up to her and help her when you realize that she had a cramp in her leg.

laura is subbed on her nicole afterwards, which made you feel nervous.

seeing her come onto the field, your tough façade faded away at the sight of her. you couldn't play mean when it came to her-- she made you feel loved and soft.

you didn't think it, but subconsciously, you make a note to be aggressive towards every other player except for her-- unless you absolutely had to.

in the 72nd minute, laura gets the ball and nearly gets the goal against the united states. noticing the position between her and crystal dunn, you reached your hand up because she was offside.

when the ref called for it offside, laura walks closer to you frustrated.

something inside of you feels heartbroken when she walks by you without bothering to look at you-- or gives you a signal that she notices you.

did she hear your conversation with sophia? no way, the American locker rooms aren't near the german ones.

was it because you were the first to urge the referee to call off-side? maybe.

in the 94th minute, you ran the ball up the field and passed it to mallory.

mallory, seeing no free space thanks to feli and kathy, passes the ball back to you. as you get the ball and dribble around feli, you pass the ball over to sophia.

berger fails to grab the ball from sophia's feet as she shoots the ball into the undefended goal.

1-0.

you feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you dart towards sophia, who’s grinning like she’s just won the entire tournament.

she practically tackles you in the celebration as you both crash to the ground, your teammates piling on top of you.

the scoreboard flashes 1-0, and the realization hits you—you’re just minutes away from securing a spot in the gold medal match.

you finally stand up, breathless and exhilarated, giving sophia another congratulatory hug. you gave the assist and she got the goal.

she smiles at that thought, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she points at you and says, "i told you i’d score a goal for you."

"and it was perfect, soph!" you laugh, your heart swelling with pride and affection.

your voice carries your excitement, and for a moment, the world seems to pause around you, focusing only on the joy of the moment.

but then, out of the corner of your eye, as you’re jogging back into position, you catch sight of laura.

she’s not far, standing near the center circle, her posture stiff, eyes fixed on you with a mix of confusion and something else—something you can’t quite place.

her brows are knitted together, and she’s biting the inside of her cheek, a habit you know all too well.

you feel a pang of guilt but push it down, focusing on the game at hand.

laura’s mind races as she replays your words in her head. "scoring a goal for you?" the phrase echoes, unsettling her.

of course, she trusts you—she has to. but seeing you so close to sophia, hearing the way you cheered for her, stirs a gnawing insecurity within her.

she shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the thoughts. now’s not the time. there’s a game to win, and the germans are still in it—barely.

the game restarts, and you see laura moving with renewed determination. she’s pushing forward, trying to lead her team to an equalizer. every touch she makes on the ball is sharp, decisive, but there’s an edge to her play now, something almost desperate.

you can’t help but feel a twist in your gut every time she gets close to the goal. she has to be stopped, even if she doesn’t want to be.

in the 96th minute, laura receives the ball just outside the box. she fakes a shot, sending emily off balance before cutting inside.

your heart skips a beat as you watch, silently praying she doesn’t score. it’s a terrible thought, but you can’t help it. the idea of seeing her disappointment if she misses, or the tension if she scores, is almost too much to bear.

laura shoots, the ball curling towards the far post, but it’s just inches wide. the ball goes into the crowd and you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. the sight of laura with her hands on her head, staring at the missed opportunity, brings a lump to your throat.

when the final whistle blows, the stadium erupts in cheers for the USWNT, but your gaze is locked on laura. she’s sitting on the grass, staring at the ground. your feet move before you can think, crossing the pitch to her.

you should be celebrating with your team, but that's not your main concern. as much as you said it did in the locker room.

“laura,” you whisper as you reach her, crouching down.

laura looks up at you, her eyes tired and exhausted, and for a moment, the world falls away. it’s just you and her, and the weight of the game feels inconsequential compared to the heaviness between you.

“i’m sorry,” you say, knowing it’s not enough, but it’s all you have at the moment.

“it’s okay. you deserved the win.” laura shakes her head, managing a small, sad smile. her voice is soft, but there’s a crack in it that makes your chest tighten.

“it’s just a game, laur. we’re still us. and i believe that you guys will go and win bronze.” you reach out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

she nods, but her eyes tell a different story—a story of doubt, of worry, of wondering if the game really is just a game, or if it’s something more. something that could wedge itself between the both of you.

“i saw how you looked at sophia,” she admits, her voice barely audible.

“what did she mean by ‘scoring for you’?”

you open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. how can you explain that it was just a friendly promise, a moment of celebration? that it means nothing compared to what you have with laura? you can see the doubt in her eyes, and it scares you.

“it was nothing, i swear,” you say, squeezing her hand.

“sophia’s just… sophia. she’s engaged to michael and i do not have feelings for her outside of platonic ones. you’re the one i’m with, the one i love.”

laura takes a deep breath, nodding again, but you can tell the seed of doubt has been planted.

the victory feels hollow now, and as you pull her into a hug, you can’t shake the feeling that this game has cost you something far more important than a spot in the gold medal match.

so much for what you said in the locker room at halftime. you’re terrified that you might’ve manifested something.

you hold laura close, feeling the tension in her body as she tries to keep her emotions in check.

the cheers and celebrations around you fade into the back of your mind, replaced by the sound of her uneven-- and tired--breathing.

you hate this—the way the game has twisted something as pure as your love for each other into a source of tension.

“laur,” you murmur against her hair, trying to comfort her as you sit on the grass,

“you’re the one i’m going to go home with after this all ends. none of this changes that.”

she pulls back slightly, her eyes searching yours, trying to find reassurance in your words.

“but it does, doesn’t it? we’re always on different sides out here, and it feels like… i don’t know, like we’re not on the same team anymore– i mean we aren’t physically– but i mean with us.”

the vulnerability in her voice breaks your heart. you never wanted this—never wanted to be the reason she felt insecure or doubted what you have together.

you cup her face gently, your thumb brushing away a tear that threatens to spill over.

“we’re always on the same team in this relationship,” you say firmly, hoping your conviction can bridge the gap that’s opened between you.

“what happened on this field stays here. it’s just a game, but you and me? it exists everywhere else.”

laura looks down, her lips pressed into a thin line. “it’s hard to separate it sometimes, you know? watching you celebrate with her, hearing what you said echoing outside of the locker room at halftime… it hurt, y/n.”

the honesty in her words cuts deep, your heart drops and you feel a huge wave of guilt hit you. she heard what you said.

you wish you could go back, change how you reacted, change what you said to sophia, change how you celebrated. but you can’t. all you can do is try to make it right now.

“i didn’t mean to say that.. or to hurt you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

“sophia and i—we’re just friends. she was just trying to cheer me up, that’s all. i don’t think that you’ll hate me like I said in the locker– the emotions of this game were just–” you cut yourself off, finding no excuses.

“you’re the one i care about, the one who matters to me.” you say with full sincerity.

“I know that, but it’s hard when we’re out here, competing like this. i don’t want to feel like i’m fighting for you.” laura’s eyes soften, but there’s still a shadow of doubt lingering.

the feeling of playing against you all of the time is starting to catch up to the german girl.

she's never been your teammate on the pitch, just an opponent or rival.

“you’re not,” you insist, your grip on her tightening as if you could physically hold her fears at bay.

“you have all of me, laura. there’s no one else, and never will be.” you stare into her eyes.

she nods slowly, taking in your words, and you can see the conflict in her eyes begin to ease, if only slightly.

“i want to believe that,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “but this… it’s just hard.”

you pull her into another hug, wanting to shield her from the pain, to show her that nothing has changed between you.

“i love you, laur,” you say, the words a promise as much as a declaration.

“we’ll get through this, together. when you win that bronze medal, i promise i’ll be there to celebrate with you.”

laura lets out a shaky breath, her arms wrapping around you tightly. “i love you too,” she murmurs against your shoulder.

“i just… i don’t want to lose you and three years of us to this– to a football match if anything.”

“you won’t,” you assure her, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes.

“we’ll figure it out. we always do.” you say. this is true, you guys have solved small disagreements before and have made compromises.

a small, fragile smile forms on her lips. not caring about any cameras or teammates that could see it– you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

the sound of your teammate, sam, calling your name pulls you back to the present. you know you have to go, to join them in celebrating the victory, but you’re reluctant to leave laura’s side.

you’d stay by her side forever if you could. ninety minutes of rivalry exhausted you.

laura notices your look at sam and gives you a small nod.

“go,” she says, her voice steadier now. “you deserve to celebrate. i’ll be okay.”

“are you sure?” you hesitate, searching her face for any lingering doubts.

“i’m sure. we will talk more later back home, okay?” she smiles, a bit more convincingly this time.

you nod, pressing one last kiss to her lips before standing up.

the joy of the journey towards gold feels muted, but as you jog back to your team, you glance over your shoulder at laura.

she’s watching you, and there’s a small smile on her face, one that tells you she’s trying to be okay..

as you rejoin your teammates, the cheers and laughter envelop you, but your mind is still on laura.

the victory with your national teammates is bittersweet, a reminder of the delicate balance you have to maintain between your love and your rivalry when playing on the national level– even club level since you play for bayern and she plays for frankfurt.

but you’re determined to make it work, to ensure that no game, no matter how important, comes between you and the woman you love.

you’re determined to show laura that she’s the most important part of your life—on and off the field.

well, after you win that gold medal for your team.

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

#laura freigang #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #uswnt x reader #gerwnt #woso imagine

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youunravelme · 1 year ago

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to all the girls you've loved before part 5

author's note: this might be the softest part out of all of them? sorry for the wait, i hope the fluff makes up for it. :)

pairing: single dad!mat barzal x reader

summary: being a nanny for rich people was probably the worst thing that ever happened to you, until you started working for mat.

warnings: children, rich people, very volatile/toxic relationship

day forty-four

"does this look okay?" mat popped his head in your room where you were sitting on your bed with a book in your lap.

"you look like you normally do."

he ran a hand down his face. "i mean, is it appropriate to wear to a doctor's appointment?"

oh shit.

you forgot.

you jumped off the bed and ran into the walk in closet.

"did you forget?" mat teased. any sign of insecurity at his outfit choice disappeared when you sprinted into the closet.

"would you believe me if i said no?"

he laughed. "not a chance." he cleared his throat. "let me go wake ella up and get her ready."

you pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater as well as thick socks and shoes. you walked out, nearly running into mat and ella in the hallway.

ella immediately perked up at seeing you and reached for you while mat rolled his eyes.

"can't believe she loves you more."

"i'm with her all day," you quipped. but the second the words left your mouth, you were backpedaling. "not to say that you're an absent father!" you amended. "i just mean that i live here and i take care of her when you're not here, so she sees me more and--"

mat's laughter cut you off. he placed a strong hand on your shoulder and squeezed. "i didn't take it that way, relax." and like nothing happened, he continued down the hall to the living room.

a sigh escaped your lips the second his touch was gone.

it was another ten minutes before the three of you left. originally, you were stunned that he asked you to join him in the first place, but when mat explained how confused he and tito were for that the first doctor's appointment, it made more sense.

everyone needed an emotional support friend.

you had a whole crew of them help move you out of your old apartment.

even the thought of that day made you want to tear up again. you'd never been one for having a large group of friends, usually just a close few. but after graduating college, after your school friends moved away from the city, somewhere along the way, you stopped picking up your phone to text them.

which was how you landed in your former apartment with natalie. she was a friend of a friend, and easy enough to live with.

until she fucked your boyfriend.

so when mat, tito, sydney, and marty all helped you move out? even after only knowing the latter two for less than twenty-four hours?

they put your old friends to shame.

"what's going on in that mind of yours?" mat asked. "you got quiet." you shrugged. "oh come on, you're thinking about something! i can see the wheels turning in your head."

"you sound like my mother."

mat guffawed and laughed at the same time in a sound that you wanted to commit to memory. "your mother? should i be offended?"

you smiled despite yourself. "she's alright."

"she must be if she raised you."

you crossed your arms. "you're such a flatterer."

"only for you."

you ignored the weird fluttering sensation in your gut and rolled your eyes. "wait till i tell tito that you like me more."

mat groaned and ran a hand over his mouth. "please don't, i get enough shit from him as it is."

interesting.

you turned in your seat to face him a little more. "and what shit would he be giving the great mathew barzal? spending too long on your hair? being too talented? having too many female fans?"

as you came to a stoplight, mat rubbed the back of his neck, looking increasingly more uncomfortable with your line of questioning. "not necessarily..." he trailed off.

but you ignored his signs of hesitancy and kept pressing on. "i bet it's about you being a dilf."

if the car was moving, you'd bet money that mat would've slammed on the brakes. but you were currently still sitting at the stoplight, so he just looked at you with an expression that boarded on shocked and horrified.

"a what?"

"surely, you know what a dilf is, mat."

he sputtered. "i mean i uh know what it is--"

"then why are you so flustered?" you asked, leaning on the center console.

"just wasn't expecting you to say that is all."

"i'm sure you and your teammates have said worse in the locker room."

"yeah but that's them and you're you and--" he cut himself off and chose to wave his hands in the air like that action alone would fill in the blanks.

"and what?"

mat accelerated as the light turned green. "i just didn't know you saw me that way."

you shrugged and sat back in your seat, ignoring the way your heart raced at the way the conversation took a turn. "don't tell me i'm the first person to say you're attractive, mat."

"well, no, but--"

"so what's the big deal? it's just me."

mat shrugged. "exactly. it's you."

you froze momentarily, but tried to brush his comment off like it didn't send a shiver down your spine.

the both of you were silent for the rest of the ride.

when you got to the doctor's office, both you and mat got out, with mat offering to carry ella into the building. though, the three of you made it twenty feet before ella was whining for you.

"my own child likes you more," he grumbled.

you just laughed.

the waiting room was semi full when the three of you walked in, but mat was the only dad in sight.

he leaned down towards you with a hand on the small of your back. "i'll go check us in if you'll find us a seat."

you did as he asked and ignored the way you could feel his touch long after he walked away. you and ella found a seat in a corner away from most of the women and children there. did you look antisocial? maybe just a little, but you weren't taking chances of ella or yourself getting sick, and you sure as hell weren't taking a chance on mat's health with the season in full swing.

"didn't want to sit with the other families?" mat asked as he took the seat next to you.

"i don't know those people, why would i sit next to them? they could be sick."

mat nodded along. "fair enough."

the three of you only waited a few minutes before ella's name was called. you stood up but it was mat who gestured for you to lead, again, with his hand on your back guiding you.

the nurse took a few vitals before taking the three of you back to the room. "the doctor will be with you shortly," she said before leaving you, mat, and ella alone.

it wasn't long before you heard another knock on the door and the doctor came in. she greeted the three of you before getting right down to business, directing you to place ella on the table.

doctor stevenson took ella's vitals while she wriggled around and reached for you and mat. "vitals look good," she said. "now she does need to have a few vaccines today..." the doctor kept talking but you were focused on mat.

specifically how all the color drained from his face.

you placed your hand on his back and directed him to one of the open chairs in the room, scared he might pass out if he stayed standing.

"is everything alright?" the doctor asked.

mat sat down and exhaled. "are you sure she has to get shots today?"

doctor stevenson's face looked grim. "do you not like needles or...?"

"i don't like seeing my daughter cry," he admitted.

"that's completely normal for parents," the doctor assured him. "if you'd like, you can stay out in the hall and we'll let you know when we're done. should only take a few minutes, if that."

you weren't listening to the doctor though, your eyes were focused on mat's face. a deep set frown worked its way onto his lips and you hated it. you reached out and touched his shoulder. "i can stay with her, if you don't wanna be in the room," you said.

his eyes met yours; for a man as confident as he was, you'd never seen him so hesitant. "last time she got shots, it about broke me."

"that's okay," you said. "i'll be here if you wanna step outside. i'll still be here if you wanna stay."

he nodded and stood up. for a second, you thought he'd make his way to the door, but he stood by the table and kissed the top of ella's head. "it's gonna be okay, ella bean," he mumbled.

doctor stevenson looked at you before pulling out the needles. you saw how mat kept eyeing them in the corner of his eye, but kept his focus on ella who was babbling like nothing was going on.

it took a few seconds after the first injection before the water works started. ella's cry sounded throughout the room but instead of looking at her, your eyes were focused on mat.

he was completely enraptured by ella, whispering soft things to her in an attempt to soothe her.

"it's okay, ella. dada's here," he whispered. "it's okay."

she kept crying despite the calm voice mat was using. she was twisting towards him and away from the doctor.

"just one more," doctor stevenson said. and in a minute, she was finished.

but ella wasn't.

the second the needle was pulled out and the band aids were placed, mat was picking ella up and cradling her to his chest. she wailed and wailed, only calming down when mat was bouncing her and speaking softly in her ear.

you halfway listened to doctor stevenson talk about what percentile of weight and height ella was in, half of your attention was focused on the gentle way mat was holding his daughter and how his arms, as strong as they were, protected his child from the big, bad, scary needles.

you were free to follow the nurse out the door to checkout. mat refused to let go of ella, so you were the one scheduling the next appointment and entering it into your shared google calendar.

ella was still hiccuping from the crying by the time the three of you got to the car. mat strapped her in while you got in the front seat and looked through the paperwork they gave you.

"everything look alright?" mat asked as he got in his seat and locked the doors.

"yeah, she's right as rain. i added the next appointment to our calendar."

mat hummed.

"what?" you asked.

"our calendar?"

"we share a calendar, mat. that was your idea, if you recall." you weren't about to be embarrassed about something he initiated. why would you? it's just a calendar, not something with an underlying meaning.

"i know," he smiled. "i just like the sound of it, is all." he put the car in reverse and placed his hand on your headrest.

"weirdo," you mumbled to compensate for the fact that you also liked referring to something as mundane as a calendar as ours.

mat scoffed. "i'm not the weirdo. you're the weirdo."

"oh please, i have an entire roster of your teammates that would say otherwise."

"you would trust their word over mine?"

you shrugged. "majority rules."

you didn't think someone could roll their eyes as hard as mat did in that moment.

the three of you got home a few minutes later. mat was in charge of getting ella while you grabbed his keys. you both waved to the doorman and headed up to your shared apartment.

god, you loved saying that more than you probably should.

"are you still going out with syd later?" mat called after you when you got into the apartment. you were headed back to your room while he was putting ella in the play pin.

you stripped out of your clothes and changed into something more comfortable. "yeah!" you called back, walking back down the hallway to the living room. "why?"

"tito and anders invited me out for drinks, so i'll need to find a babysitter."

"i can ask grace if she knows anyone--"

"don't. i'm the one who needs the sitter, it's my responsibility, not yours."

ella babbled in what you assumed was agreement.

later that day, you heard mat getting ready in his room while you got dressed in yours with ella playing on the floor with her toys. you weren't dressed in anything too fancy, just a nice black dress that had been sitting in the back of your old closet because your roommate said it was "too slutty for someone who has a boyfriend."

then she went and fucked your boyfriend, so you couldn't really say you gave a shit about her opinion anymore.

you strapped some heels on and gave yourself a once over in the mirror, fluffing your hair when it looked too flat. you scooped ella up and made a mental note to bring her toys out to her play pin later when you got back.

if you could even walk straight.

you weren't planning on getting shitfaced, but does anyone over the age of 23 ever plan on it?

you carried ella down the hallway and into the living room where mat sat on the couch on his phone with espn playing on the tv.

"i thought you'd eventually get tired of all the sports talk," you commented.

mat didn't even look up, he just liked a random person's photo. "it's nice background noise. besides, they're talking about sports other than just hockey."

"right." you walked in front of him to put ella in her play pin, your heels clicking on the hardwood. it wasn't until you turned around that you saw him staring. "what?"

mat cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "nothing! you just look...nice."

you smiled. "thank you! syd should be here any minute now. where did i put my phone..." your voice trailed off as you looked around for your cell phone.

"it's on the coffee table," mat said. and low and behold, it was. "do you have a coat? it's supposed to get cold tonight."

you nodded and headed to the coat closet beside the front door. you grabbed the black peacoat you had since college and tried to put it on before a pair of hands stopped you.

"let me help," was all mat said as he held the coat open for you. it took you a second to register what he was saying, he had to clear his throat to get you to snap back to reality.

"thanks," you said as you put your arms in the sleeves. your phone started ringing a second later, sydney's contact photo taking over your screen. "are you sure you don't want me to wait until she gets here?" you asked, talking about the babysitter. "i can help explain ella's routine!"

but mat rolled his eyes and herded you closer to the door. ""i'll be fine, go have fun!"

"if you need me, text me."

he gave you an award winning smile. "if you need me, call me."

you nodded and walked out, picking up the phone as mat locked the door behind you. "hey, i'm on my way down."

"great! i have an uber waiting for us."

you walked a little faster to the elevator, determined to not let the uber run up more money than was necessary, despite the fact that sydney was not strapped for cash.

you made it down quickly and without busting your ass on the polished floor.

sydney was waiting in a black suv like she was some government official in a marvel movie. she popped the back door open when she saw you and smiled. "you look fantastic!" she said once you got inside the vehicle.

you looked over her outfit which wasn't too dissimilar to yours, just not as revealing. "grace is joining us, hope that's okay!"

you nodded, vaguely recalling meeting anders' wife when jason had that meltdown in front of everyone.

not the best first impression, you hoped tonight would make her forget about that first night.

grace met you and sydney at a bar about twenty minutes away from yours and mat's apartment. she smiled as the two of you got out of the car, hugging you instead of shaking your proffered hand.

"it's great to see you again," she said. "you look fantastic."

"so do you!" you replied.

the three of you walked into the bar and were immediately greeted by loud music and an enormous crowd. you pushed your way through the people and ended up in front of the bar.

"get what you want!" sydney yelled over the music. "it's on me, tonight."

it didn't seem like a lot, but when you thought back to how jason and natalie both would conveniently go out with you on nights when they were broke, and then proceed to ask you to fund their near alcohol addiction? you were immensely grateful. if you were a pettier woman, you would've venmoed natalie and jason for the money they owe you in drinks alone.

but you were moving on, making peace with your new situation, your job, your new friends.

and mat.

you weren't sure what category to put him in yet.

"boss" seemed too professional. "friend" didn't seem heavy enough.

"what're you having?" the bartender's question snapped you out of your reflective moment. you gave him the order and watched as he started to make it.

your drink was in front of you after you waited for a few minutes. you sipped at it while walking to the table grace had picked out.

"so how's it going, living with mat?" grace asked as soon as you walked up.

you shrugged lightly. "not as bad as i thought it would be. i was expecting it to be awkward, but it's just been nice not to have to wake up as early to go to work."

sydney nodded. "matt told me barzy looks happier since you moved in."

"anders too," grace added. "my husband said he needs to 'meet this girl who has barzy smiling like a fool.'"

you flushed at their statements. "he's a good guy," was all you said.

sydney and grace were talking amongst themselves while you bopped your head to the music playing. you supped on your drink when a familiar head of hair caught you eye. it was followed by another familiar head of hair. you were squinting, trying to remember where you'd seen them before when they turned around your heart stopped.

jason and natalie.

you choked on your drink which caught sydney and grace's attention.

"are you okay?" sydney asked. she only grew more concerned when you threw your drink back, the alcohol barely burning your throat in comparison to the pain in your chest.

"i'm gonna get some shots," you said before stumbling to the bar. you ordered four shots of vodka and downed them all in succession at the bar top, and then doing your best to get back to the table afterwards.

your heart was pounding as you saw them cozied up in a booth. you wanted to vomit. you wanted to cry. you wanted to go over there and pour their drinks on their heads.

but mostly, you just wanted to go home.

but you couldn't. not when the night was still young. not when you were still feeling sober. you'd stupidly thought that the four shots would get you drunk quickly because you forgot that metabolisms exist.

you did your best to keep up with the conversation grace and sydney were having, and it was clear they were trying to include you. but your gaze kept drifting to how happy jason and natalie looked. and wondering how long they'd gone on dates when you were busy working, how many times did the sleep together before you caught them? you wondered if they were in love? or if it was just lust.

you wondered what made you so unloveable that he'd cheat on you. you wondered how despicable of a person you were that your roommate would agree to it.

you weren't drunk enough for this.

you excused yourself from the table again to get another drink. as you waited, you tapped your fingers on the bar, humming to the top 40s playlist playing over the speakers.

"can i get a jack and coke?" that voice sent a shiver down your spine in the worst way. you hesitantly turned your head and saw jason standing next to you, thankfully with natalie nowhere in sight. you didn't know what you'd do if they were both there with you in that moment.

he must've felt your stare because he turned his head and made eye contact. his jaw clenched a little before his lips curved into a sly smirk. "well look what the cat dragged out," he said. "where is he?"

you blinked.

"c'mon. like you don't know who i'm talking about?" when you didn't say anything, he rolled his eyes. "barzal. where is he?" jason glanced around the bar. "because i don't see him anywhere."

"why would he be here? mat's not my boyfriend."

"right, he's just letting you stay with him for free because he's such a good person," he teased.

maybe it was the shot placed in front of you. maybe it was the other four shots kicking in. but you downed the drink, wiped your mouth and shot back at him. "he's a better person than you could ever hope to be."

"he'll get bored of you eventually. people always do," jason scoffed. "you're his nanny, for fuck's sake. if you're not fucking him, he'll realize he could get better pussy and a better looking face from literally any other girl in new york. and once he realizes that, you'll be homeless and jobless."

you shook your head, willing the stinging in your eyes to go away. "he's not like you, jason."

"he's not gonna fall in love with you. you're a no good bitch who didn't know what she had when she had it. and i'm glad we're done, natalie is a thousand times more interesting than you could ever hope to be." with that, he turned on his heel with his shitty drink and walked back to his booth.

you walked back to your table but before you could even register the water running down your face, sydney was pulling you into her arms as you sobbed.

"sweetheart what's wrong?"

you could barely get the words out to tell her, but as soon as you did, she was pulling you back and looking you in the eyes. "i'm gonna call mat, is that okay?"

"please call him," you said. sydney brought you back into her chest with one arm while her other hand dialed mat.

"mat! hey!" she said with an overly cheery voice. "are you busy?"

just the sound of his voice, even if it was sounded like a small whisper, made you feel a little safer. she continued to talk to him through the phone until she hung up and hugged you tighter.

"he'll be here soon and take you home, okay?"

you nodded into her shoulder and cried a little more. "i'm sorry for ruining your night."

sydney squeezed you a little closer. "it's not your fault. your ex is a piece of shit."

mat must've texted syd a few minutes later because she was ushering you out of the bar to stand on the sidewalk.

it was a matter of seconds before mat pulled up and hopped out of his car looking like a man on a mission. in a blink of an eye you were being pulled out of sydney's arms (or maybe she was pushing you) and into his.

you could've sworn your life made a little more sense right then and there.

"mat--" you sobbed. "i--i can't--" and to be honest, you weren't quite sure what you meant to say, words weren't stringing themselves together like they usually do. maybe you were trying to say you couldn't keep doing this, or that you couldn't understand why he still kept you around.

it could be a million things.

but he kissed the top of your head and your brain was silenced. "let's get you home, okay?"

mat put you in the car and held your hand the entire way home, stroking his thumb on the back of your hand in a way jason never did.

jason.

you wanted to vomit but the interior of mat's car was too nice and he already ditched his friends for you, the least you could do was keep it together.

"do you wanna talk about it?" he asked.

you shook your head no, so he squeezed your hand.

when you finally got back to the apartment, you stood in the living room in a catatonic state while mat paid the babysitter and ushered her out. the second the front door closed, he was by your side, taking your hand, and leading you to the bathroom where he turned on the shower. when he made a move to leave, you grabbed his hand.

"i'm just gonna grab you some clothes, i'll be right back."

he was back in thirty seconds with one of his shirts and a pair of sweats. you were brought back to the first night you slept over after your relationship blew up. you should've smiled and said thank you, you should've said you appreciated all mat had done.

but you just burst into more tears.

mat knelt in front of you, wiping the tears as fast as they came. "hey, what's wrong?"

before you could even stop and think, you were launching yourself into his arms and wrapping your own around his shoulders. he didn't even hesitate to hold you back as tightly as he could.

"you're okay," he said. "i'll be right outside when you're done, alright?"

you nodded against his shoulder and hesitantly pulled away. mat seemed just as reluctant to let you go, but the steam fogging the mirror reminded you both that there was a line you hadn't (and maybe shouldn't) cross.

mat shut the bathroom door behind him and you stripped out of your clothes.

it was the fastest shower you'd ever taken in your life.

true to his word, mat was outside the bathroom door when you were finished in a set of sweats he wasn't wearing before. he looked up from his phone and held his arms out, and for what felt like the fiftieth time (though that still did not feel like enough), you were in his arms again.

"let's get you to bed," he mumbled into your hair before placing another kiss there.

before you could stop yourself, you mumbled back. "can i sleep with you tonight?"

mat froze.

hell, you froze.

neither of you knew what to do.

but a minute later he was pulling away. you felt the tears well up in your eyes at the thought of him rejecting you, but what did you honestly expect? him to say yes? you moved to go down the hall to your room, but his grip on your hand stopped you.

"c'mon," was all he said.

up until this moment, you'd never been in mat's room. it was about what you expected, king bed in the middle of the room, a dresser, a few clothes strewn about. it looked lived in.

mat got in the bed first and extended his arms to you. it was like he was the center of the earth, pulling you in with such a strong gravitational pull, you stood no chance to resist it.

you were curled up against his chest a beat later.

"thank you," you said.

"anytime," he said against your hair.

your head was placed right over his chest where his heart beat loudly. the sound of it began lulling you to sleep.

it should've been a picturesque moment, but it was tainted by the lingering anxiety in the back of your mind.

was jason right? was this a bad decision? would mat kick you out if you never have sex with him? would he kick you out if you did?

but then mat started running a hand over your hair and down your back repeatedly, and all your worries disappeared.

you'd have more time to think about that tomorrow.

taglist:

@nicoleloveshockey @thg02 @fallinallincurls @bbbbruins @random-readers-world @sydsxoxo @jhughesy @whenmypartysover @sunflowerhood @spencereidbasis @icanfsplel @avareadsthings @zegraswrites @matthewkniesys @heyitsmeimdead @kashee-h @bordelhoe @diary-of-jj @literatureluster @dani746

#nhl imagines #nhl imagine #mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal x reader

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poorlittlegreenie13 · 2 months ago

Text

Another 'Rules For (fake) Dating an Italian' deleted scene that I promised to post: (the omitted shower scene from chapter nine)

this was gonna start where they were walking to the L after dinner... but the chapter was getting too long & it's kind of dumb & just wasn't feeling it lolll. But you can read it if you really want to! (& I didn't proofread it. sorry! Hopefully no egregious errors).

When she finally looks up again, she finds herself staring at the CVS across the street and stops abruptly.

“Oh, come with me,” she says, tugging his hand to J-walk across the street.

“Syd!” Carmy says, eyes widening, glancing at the cars approaching on either side of them.

“Pedestrians have right of way!” Sydney says, pulling him quickly across before either of them can get flattened.

“What do you need from CVS?” Carmy says, slightly breathless, as they walk in, dry heat hitting them both as the doors slide closed on the Chicago cold.

“It’s not what I need, it’s what you need,” she says, pulling him toward the shampoo aisle.

“Oh, you were serious about the shampoo,” he says, though he doesn’t sound particularly upset about it.

Would she be crazy if she thought he might actually sound slightly overwhelmed by the idea? But not in a bad way. More in the way where he looks like he’s holding back his actual reaction. She wants to see it.

“I’m not letting you bald in your early thirties because you used 3-in-1 your whole life,” Sydney says, stopping in front of a shelf of shampoos and conditioners and carefully choosing a pair of bottles, which she hands to Carmy.

“Sounds great,” he says, not even looking at them. The words have a hazy quality to them. She smiles at him, grabbing a bottle of leave-in conditioner for good measure.

“You need anything else?” she asks him.

He shakes his head quickly and she nods, walking toward the register, Carmy trailing behind her.

Somehow, Sydney did not notice them walking through a section of condoms and lube on their way to the hair productions on the way in.

She notices now though.

There are a couple of people waiting to check out at the register, and she intended to hang back, not wanting to crowd them, but she realizes now the connotation of her pausing in this particular section of the store.

Carmy clears his throat. She looks at him. He’s blushing. He’s so pathetic sometimes; she’s fucking crazy about him.

“Should I…?” he says.

On any other occasion, she might’ve teased him about trailing off instead of being able to say it out loud, but he’s already so red in the face, she decides to be merciful.

“What, you don’t have one in your wallet?” she says. “What kind of date is this?”

“You’re so mature, Sydney,” he says, holding back a smile, shaking his head at her. “So mature.”

“You’re the one who’s blushing,” she says, and he blushes harder, grabbing a pack of condoms off the shelf and walking away from her, up to the—now available—register.

She follows closely behind him, drunk on the ease of it all; the absurd, entrancing way they seem to be able to speak to each other. She’s never had that with anybody else before. She likes the way he smiles when she tries to make a joke.

In his apartment—a mutually-agreed-upon destination landed on during an L-ride that consisted mostly of staring at each other—Sydney kicks her shoes off by the door and sizes him up for a second.

He fills a glass with water and sets her flowers into them. Then he empties his pockets onto the counter; keys, wallet, phone, cigarettes, then finally, he carefully sets the plastic CVS bag down next to them, looking over at Sydney with a note of uncertain expectation on his face.

“I feel like I should offer you food, but we just ate,” he says, smiling ruefully.

Sydney stays silent for a second, wondering if she’s being like… overly horny, and weird.

But then she considers the fact that Carmy is still blushing, and decides it’s probably fine.

“I could, uh, show you how to use that stuff,” she says, inclining her head toward the CVS bag, then, after a moment of silence, quickly adding, “I meant the hair stuff. I didn’t mean the condoms. I mean, we can… we can use the condoms. If you want. But I’m sure you’re… perfectly capable of using those yourself. No instructions necessary.” She forces an awkward little laugh.

He smiles at her. Not patronizing, or annoyed. He smiles at her like there’s nothing more charming on this earth than her making an utter fool of herself. She watches him bite his bottom lip, trying not to laugh, and then he laughs anyway, a sweet, boyish sound. A sound that makes affection for him swell up in her chest like a helium balloon.

She finds herself scoffing too.

“It wasn’t that funny,” she says.

He presses his lips together in a thin smile to stop laughing. There’s color in his cheeks; a warmth to him, underneath all the overly-formal newness of the date.

She snatches the CVS bag off the counter, turning and walking toward the bathroom without waiting for him.

She hears him following close behind her. She kicks her shoes off, stopping outside his shower and pulling her sweater over her head (unable to stop herself from neatly folding it and setting it gently down on the closet toilet seat. Because heaven forbid it get fucked up; she loves it like an old friend).

When she looks up, Carmy is standing in the doorway, tongue playing at the corner of his mouth, eyes fixed on her.

Jesus Christ, are they actually doing this?

Theoretically, stripping her clothes off in front of a guy she just went on a first date with isn’t really her style.

This is different though, isn’t it?

Honestly, she doesn’t really care.

She’s standing in just her skirt, and the bra she picked out that morning (not a particularly nice bra, to be completely honest, she only owns four bras and they’re all the same, just in different colors).

Carmy’s eyes don’t move off her, but his fingers come to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with absurd dexterity, until he has enough room to pull it over his head, leaving him in a white wife beater, gold chain glinting.

“Oh, fuck you,” Sydney says.

Carmy scoffs. “Fuck me? You’re the one who looks like that.”

“Like what?” Sydney demands indignantly.

“Like a fucking angel,” Carmy says, a disbeliving laugh breaking through his words halfway through the sentence.

“You look like Marlon fucking Brando,” she says.

“You look cold,” Carmy says, smile softening. “Wanna turn that water on?”

Simple command, but it still makes her smile fade, and her cheeks heat. She nods, turning and reaching into his shower to turn the hot water on, standing on the bathmat where it can’t reach her.

With her back still turned to him, she reaches to undo the clasp of her bra, sliding it off and letting it fall to the tile floor of his bathroom.

She hears him inhale.

Hears a faint rustle of fabric.

She brings her fingers to the zipper of her skirt and pauses, looking over her shoulder at him.

He’s taken his undershirt off.

She stands unmoving for a long moment, stuck in the feeling of him staring at her like a fly stuck in honey.

“Syd,” he says gently, after a moment. “You sure you wanna do this?”

“Do you want to do this?” she asks.

He exhales a soft laugh.

“Yes,” he says simply.

“Well, so do I,” she says, turning back to look at the shower water, unzipping the side of her skirt. “Get over here,” she says, one hand still holding her skirt up.

Carmy crosses quickly to her; shirtless, impossible. His eyes flick down to her chest, but quickly come back up to her face, like he thinks she might not notice.

She did notice. She didn’t mind.

“You first,” she says, nodding toward his pants, still buttoned.

He scoffs, and a blush creeps up his exposed chest, but he unbuttons them anyway, pushing them down his hips and stepping out of them, left in boxers and socks.

She lets her skirt drop, kicking it over the same way as Carmy’s pants, and without letting herself hesitate, slides her panties down her hips too and steps under the water, inhaling sharply as it hits her head, instantly banishing any hints of the cold from her body.

She hears the curtain slide shut, and when she opens her eyes, Carmy is standing across from her, his back pressed to the cold tiles behind the showerhead, totally dry.

She steps back so he can stand under the water too, but he makes no motion to move until she reaches out and takes one of his wrists in her hand, pulling him under the water.

He tilts his head back, water running over his face, curls straightening out beneath it. She finds her eyes catching on stray drops of water as they trail down his chest.

But no. She’s getting distracted.

“Carm,” she says. “Hair.”

“Really?” he says, with a faint note of exasperation, opening his eyes and looking at her.

“What, did you think this was just an excuse to get you in the shower?” she says, reaching out to get the shampoo and conditioner and setting them on the shelf. “I don’t joke about curl patterns, Carmen.”

“Right,” Carmy says, shaking his head slowly. “I should’ve known.”

She smiles at him ruefully.

“I still don’t know what was so bad about my 3-in-1,” he says.

Sydney rolls her eyes.

“God, you’re hopeless,” she says, “here, just turn around.”

She puts her hands on his shoulders, spinning him to face the opposite shower wall.

The water hits his face and he tilts his head back to avoid it.

For a moment, she lets her eyes wander over his back; littered with tattoos, dripping with water.

She wants to press a kiss to the space between his shoulder blades, but she settles instead for dragging her fingers over the slopes of his shoulders, down his biceps, lingering on his skin until she pulls her hands away to reach for the shampoo. She sees him shiver.

“I never take warm showers,” he murmurs. Maybe to break the silence. Maybe just to talk.

“Why not?” she asks, pouring some shampoo into one hand and replacing the bottle on the shelf in the corner of his shower.

“I— oh,” he breaks off as she brings her hand to the back of his hair, beginning to massage the shampoo into his damp curls. “I, uh, I don’t know, just never… had the time for the water to warm up, I guess,” he says, quieter.

She drags her fingers through his hair, bringing her left hand up to join her right, working across his scalp.

“God, that’s— that’s good, Syd,” he says, words soft.

He steps back, maybe subconsciously, leaning into her touch. His back grazes her chest and she hears his breath catch.

“Sorry,” he breathes, freezing in place.

“Don’t be,” she says. “Step under the water for me though, we need to wash this out.”

“Mmhm,” he says, leaning his head forward to catch under the water. The bubbles of the shampoo run down his back, following the path of his spine.

When the water runs clear, no more shampoo running down the drain, he turns around to look at her. His eyelashes have droplets of water stuck in them. His hair is plastered to his forehead.

“Done?” he asks.

“No,” she says, smiling at how disheveled he looks. “Conditioner now.”

“Oh,” he says, exhaling.

“It’s good to leave the conditioner in for a few minutes sometimes,” she says, swallowing hard, reaching blindly behind her for the bottle, uncapping it and squeezing some into her palm. He watches her do it. “Makes your hair softer, you know?”

“Whatever you say,” he says, though he doesn’t seem particularly invested in her haircare instructions.

She doesn’t make him turn around this time, just smooths his hair back with one hair and combs the conditioner through with the other, enjoying the way his eyes flutter shut as she drags her fingernails lightly over his scalp.

When she’s done, he doesn’t open his eyes.

She studies his face for a second; greedy and unhurried.

He’s so fucking beautiful.

“Carm,” she says.

“Mm?” he says, eyes opening.

She smiles softly at the dazed expression on his face, and drops her eyes to his lips. As she leans into him, she sees the tiniest flicker of surprise, and then he’s leaning back to meet her, that hungry kind of kissing that unfailingly disarms her.

Her chest presses against his, their wet skin sliding easily together, making her body hum to life.

She isn’t sure if she steps forward, or he steps back, but as they move together, the shower water begins raining down over both their heads. Sydney tastes flat water catching between their lips; the shock of the heat of it makes her gasp, and when she pulls back from Carmy, he’s red and breathless.

“I… think it, uh, washed itself out,” she says, glancing at his hair.

“Yeah?”

She nods slowly.

“Smells good,” he says, running his fingers through his own damp hair.

She smiles at him. “It’ll be soft when it dries.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm,” she says, nodding, becoming less capable of words as he stares at her more intensely.

“You wanna… dry off?” he asks. “Then we can… you know. Whatever you want.”

“Yeah,” she says.

He reaches behind him, turning the water off.

There are towels under his sink and he tosses her one.

“Don’t you dare towel dry your hair,” she says.

He blinks at her.

“Wha—how am—what am I supposed to do if I don’t towel dry it?”

“You need to scrunch it up and let it dry naturally.”

“Uh-huh,” he says. “Maybe show me that next time.”

She rolls her eyes as he towels his hair off in a way that is absolutely going to undo any progress she made. But she doesn’t really care.

“Bedroom?” she asks, wrapping the towel he gave her around herself.

“Yes,” he says,

#the bear #sydcarmy #rules for (fake) dating an italian

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 1 year ago

Text

Unpredictable, Part 4-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic

A/N: I thought this one was going to be a little shorter but I was wrong. Hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: swearing, sensuality, and Rufus appears in this part.

Word Count: 6.6k

Series Masterlist

Being perpetually early was a good habit until it left me bored and looking up from my phone every few seconds. Of course, it was always a stranger, and we would exchange quick smiles when we made eye contact. However, my nervousness increased each time it wasn’t Jordan.

As I replied to a voice note from Sydney, I wondered why Jordan asked to train with me today. Last year, they basically forced me to train with them all the time after our first match.

“You can’t be one of Brink’s new favorites and be this bad at basic combat,” they’d insisted.

Every match was horrible, and I thought I was going to die each time. Though Jordan never hit me hard, they were still intense, and my heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest at the end. When I passed my Intro to Combat class, Jordan agreed that we didn’t have to train together as much but they still expected me to practice.

I gulped at the thought and sent off the comment.

At least I was in shape.

“Lookin’ good, Y/N,” a deep voice called.

When I glanced up, Chad Mitchell and Thad Browne, the Alpha Tau vice president and treasurer, were walking up the gym steps. A pair of skinny blondes in Lululemon leggings exiting the gym gasped at the two of them. Chad grinned widely, revealing his movie-star smile, and Thad winked at them as they passed. No one could blame any girl for staring at two tall broad-shouldered guys in Gymshark t-shirts, Gymshark shorts, white Nike ankle socks, and Nike sneakers.

Chad pushed his dark blonde hair away from his face while he towered over me.

I straightened up a little. “Oh, thanks, Chad.”

“I never thanked you for warning me about trying to do a backflip during the Get Lei’d party,” Chad said.

“It’s no problem; I’m glad I had a vision about it in time.”

“But it would’ve been awesome if you landed a backflip from the house roof!” Thad interrupted.

Chad glanced at him. “The broken nose and knee would not have been worth it.” He turned back to me, eyes roaming the black Alo Yoga set I wore before making it back to my eyes. “So, was rush a success for Si Chi?”

I swallowed and folded my arms over my chest. “I would say so; Bid Day will be interesting. How about Alpha Tau?”

“We always get the best,” Thad interjected, chuckling.

“Yeah, ours aren’t looking bad. You know, after Bid Day’s over, Alpha Tau and Si Chi should have a mixer; make sure all our recruits get to know each other,” Chad proposed.

He placed his hand on the wall beside me, right next to my head, and leaned closer. The scent of musk was nauseating, and I turned away from him to cover my nose with my jacket.

“You should reach out to Alina about that; she’s in charge of social events,” I rushed.

Chad nodded but I wasn’t sure he listened. “Yeah, Thad, do that.”

“Cool,” Thad agreed.

“You seem a little jumpy, Y/N. Are you waiting for your boyfriend or something?” Chad asked.

Last year, Thad and Chad ignored me, opting to hover around Alina and Sasha. I guess my warning impressed Chad at the end of the year Get Lei’d party. Plus, it wasn’t like either of them were bad prospects but each time Chad looked at me, it was like ants were crawling over my skin.

“Sort of.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re too sure. Why don’t you warm up with Thad and me? I’m sure he won’t mind.”

That would be the worst idea since acid-washed jeans. However, Si Chi and Alpha Tau were close houses and one had to maintain the balance between them. Sydney and Lydia always made it look so easy.

“I can’t leave you alone for five minutes?” Jordan’s voice cut through the air as she strolled up the steps, irritation clear on her feminine features.

Suddenly, Chad was about a foot away from me, both hands in front of him for a second before he finally put them back at his sides. Thad looked as though he saw a ghost as he moved to stand next to Chad.

“My bad, Jordan, I didn’t know she was with you,” Chad rambled.

“Yeah, man, we had no idea,” Thad added.

Jordan glared at both as she moved to stand next to me. “You can go away now.”

I never saw them move so quickly and when they were gone, I stared at Jordan. “What was that?”

She shrugged. “They know their place. Were you waiting long?”

“No, they just happened to beat you here. Thanks, by the way.”

“Don’t worry about it. Do you have to see them a lot?”

“Kind of and this is the first time either has been that close to me.”

“I thought frat guys were every sorority girl’s type.”

I scrunched my nose. “Not the stereotypical ones.”

“Oh, I forgot, you’re the pickiest girl I know.”

I huffed and gently pushed her shoulder, but she didn’t miss a step as we walked towards the gym entrance. “Don’t judge me for having standards.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re easy to tease.”

Since Jordan rented out the training space, it was quiet outside of the few grunts and weights clanging in the neighboring weight room. The entire space was reinforced for any power mishaps and the focal point was the blue mat in the middle of the space with a large black ring lining its perimeter. I groaned as Jordan pushed on my back, forcing me closer to the mat and making my inner thighs burn in the splits.

“I thought yoga was supposed to make you flexible,” she quipped.

“I am, but I think you like seeing me in pain,” I replied.

“Never,” she teased. “So…did you get anything else on Emma?”

Her words made me stiffen and I sat up on my forearms and shook my head. “Something’s blocking me. Usually, even when I can’t see clear images, I get blurry images but it’s like something has shut off that part of my brain.”

It was the same issue last night when Jordan, Marie, Andre, Cate, and I went looking for Emma. All I could see was her with that guy I never met. Even though everyone said it was okay, their sulking shoulders and lack of eye contact spoke louder; especially Marie’s.

When I got back to the house last night, I gave myself a migraine trying to find Emma and it took me forever to stop hyperventilating. I could have killed Andre for coming up with the dumbest plan on planet earth.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jordan said, cutting through my thoughts.

She let me sit up and I turned to her.

“I just feel useless. Finding things out is the one thing I’m good at and I can’t even do that?”

“Hey, it’s not the one thing you’re good at. You’re good at dancing, studying, fashion, and helping other people.”

Jordan’s tone was earnest and matter-of-fact; no one could have argued with her and I suddenly felt all fuzzy.

I smiled. “I am the best-dressed on campus.”

“Relax, we’ll find Emma, just focus on what you can do. Like, trying not to get knocked out of bounds four times in a row.”

I scoffed at Jordan but she grinned at me. “Maybe you should take your own advice.”

“Oh, she has an attitude now?”

“Maybe you just bring it out of me.” I pushed myself up to stand. “Usual rules?”

“I won’t use any powers outside of shifting, you can use yours as much as you want, no cheap shots, and the one knocked out of bounds the most loses.”

“I can’t wait to try the new sushi place at the union; Shelby said it’s amazing.”

“You’ll be trying it on your own dime.”

Jordan always got cocky when sparring. Now that Luke was gone, Jordan was the best fighter on campus. Whenever we trained, I tried to use wiping that big smirk off their face as motivation and it never worked. The best I ever managed to do was not break anything.

Jordan’s smirk never left her face as we squared off from each other. I took the deepest breath I could and tried to quiet my mind. Seconds later, my mind filled with the image of Jordan going for a right hook. I blocked her and went for a jab of my own, skimming her left cheek.

“Not bad,” she huffed as she dodged it. “You need to hold your upper body better; anyone could knock you off balance right now.”

Based on a brief flash, I knew that she was either going to sweep me or push me to prove her point. So, when she went to push me, I slipped away from her, maintaining my guard. She blew a piece of hair out of her face.

“What was that about my balance?” I panted.

“Don’t get cocky, freshie, I won’t go so easy on you,” She taunted.

My heart might have skipped a beat as I took a risk based on a vision and rushed her. When I saw she was going to shift, I stopped just short of Jordan’s reach, slipped down, and swept her feet. Just when I was going to make contact, she backflipped, shifted in the middle of the back flip, and landed in a crouch.

His elated expression made the hairs on the back of my neck stand as he stalked towards me. Our sparring match continued with me utilizing my ability as well as I could to get in the best hits. My heart hammered in my chest as I kept up with their ever-changing forms and fighting styles. In between jabs, Jordan continued giving me tips.

“Use your full body weight with each punch.”

“Your right roundhouse has gotten stronger, that’s good.”

“You’re dropping your left elbow too much when you weave.”

I did my best to incorporate all their tips into the sparring match and even got a couple of hits on them. At one point, Jordan and I exchange a flurry of punches and blocks and for the first time, I almost laughed while fighting them.

It was…fun.

I was able to get some distance between us before attempting another roundhouse kick that was guaranteed to make contact with the side of his head. Just as I was about to kick out my left leg, Jordan shifted to their female form and tackled me. Her grip was harsh around my shoulders while mine struggled to hold onto hers because of the sweat. I paused and noticed she was practically drenched and panting over me. A few strands of black hair fell out of her ponytail and stuck to her forehead, and she was still so pretty.

She seemed to pause as well and raised her eyebrows at me. “Focus on the fight.”

Her words stirred something in me, and I focused on what could be my best move.

The image was only a few seconds long but it almost left me catatonic went it ended. If this didn’t work, I had no idea how I would live it down.

Quickly, I leaned up and closed the distance between us. Jordan’s lips were so soft against mine and I yelped a little when her body pressed more into mine. Her soft breaths felt like whispers over my face as she kissed me back and I squirmed underneath her.

Focus, Y/N, focus! My mind screamed.

As casually as I could, I pushed my wrists against Jordan’s hands, and a second later, she loosened her grip. Her fingers trailed down my arms as my legs wrapped around her waist, pulling her even closer to me. When I felt her smile against my lips, my stomach sunk.

Sorry.

The leverage I had around her waist was useful as my hands grabbed her shoulders and swung her down onto the mat. Jordan gasped as we pulled away and my hands captured her wrists. “What the---”

“I win!” I cheered.

“No, you just pinned me,” Jordan rasped.

I shook my head and gestured to her right hand, which was just over the out-of-bounds line. In the dozens of fights we had, this was the first time that I won. If I could fly, I would have probably been floating. When I looked back at Jordan’s face, I came back to earth.

“Oh, sorry,” I muttered, releasing her wrists and pushing myself to stand. “And I’m sorry about kissing you without warning.”

When I extended my hand, she looked at it as though it was a cobra ready to strike. After a few seconds, Jordan took the risk and let me help her up. Then, she walked back over to her bag, grabbed her water bottle, and chugged.

“It’s okay, uh, just don’t make out with everyone you fight with; that’s how you catch mono,” Jordan rambled.

I wrinkled my nose. “Ew, I wouldn’t even think about it. With us, I knew it would be my best way to beat you.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Then, I took a second to look at Jordan. Something was off, she seemed tenser than she usually did after we sparred. Also, she stopped looking at me and started playing with the rings on her fingers. It had to be because of the stress of Emma missing and how there was more lurking on campus than anyone thought. That on top of Brink and Luke’s deaths would make anyone nervous.

Yes, that had to be it because those were the reasons my lips buzzed the entirety of the next training round.

The two extra rounds gave Jordan their bragging rights and no one could wipe the giant smile off her face as we wandered around campus. At the very least, the blazing sun provided some comfort from the cool breeze that blew past us. Since there were several classes in session, only a handful of people were hanging out, panic-studying, and Tik-Toking.

“You should have seen your face when you landed, it was gold!” she laughed.

“I’m glad it was entertaining,” I replied.

Jordan glanced at me, fished a protein bar out of her gym bag, and handed it to me. “Here.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

Jordan paused in her walk to side eye me and I stopped as well. “Don’t give me that shit. I didn’t say anything earlier but, you look awful.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

Jordan sighed. “That came out wrong; I mean, you look like you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

The situation was almost laughably ironic since just a couple of days ago, I was sleeping like a baby. However, the Emma-shaped hole was enough to spike my anxiety and the final touches on Bid Day were not helpful either. If Alina tried to deny my top pick at this last meeting…

Oh no, I had totally forgotten to take my meds.

“It’s okay, you actually have perfect timing,” I replied, accepting the protein bar.

It wasn’t super chalky and even if it was, I didn’t care as I popped two of the pills from Shetty and chased it with water.

“You pop pills in public now, freshie?” Jordan joked.

I shook my head and nibbled on the protein bar. “They’re prescribed by Shetty. That explains why I was freaking out earlier.”

“With Dumb and Dumber?”

“Chad and Thad, and yes.” Jordan nodded. “So, they work?”

“Yeah. I probably would have been able to save you the trouble if I’d remembered.”

I put the pill bottle back in my bag as we continued walking. The medicine would take a while to kick in but it was better late than never.

“It wasn’t trouble,” Jordan said.

I didn’t know how to respond so all I could do was nod. In all honesty, I was still processing that kiss. Jordan must have reacted the way she did because she was so caught off guard. If Emma were here, she would help me process, that is if she was willing to speak to me.

“So, do you want me to buy you lunch today or tomorrow?” I asked.

Jordan shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey, I’m a good sport and I always hold up my end,” I tried to joke.

“Yeah, so it makes sense that I would do the mature thing and treat you to that sushi place you were talking about. You beat me for the first time and that shows how much you improved; I remember when you used to drop your guard every time you got scared.”

“It’s not my fault that my first instinct is to run!”

“You won’t always have the chance to run when you’re a supe. Now, I feel better about you being out there on your own.”

Her words made me swell with pride and I thanked her.

“Plus, there’s no one out there as good as me.” I playfully rolled my eyes. “Of course, it all goes back to you.”

“I’m being honest. Seriously, wherever you get a contract, you’ll kick ass especially if you practice more.”

“Fine, Mx. Li.”

At that moment, I couldn’t wait to go back to the house and shower. Class wasn’t for another hour and a half which gave me enough time to try and process everything.

“Is that Marie?” Jordan asked.

I paused and looked in the direction she nodded to. Across the way, Marie slowly approached the bleach-blonde weasel that was Rufus, who was smugly perched on an overpriced bench. He was (fake) reading a book and looking semi-thoughtful.

The protein bar suddenly felt like a rock in my throat.

“What’s she doing with Rufus?” I muttered.

Jordan didn’t reply and we both watched as the two started speaking. Then, Rufus set his book aside and reached his hands out to Marie.

“Shit!” Jordan exclaimed.

“Marie!” I called at the same time.

It was too late, as soon as her hands grazed his, they disappeared. Panic started rising up from the back of my neck and everything was suddenly quiet.

“Y/N!”

When I blinked, Jordan’s hands cupped my face, and our faces were nearly touching.

“Focus, where did Rufus take Marie?”

After taking a couple of seconds to focus on it, I answered Jordan, and she nearly yanked my arm out of its socket as she raced towards the location. A minute later, we were pushing past people in the dorm until we reached Rufus’ room. My stomach lurched at the muffled sounds of “True”.

“So, what’s the plan?” I asked.

Jordan didn’t respond. Instead, she took one step before kicking Rufus’ door down. The sound of the door hitting the ground should have made me jump but I was too busy staring at Marie’s blood-splattered face as she stared down at Rufus’ keeled over body on the floor. When he rolled onto his back, I saw all the blood covering his groin and the agony on his face.

Somehow, it was both disgusting and exhilarating to watch, kind of like those ridiculous mukbang videos.

I didn’t realize I was staring until Jordan tugged me by the arm down the hallway, Marie in tow. When we got a few hundred feet away, Jordan released us and glared daggers at Marie.

“What the hell was that?” Jordan demanded.

“I don’t know…I just exploded his dick,” Marie uttered, astonished.

“That was…wow,” I breathed.

Marie smiled, accepted the towel Jordan handed her, and wiped her face. “Thanks, I didn’t know I could do that.”

“Why were you talking to Rufus anyway? He’s a creep,” Jordan scolded.

Marie narrowed her eyes at Jordan. “We didn’t have any leads on Emma, and I heard he was a psychic.”

I winced at the jab.

Jordan rolled her eyes. “Rufus is not a psychic; he’s a perverted loser who takes advantage of anything with tits.”

“Gee, thanks,” Marie hissed. “I can take care of myself.”

She shoved the towel in Jordan’s chest and started storming down the hall. Immediately, we started following her and my irritation grew with each step.

“Fine, then I won’t rescue you next time,” Jordan called.

That made her stop and whirl around. “What?”

“I saved you back there, well, Y/N and I both did since she knew where Rufus would take you,” Jordan insisted.

Marie took a step towards us. “I exploded his dick; I didn’t need your help.”

“But I provided a distraction; tag-team cocksplosion here,” Jordan said, gesturing between the two.

“I’m okay being cut from this team,” I commented.

“Oh no, you’re in it too,” Jordan said.

Marie shook her head. “Weirdo.”

Jordan shrugged. “More importantly, Tek Knight is on campus and he’s doing a story on Luke’s death.”

Marie’s eyes widened and I had to stop my mouth from falling open. Tek Knight was the slimiest, most prolific true crime “journalist” on Vought TV. He covered only the buzziest stories, and it made sense he would be on campus. I thought I heard some guys talking about it during a lecture yesterday, but I was so preoccupied that I didn’t focus.

“He’s guest lecturing Shetty’s class today and he’s going to want to talk to you,” Jordan stated.

“Shit,” Marie cursed.

I ran my hands through the ends of my braids. “And if he even gets a hint of what might be going on, we could all be screwed.”

“So, what do we do?” Marie asked.

“If you decide to keep up the lie, don’t let him see you waver, he loves going after that shit,” Jordan grumbled.

Marie rolled her eyes. “Are we on this again?”

“Yeah, you lied!” Jordan snapped.

Quickly, I stepped between them. “Okay, this won’t get us anywhere. Just breathe for a second.”

They both did, eyes still shooting lasers.

“We need to think about this. Since you two are in Shetty’s class, you two will have to figure something out.”

“Are you taking her side?” Jordan accused.

“Are you taking theirs?” Marie asked.

“I’m not taking anyone’s,” I insisted. “If you two keep fighting, no one wins. Just go your separate ways for now and regroup before class?”

It was not my best work but they both seemed to agree as Jordan went one way and Marie started to head down the other. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding and jogged to catch up to Marie.

“Hey!”

She slowed down a little but didn’t face me. “I’m not sorry for trying to find Emma.”

“And that’s great but you should talk to the rest of us before getting mixed up with someone like him.” I shivered at the thought.

Then, she turned to me. “Like I said, we had no leads.”

“I know that, and I am working on it, trust me, I am but I can’t believe you went with Rufus the Rapist instead of giving me time.”

“We don’t have any, Y/N!” Marie snapped. “She could be hanging on by a thread somewhere or dead but we don’t know anything and now I have this Tek Knight shit to worry about.”

I flinched. “I told you, she’s alive and I know you’re scared but I’m scared too. Emma is my best friend and not being able to figure out where she is has been driving me crazy.” Tears began burning in my eyes.

Marie hesitated and looked down for a moment. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, it just sucks that the last time we talked, we fought. I didn’t even get to talk to her at the gala,” I admitted.

“Yeah,” Marie looked back up at me, “I saw you were talking to a lot of people.”

“I kind of had to.”

“With Jordan?”

I cocked my head at her and she stared at me. “Wait, what?”

She sort of pouted. “I saw you were spending a lot of time with them.”

“We were schmoozing for their ranking,” I explained.

“Oh.”

I didn’t need a vision to tell me that she wanted to say more. What was going on with everyone today?

“Next time, I could help you do it, I mean, I don’t think you’ll need my help with Vought liking you,” I thought out loud.

“Don’t remind me.” Marie leaned against the wall. “I don’t know what to do! I’m so deep in this shit that there’s no crawling out.”

She slowly slid down until she sat on the ground, and I sat across from her.

“It might seem like that but, there is a way out, you probably just won’t like it.”

Marie’s eyes flickered up at me. “Are you siding with Jordan?”

“No! What is it with you two? It’s like a live X beef and I’m somehow in the middle!” I exclaimed. “No, I’m not on anyone’s side, I can see both your sides clearly: you want to get ahead and this a great chance to do it and Jordan feels like they saved you only to have you trample all over them.”

Marie frowned at my words. “They would have done the same thing!”

“I don’t know…” I don’t know anything anymore.

I pushed myself to stand. “It’s your choice, Marie.”

“What would you do?” she whispered.

“Honestly, I have no clue but I would probably talk to Cate about it.” I pulled her to her feet. “By the way, that cocksplosion was so awesome.”

Marie smiled. “Like I said, it just happened out of nowhere.”

“I knew he had some bad karma coming his way, but I didn’t think you’d deliver it.”

Then, she hugged me and I felt stunned. She smelled like cinnamon and something earthy that I couldn’t put my finger on. I had no idea that she had such a strong grip, it was kind of comforting. I slowly hugged her back and when she pulled away, she gasped.

“I got blood on you, I’m so sorry,” Marie apologized.

“It’s okay, no one should be able to tell unless they have a luminol ability,” I pointed out.

She nodded and as I made way out of the dorm, my curiosity got the better of me, and I focused on how the lecture would go. Unfortunately, all I saw was a brief scene of Jordan and Marie speaking in Marie’s dorm. They weren’t fighting so that must be positive.

Two hours later, I was sitting in one of the beach chairs out by the Si Chi pool, fuming. Sasha thought she was so slick, trying to persuade Sydney to let Justine in despite all the issues. She could have at least come up with a decent argument; the fact that she hadn’t even tried was almost the most insulting part.

I just happened to catch the two of them speaking on the staircase when I returned from my advanced modern dance class. Sydney politely nodded as Sasha spoke.

“…and she’s the best in her class!” Sasha finished.

“That’s great, but I don’t want anyone who uses someone else’s triggers for their own gain representing this house,” Sydney replied firmly.

“But----”

“Sydney, how’s the selection process going?” I called.

They both turned to me and Sasha lost some color in her face.

“Good, we’ve narrowed it down and we’ll finalize it tonight,” Sydney said.

That should have been satisfying but it wasn’t. Who did Sasha think she was? She could be antagonistic but she never outright bullied anyone. Does she want Justine to be a protégé?

“Y/N,” someone whispered.

I jumped in my seat and glanced around the pruned backyard. No one else was out with the other girls either heading to another class or studying. It must have been my imagination.

“Y/N!”

That time it was louder, and I slowly stood. “This isn’t funny, whoever’s out there!”

This day really was turning into too much. First, I kissed Jordan----which I still hadn’t unpacked----, second, Rufus got castrated in the most violent way possible, and third, I was hearing voices or being stalked.

Slowly, I started creeping back towards the house. Maybe it was time for a nap since sleep deprivation could drive anyone crazy. Maybe that would help me find Emma.

“Y/N, it’s me!”

And now the voices sounded like her.

“Over here!”

Something told me that I wouldn’t end up like every non-final white girl in a horror movie. So, I started walking in the direction of the voice, which just happened to be in the thick wall of shrubs that lined the perimeter.

“Where is here?” I whispered.

Then, a hand reached out from some shrubs on the right side. Carefully, I approached it and knelt down, still keeping my distance. Then, a head of curly blonde hair poked its way out of the shrubs, pieces of greenery attached to its scalp.

“Emma!” I rasped.

“Hey, do you mind being surprised after you help me out of here?” she asked.

As soon as I got her out, I hugged her. I was right, she was alive this whole time. I almost cried tears of joy as I slowly pulled away from her.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so happy to see you!”

“I’m happy to see you two but we’re both in trouble if someone catches us like this,” Emma said.

As quickly as I could, I snuck her up into my room and she collapsed on the bed as soon as I closed the door. With the better look at her, I noticed she was in a random black movie theater t-shirt, shorts, and she only had one shoe. She wasn’t too dirty but I tried not to think about having to wash my comforter once she left.

“Emma, where have you been? What’s going on?”I asked.

“Well, Andre sent me on a mission to find Luke’s brother,” Emma started.

“I know that much; is that the guy you were with?”

Emma shot up to a sitting position. “You saw us?”

“Sort of. I had no idea where you were going, why?”

“No reason, I don’t know why I was surprised, you see everything.”

Even though I didn’t, I let Emma continue. As she spoke, my eyes got wider and wider. There was so much to unpack: there was a research lab under the school called The Woods where they tested supes, the researchers faked Sam’s, Luke’s brother, death but kept him in The Woods, and they are working on something big.

“What is it?” I asked.

Emma shrugged. “Sam has no idea but he knows that the doctors have been working on it for a while and they’re almost done.”

I nodded. “Okay, where is he now?”

“In an abandoned theater. It sounds creepy but the stale snacks and ambiance make it kind of cute,” she chirped.

I shook my head. “You like him.”

Emma gasped, “What? I do not!”

“He’s your type: cute and a little messed up.” “I don’t have a type and even if I did, you might’ve been close to it,” she muttered.

I smiled and hugged her again. “It’s so good to see you again. I don’t know what I would have done if…”

“Hey, like someone could kill me.” Emma tried to keep her tone lighter, but I could tell she was scared.

When I pulled away, I apologized for everything that happened before the gala. I wasn’t that good of a friend and Emma did everything she could for me, even when she didn’t have to.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have projected and called you perfect; I know that everything with your parents has been rough for you and you’re managing it as well as you can. Plus, I hid the whole how I get small thing from you,” Emma rambled.

“Why’d you hide it from me? You can tell me anything, that’s what best friends do,” I whispered.

Emma looked down at her hands. “Because I knew it would make us both feel like shit. You had other stuff going on and I didn’t want to be a burden. I’m the one who cheers you up and I was ashamed.”

“You’re allowed to feel bad sometimes, Emma, but it really hurt knowing you felt like you couldn’t reach out to me for help,” I managed, feeling myself starting to choke up.

“Don’t cry because if you cry, then I’ll cry.” She hugged me again and we both sniffled. “Okay, from now on, we tell each other everything.”

“Agreed.”

When Emma pulled away, she had the most mischievous grin on her face paired with a fake nonchalant look in her eye. I immediately eyed her as she crossed her legs and started glancing around the room.

“So, to go off that, what’s going on with you and Jordan?” she asked.

“Are you kidding me? You come back from disappearing and that’s the first thing you want to know?”

“I could have died, Y/N.”

“Do not try to guilt me!”

I took a deep breath and mulled it over for a moment. A couple of hours ago, I would have killed for this chance to talk to Emma and now that it was here, I was stopping myself. There shouldn’t be anything stopping me, especially since we just promised each other that we wouldn’t keep anymore secrets. With that thought, I told her everything, from the night at the club, to when we kind of rescued Marie.

When I looked at her, Emma was stunned.

“What?” was all she could muster.

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s a lot.”

“You went from almost kissing Jordan to full-on kissing Jordan. I could tell you liked them by the way you talked about them last year but this is progress,” Emma remarked.

“I didn’t like them like that last year, I don’t now. Anyway, I only did it after I saw the vision and it was to win the fight, so does that really count?” I asked.

Emma raised her eyebrows. “Did you feel anything on the other side of that kiss?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, did you feel them kissing you back? Were they breathing all heavy? Were their hands moving all over your body?”

All those things happened but, Jordan must have been caught up in the moment.

“If Jordan was caught up, they would have snapped out of it but they didn’t until you pulled away,” Emma pointed out.

“I did it as a distraction tactic!”

“Doesn’t matter since they liked it,” Emma said with a shrug. “And you must have enjoyed it.”

“How would you know?”

“Because the tip of your nose is turning red.”

I yelped and covered my nose. “It’s because this conversation is embarrassing. Besides, I don’t have time for a relationship; I have to finish out rush week and then there’s initiation and not to mention classes---” Emma placed her hands on my shoulders and forced me to look at her. “Y/N, ‘having time’ has nothing to do with liking someone. You’ve had googly eyes for Jordan for a year now, it’s okay to admit it!”

“I have not! They bullied me for half of last year.”

“Really? Did they ever say anything super mean to you or try to hurt you?”

As I took a second to think about my dynamic with Jordan, I realized that they only delivered playful jabs that I returned when I got comfortable around them. So, I shook my head.

“And aren’t they always trying to keep you out of trouble?”

“Not always,” I muttered.

Emma groaned. “Why did I think it would be easy to get you to admit that you like someone? You’re so oblivious.”

“I am not!”

“Really? So, how would you describe your relationship with Marie?”

“Friends.”

“Really? Because when you were doing her makeup that night, I thought you got lost in her eyes. Those big, beautiful, puppy dog eyes.”

I playfully pushed her but she maintained her pose and I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped me. Even though her words were lighthearted, I had paused a few times that night to admire Marie but she was pretty, everyone admired pretty.

“I was trying to do a good job with her eyeshadow. Besides, I thought you were still insisting I like Jordan,” I responded.

Emma relaxed and stared at me like I grew a second head. “You are way deeper in denial than I thought you were.” “What are you talking about?”

“I know that sexuality is a spectrum and a journey and everything but, Y/N, you clearly like two people.”

Her words hung in the air as I returned her stare. Emma had lost it, officially.

There was no way I liked both Marie and Jordan. Marie relaxed me as soon as I saw her and friends are supposed to be relaxed with friends. I felt like I could tell her anything and any friend would feel bad about accidentally ditching their friend on a night out. Also, any friend would feel like crying if their friend told them that they accidentally killed their parents. Any friend would want to try to make them feel better since they couldn’t take away the pain.

And as far as Jordan went, I was well aware of how attractive they were in both forms and occasionally felt warm inside when they smiled at me, but those were just hormones. Plus, Jordan was a protective person so it made sense that they would jump in when necessary. The shivers I’d attempted to hide when they pulled me onto their lap were normal.

“No, that doesn’t make any sense,” I muttered.

“I can only help you so much. It’s clear to me and maybe even to Jordan and Marie.”

I shook my head. “We don’t have time for this. We should find Marie and let her know that you’re alive and everything you told me.” “Okay, and if she just happens to give you a thank-you kiss, I’ll try not to gloat.”

“Emma,” I warned.

“Okay, can I borrow some shoes before we leave?”

Emma practically bounced with each step on the way to her dorm. Even though I convinced her to wear one of my hoodies just in case, she seemed happy to be back on campus. Hopefully, we could get everyone together and get this all figured out. Once this was over, then I would be able to focus on Bid Day and maybe what Emma had been saying.

It was going to be so awkward talking to Marie after that conversation. I felt so many things that I didn’t know what to settle on: confusion, frustration, anxiety, and all the others I couldn’t name.

The meds must have kicked in as Emma began trying to unlock her door. I was settled and comfortable. Everything was going to be fine.

Finally, Emma threw open her door. “Holy shit, so much is happening!” she announced as she stormed into her room.

I trailed after her and felt my anxiety break free from its cage. Jordan had Marie pinned against the wall, kissing her like it was his last chance. Marie seemed equally as passionate as she tugged on his shirt. At Emma’s words, they jumped away from each other, both frazzled and disheveled, eyes wide.

Then a flood of more emotions I couldn’t name washed over me.

#black!reader #jordan li x reader #gen v x reader #limoreau x reader #marie moreau x reader

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yannaryartside · 1 month ago

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CARMYS NAME: wild theories on name meanings

I can't tell if people call him Carmen because it rolls easier on the tongue or because Carmy himself didn't like the sound of his name growing up.

Not to mention, Carmine is a hell of an Italian name, while Michael and Natalie are more passing as English names.

It makes me wonder why Carmen is the one kid with the most traditional name while he seems to be the more neglected kid? Did Carmy's father pick his name? Because he was the one kid he was presented in the birth for?

Moreover, when talking about the name's meaning is the show, you could say:

Carmen: garden of God

Sydney: dweller by the well-watered land," or "wide river island."

I like this; it is poetic. Carmy is the land, and Sydney is the water, the actual nurturing

But if his name is Carmine

Carmine can also mean garden, song/poem, or crimson (the reddish color associated with fire).

Now, you have Claire, which means "clear"

So, does Claire also mean "clear" the fire (the problems, the self-damage, the nightmares) in Carmen, while in Sydney, the water to put the fire out?

#I have no shame #I will get wild in my theories #sydcarmy #the bear #sydney adamu #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #the bear meta #carmy x sydney #carmy the bear #sydney x carmy #anti claire bear

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ssaeri · 8 months ago

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your god won't hear you

☆ tags: m!sydney x gn!reader, just a little fallen!sydney, slightly corrupted!sydney, he’s still strawberry blond because I don't want to dye his hair, it's that temple scene where he gets protective of you, I cut out the good night scene because I got lazy, SFW, but the game itself is 18+ so might be suggestive due to the nature of the game, ft. f!jordan, ft. m!sirris ☆

The temple is quiet at night.

During the day, there is always movement: supplies to be transported, shrubs to be cleared, sheets to be washed. But once the sun slips in the sky, a sigh of silence settles over the space, and one by one, robed figures roam along the perimeter, leaving flickering candles in their wake. Sometimes, you sought solace in the embrace of the holy, letting the murmured prayers wash over your frayed nerves like a soothing balm; other times, you skirted around the edges of the temple, the weight of sin heavy on your skin.

Today is an instance of the former. You get to the corner of Wolf Street when the warning bells start tolling, signaling ten minutes before the start of the evening service, and you watch as temple members rush to complete their chores. For once, you're not among them. One lithe initiate pulls sun-dried habits from the laundry line, rolls them into a pile, and stuffs them into her basket in a rush. The head nun of housekeeping is not going to appreciate the unnecessary wrinkles; you've earned her ire enough times to know that ironing out every individual crease is another form of earthly torture. Meanwhile a tall monk hefts bags of hedge trimmings over his shoulder to deposit by the roadside, and when he sees you, he waves with a shy smile.

Cute.

You wink back. You don't know his name.

A line of initiates not much younger than you push open the wooden temple doors with a loud creak, and you cut across the street to trail in behind them, smoothing down the tattered remains of your overalls and hoping that you’re decent enough to not draw stares. A chant has already started. Half of the candles are lit. You're afraid to make a sound.

Like you said, the temple is quiet at night.

Your eyes strain to scan the pews until they land on a familiar figure in a corner of the main hall, knelt in prayer, head bowed over clasped hands. Strawberry blond hair—colored burnt umber in the low light—spills over one shoulder.

Bingo.

The monk to your right greets the entrance with a murmured Welcome to the temple, his eyes closed, his steepled fingers pressed to his lips. You side-step him. You also tiptoe around the sleeping drunkard in the back pew who clutches an empty bottle to her chest, the rumbling exhales smelling of liquor.

Your boyfriend doesn't greet you when you settle down near him—a respectable distance of two and a half feet minimum—but he’s fighting back a smile and you wait patiently for him to finish reciting his lines. As Sydney mouths the last few words, his eyes flutter open and crease at the sight of you. You loved his glasses, but you must admit that he looks better like this, adoration for you unfiltered.

“Good evening, my love,” he whispers, reaching across the space to brush the back of your hand. You catch it in his retreat and intertwine your fingers. “What are you doing here?”

“Praying,” you say simply, though you are clearly not.

Still, he hums in accord, squeezes your hand, and resumes his previous posture. At the altar, Jordan finishes setting up the religious artifacts and does a sweeping glance of the space. You wonder what she sees. Monks on the side processing with a sweet-smelling thurible. Initiates carrying the remaining piles of scrolls to the back rooms. Nuns walking around with a donation basket. Temple-goers lining the wall to confess their sins and seek grace. Jordan’s gaze eventually lands on you, and you swear you see an infinitesimal nod of approval before she descends to her usual place in the first pew, pearl-white and spun-silver robes setting her apart from the rest.

Jordan leads the congregation into the next set of prayers by chiming a golden bell that echoes eerily in the space. The temple isn't empty, but the vaulted ceiling, extending into darkness, morphs the sound into something resembling the pained groan of spirits. You kneel, too, feeling wood against bare skin, the holes in your overalls fresh from a forest adventure. You wouldn't call yourself a believer, but you'll take all the help you can get in this town.

You pray for salvation. For the orphanage. For the math project that you still haven’t finished. Sydney’s expression is concentrated now, troubled by the thoughts that plague his mind, but you can’t spend too much time dwelling on it because your own thoughts drift to hopes for the future and how things could be better. The next hour passes quickly behind closed eyes, and with every exhale, you feel your burden lighten.

The calm is interrupted by a nasal:

“A token of appreciation from the faithful, hm?”

The voice comes from a stout nun who stops in front of you, holding out a donation basket and barely missing your elbow. While her smile is neutral, she scans your outfit with thinly veiled contempt, and it's in that judgmental expression that you realize why she's so familiar—it's the one who always has a bone to pick with you and your faith. She swears that you're a fraud (you are) and that you treat the temple like a playground (you do) and that you’ve been tempting temple members in the chambers (you have)—but honestly, that is beside the point. As a woman of the veil, couldn’t one expect more grace from her?

Sydney reaches in front of you to drop in a crumpled £10, which the nun accepts with a sniff of her upturned nose. Tacking on your best customer service smile, you make a big show of rummaging for your wallet and pulling out the crispest £100 you have, courtesy of your last customer at the massage salon.

“Of course, Sister. Anything to support the temple,” you say with conviction you do not feel. “Perhaps this can help buy new curtains for the west wing.”

At your emphasis, the nun flushes down to her neck and stalks away without another word, coins rattling in her basket. You swear she's muttering something about you under her breath, but it doesn't matter; you've clearly won. There’s a beat of silence before Sydney leans over, shoulders shaking.

“Did you know the curtains were burned down last week because she knocked over a candle in her sleep?”

“Why do you think I said it?”

A suppressed laugh that makes his eyes twinkle.

“Oh, you are bad,” he says, and his mirth makes your skin tingle pleasantly.

“Thanks, I try.”

The golden bell rings again, and as one, the congregation sits back onto the pews to shift into the next prayer. It’s one that you kind of know. The language is foreign, some ancient tongue that you never learned, but the cadence is almost melodic, so you mumble along and hope that it’s enough. Their god is a forgiving god, right? Surely your intentions will win over your execution.

Another hour or two passes in this way. At some point, during another break, Sydney turns to you and asks what you're praying for. For peace, you reply vaguely. Honestly, as it grows later, you've just been trying not to nod off, the lingering effects of treasure hunting in the lake wearing down your muscles. Your watch reads almost midnight, and soon Sirris will emerge from a hidden corner, offering you a ride home before he returns to the Danube mansions with his son. You're banking on it; walking home at this hour would probably invite some unwanted encounters.

Suddenly, there’s a new warmth at your side. A slender man, dressed in a monk’s habit, leans in close and sneers as his chest brushes against your shoulder. A light but intentional caresss. You tense, biting back a yelp of surprise. He takes that—your silence, your stillness, your deer in headlights look—as a sign to continue, resting a hand on your exposed thigh. The tattered overalls. The bastard leans closer still.

“Don’t cause a fuss,” he murmurs, his sickly sweet tone edged with the promise of threat, “or I’ll say you attacked me. Who will they believe?”

Certainly not you. You've been carefully balancing your notoriety; photography sessions with Niki are now monthly instead of weekly, chef shifts at the local café are limited, no more cabaret shows on Friday nights—you’ve even started wearing conservative clothing to keep a low profile. But none of it feels like it’s enough, especially when you still get recognized on the street for your nightclub shifts and the growing list of crimes that have you in hot waters with the police.

This guy? He has a golden pendant around his neck, the center inlaid with a blue gemstone. You're not familiar with the colored rankings, other than the fact that Jordan’s pure diamonds denote her as the head of this temple, but just having a gemstone places him higher than your initiate level, marked by the plain gold cross pendant that dangles on a simple chain.

Before you can say anything, though, Sydney lifts the hand off your thigh, holding it in a crushing grip. A smile is frozen on his face. Despite not being directed at you, the barely masked fury and crazed eyes send a chill down your spine.

“Belief won’t matter because I’ll attack you for real,” he says lowly. Slowly. Letting the words sink in like stones in water.

And unlike yours, Sydney’s reputation does hold weight in the temple. There’s rumors of him being Jordan’s successor decades down the line, but even without the help of those rumors, you know that Sydney is ready to send this man to hell and back for daring to touch you, much less threaten you. Sydney’s grip is steady; the man’s fingers tremble and redden, seconds away from snapping. Sydney’s hand has been around your neck before, but it was always gentle, never more than a loving pressure. Now you lightly brush your sternum, wondering what it would be like to have this energy turned on you.

The man’s life must flash before his eyes because suddenly he has the strength to rip his hand away and scurry to the back of the temple, the worn monk habit swishing at his ankles. Smart move. You don't know who he is, and honestly, you can barely recall his face, but you doubt that he'll be bothering you for a long time.

“Fucking heathens,” Sydney spits at the retreat.

He waits until the man’s figure completely disappears into the shadows. Sydney isn’t much of a fighter, but from the straight line of his shoulders, you don’t doubt that it’d change in a heartbeat.

Then his attention is on you, and his anger crumbles. “Are you alright, love?”

He cups your face in his palms, and you lean into the touch.

“I’m okay,” you say, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

If this happened a year ago, you would’ve been shaking in your boots, bewildered at the audacity of the stranger, but ever since Bailey insisted on weekly payments, you’ve…seen the world. For better and for worse.

Right on time, Sirris strolls over, blissfully unaware. He swings his car keys from a finger. “Ready to go, kids?”

#degrees of lewdity x reader #dol x reader #dol sydney x reader #degrees of lewdity scenarios #dol scenarios #dol sydney scenarios #saeri writes;

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sgiandubh · 9 months ago

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Offer and demand

For comparison purposes, kindly find below what a devoted Ozzie fan will have to be prepared to pay for a pic with one or several of the participants to the Hublander Australia 'A Visit to The Highlands' event, this week-end, in Sydney and Melbourne:

On top of that, there is an extra option I have never seen for European events (and correct me if I am wrong). You can buy signed personal items and autographed pics for somebody who cannot attend (personal items cost a little extra, no idea why). Here is an example, for S:

Just to have an idea, remember (I will always LOL at this word, from now on, and that's really a shame, because I use it a LOT, irl) these are the prices in Australian dollars. A pic with S would cost you around 115 euros or 125 USD and the most expensive group pic would lighten your purse by around 360 USD or 333 euros.

All this, like for the Paris Landcon, are on top of what you pay for access and the rest of the side gigs, depending of your tier of choice. Those can set you anywhere from 200 Australian dollars for the standard entry ticket to 1800 Australian dollars for the Platinum Tier, where I hope S will pour you a dram or something - nope, not really, that was really a cheap joke, forget about it. You do the math, it's easy.

If you take the time to compare with the Paris Landcon, the discrepancies are clear. The Australian Lollapalooza easily costs the double. But before you screech and wail, do remember two things:

Prices in Australia and France are not really the same. Same goes for the disposable wages of the people buying these tickets. Same goes for the logistical costs (venue rent, talent accommodation and fee, insurance - very important!, other administrative expenditures like legal costs: never forget these people also sell licensed merchandise, which comes at an extra cost itself, etc).

Also, event organization is a business in itself. There is a market and a pool of potential clients for this type of business. Demand and offer meet (or should do so) on that market and the result of this encounter of sorts should reasonably reflect what the people are willing to pay for whatever you peddle around, from bagels to Scottish fantasies. Too expensive - nobody will come. Too cheap - the talent you hope to attract would, in all likelihood, not show up, especially if it takes 10 to 20 hours of flight to get there.

Now add to this the need to satisfy just about everyone in the room. The simple need to make sure that the person who paid 200 dollars for the basic ticket would not feel left behind those who paid nine times (yes, nine times, for Australia, land of plenty) more. That is not an easy task and those figures you have seen are not what you may think they do represent, on face value.

Last, but not least, a wee secret: the bulk of the talent's fee comes from those autographed pics you bought extra, the Q&A sessions and the Platinum Meet and Greets - isn't that a strange form of Marxist distribution circuit (but I digress, forgive the scholar). The rest is probably going to cover operational costs.

Nobody robbed you. Nobody forced you or hypnotized you. You will meet the real people, not some denizen of Abuja who pretends he is Mr. Blue Eyes. And S will not get richer after Melbourne, only more tired.

You're welcome.

PS: merci à toi; chérie, pour l'info and also a heartfelt thank you to you, New Friend on the Block. You know who you are! 😘😘😘😘❤️❤️❤️

[Edit]: @joey-baby tells me the Oz fans can buy the recording of both days. That is a local exclusive and I surely hope we'd see some of it in here. Thank you! 🙌

#fandom #shitshow

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sctms · 2 years ago

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capebretonmrketing · 1 year ago

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yangsharperavery · 1 year ago

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so here's the thing...

i've written about this topic a few times during and after season 1, but the carmy and sydney of it all remains a highly contested and discussed topic. even after season two.

what i find so truly fascinating is that chris storer and joanna calo and everyone involved with the creation of this lovely, well constructed show absolutely could have created the duo they work SO hard in the press to convince viewership they intended.

if they really wanted sydney to be a psuedo/standin sibling for the one carmy lost, or the brainy, determined business partner that comes in to orient a sinking ship...

there are a couple hundred ways they could have managed that and made it abundantly clear that's what the angle was within the dynamic between carmy and sydney.

instead... we have all this very overtly (and covertly) romantic, potent and simmering subtext regarding the nature of their relationship and what they mean to one another, their effect on each other and their seemingly endless potential.

in a whole host of ways there are a number of scenes that literally don't make sense without the lens of the undercurrent of feelings or reverence or romance or something that exists between them beyond the intended business partners/co-creatives.

there are ways to narratively parallel sydney as a mirror and equal and peer of carmy's void of all ambiguity and romantic tension and any energy of awkward longing or confusion.

but that's not actually what we got. i've been consuming television media for most of my life. i've watched hundreds of shows; shipping has never been a requirement for my viewership or interest.

which leads me to believe that there's either a bunch of deflection/dismissing happening for a very distinct reason. or there's been a bait and switch planned from the beginning.

you would literally have to remove 75% of the nuance within carmy and sydney's interactions for the stictly platonic claims to make sense and effectively land.

you'd have to go through and remove various staging, shot selection, editing, music choices and sometimes entire scenes to accurately convey original or "intended" messaging.

to completely eradicate the liminal space of subjectivity between them.

why is carmy talking about tina looking like sydney with that distinct expression on his face when they all wear that apron?

why are they being awkward at the lockers like it isn't customary for coworkers and business partners to go out after work for dinner or drinks or whatever (literally evidenced by tina this season)?

why is sydney mentioning jealousy at all when it comes to carmy's relationship? especially when it makes perfect sense for her to be upset with him for not pulling his weight?

why is sydney entering into carmy's life for the first time and deciding to stay, the second time, something that literally brings him out of his panic? when it could have been him cooking, his drawings, his staff, his gf. ANYTHING else.

they effectively made sydney an emotional, mental and energetic tether for him in that scene. for what reason? business partner ones or????

why do they bicker like an old married couple? is that customary for creative collaborators and coworkers?

why superimpose sydney, parallel her doing something the audience saw carmy do last season, and then show her going about her night while he's by contrast, with his girlfriend? why show a random closeup of a meaningful tattoo on her shoulder? no thematic significance beyond the grind of the restaurant world and career ambition?

why is there an obvious awkward breaking of energy after a highly vulnerable and tender moment between the two of them under the table? why does sydney noticeably fidget/adjust herself/her apron when he walks away to get her gift?

there's actually a hundred instances of these questions you could ask over the course of the two seasons when it comes to them.

so the reasoning behind the shipper pushback is baffling and a bit laughable.

some people bring into question, perhaps this is just the natural chemistry that jaw and ayo bring to their characters bc they're obviously good friends.

which... sure. i guess. but even that begs the question, you wrote and shot and constructed a story a specific way and then your two actors sort of bled on and expanded the material in a very obvious way you didn't expect?

cool, cool. so again... you're surprised that could lead to viewership seeing something deeper than mere platonic business partners?

that's shocking and surprising to you?

no way.

especially considering storer and calo have commented on how close jaw and ayo are and that their dynamic is different than the one she has with ebon and lionel. which is hilarious bc she adores ebon and has been out of the country traveling with lionel (and some other people from odd future.)

so clearly they all enjoy each other, are friends and get along.

but why even make that note of demarcation regarding jaw and ayo's dynamic and STILL be like "oh yeah, we didn't write or mean for them to be a romance " you're shocked that people SEE something given your storytelling and their obvious connection that even you, the creators themselves remarked on?!?!

there's a picture from the golden globes of ayo holding jaw's mom's hands during his acceptance speech. like they're really besties.

but i'm sorry, they can't bestie themselves into what carmy and sydney clearly exemplify on our screens without an entire framework at their disposal. because they're talented and professionals.

so if the writing is saying something, then it's intentional.

maybe the intention was to have their characters skirt and skate on the periphery of each other.

maybe it was for things to be awkward and weird and undefined or hectic and toxic.

maybe they weren't ever gonna have some relegated idea of a shipper's happily ever after.

people have feelings that go unexpressed and undefined. people fall in love and then don't end up together.

maybe the slow burn fizzles out, maybe it explodes or implodes, maybe one of them self denies, maybe they both do.

maybe it will or won’t be addressed directly or covertly. that's actually not a requirement for its existence.

to act like there isn't something true and obvious and visceral that exists between these characters is frankly like asking those who watch your show not to use their eyes and their brains.

impossible.

#sydcarmy #the bear fx #carmy x sydney #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #let's act like we can all consume media and hold various elements and arcs and constructs within our minds

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raleighrador · 4 months ago

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The Bear S3 - Plot and Sydney

Sydney is perpetually frustrating to me and I love it.

I really loved a lot of what happened in her story this season, especially: her not opening the partnership agreement despite multiple reminders (and what she allows her dad to believe); the competing offer from Shapiro to start a new restaurant with her as CDC (I REALLY hope she takes the job); her and Carmen's (lack of) communication.

All of this is underpinned by the general sense of Sydney being very talented, thinking of herself as very talented, and being frustrated by what she sees as a lack of respect and equal treatment. Envy is a big component here - I loved the contrast of her reading all the profiles of Carmen vs the single review of her dish pinned to her fridge in the finale. She thinks she is every bit as good as Carmen and wants that to be recognised.

I love this. I also love how it plays out through the 3 elements I most enjoyed.

She has literally been offered a partnership stake in the Bear. All she needs to do is take 10 seconds to click "yes" on a DocuSign. Isn't this what she wants? Why hasn't she done it yet? Carmen is clearly supportive, Sugar is supportive, Cicero is supportive. All the key players in the Bear have made it very clear that they want her as a partner. They think she should be a partner.

That is the most explicit endorsement they could possibly give her. How much more recognition does she want? And why doesn't she the sign it?

Part of it is that she cares less about the partnership and the money than she does about having control in the kitchen, cares less about it than she does Carmen actually including her in decision making. That is legitimate. But she would probably have an easier time actually landing that point if she was a fully onboarded equity partner.

I think it is also because signing the agreement, actually being a partner, the most explicit confirmation that Carmen does think she should be an equal, fundamentally undermines the narrative she has about herself.

In general - she wants these opportunities, she's good enough, the only reason she hasn't yet succeeded is no one gave her a chance/something outside her control went wrong.

That no longer sticks if she signs the agreement. Carmen's not listening to her is much more clearly a communication problem to be overcome than a reflection of his true feelings.

I especially loved the detail that she allows her dad to believe that the Berzattos are lying about the partnership offer. His perspective seems to be: Syd told him the Berzattos offered her a partner stake. They have then NOT delivered on that promise. Ergo, they are dangling a false carrot in front of her. Even Sydney's "defence" of the Berzattos is "oh they are still working on it". All that does - from her dad's perspective - is emphasise that Sydney is being charitable and naive.

She doesn't say "I literally have the offer in my inbox but I haven't opened it". Why not? Why does she choose a lie that still makes it the Berzattos fault?

Because as much as she desperately craves authority and respect and to be her own boss she is actually terrified of taking that step up.

This is again highlighted in the offer from Shapiro. It is everything Sydney wants! Her own restaurant, total creative control, a partnership stake etc. So why the hesitation?

Her not opening the offer from the Berzattos becomes a neat tool to put off the decision - she doesn't know what she is turning down, she needs to have both offers before she makes a decision. Not opening the Berzatto offer means she can - "justifiably" - put the decision off for as long as she wants.

Pete ruins that by laying out the terms of the offer (which are ok but worse than Shapiro's offer).

Why then does she continue to hesitate? Because the actual point is she is terrified of taking the sort of control she spends her life craving.

Being given total control is awesome but it is also terrifying. She also presumably feels some sense of loyalty to the Bear and guilt about leaving etc whatever. Those are also important but I don't think they are the key. Even if they are, it just reveals a different crack in Sydney's self image: she values friendship and community more than being given control and achieving excellence.

I also like that we, the audience, are able to contrast and compare Sydney's options in a way she cannot. Shapiro's offer is almost ideal from her perspective. More money, more control, Shapiro says he doesn't want to cook everyday so he won't even be in the kitchen etc vs the dysfunctional Berzattos and Carmen with the promises but incredibly bad behaviour.

However, we know that Adam is actually a control freak perfectionist (who blames others for his mistakes). He spent a whole week screaming and shouting and swearing about a smudge (that he left) on a plate. So is his restaurant going to be some kind of peaceful, well adjusted utopia? Probably not.

Will she learns as much from an Executive Chef who doesn't want to cook everyday? Will she be even less patient with an Executive Chef who doesn't cook everyday?

But it is easy for Sydney to imagine it will be an utopia, just as much as it is impossible for her to imagine the Bear being anything but a hurricane of dysfunction.

I really, really want her to take the job. I want her to grab the screaming hot pot handle with two hands. I want her to back herself.

And I want her to realise it basically fucking sucks. It is harder than she imagined, it is lonelier than she imagined. I hope she realises that for all her talent she doesn't know everything. I hope she has huge success and it ruins her life.

Basically I like that Sydney and Carmen are narrative foils and I love the idea of that being explored by Sydney growing past Carmen but not past herself. Delicious.

The final thing I really enjoyed was her communication problems with Carmen and - spoiler - how they are at least as much her fault.

The clearest example here is the scene in Episode 8 where after service Carmen is playing with the meat dish and eventually invites Sydney to Ever's funeral service. A few really interesting things play out:

The whole "keep up with me". First, Carmen says not to worry about it because he has been doing this for longer. Sydney takes offence and says "I didn't mean from a skill level". Carmen accepts this.

Is Sydney as skilled as Carmen? Maybe but it seems doubtful to me. I am sure she is very, very good, and we have been shown lots of scenes throughout the show demonstrating that. Carmen is also meant to be a special talent though, and does just have way more experience than she does. Her defensiveness therefore seems a little misplaced. She also seems to miss that Carmen then just accepts her correction. He assume she is worried about a (reasonable) skill gap and wants to reassure her. He then also immediately accepts her assertion that actually she is just as good as he is. No defensiveness, no putting her in place.

It is also in line with Carmen's attitude to excellence more broadly - nothing is ever enough. Every dish can be better. Every chef can be better. Implying that to be true of Sydney is not actually insightful into how good he thinks she is. He also thinks that of himself.

This is also delightfully contrasted with the whole invitation to Ever. Carmen, as ex Ever & famous chef, has been invited to the funeral service. Other exceptional chef's have bene invited. The invite requirements seem to be: at least 1 of worked at Ever and/or world class chef. We know that Sydney never worked at Ever

Sydney says that it isn't her place but Carmen insists that it is.

It is clear that Carmen DOES believe Sydney is at the same level, is of the same calibre, should consider these people her peers (and his peer, hence the partnership offer). That is totally consistent with still having more to learn and not quite being at the level of her Executive Chef.

The other interaction is Sydney saying she wants to discuss something (presumably the partnership offer & competing offer from Shapiro) before then avoiding the conversation. Carmen makes it explicitly clear that he is available to talk. He reassures that "you (she) got me". He checks that she is sure before dropping it.

How much more are you looking for, Sydney? Your boy is here and ready to talk. The issue is it would require her taking ownership of the conversation and actually being the one to lead the discussion. This is also echoed in Carmen's apology about being hard to keep up with. He says he: "I've been wanting to talk about... about... I don't want it to be so hard. To keep up with me." He then stops talking and makes direct eye contact with Sydney.

In my personal experience when I am in a conversation with someone and they end a sentence before making eye contact with me they - not always but usually - are expecting me to say something. They are expecting a reaction. They are expecting my opinion. They are not expecting me to just stare back at them for a full 15 seconds (I went and timed it) before saying "ok got it."

If that isn't an invitation for Sydney to ask "how do you want to do that" or "why do you do the things you do" or even share some ideas of things she would want to see from him then I don't know what is.

It again reflects a pattern whereby Sydney always wants the other person - and specifically Carmen - to be the one in control. To be the one making decisions, coming up with ideas etc. Despite what she says, when she gets given opportunities to be in the pulpit, she backs away. That way it is never her fault, never her failure.

She also - to my mind - leaves that conversation with Carmen frustrated with him. Frustrated that he didn't give her what she wanted.

Maybe he would, if she just asked (just like he gave her the partnership offer).

The final contrasting communication/Carmen's treatment of Sydney where I think Sydney reads it wrong is the whole menu thing. In Episode 7 Sydney discovers Carmen has changed the menu and makes a number of suggestions that are all shut down. This is presented to us - and Sydney - as evidence of the fact that Carmen doesn't listen to her or take her views into account. There isn't even a discussion, he just "no we will do x instead".

However, this needs to be contextualised by and contrasted with a very similar interaction in Episode 5. While discussing Ever closing down Carmy is playing with his meat dish (at this point it has bernaise foam). Sydney (gently) teases him about it and suggests how to change it. He invites her to explain and she does. He takes the feedback. They then move to discussing the day's menu. Sydney asks about the pasta dish:

Carmen: uh I don't know I was thinking a potato gnocchi?

Sydney: with beef cheeks?

Carmen: yes good done

So it is not universally true that Carmen disregards Sydney's opinions on the menu or food. In fact, when she has a very clear idea and volunteers information he either listens and asks her to explain or he just unquestioningly accepts her suggestion and moves on. He respects her, he trusts her, so if she has an idea and he doesn't he just goes with her. If he does have a clear idea he does that. It isn't at all clear at any point that he is opposed to discussing these things IN GENERAL. However, they need a new menu every day, so if he does have a very clear idea for the menu today, the discussion isn't necessary. So he doesn't actively solicit Sydney's input because he doesn't think it is needed. He also doesn't imply that she CANNOT express it anyway (or, I don't know, write those ideas down and then the next morning she can short cut the menu setting process).

From Carmen it seems much more like an expression of cognitive load management than dismissiveness or disinterest. From Sydney it is an illustration of how interactions that frustrate her and prove her narrative about Carmen get weighted highly and remembered, but moments where he treats her as an equal are dismissed (or at least not lingered on).

#the bear spoilers #the bear fx #the bear #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto

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achaotichuman · 1 year ago

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Something I think about pretty often is that Velaris probably has the worst view of the stars in all of Prythian. Considering it's such a modern city and so cramped together, all that light pollution has most likely lit up the night sky to the point of only being able to see a few constellations on a clear night. Plus, accounting for the fact the people in this city have never left it for thousands of years as the population grows it is most definitely a sardines in a can situation where everyone is on top of each other, and the rent prices are through the roof.

Unlike the Spring Court where everything is Fae-medieval village style and spread out over tons of land. Spring probably has the best view of the stars in all of Prythian, with people able to observe the band of stars that stretches across the sky, also known as the arm of the universe, every night.

If I wanted to live in Velaris, I would just move to Sydney. If I wanted to live in the Spring Court, I would have to time travel back into the days where we hadn't fucked up the earth as much as we have now, and it still wouldn't be as magical as the Spring Court.

#acotar #pro spring court #anti velaris #anti rhysand #pro tamlin #tamlin #velaris would suck #give me my magical fae lands that i can frolic in

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lalal-99 · 7 months ago

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of being true {l.f.} | track 5

Lee Felix x Jung Wooyoung | trope: strangers to lovers | word count: 9.2k

Synopsis: The one that's about Felix and other pretty people.

Check Chapter Overview for complete list of warnings

Note: This is an interim chapter. You don't need to read this chapter to understand the rest of the main plot. But I advise you do, because it's just so beautiful. Truly one of the best things I have ever written. (Reposting, cause the first upload tanked...)

Tumblr works on a reblog system. Please consider reblogging this post so that it can reach more people. Thank you :)

Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You

Felix learned he was gay at the tender age of 7. That was if he were completely honest with himself.

It happened on a beautiful Sunday morning in his suburban Sydney home. He had just prepped himself a bowl of fruit loops, clad in his pyjamas with his favourite blanket in hand. That’s how he made himself a home on the sofa, turning on the TV with the volume on low so his parents wouldn’t wake. Switching through channels his parents had forbidden him to watch, he finally landed on Nickelodeon. And that’s when he saw him.

Danny.

Phantom, if that wasn’t clear already.

All the kids at school had talked about the show for weeks, raving over who they thought Danny would end up with. Sam—the sarcastic best friend—or Jazz—the cutesy love interest. Pretty, beautiful and whitty were some of the words his friends referred to them as. Felix needed to see for himself and make up his mind. If not to admire their animated beauty, at least to determine who he preferred.

Needless to say, all intentions went out the window once he saw the underdog protagonist. His hair as black as the night and his eyes as blue as the ocean minutes away from Felix’s house. And that was only the human form of one Danny Fenton. No one could have prepared Felix for the incredible looks of his super-hero alter-ego. His icy grey hair and green eyes were truly something else, and Felix was soon captivated by the fictitious character. A fabricated figure drawn with pencil, but even so the hero of his childhood.

In hindsight, Felix should have known it right then and there.

While his friends argued the show’s female characters, he fantasised protecting Amity Park alongside his idol. Telling him his deepest secrets and hugging him in glee at the end of each episode.

As he was only a child, Felix didn’t think to investigate the intensity of his affection further. He pushed it to the back of his mind. Argued that he didn’t watch the show for its romantic aspects whenever someone asked him about his prefered love interest.

Despite ignoring the nagging thought for all his childhood—oblivious to a deeper meaning behind it—it caught up with him at some point. And that point came in the form of one Cassidy Miller.

Cassidy was one of Felix’s classmates in Year 8. Upon laying eyes on him on the first day of the year, she made it her main plot point to become his girlfriend. During lunch that first day, she chose the seat next to him in the cafeteria, sharing some of her homemade snacks. As a teenage boy amid a growth spurt, he accepted with not another word of persuasion. He didn’t even consider it to be an advance of sorts. Even when his friend high-fived him after the fact, Felix understood it as an act of kindness. Cassidy was trying to make some friends after moving to town weeks prior. Nothing out of the ordinary.

It took him about three weeks of shared snacks every day and a kiss on his cheek to recognise that, yes. A girl had a crush on him. And everything would have been fine. Hadn’t it been for the slight complication that he didn’t feel the same about her. Cassidy was sweet. He would even agree that she was cute with her bunny nose and blonde locks. Conventionally attractive features for a 14-year-old girl.

Before he could break the truth to her, though, she had already introduced him to her parents. Quick, but Felix didn’t get the chance to intervene. He didn’t even know she wanted to introduce them when she asked him to follow her to the parking lot. Let alone introduce him as her boyfriend, much to her father’s dismay.

So, at the fragile age of 14, Felix found himself in a heterosexual relationship with a girl he barely knew but didn’t have the heart to break up with. As though being an unknowing closeted teenager wasn’t enough already.

That relationship, as innocent as it was, lasted 6 months. At most, it consisted of hand-holding and handwritten notes passed during class. Still, it lasted long for a first relationship Felix had no intention of having in the first place.

When Cassidy revealed that her dad had been relocated for the umpteenth time, Felix was even a little sad. She left after only 7 months, thus ending the relationship as it had begun—completely out of his control.

One should think: A closeted gay teen who just came out of a heterosexual relationship he hadn’t intended having? Definitely won’t do that again in the near future.

And that thought was fair. But wrong.

It took around 2 months after Cassidy left when Emily Wilson came into Felix’s life.

Emily was different from Cassidy in many ways. She was one year Felix’s senior, held back a year for grade-related reasons. She had black hair and a sidecut. Eyelids always painted in a thick layer of dark eyeliner which made her look at least two years older than she was. She had a nose ring her parents hadn’t allowed her to get and wore combat boots like part of a religion. Every word leaving her lips was drenched in sarcasm, which drew Felix to her right from the beginning.

It didn’t take Felix more than a few weeks to accept it. If he were to ever have a relationship with another girl, it would be a girl like Emily.

Fortunately for him, she and Cassidy had one thing in common. They were both pretty much obsessed with him from the moment they first laid eyes on him.

Whatever was drawing them to him, Felix decided that what anyone in his position would do, was make a move on Emily. Everyone in his class was obsessing over who was with whom. All his friends went from relationship to relationship in weekly rhythms. So, getting a girlfriend himself was the logical thing to do.

The 1.5 years he spent with Emily were the most fun but excruciating months of his life. Being with someone that long was hard, as much as he loved getting to know every part of her life.

He liked Emily’s parents, and they thought he had a positive influence on their daughter. But they were uber controlling and burst into her room every few minutes to check on them and what they were doing.

He adored Emily’s love for music and art. Every picture she drew for him and every mixtape she made proudly displayed in his room. But, she didn’t allow any opinions on the topics that didn’t correlate with her own. Felix’s love for Pop music? A slap in the face of a proud anti-capitalist. Felix’s one-year-anniversary plans to visit a special exhibition in the museum? Another penny in the pocket of the rich, making them even wealthier.

He fell apart at the touch of Emily’s hands and mouth. Losing his virginity to her left him breathless and in a sweaty sheen for hours. But, as much as he didn’t mind sleeping with her, he couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling. She always made the first move. And he was not only lying to himself but to her.

Their relationship was a constant back-and-forth. Liking her while not liking her enough to want a serious future. No matter how hard Felix tried, keeping up the facade became more agonising with every I love you. Eventually, Emily could tell something was eating at her boyfriend. And after 18 unforgettable months together, she finally had enough. She left him with usual harsh words and exhausted tears of relief in his eyes.

Even then, as the doubt and exhaustion finally reached the front lobe of his brain, it took him a couple more years and 3 more relationships to come to terms with reality.

Felix was gay and wouldn’t continue lying to everyone around him.

Well, except for his parents, who, despite living in a modern country, had different values. They weren’t particularly homophobic, though they approached the movement with ignorance. That’s other people. That would never happen to us.

Thankfully, by the time Felix realised he would never be content in a heterosexual relationship, he had already set his eyes on further education abroad. And once he finished High School, he was already packed and ready to head overseas to live as his true self.

Never in a million years had Felix expected to live that true self so early in this new chapter of his life. He had barely set foot onto campus when he bumped into a guy on his way out of the physiology building. Felix almost lost balance but the man grabbed his biceps, delicate fingers steadying him against himself. That’s when he met the guy’s gaze. Beautiful mahogany, surrounded by a sheen of gold eyeliner. Which only made them sparkle even further than Felix was sure they already did. His hair died in layers of blonde and black, ears adorned by so many earrings he couldn’t have counted them. And that cheeky smile on his lips made Felix want to taste him right then and there.

Instead, Felix pulled away, smoothing his t-shirt out as he hugged his bag closer to himself. It gave his hands something to do while hiding the semi he sported. From a short-lived, innocent physical contact, but nonetheless.

“You good?” the guy asked, and Felix nodded, eyes wide as though he had seen a ghost. The man swiped his thumb over his plumb bottom lip with a smirk and a wink as he brushed past Felix. “Next time, keep your eyes on what’s important. Alright, Pretty?”

Pretty. Felix subconsciously nodded at the words as the man rounded the corner with another look back. He remained still for approximately minutes before he shook himself to snap out of it.

And that could have been it. A short, embarrassing moment like he had had so many times before. But that wasn’t Felix’s luck.

God screamed You should see your face at Felix when he entered his Psychology 101 class days later. The same boy stood by the entrance, talking to another guy who looked a little too good in his pink hair.

Felix skimmed past him, feeling the man’s gaze trained on his back as he wordlessly sat between two girls. Anything so he wasn’t exposed to the man’s enticing presence. Making his heart race like that of an untouched virgin.

That’s when Felix diagnosed: He might not be as ready to live his true self as he had thought.

The decision to take his time exploring his identity was easily made. Yet, the pledge lasted only 4 days.

“Hi, man! How’s it going?”

The first thing Felix noticed about the man in front of Jisung was the age difference.

Jisung might have been Felix’s age phsyically, but he usually carried himself with a heightened sense of maturity. His long-term girlfriend definitely was the cause for that, so much the countless dirty jokes had told Felix.

Jackson, on the contrary, had a sense of wiseness to him. He must have made many a experience that still awaited Felix and Jisung. What exactly made Felix feel like that, he couldn’t pinpoint. Although it likely wasn’t the baggy clothing or the Gucci snapback. Jackson must have come from money, was all Felix took away from them. And if it weren’t for Jackson’s clothing, the golden earrings and chain around his neck would have said as much.

“I’m alright. The workload already has me in a chokehold. But I’ll manage,” Jisung joked with his old friend before turning to Felix. “Jackson, this is my roommate, Felix. Felix, Jackson.”

“Nice to meet you!” Jackson greeted him as he pulled him into a bro-hug. The first of many, Felix was sure.

“Likewise.”

“So, already swimming in the workload? If it’s too much already, I wouldn’t advise picking Medicine as a Major. I was studying until the second the first guests arrived. And I will continue the moment the house is empty.”

A future doctor? Jackson? Definitely not what Felix had expected, but he didn’t know the guy. All he could go from was the first impression. He knew better than to judge from that alone.

“I’ll keep that in mind. You should tell Y/N before she suggests I also become a doctor.”

“She’s still not giving up on you picking a Major, huh?”

“I swear it’s everything she talked about the past two months.” Felix looked around the place, trying his hardest to ignore the words coming from his friend. It wasn’t like he knew everything about their relationship, nor was he picking sides in this debate. But hearing Jisung talk behind her back like that? It filled him with slight unease. “I love her, but it’s annoying.”

“You probably don’t want to hear it, but she has a point.”

Again, not what Felix had expected from Jackson. Taking Y/N’s side like that.

“There’s nothing wrong with taking a semester to figure things out, but you’ll have to pick one eventually.” Jackson could tell from Jisung’s expression that this wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “But...” Jackson opened three beer bottles from the sink before handing two of them over to Felix and Jisung. “That’s a conversation for tomorrow. Or next week. Right now, we party.”

“Hell, yeah!” Jisung agreed with a cheer before toasting the other two and downing half his bottle.

Felix took a sip, face scrunching at the bitter aftertaste of the liquid. He had never quite grown accustomed to the flavour of beer, his tastebuds preferring vodka or rum. Anything that mixed well with soft drinks.

While Jackson and Jisung chatted away like two estranged friends (which, for as much as Felix had understood, they were), Felix’s gaze wandered through the doorway into the living room. The house gradually filled with young students—some yet sober, some already intoxicated. Felix started appreciating Jisung by his side, so he didn’t have to approach this situation alone. Even if Jisung, right now, was ignoring his presence for his old friend.

Distracted by the loud music, Felix took a few steps out of the kitchen, when suddenly, he got knocked off his feet. Or at least almost.

He would have planted his face straight into the tiled flooring hadn’t it been for a set of delicate fingers coming to his biceps and steadying him. And if it weren’t already a complete recap of his encounter on the first day, Felix met the same mahogany eyes yet again.

Sweet, sweet irony.

The guy recognised him soon enough, a smirk appearing on his beautiful face. How he could be so enticing and cheeky without saying a word was beyond Felix.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

Invisible strings drew Felix’s eyes to the man’s face, hanging on the way his lips moved whenever he spoke. He was in total awe of how someone could sound so sweet while having the fucking confidence of a... Well, if Felix had to name it, he would have called it fuckboy. Although, he didn’t want to judge a book by its cover. Even if this particular book was extremely easy on the eyes.

“You good?”

“Huh?”

“I asked you if you were alright.”

“Oh, of course. Yes, I’m good.”

“Good.” And there it was again. That stupid smirk made Felix feel things he didn’t know he had the mental capacity to feel. Emotions he had prayed to feel for Cassidy, Emily, Tina and all the others, he instead felt for some stranger the second he laid eyes on him. Like a complete loser. “You’re Felix, right?”

Eyebrows raising at the sound of his name from the stranger’s mouth, Felix swallowed thickly. “Yes. How do you know?”

“We have Psychology 101 together.” The first non-flirtatious words coming from the man, though that didn’t last long. “And I always remember the pretty faces.”

Pretty. That word, again, made Felix’s stomach churn and his pants tighten. Internally, he scolded himself for being so new to this that the simple compliment could affect him like this.

“I’m—You—Erm—” Felix stumbled over his thoughts pathetically. The stranger’s eyes kept running over all Felix’s features and he was very aware of it. He must have thought Felix was an utter basket-case. If he wanted to keep the last bit of pride, he had to get it together. Quick. “What’s your name?”

“Ouch,” the guy said as he placed his hand over a heart in mock hurt. “And here I hoped you had paid as much attention to me as I did you.”

What now? He had paid attention to Felix? When? How long? And why? Was this all part of a play, or was he kidding? Felix didn’t know what to think.

“I—I’m sorry.”

“No worries. I’m messing with you.” A breath of relief escaped Felix’s lips as he hoped the guy didn’t notice. “I’m Wooyoung. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

“You, too,” Felix replied with the first smile in approximately hours.

“So, Felix. Now that I saved your life twice, what do you say we have a drink? It’s on me.”

Felix laughed at the joke as he pushed a strand of his blonde hair behind his ear.

“I already have one,” Felix explained, holding up the beer towards Wooyoung.

“Beer? You’re one of those guys?” Wooyoung asked with a sarcastic undertone, making Felix blush as he eyed the brown bottle.

“Actually, no. I never liked beer.” Placing the almost full bottle on the counter, he let Wooyoung guide him around the counter. A display of countless different liquors met them in a broad array.

“What’s your poison? Vodka? Gin?” Wooyoung questioned as he grabbed two red cups from the stack.

“Rum, actually.” The slight smile on Wooyoung flustered Felix as he hoped he hadn’t somehow made a fool of himself. Again. “What?”

“Nothing,” Wooyoung shrugged as he filled the two cups with a quarter rum before topping them off with coke. “I just know how to pick ‘em.” Felix didn’t know what he was hinting at, so he only smiled once Wooyoung handed him his drink. “To new acquaintances.”

“Yes. Acquaintances.”

With that, they toasted and took a sip each. The mixture of Captain Morgan and Coke gave Felix a sweet aftertaste. Much more comfortable than the beer had done, and he returned the smile Wooyoung sent him.

This whole situation was rather new to Felix. He had never been to a party like this. Single, that was. He never had the chance to meet someone on the go in a similar situation, and that reality filled him with unease. Despite having only met the guy, Felix wanted Wooyoung to like him. Whether that was a like in the we’ll become good friends sense or the give me all of you kinda way.

For a moment, Felix felt he was getting ahead of himself. He had met Wooyoung a few minutes ago. For all he knew, being flirtatious could have been engraved in his personality. Felix had arrived at campus mere days ago and even pledged to ease himself into this new, true identity. He definitely shouldn’t rush it.

As fast as he remembered that pledge he had taken, the memory evaporated. Wooyoung’s hand touched his hip, pulling him slightly closer, in front of everyone. Including his roommate and Jackson—two people he had no idea how they’d react to finding out his deepest secret. A secret he had never told anyone, on top of that.

“So, Felix—” Looking around the room, Felix soon realised that Jisung had left, and so had Jackson. A bunch of random people were running around, albeit ignoring the two guys in the corner, throwing googly eyes at each other. That realisation relaxed him almost entirely. “What’s your deal?”

Felix’s eyes met Wooyoung’s lips as he licked his own, a little nervous in the presence of someone so beautiful still. “What do you mean?”

“Are you, like, single? Hetero? Better tell me now before I fall for another straight guy.”

For someone so—unfamiliar, Felix felt himself drawn to anything Wooyoung did. Much more than he ever had with any of his ex-girlfriends. Sure, Felix was nervous around him, his hands shaking so heavily, he feared he’d spill his drink on the guy. At least some blame laid on his inexperience, blood rushing through his system like it was racing against itself. How was Wooyoung so self-assured and head-on anyways?

“I don’t know what to say.”

That was the truth. Felix had no idea how to answer such a straightforward question. Especially since he hadn’t said the words I am gay out loud, ever. Not even to himself. Expressing his personality to a stranger, out of all people, felt so out of place for him. Although he couldn’t deny the unmistakable magnetism pulling him towards Wooyoung.

“That’s okay. Because I know.”

The fingers at Felix’s hips dug into his flesh a little fiercer as Wooyoung closed in, breath hitting Felix’s cheek. Everything around him slowed in motion as his gaze switched from Wooyoung’s eyes to his lips, unsure of what to do or how to act. Would this be his first kiss with a man? With a stranger? In front of all these people? Tipsy from two unfinished drinks and Wooyoung’s presence alone?

“You do?” It took him a few seconds to finally reply, the tension becoming too much, too fast. “Maybe you can tell me. Because I have no fucking idea.”

Wooyoung laughed out loud at his words; a hearty laugh which sounded much like heaven to Felix. Some of the tension vanished as he took another deep breath and a long sip from his drink.

“And he’s funny, too. Damn, I really do know how to pick ‘em.”

The words made Felix blush as he averted his gaze towards the floor.

“I tell you what,” Wooyoung retracted his hands as his softening gaze met Felix’s anxious one. He must have noticed Felix’s unsure aura, torn between wanting to experience whatever Wooyoung had in mind and taking it slow. Felix had never been this happy about his expressional features. “How about you figure out what your deal is first? And when you do, come find me.”

As much as those words took the pressure off, Felix couldn’t deny the hint of disappointment pulling at his mood. He wanted to try and get him to close the proximity again, feeling cold after Wooyoung had pulled away. Sneakers screeching against the tiles soon captured their attention, rendering the moment gone. Felix recognised the owner as the same guy Wooyoung had been sitting next to in class. How could he have forgotten the bright pink hair and features as sharp as a fox’s?

“Dude, you gotta come watch this,” the guy exclaimed as he came over, dragging Wooyoung away by his hand. “Mingi is trying to do a keg-stand. It’s fucking hilarious. Like a giraffe trying to… well, do a kegstand.”

“No way!” With one last wink that made Felix’s knees weak, Wooyoung ran after his friend and out of Felix’s vision. It took him a few desperate moments to steady himself, hands still trembling from the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Felix turned around, one, to tighten his grip around the counter and regain his balance, and two, conceal the boner which his pants did nothing to hide. His mind kept racing back to the proximity, the touches. The flirtatious words of a guy he barely knew but, at the same time, felt like he wanted to know everything about. The distance allowed him to realised how fast everything had played out. And while he feared it had happened all too fast, he couldn’t help but want to skip forward even further.

Perhaps, it was that he was desperate to finally get a taste of what he had denied himself for years. Crushes, love, passion. Everything his girlfriends had felt, but he never quite managed to. Making mistakes and gaining experience. Anything eventually leading him to alwaysness. With whomever that might be.

Although, right now, he wanted to have a sense of it with one particular person.

Two excruciating hours later, Felix found himself in the living area of the frat house. He had thought back to the moment in the kitchen so many times he could hardly count them. Not to mention how often he had gotten semi-hard thinking about Wooyoung’s breath against his cheek. His hands on his hips. And his words in his ear.

How about you figure out what your deal is first? And when you do, come find me.

But what if there was nothing to figure out? What if Felix already knew what he wanted and what his deal was? What if the only thing keeping him from acting on it was his inexperience?

All those what if’s jogging through Felix’s brain didn’t change anything. All he wanted—truly wanted at the moment—was to drag Wooyoung into the nearest closet and make him feel good. Have Wooyoung make him feel good. Whatever the guy was up for, honestly. Felix had spent the better part of two decades pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Now that he had a fresh start, he desired to finally be his true self.

It took him not 20 minutes longer until he decided that enough was enough.

Y/N, Yuqi and Changbin had left a while ago to play Truth or Drink in the kitchen, leaving Felix with a group of random boys. Sure, it was a group of boys he considered his closest friends on campus, but right now, they appeared so boring. Especially with a much more intriguing person, throwing him suggestive winks from the other end of the room.

How he had even noticed Wooyoung in the sea of drunk students was beyond him. Though Felix had no brain capacity left for the whys and hows. Wooyoung was sipping on his drink, playing with the straw about as suggestively as Felix had seen anyone do. Biting at the short fingernail of his pinky, Felix already felt the excitement nagging at his gut. The combination of clothes, alcohol and arousal ran him so very hot.

Wooyoung’s pink-haired friend didn’t notice he wasn’t paying him the slightest hint of attention. How ever important their conversation was, Felix couldn’t bring himself to care. This whole back and forth went on for a few minutes when Felix finally couldn’t take it anymore.

Without a word to his friends he got up from his seat, eyes drawn to the beautiful tempter at the other side of the room. Once Wooyoung recognised the intention behind Felix’s approach, he left his friend for the stairs.

The sway in his hips had Felix’s whole attention as he followed him upstairs, always a few steps behind to not alert the surrounding couples. As though they weren’t completely immersed in their make-outs and other grindings.

Once at the upper end of the staircase, Felix looked around to find the hallway empty. Someone must have ensured the private rooms remained private, and usually, this would have been the end of his path. Though the confidence in Wooyoung’s step encouraged Felix to push that to the deepest part of his brain.

His movements stayed cautious until he reached the end of the hall, entering the last room on the left. Felix took a deep breath as he closed the door and turned around. Not a second went by until he noticed the man on one of the two beds, drink long forgotten on one of the desks.

“Hi.” With no hint of pressure in his voice, Wooyoung watched Felix fidgeting by the door.

“Hi.”

Silence took over the room as Felix realised why Wooyoung wasn’t being his usual flirty self. Understanding how he had some reservations still, he left every decision up to Felix. It gave him a sense of security, understanding that if he didn’t want anything to happen, nothing would. Even if they were on their own in a small room, veiled in tension thick enough to cut with a spoon.

With that sense of total security in mind, Felix took a shaky step forward.

“So—” His voice broke as he regretted not bringing his drink. He felt the deep desire for something to cool his system, easing the lump in his throat. “I figured out what my deal is. And I’m coming to you, like you said.”

“Good.” The smile on Wooyoung’s face was as non-suggestive as he had ever seen, further soothing his tense body. “Do you mind sharing with me?”

“No. I will.” Taking another deep breath, Felix looked to the ceiling as he brought his hand to his stiff shoulders.

This was the moment. Felix would say the words out loud for the first time. Reality would hit, and there would be no escaping it anymore.

Fortunately, Felix didn’t want to run from it any longer.

“I’m single. And, I’m—”

Say it! He won’t judge. Just spit it out!

“I’m gay.”

“Okay.”

Okay. Okay? Despite the simplicity of the word, pure relief overcame Felix, body slumping as exhaustion blurred his vision. He was gay, and it was okay.

The next breath through a watery veil of happiness and alleviation felt like the first one he had ever taken.

“Oh my God, did I say something wrong?” Wooyoung hurried over to Felix’s trembling body as he wrapped his protective arms around him. Felix’s hands clung to the man’s shirt, face pressed into the crook of his neck as he let himself be held. Nothing more. Just held and accepted.

“No. Nothing wrong.” The whispered words reached Wooyoung’s ear within milliseconds. “All the right words. But—”

He stopped, pondering for a few seconds whether to confide in someone he hardly knew. A man who had nothing but shamelessly flirted with him for all 20 minutes of aggregated conversation. But he was here right now. And Felix needed to let him know how much he had already done for him.

Also, he was bawling into the guy’s shirt. It could hardly get much more intimate than this, anyways.

“I never said it out loud.”

“Oh… Oh!”

The realisation hit Wooyoung like a bus as he further fastened his comforting grip on Felix. It all made sense to him now. The insecurity. The uncomfortable tension whenever he said anything below the belt. The silence following the question of what his deal was. And here Wooyoung was, thinking he was yet again barking up the wrong tree. As it turned out, he had finally found the right tree, though it hadn’t bloomed yet.

“Fuck. I’m sorry I came on so strong. It just… I thought you were cute, but then I wasn’t so sure if you felt the same way. I assumed you might be one of those straight guys who aren’t so straight after a few drinks. So, I went all in to skip all that will-they-won’t-they crap. Wouldn’t have been the first time I was utterly disappointed at the end of the day.”

He had only tried to feel Felix out and learn if he himself could get hurt. Evidently, neither of them was trying nor intending to play games with the other.

“You didn’t come on too strong. I mean, you kinda did. But I liked it.”

As they drew away from each other, light laughter filled the room. Wooyoung’s arms were still circled around Felix’s waist as they stared into each other’s eyes. Their smiles soon faded as they recognised their proximity. When Wooyoung’s hands reclaimed their position on his hip, Felix’s stomach erupted in sheer excitement. The sentimentality of the moment was ultimately broken by his arousal.

“You like this, too. I can feel it,” Wooyoung pointed out with a smile as he squeezed Felix’s sides once, making him jump a little. “Knew it.”

“Fine. I like it.”

“So, you never told anyone you’re gay. Does that mean you just found out yourself? Or did you always know on some level and try to fit into a pair of shoes that weren’t yours?”

“A little of both. Like, I used to crush on Danny Phantom so hard it surprises me my parents never caught on. But then again, I had many girlfriends in Middle and High School.”

Wooyoung explored Felix’s cheeks and nose where freckles decorated him in beautiful patterns.

“You’ve never been with a guy then?”

Felix shook his head as his gaze met Wooyoung’s inviting, plump lips. In his subconscious, he grazed his teeth against them, the intimacy of the moment turning the corners of his mouth upwards. The closer Felix got to him, the sexier he found him to be.

“But you want to be?”

This time, Felix nodded. Never had he been more sure than while looking at the most beautiful man he had ever seen. So close he could almost taste him. And if that wasn’t sign enough already, the prominent tent in his pants at the simple touch of his hips assured him.

He wanted Wooyoung, more than he had ever wanted anyone else.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.”

“That’s good. I can work with that.”

Leaning in their eyes met as Felix took in what was happening. Like the romance novel moment he had always dreamed of, seconds turned minutes, and moments turned into a lifeline. And then, finally, after hours of distant pining, Wooyoung closed the gap between them.

Now, Felix had kissed many people before. Cassidy, at 14, under the old cherry tree in his backyard while reading his favourite anime. Emily at 15 in more places than he could remember. And many others since. Girls, exclusively.

Though right now, as he tasted Wooyoung for the first time it finally dawned on him. The sweetness of his scent, the rum on his lips and the coke in his breath. This was what a kiss should feel like. This was what desire was supposed to feel like.

They deepened the kiss, tongues brushing lips, and Felix reached for Wooyoung’s neck. He ran his hands through the man’s hair, mouths moving in unison as silent whimpers escaped his lips. When Wooyoung pulled away, it was to catch his breath while also searching for a hint of regret in Felix’s features. When he couldn’t find anything but lust, he smirked, reconnecting his lips to the other’s.

Hands clawed at and bodies moved against one another as desperate whines filled the room. Mainly Felix’s, but who could blame him? Every single one of Wooyoung’s movements was the perfect calculation. He knew through and through what he was doing. Wooyoung clawed at Felix, pulling him into his body and providing his aching erection with much-needed friction. Semi-aroused for the better part of the evening, finally, he got relief from the discomfort.

Pulling Felix’s hair and tipping his head back, Wooyoung’s lips moved to the side of his neck. All the while, Felix kept his hands in Wooyoung’s hair, pulling him even closer and not letting him go.

“Fuck…” Felix slurred when the other sucked at his skin, trying to mark him for later. In the past, he hated having hickeys on his neck. Others knowing he had made out with his girlfriend had always made him uncomfortable. With Wooyoung, he couldn’t deny that he loved the thought of people knowing he belonged to someone. Or at least had done so for a brief moment in time.

Wooyoung’s hands fisted Felix’s shirt as he inched it up before checking in with the blonde, “Is this okay?”

“Yes. Please, take it off already.”

“Getting hot?” Wooyoung asked with a smirk, getting his answer once Felix nodded with a thick swallow. “Good.”

Once the fabric landed on the floor, Wooyoung lingered to take in the view. He had expected many things from the closeted nerdy boy, but not this. Not a full-on six-pack, tensing as he let his fingertips wander over his hot skin.

“Damn. Who would have thought?” The thoughts leaving Wooyoung’s brain without a filter made Felix blush. It was one thing, hearing how well-built he was from someone else. But someone he deemed the hottest person he had ever laid eyes on? That did something to him alright. And when Wooyoung leaned down to let his perky tongue run over the bulges, that did a whole other thing to him.

“Fuck… More, please.”

“Patience. I have a lot more to give you,” Wooyoung told him with a smirk as he pushed Felix onto the mattress and sank to his knees. This view was heavenly, straight out of a porno, and Felix felt like he was dreaming again. The whole situation was surreal.

Looking up at the blond, Wooyoung pulled him down for another kiss before focusing on his pecs. He took his sweet time worshipping Felix’s chest, his nipples and abs. Electric shocks rushed straight through Felix’s spine towards the top of his head. Wooyoung couldn’t get enough, spending a few extra seconds kissing his abdominal muscles until a layer of spit and sweat covered them.

“Please…” The silent prayer escaped Felix like a mantra. He’d come in his pants if Wooyoung didn’t do something soon and that was definitely not how he wanted this first time to end. Bad enough his first first time (a few years ago with Emily in the backseat of his father’s Toyota) had ended that way. Another taste of that embarrassment would have been too much to overcome.

“You think you’re ready for this?”

“I was born ready. Just— do something, please.”

“Oh, I’ll be doing much more than just something.”

Wooyoung opened Felix’s pants, dragging them over his thighs and towards the floor. Once the jeans had gone, Felix noticed he was almost entirely naked while Wooyoung was far from it. Without a second thought, he pulled the man’s shirt up, and over his head. To even it out, if you will. Now, not only their bodies but their pure skin was connecting. No restraints, no barriers. Only the two of them.

“I’m gonna go slow, okay? Let me know if you want me to do something different.”

As sweet as Felix identified the assurance to be, it was much unneeded. The second Wooyoung pulled him out of his briefs—tip red and leaking—he licked a thick stripe up the underside. That’s when Felix knew this would be excruciating in the best way immaginable.

Wooyoung worked him with so much knowledge and understanding of the male anatomy. It felt like he was inside Felix’s body, metaphorically. He knew exactly where to lick, where to suck and how to work him so he would fall apart below him. Felix’s eyes stayed glued to the beauty, watching him suck on his length and take him down his throat. As though he had never done anything else.

The past blowjobs Felix had received—which there were quite a few, thanks to his charming personality and sweet looks—had been good. He couldn’t lie that he had enjoyed every one of them, though it had never been this mind-numbing. Wooyoung had a technique to his movements only someone with a dick could come up with. Someone who had experienced many a blowjob first-hand— Felix was sure of that.

Spit slid down his length as Wooyoung navigated him deeper with each thrust, hands pumping what he couldn’t fit. His eyes filled with utter and total lust, gazes meeting when he looked up at Felix with a blurriness to his vision. It was a sight Felix had never seen—so pretty and feral. Enough to make him burst on the spot.

However, he couldn’t let that happen.

Felix’s hand on Wooyoung’s cheek urged him to let him fall from his mouth, cock glistening in a beautiful glow. He leaned down and connected their mouths as he tasted himself on Wooyoung’s tongue. Never had he tasted so delicious.

“Good?” Wooyoung asked as though he hadn’t made Felix see stars. Right now, he wasn’t sure he could ever feel as good again.

“So, so good.”

They shared a short moment of silence while Felix scooted back on the bed until he reached the headboard. Wooyoung situated himself above Felix’s lap as they continued their heated make-out session.

Felix admired Wooyoung’s broad chest and sculptured pecs while he planted wet kisses against his jaw. With as much confidence as Wooyoung presented, Felix wasn’t surprised his beauty continued past his face. Although he was still in awe of the perfect piece of art that was Wooyoung’s body. So chiselled, so muscular, so masculine. A dream come true in the most literal sense.

Delicate fingers ran over Felix’s stomach and snapped him out of his daydream. His abs tightened when he felt Wooyoung reach back and wrap his digits around his length.

“Oh, God.” Wooyoung seemed to enjoy the teasing too much, a triumphant grin on his features at the heightened reactivity in Felix’s expression. “Please. I— God.”

The grunt leaving Felix was nothing short of animalistic as Wooyoung’s thumbed over the head.

“You were saying?”

“I need you. Please.”

Bringing his hands back to his front, Wooyoung ended every direct skin contact to Felix. The loss of the physical component refocused all their senses while the fog in their brains lifted a little.

“You sure you want your first time to be drunk at a frat party?”

Felix appreciated Wooyoung’s caution, heart swelling as he wondered how he had deserved someone so considerate. A stranger, yes, but the most respectful one. However, this was hardly his first time. His body count filled all of one five-fingered hand. And even though this felt different, he was well aware of the vulnerability he exposed himself to.

“First of all, I’m not that drunk. See?” Felix straightened up as he positioned his pointer fingers at the corners of his peripheral vision. Bringing them together to touch right before his nose, he proofed his hypothesis. Much to Wooyoung’s amusement, who giggled at the adorable action. “Second, this isn’t my first time. I’ve done this before. With girls, yes. But I know what I’m getting myself into. And third, I really fucking want you to fuck me. Like yesterday.”

Opening up to Wooyoung seemed so easy after he had literally sucked his cock mere moments earlier. The guy’s sweet personality made it much easier for Felix to voice his wishes. He was sure about this.

Apparently, Wooyoung understood so much.

“Okay. But only under one condition.” Wooyoung’s fingers ran between Felix’s pecs and down his adonis belt. “You are the one doing the fucking this time. I have nothing to prep you with, and you want your first time to be slow, believe me. Ergo, you’re topping.”

“Alright,” Felix gave in with a laugh. If that’s what Wooyoung wanted to do, then Felix was content with being the penetrator rather than the penetrated. He also couldn’t deny the skip of his heartbeat when Wooyoung suggested there would be a second time. “One more thing. What’s topping?”

Eyes widening in amusement, Wooyoung couldn’t help but giggle at the younger’s words. “God, you’re innocent. Good thing you have me to show you everything you need to know.”

Rolling off Felix’s body, Wooyoung rid himself of his remaining clothes— jeans and underwear landing on top of Felix’s pile. With his free hand, Wooyoung reached for the nightstand and rummaged through its content with a hopeful expression.

“Come on, San-ie. Don’t disappoint me right now.” After a few seconds, his face lit up while he pulled lube and a condom from the drawer. “Do I know my best friend or what?”

“San. Is that the pink-haired guy?”

“Yup. I dyed it myself. You like it?” Wooyoung asked as he handed Felix the condom.

“It suits him well.” He rolled the piece of latex over himself with vigour while Wooyoung opened the lube and began spreading it between his cheeks. “So, this is his room? He doesn’t mind us using his bed?”

“Oh, I’m counting on it. San used mine so often, with so many different women, he should be paying half of my rent.” Felix chuckle was dark, eyes focusing on Wooyoung once he was back on top of him. “But enough about him.”

Felix’s eyes ran down Wooyoung’s naked form as he felt himself twitch against thin air. For a few rose-coloured seconds, he let himself enjoy the view of a beautiful man on top of him. His hands roamed over the older’s thighs, feeling the texture of his smooth, sun-kissed skin. He could have spent hours exploring every crevice of Wooyoung’s body.

In the dim lightening of the room, Wooyoung looked ethereal, muscular statue and pretty face only further continued in the shape of his cock. In no porn had Felix ever seen someone so enchanting, mouth watering at the mere sight of his erection. As much as Wooyoung had focused on him within the previous moments, Felix couldn’t shake the need to do the same for him. His own arousal pushed past its limits by the thought of making Wooyoung feel good.

Hands wandering further up his thighs, Felix soon reached the base of his dick. With one questioning look followed by an agreeing hum, Felix finally touched him.

He went slow at first, testing the waters and Wooyoung’s reactions to figure out what he liked. It took him not a minute to do so. Working Wooyoung the same way he worked himself in moments of privacy did the trick. It almost came natural to him as he collected the guy’s pre-cum to smear it over his length, hand pumping from base to tip in short, rhythmic motions.

“Fuck. You’re so pretty.”

The words were as much unsolicited as they were unintentional, though Wooyoung enjoyed the compliment. A blush appeared on his cheeks as he closed the gap, pushing his hungry mouth against Felix’s.

“How about you fuck me and see how much prettier I can become.”

Felix, yet again, felt himself twitch at the crudeness of the words, proving to himself that, yes. He might have a thing for dirty talk. Though that realisation was for another day to explore. With his bottom lip between his teeth, Wooyoung shimmied down his body until he reached his lap. Squirting some of the lube onto his palm, Wooyoung lost no time to massage it into Felix’s length.

“Ready?”

“God, yes.”

As Wooyoung sunk all the way to complete fullness, Felix realised that was a lie. He could have never prepared for the feeling of Wooyoung’s snug hole, so much tighter than anything he had ever felt around himself before. His hands flew to the older’s thighs as he moved up and down and steadied himself by clawing his nails into Felix’s skin.

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

“You have no idea how amazing you feel,” Wooyoung agreed with a moan, hands resting on Felix’s stomach for support. “You think you can move? Meet me in the middle?”

“I don’t even know if I can breathe right now.”

His words were met with a giggle, though despite his inability to think, Felix lifted his hip up to meet him. Moving against gravity was more demanding than he had anticipated, but the look of pure bliss on Wooyoung’s face made it worthwhile.

He definitely hadn’t lied when he said he’d become even prettier while fucked out.

They soon found a rhythm that was comfortable for either. Still, Felix knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Not when Wooyoung caressed all his senses so perfectly, eyes, ears, hands, mouth and mind filled with nothing but him. The world stood still around them, entirely immersed in the moment.

One particularly sharp thrust poked Felix’s attention, tip hitting a spot within Wooyoung that made him throw his head back with a whimper. His body trembled under Felix’s palms, abdominal muscles pulling Wooyoung forward and crouching over the younger. At first, Felix believed whatever he had done had hurt Wooyoung. Once the older opened his eyes—gaze veiled in animalistic hunger—Felix understood it wasn’t a grunt of pain.

“Was that…”

“My prostate? Fuck, yes.” Stilling on top of him, Wooyoung needed to rest for a second. Right when he took up his previous movements, Felix fell back into the same rhythm. Five thrusts in, the same thing happened again, though Wooyoung didn’t stop this time. To say that the sight was divine would have been a crude understatement. “Fuck… Touch me, baby. Please!”

The first time Wooyoung begged him for something—rather than the other way around—Felix identified another new kink. This was all new anyways, and Wooyoung still unleashed underlying desires Felix hadn’t even known existed.

Felix’s hands flew to Wooyoung’s dick, stroking it in unison with his thrusts. And like that, the older fell apart on top of him.

Felix had only ever seen a man cum through the screen of his laptop. It had seemed so fake, the whimpering and grunting way too excessive to be genuine. Or so he thought.

When Wooyoung hit his high, he completely slumped with a groan in Felix’s ear as he released onto his stomach. Hot spurts painted his abs in white, running between the crevices and towards his navel—and there was so much of it. Felix wasn’t quite sure if this was still considered healthy.

Despite being in a state of utter bliss, Wooyoung kept moving, dragging out his orgasm and urging Felix towards his own. The sight and noises would have gotten him there as was. The added pleasure of Wooyoung’s tired hole clenching and his intense eyes eventually launched him into his sweet, sweet release.

Panting beside each other, they tried catching their breaths for a few minutes. It could have been hours, for all Felix cared. He couldn’t have been trusted with anything right now, not even telling the time.

At some point, Felix cleaned himself before reclaiming his position under Wooyoung, with the older’s head propped on his chest.

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

Chuckling filled the room as their gazes fixated on the ceiling. Wooyoung pressed kisses against Felix’s chest on occasion, a sweet gesture that was much appreciated. The longer they remained entangled, listening to each other’s breathing, the faster Felix’s mind spun. The kissing, the tension, the desire. Everything was so fresh in his mind but, at the same time, felt so far away. He couldn’t deny that after finally figuring out why everyone was so obsessed with sex, he couldn’t wait to experience it again.

Wooyoung figured Felix’s mind out with one short look at his lap.

“You’re still hard.”

It wasn’t so much still as it was again, his body visibly not done yet despite having reached a peak minutes ago.

“Because you’re still pretty.”

The explanation forced Wooyoung’s cheeks into another blush as he kissed Felix, softer this time but just as passionate. Climbing back on top of him, Wooyoung nipped at Felix’s bruised neck, making him moan at the mix of pain and pleasure.

“That’s gonna be a bitch to cover up tomorrow,” Wooyoung recognised with a giggle as his gaze met Felix’s. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright. I like having a visual reminder for the next few days.”

“Well, if that’s so…”

Trailing off, Wooyoung leaned back down, sucking on Felix’s chest. A red bruise appeared within seconds of him biting and licking over the flesh, Felix holding him close by his hair to keep him going. Any direct skin contact Wooyoung gave him Felix couldn’t get enough of. He wanted to live in this moment for as long as possible.

The fire in his stomach reignited when the older licked over his nipples, swirling the buds between his lips. The shock waves coursing through Felix reached his cock, which twitched in excitement.

Yup, he definitely wasn’t done for today.

While Wooyoung kissed his way all over Felix’s chest, the younger reentered heaven. He couldn’t help but ponder what else there was he hadn’t tried yet. Like giving blowjobs. Or whatever the antonym of topping was. He couldn’t quite wait to figure it out, although some higher power forced patience on him.

Felix wanted to ask Wooyoung if he could taste him, but he didn’t get there. Before anything else could happen, the door to the room opened with a creek, and Felix’s head snapped up. His eyes darted to the entrance, shock written on his face as his gaze met the intruder’s.

He couldn’t quite tell whether you had recognised him. Although the lighting most likely wasn’t dark enough to shield his identity. You must have identified him. But he couldn’t react fast enough. As soon as you had appeared, you muttered a perplexed “I’m sorry” and pulled the door shut. Leaving Felix with only fear and a hard-on he wasn’t so sure would find any true relief for the rest of the night

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