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winetae · 3 years ago

Text

❆ ANTIFREEZE ❆

— jimin x female!reader

— smut, pwp | college!au, ballet/christmas au

— alpha/beta/omega-verse, mentions of anxiety & insecurity, mutual pining, semi-public sex, praise kink, spanking, jimin’s thighs in tights, everyone’s putting their inhuman flexibility to good use

— 11.7k

‘Don’t sleep with your dance partners.’

For three years, Jimin has followed the above rule religiously. Who knew it would take a vengeful ex, a Christmas fundraiser, and a pair of torn tights for his resolve to crumble?

↳ alternatively : Jimin participates in the school’s adaption of The Nutcracker for extra credit but doesn’t expect his new dance partner to a) be this bad at dancing and b) be this fucking cute

❆ part of the happy ho-lidays collab ❆

author’s notes | fic inspo - antifreeze by the black skirts/baek yerin. also we’re going to collectively ignore that i did 9 years of ballet bc i took way too many liberties with this fic. balanchine is rolling around in his grave.

happy holidays everyone ♡ @floralseokjin @suga-kookiemonster @sugaurora @underthejoon @btssavedmylifeblr @kpopfanfictrash

instead of a fluid, continuous story, this fic is more like several snippets of various length put together :) the jimin in this fic is gcf in helsinki/bs&t jimin !!

❆ we had wandered around the universe all alone, feeling so lonely ❆

Jimin figures out pretty early on that life is a lottery with three possible outcomes: there are good days, mediocre days, and days he wishes he could fast-forward to the next.

So the moment he rouses from sleep and realizes that it’s past his usual wake-up time, he just knows that today is going to be option number 3 - call it an omen, a gut feeling, ESP, whatever. Jimin instinctively knows he’s fucked.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” he spits out as he stares at his black phone screen in betrayal.

Bright sunlight peeks out from behind his half-closed blinds indicating that it’s well past 6 am.

“Where the hell is my charger? Damn it.”

He rolls out of bed and crouches down on the floor, hands blindly patting the space under his mattress. All he manages to unearth is a pencil and a dusty black sock he’d given up on finding weeks ago. By the time he finally locates the cursed object buried at the bottom of his dance bag and gets his phone to turn back on again, his stomach churns painfully.

The numbers on his screen don’t lie. It’s nearing noon which means he’s skipped out on two - almost three - classes. He’s never been late for class - not even once - so the mere idea of him missing his lessons has him on edge.

“Ugh.” He feels like he’s going to be sick.

Just what is he supposed to do now? Jimin tries to mentally map out his daily schedule except half of his day is now gone and he still has twice as many things to do before it’s truly over. The realization that he won’t accomplish his objectives today hits him like a ton of bricks.

“Jimin?” he hears his roommate scuffle around nervously behind his bedroom door. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

He winces, realizing too late that his distress must have soured his scent. As a beta, Hoseok’s nose isn’t able to pick out the fluctuations in his emotions unless they’re on the extremity of the spectrum.

“Jimin?” Hoseok tries again, knocking on the door this time, insistent.

“I’ll be out in a sec! Just give me a minute.”

A pause, and then, “Okay, I’ll wait for you in the kitchen. Take your time.”

Jimin waits until he hears the sound of Hoseok’s footsteps disappear before breathing in deeply, trying to get his scent back under control. Over the years, he’s mastered the art of clearing his mind and keeping his pheromones in check but there are occasional cracks in his composure.

He knows some people don’t give a flying fuck about scent control and just let their emotions and scents run wild, not concerned in the least with how it’ll affect their surrounding environment. Those people being alphas, typically. Or betas whose scents are biologically too faint to be perceived by the majority of the population.

Jimin, on the other hand, doesn’t have that luxury. Spraying his pheromones everywhere is bound to attract unwanted advances - and the last thing he wants is for people to say he was asking for the attention.

Somehow, he manages to push through the nausea swimming in his belly. He applies a fresh layer of scent blocker over his scent glands just for good measure before unlocking his door.

He slinks out of his room, half-expecting Hoseok to be hovering near the door, a worried look painted on his face, but finds him in the kitchen instead.

Hoseok looks up just as he finishes throwing in a few branches of celery into the smoothie maker Jimin had gotten him two birthdays ago.

“Jimin! I’m making protein shakes. Want some?”

“No, thank you.” Jimin’s nose wrinkles in distaste. He’s seen the ingredients his roommate likes to mix together - an assortment of fruits, green vegetables, and chunks of chicken breast - and no amount of convincing would get him to drink the concoction for free.

“Your loss.” He shrugs and adds in the remaining apple slices to the blender before closing the lid.

The machine whirs to life, filling the silence with the sound of food being pulverized. During this time, Jimin debates on whether he should get his worries off his chest. He knows Hoseok won’t ask him about his problems - not for lack of care, but because he knows Jimin appreciates the space.

His consideration for Jimin’s feelings might explain how they’ve been able to remain friends for so long. Living together is comfortable because Hoseok treats him normally - no fawning, no catering to his every desire, no dictating his every move.

“You sure you don’t want some?”

Jimin tries not to gag as Hoseok pours the greenish mixture into a tall glass and pokes the top with a hot-pink colored straw. “I’ll pass.”

Maybe it’s because of his friend’s relaxed posture that he ends up blurting out everything weighing on his mind.

“It’s not a big deal,” he says once he’s done listening to Jimin’s rant.

Jimin gapes at him, eyebrows raised in protest. “Not a big deal?”

“Everyone’s missed out on class once or twice in their lives. The instructor will understand. Just tell them you were sick.” Hoseok shrugs, the picture perfect example of boyish insouciance.

Jimin envies him. He wishes he could replicate Hoseok’s easy-going demeanor and casual attitude towards life. Even back when his friend was still a college student, he’d juggled his academic duties and social life without any problems. Meanwhile, Jimin’s entire existence orbits around dance, leaving space for nothing else.

“It’ll be okay!” Hoseok grins, oblivious to his inner conflict. “You still have afternoon classes you can attend, right? I’ll drop you off!”

“Thanks.” He glances at the cat-shaped clock hanging on the wall. “I’ll go get ready, then.”

Despite having scarfed down his protein shake earlier, Hoseok insists that they stop by Angel’s Bagels on the way.

“Sometimes the thought of eating their pastrami bagel keeps me up at night.”

“You drive by here all the time,” Jimin points out, reminding him that the dance academy where he teaches beginner hip-hop is only a few blocks down from HYBE. “You could just eat here more often instead of losing sleep over a bagel.”

“No way.” Hoseok looks affronted by the suggestion. “I’m not paying full price for a menu. Makes me feel old. And besides, your student ID is still valid for a few months. We have to take full advantage of these perks while you still have them! You won’t stay young forever.”

“Yeah, okay,” he humors him.

After several minutes of searching, they finally manage to find an empty parking space tucked between a gnarly tree and the back of a nondescript building. It’s a tight fit but Hoseok is determined to make it work, “we can’t give up now, Jimin. We are not weak.”

“It’s just a bagel. We can get them at Starbucks,” Jimin tries, eyes glued to a branch that’s this close to coming into contact with the wing mirror.

“Just a bagel?! Just?”

“Forget it.” With the car’s paint job on the line, Jimin quickly abandons the suggestion, not wanting to distract his friend whilst in the middle of such a crucial moment.

“Aha!” Hoseok cheers once he parks the car successfully. “I almost deserve two bagels for the effort that took me, don’t you think?”

“You can have a bite of mine, if you want,” Jimin offers as he unbuckles his seat belt and climbs out of the car, careful not to bump the door into a wayward branch.

Hoseok’s smile widens, his row of perfectly straight teeth on show. “Two bites!”

“Two bites,” Jimin agrees easily.

When they enter Angel’s Bagels, the familiar oily smell of bacon and ham reach his nose first. It’s so strong that it momentarily eclipses the scent of the students crowding around tables and mingling by the counter as they wait for their orders to be ready.

“Damn it’s packed already,” Hoseok pouts, shoulders drooping in disappointment. “I’ll go and try to find us some seats.”

Jimin hums, casting a glance around the popular establishment. “You want the usual?”

“Yeah, thanks! And a latte. With almond milk and a shot of vanilla.” He gives Jimin a thumbs-up before pushing his way through a throng of students, on the hunt for two free seats.

Jimin goes to stand in line, gaze sweeping the menu as he tries to find a bagel that will suit his and Hoseok’s taste. Once he settles for a relatively safe option - fried egg, cream cheese and aragula - he takes out his phone to play Candy Crush while he waits for the line to move up.

He’s in the middle of a streak when the barista calls for his turn.

“What would you like today?”

“I’ll have one pastrami bagel and one egg in a hole,” he lists off, adding on the coffee orders. He flashes his student ID and the barista’s mouth falls open in surprise.

“You’re Park Jimin from the dance department?” the barista chirps as he swipes his credit card before handing it back to him. “I remember seeing you in Romeo and Juliet back in June! You’re really amazing!”

Before he can thank him, a voice behind him calls out, greasy and dripping in confidence.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Jimin hates that he recognizes the voice right away. He hates everything about his day but so far this takes the cake.

He grabs his brown bag and briskly walks away towards where a group of students are waiting for their beverages. Maybe if he ignores his pursuer, they’ll give up and leave him alone.

Of course - all of this ends up being wishful thinking.

“Hey, Park Jimin, I was talking to you.”

Maybe he’s out of karma points or perhaps his moon is in Jupiter and the stars are not in his favor. Either way, he knows in that moment that things are only going to get worse from here on out.

“What?” He look back over his shoulder and regrets it immediately.

“It’s been a while. I almost didn’t recognize you.” Ian motions at his hair. “Nice hair, it looks good.”

The compliment doesn’t even sound genuine.

“Yeah.” Jimin turns back around, fixing his phone screen like his life depends on it. He scrolls through his instragram page, scrutinizing the screen so intensely, his vision blurs at the edges.

“So...” Ian steps forward so that they’re now standing side by side. “It’s been a while. Let me buy you a coffee.”

For fuck’s sake!!!! Jimin wants to rip his hair out in frustration.

“I already ordered.”

“I was just trying to be nice,” Ian raises his hands in defense, trying to pass off as a harmless and benevolent friend. “It’s been so long since we last caught up.”

“Sorry, but no. I already have plans.”

“Then - this weekend? We can go see the new Spiderman movie.”

“No, thanks.”

“Okay, okay. Well what about next -”

“No,” he finally snaps, exasperated. “Can’t you take a hint? I’m not interested.”

Ian’s scent flares, bold and aggressive, dousing the near vicinity in cumin and sandalwood. The person behind them yelps, surprised by the sudden influx of pheromones, and backs away from the pair nervously.

Jimin doesn’t blame them - Ian’s woodsy scent is overbearing and triggers the animal fight or flight reaction within him. He doesn’t know if Ian’s doing it on purpose as an intimidation tactic or if all alphas are inherently irascible and volatile.

“This is exactly why I don’t date alphas,” he fumes, embarrassed that the scene is attracting unwanted attention. All around him, people whisper and Jimin knows from experience that by the time the sun sets, the news will have spread all over campus. “It’s astounding how you lot never take ‘no’ as an answer.”

Ian scoffs, a sneer twisting his features. “I was trying to do you a favor. You think people actually want to date stuck-up omegas like you? Fuck.”

He pushes his hair back and barks out a laugh, like he can’t believe someone of Jimin’s stature dares reject him - in public no less.

“One vanilla latte and one hazelnut cappuccino,” the barista squeaks over the Christmas carol booming through the overhead speakers, looking like he’d prefer to be anywhere but there. “F-for Jimin.”

“I should have known,” Ian mutters, laughing bitterly as Jimin walks up to fetch his order. “Of course you’d be here with someone already.”

“Ego can’t handle being turned down for the second time, huh?” Jimin smirks, ignoring his omegean instinct that tells him to lay low when confronting a hostile threat. “You gonna start crying next?”

“What’s going on here?” Hoseok finally appears and frowns, immediately taking note of the thick tension souring the air. “I thought - Oh great.”

His gaze falls upon Ian and immediately his features harden as he steps in, his body acting as a sort of human shield.

“You’re dating a beta?” Ian guffaws, contempt coating his every word. “Are you sure he can even keep up with a guy like you.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Hoseok narrows his eyes and tugs on Jimin’s sleeve. “Let’s get out of here. It fucking reeks because of him.”

Jimin follows him out but not before spiting, “dumb knotheads like you always wonder why you can’t get laid.”

He hates not having the last word, even if the desire is childish and, at times, dangerous. His mother would have advised against it but Ian’s reaction - fists clenched by his sides, teeth grinding together - makes his outburst worth it.

More than that, he despises how most alphas act like they’re entitled to everything and everyone, and that just because he’s an omega, he’s expected to bend over backwards to cater to them. Yeah...fuck that. It’s not the 1940s anymore. Jimin refuses to let himself be bullied around for reasons out of his control.

Hoseok makes Jimin walk in front of him as a precaution, like he’s afraid Ian will chase them down at any moment and attack. In all honesty, Jimin wouldn’t put such a primitive reaction past him - so he doesn’t comment on Hoseok going full feral protective.

“I’m fine,” sighs Jimin once they’re back in the car. He’s had time to get his scent back under control during their walk back.

“I’m sorry.” Hoseok stares down at the bagel Jimin hands him in regret. “I should’ve stayed with you.”

“I’m not a fucking baby,” Jimin reminds him before taking a big bite out of his bagel, chewing with more aggression than strictly necessary.

“You’re not.” Hoseok agrees and takes a tentative bite out his own. “Still...”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault - or mine. He’s just a dumb alpha.”

Hoseok snorts around a mouthful of pastrami. “True. He really gives alphas a bad rep... Thank God they’re not all like that.”

Outside the car it starts to rain.

“You bring an umbrella?”

“I don’t think I own one.”

Jimin turns to his friend, not bothering to conceal his judgemental stare. “How does one own a fanny pack and not an umbrella?”

“Hey. I don’t see you carrying around an umbrella, either.”

Jimin’s got nothing to say to that. He groans, looking out the window and hoping for a miracle.

“What a shitty day.”

“But think on the bright side!” Hoseok says mid-chew. “Your day can only go up from here!”

“Don’t jinx me. I need all the luck I can get.”

Hoseok has definitely jinxed him, Jimin thinks bitterly as he trudges up the stairs towards his professor’s office.

Although he hadn’t been scheduled to see his professor until next week’s Self Care for Professional Dancers class, he’d been intercepted in the changing rooms after Contemporary with a message from the professor asking for a meeting.

Considering how well his day is going so far, Jimin suspects the surprise rendezvous won’t be in his favor.

He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door twice before turning the doorknob.

“Jimin! Come in.”

The door shuts close behind him and at once Jimin is enveloped by the chemical scent of descenting spray. It’s still got an acidic tinge to it - a dead giveaway that it’s been freshly sprayed - and Jimin tries not to be obvious about the way he switches to breathing through his mouth instead of through his nose. He knows his professor is only following standard etiquette but Jimin’s sense of smell has always been more sensitive than the rest. Scent blockers and sprays don’t erase personal scents, at least not in their entirety.

“You wanted to see me, Sir?”

“Ah, Jimin.” Professor Jo looks up from his stack of papers and puts down his ballpoint pen. “Have a seat.”

“I’m not in trouble, am I?”

“No, not in trouble.” He clears his throat and continues, "as you know, graduation is right around the corner..."

Jimin nods, trying not to let confusion bleed through his expression of polite interest.

"And, well, I'm concerned. About you."

"About...me?” Jimin licks his lips, feeling his mouth go dry.

"Have you decided which dance company you’d like to apply for next year?"

"I'm still weighing my options.”

He answers vaguely on purpose, shifting his gaze away to focus on the snow globe placed on the desk instead. It’s the only festive decoration in the office - a ballerina with angel wings, legs split in a grand jeté.

The professor heaves a sigh and scratches his beard.

“I figured you’d say as much.” The sound of his professor’s disappointment is irksome but Jimin remains quiet. “Jimin - let me ask you this. Do you want to join a dance company?”

Jimin’s gaze snaps up, confusion marring his face.

“I don’t understand.” Frowning, he remembers to add on, “Sir.”

“You’re a spectacular dancer, Jimin. Although, I’m sure you’re already aware of it. But I can’t help but worry about you recently...”

“Is this - is this because I missed class this morning?” Jimin asks incredulously, feeling wronged.

“I was not aware of your absence this morning.” The teacher raises his brow but chooses to get back to the issue at hand. “Lately, a few of your instructors have been voicing their concern over your lack of...enthusiasm, shall we say.”

Jimin’s mind goes blank as he tries to process what has just been said. He lacks enthusiasm? Him? The words are like a slap in the face. All the hours, months, years spent training flash in front of his eyes. No one knows how much he’s sacrificed to be where he is now.

“Enthusiasm?” he parrots, voice hollow.

“Yes, enthusiasm. Passion.” Professor Jo smiles sadly, almost like he’s pitying him. “Many people drop out of our university. Why is that, do you think? As a teacher, I’ve asked myself this question many times. What could I have done to keep them on track? The answer, I realized, was not so simple. Graduating is not the final goal one must chase after. My role should be to help students hone their talents and nurture their love for the craft, not force them to adhere to academic rules and regulations.”

“I don’t quite follow.”

“Many gifted dancers develop tunnel vision,” he continues. “Most believe: ‘in order to succeed, I must be the best, no matter what it takes’. Of course, the cut-throat and competitive environment they’re thrust into fuels this mindset. Sometimes competition brings out the best in dancers - and sometimes the worst.”

“So you’re saying I’m too focused on being the best? I’m sorry, Sir, but I fail to understand how this is a negative trait. How can I improve if I don’t constantly push my limits?”

“This year, several disciplines are teaming up for our annual Christmas fundraiser. I think it will be a good opportunity for you. Not often are dancers allowed to dance just for the sake of it.”

Oh hell no. He sees where this is going and there is no way his professor is seriously suggesting he join the kiddie version of The Nutcracker. It’s not a production anyone takes seriously, for one, since the Christmas fundraiser performance is traditionally composed of freshmen who want or need more stage experience, with families and children making up the majority of the audience.

“Respectfully, Sir, I already have a performance scheduled in January.”

“I think you will manage perfectly.” Professor Jo beams. “As you might already know, HYBE’s variation of The Nutcracker is choreographed with children in mind. In short, it’s a stripped-down, kid-friendly version of the ballet we all know and love. Rehearsals are a week long and shouldn’t take up much of your time.”

Jimin opens his mouth to protest. “I’m sorry but I don’t have any incentive to do this.”

“Incentive? Well, if you really need a motive...” He hums, deep in thought. “Let’s see. Your grades in anatomy/kinesiology are a bit lacking, aren’t they? I’ll have a word with your professor. I’m sure she’ll be willing to count your participation in the fundraiser event as extra credit.”

Uh...what exactly is the correlation between The Nutcracker and kinesiology?

Jimin’s not naive; he suspects there must be ulterior reasons for his professor’s forceful suggestion.

But his suspicion is quickly buried by the sheer fatigue that’s built up over the day. He’s so fucking tired. All he wants right now is to dunk his body in a hot bath and spend the rest of the evening cuddled up on the couch binging a Netflix series.

“So? What do you think?”

His professor doesn’t seem like he’ll take ‘no’ for an answer.

Is that today’s theme? Jimin thinks, resentful. On the bright side, he muses, attempting to channel his inner-Hoseok, I’ll bring my grade average up. I’ll get to dance onstage and help a charitable cause. .

If today has taught him anything, it’s that he desperately needs to build his karma points back up. Maybe his shitty day is God’s way of telling him he needs to do better.

He drags his gaze back up and meets his professor’s inquisitive stare and tries not to rethink his decision.

“Ok. I’ll participate.”

“Wonderful! Just wait and see, Jimin. This performance might just change your life.”

❆ someday, when the sun and moon overlap, everything will become clear ❆

Pre-class warm-up is in full swing by the time you enter Studio B13.

Groups of dancers are splayed across the floor, their fingertips stretched past their toes, while others are gathered near the wall with their legs high up on the barre.

It’s not an unusual for dancers to chatter amongst themselves quietly while they warm-up their hamstrings and calves but today you can’t help but notice the room is buzzing with festive energy.

Christmas has that effect on people, you think warmly as you place your water bottle alongside the side wall. Everything about the holiday season - from the sweet smell of candy canes and pine trees to the multicolored lights that make the streets glimmer - paints your existence in bright hues of green, red, and white.

One of your friends waves you over and you go join her on the floor, legs easing into your first stretch.

“Did you hear? Park Jimin’s taking over Junho’s role,” she says, impish smile on her face, before reaching over her left foot, hips opened in a wide split.

“Jimin? Park Jimin? Which one?"

The name is too common; there are maybe six Park Jimin’s in the dance department alone. Surely she can't mean -

"Don’t play coy now! Park Jimin! Your idol. The guy whose thighs you fantasize about on the daily.”

"Wh- what do you mean?” you say at a loss for words, mouth agape with incredulity. Taken aback by the news, you forget to deny your infatuation with the school’s star dancer. “He’s really going to join? But, just - why?”

Park Jimin might as well be the dance department’s mascot; he’s front and center on every poster advertising your major, and his face is spotlighted on Hybe’s homepage website. Everyone - from fellow dancers to the dance instructors - cite him as an example to follow.

You don’t know if you’d go as far as to call him your idol but - you can’t deny the admiration you harbor. Every time you hear about his never-ending list of impressive accomplishments, you’re filled with awe and the motivation to work harder.

“Why? Who knows?” Ryujin shrugs. “Maybe he likes children?”

Seniors rarely, if ever, participate in the Christmas fundraiser projects. They’re too busy rehearsing for various performances and prepping for their graduation examination and their professional auditions to bother with the extra effort.

The idea of Park Jimin and you sharing the same stage seems too far-fetched to be true. Jimin is an accredited soloist, regularly cast in main principal roles including in the highly sought-after collaborations with renowned guest choreographers. Rumors even go as far as to say artistic directors from different dance companies show up during his performances to try to scout him.

There’s no way he’ll ever agree to join a small, no name production.

That’s what you think, anyway, before Jimin himself walks in, a dance bag slung over his shoulder.

At first you think you’re mistaken. Maybe the lack of sleep is finally getting to you and is causing you to hallucinate. You’re even willing to write it off as a trick of the light - because after all, why would someone like him participate in this ballet in the first place? Yet the harder you stare, the less room there is for misinterpretation.

Several people gasp as they also take notice of this new addition and the room gradually falls silent.

Jimin doesn’t seem to mind the attention, his features aligned into an expression of casual indifference. He props his bag against the wall - right by your water bottle!!! - and leans down to rummage through its contents like everything is perfectly normal.

“See,” Ryujin nudges her foot against yours as she switches positions. “Didn’t I tell you?”

You stare back at her, wide-eyed and momentarily incapable of coherency.

“Did he break your brain?” she snickers when you fail to reply. “He’s just another guy. You’d think he was a k-pop singer or something with the way you’re drooling.”

You quickly wipe at your mouth, ignoring the way your friend breaks out into giggles.

“He’s more than that,” you finally manage, keeping your voice down. The last thing you want is for him to mistake you for an enamored fangirl - even if that is kind of what you are. “If you’d seen him in last year’s Carmen, you’d get it. His dancing is...”

You trail off, remembering how wonder-struck you’d been as he glided across the stage. No one else had captured your attention like he had - it went beyond immaculate dance lines and powerful fouetté turns. Even now, you would give anything to rewind the hands of time just to watch his goosebumps-inducing performance for the first time again.

Ryujin looks like she’s about to tease you further when your dance instructor, Park Wootae, suddenly strides into the studio. As your attention shifts onto him, you take notice of his jovial disposition immediately.

Your fellow dancers interrupt their stretches to gather on the floor.

Instructor Wootae begins by greeting the class. “Hi everyone. I know a lot has changed since we last saw each other but I trust that you’ve all been well.”

A few dancers greet him back more or less enthusiastically. Most of them, including yourself, are waiting for him to address the elephant in the room.

“As you’re all well aware of by now, Junho has had to step down from his role as the prince for...personal reasons.”

Through the mirror’s reflection you can see some students share a grimace. You share the sentiment. The very public fight between him and Yoona had been ugly; it was the sort of drama befitting American reality TV shows.

“Thankfully, Jimin here has agreed to fill his shoes amidst his busy schedule. Why don’t you say a few words for those who might not know who you are?”

Jimin clears his throat and you take the opportunity to dare look at him head-on.

Unlike the previous times you’d caught glimpses of him from the audience seats and the stage wings, you can now clearly see his every feature - from his silver, side swept hair, to his sharp collarbones and thick thighs.

You gulp as he catches you mid-oggle, a sudden rush of embarrassment making your face heat up.

His gaze returns to the center of the room and he introduces himself, his voice steady and full of confidence.

“I’m Park Jimin, fourth year. A few of you might have seen me in Giselle, Romeo and Juliet, and Esplanade this year - to name a few works. I look forward to working with you.”

He bows and students break into applause, the instructor joining them, beaming.

“Wootae’s struck gold.” Ryujin mutters under her breath. “I suspect the turn-out this year will be crazy.”

Silently, you agree. Jimin’s name is guaranteed to attract spectators, regardless of the quality of the production. Personally, you’re more than willing to cough up money even if it’s just to see Park Jimin dance a solo with Jingle Bell Rock as the accompanying piece.

“Alright.” Wootae clasps Jimin’s shoulder in encouragement. “Today we’ll go over Act I. Tom, Junho’s understudy, will dance the role of the prince for now. Emma will be your partner for - Where is Emma?”

Silence befalls the studio as some students exchange nervous glances.

Although you’re not privy to the nitty-gritty details, you suspect the reason’s she’s walked out of the production is somehow linked to the Junho/Yoona drama. Everyone more or less knew they’d been sleeping together and they hadn’t done anything to hide their dalliance, especially when they turned up to rehearsals coated in each other’s scent.

“She - um,” Tom clears his throat. “Won’t be coming back.”

Wootae’s features turn stony. “I see.” He casts a glance around the room and calls out the name of Emma’s understudy. “Minjung will play Clara, then. We’ll rehearse from the top after a quick class warm-up.”

Minjung blanches and even you, a beta with a weak nose, can smell her discomfort from across the room. You try to send her an encouraging smile but she doesn’t catch it, mind elsewhere.

Honestly, you don’t blame her - going from a snowflake to a principal role overnight would make you terribly nervous as well.

Fauré’s Pavane starts playing as Wootae circles the floor, his eyes scanning the room. “Kira, shoulders back, tummy tucked - fix that posture. Tom get that leg up higher.”

You try to concentrate - mindful to keep your toes pointed and arms perfectly aligned - but every so often your focus is shaken, gaze flitting towards Jimin. From where you stand in the back of the second row, your view of his reflection in the mirror is far from perfect.

Wootae calls your name and it catches you completely off guard. Embarrassment burns through you as you clumsily finish your pas de chat.

“Your focus in terrible today.”

He’s right, you note duly. Now is not the time to let yourself get caught up in the excitement of Jimin joining The Nutcracker. Unlike a normal dance class, the quality of your dancing won’t just impact your grade. Being part of a ballet means that the entire performance depends on how well you do.

With that in mind, you renew your efforts, determined to not make any other mistakes. Wootae nods in your direction, the only sign of appreciation, before circling back to the front of the studio.

“Alright let’s take Act I from the top.”

The dancers move to the side of the studio as you await your cues, while Minjung gets ready. Wootae starts playing the music and everyone watches as Minjung starts the opening scene.

Even from where you’re standing, you can tell she’s terribly nervous. She stumbles through steps and misses the timing several times. Your eyes flit from her to Wootae, and back to her. The more you watch her dance, the more nervous you become; it’s almost as if her anxiety is contagious.

Wootae stops the music before her part finishes. Everyone holds their breath as they wait for him to speak.

“You don’t know the choreo, do you?”

Minjung shifts her weight from foot to foot. She knows she can’t lie.

“Being an understudy means I trust you just as much as the principal dancer to commit to the role,” he says, voice hard. “Not being great at it, I can understand because we haven’t practiced. But when you show up, I expect you to, at the very least, know the dance.”

He crosses his arm as he surveys the room. “Does anyone know the choreo?”

The silence that befalls the room is suffocating. You wring your hands together, not daring to look at your instructor.

“Has no one bothered to learn it?” he asks again, ice creeping into his words.

You don’t know what comes over you. Maybe you’ve finally lost it.

“I know it,” you squeak out, trying not to shrink in on yourself as everyone in the room turns to look at you. Everything around you is distorted and fuzzy around the edges. Your legs feel numb, sluggish, unwilling to cooperate. Even when Ryujin mouths at you from the sidelines, you can’t make out what she says. “I know... the choreography up until the middle of Act II.”

Silence. And then, “Let’s see it then.”

You make your way towards the center of the floor, all too aware of the probing stares aimed your way. The attention makes you self-conscious and distantly, you wonder why you’ve chosen today of all days to make a fool out of yourself.

“Ready?”

But when the opening notes drift from the speakers, your whole world shifts into focus and everything becomes clear once more. Nothing matters but you and the music.

❆ even if the familiar streets shine like mirrors and thin ice floats on top of the coffee you handed me, you and i won’t freeze ❆

Jimin pauses in the doorway awkwardly, hand still on the door knob.

You’re the last person he expects to see in the practice room - not that he’d expected anyone in the first place. Most of his classmates prefer to practice after hours, late into the night, rather than wake up at the ass crack of dawn to train.

Jimin likes practicing alone. It’s easier. No scents weighing down the air, no probing gazes dissecting his every move. Although he enjoys the validation that comes with the attention, sometimes it feels like he’s balanced on a tightrope, with no room for mistakes.

He contemplates finding another available room to use as he glances down to check the time on his phone. There’s an hour and a half left before his first class is scheduled to begin so if he plans on making any progress with his part, he’s better off just staying here instead of wasting his precious time searching for an unlocked, empty practice room.

Sighing, he resigns himself to sharing the studio space with you. At least, he thinks, he’ll be able to ask you about the stage blocking they hadn’t had the time to go over. In spite of yesterday’s poor demonstration, you’d been the only one who’d put in the effort to memorize all the choreography.

He drops off his ballet bag next to yours and sits down on the floor to slide on his ballet slippers.

Tchaikovsky’s music continues to play, uninterrupted, as you practice Wootae’s choreography. The tune is painfully familiar, bringing back memories of his first ever on-stage ballet performance as a vicious, nameless mouse. He huffs out a laugh, suddenly reminded of the god-awful armpit smell that he’d been forced to breathe in every time he donned the mouse headpiece.

As the music comes to an end, Jimin realizes that you haven’t acknowledged his presence yet. No hi, hello, or even a look in his direction. Either you’re too caught up in practice - or you’ve chosen to purposefully ignore him.

The second option bothers him more than he’s willing to admit.

“Oh.” You gasp as you turn around, meeting his eyes. The moment lasts for a few seconds at most, broken when you fix the floor with your gaze.

“Hi.” Jimin smiles, polite and pleased that he still has the same effect on you as yesterday.

Surprise colors your expression and your fingers fidget by your side. “H-hello.”

There’s a cute stutter in your speech. He wants to see more of it.

Instantly, he catches himself slipping. He knows he’s not supposed to desire you in any romantic way, not after he’s made it his life motto to not sleep with his dance partners.

So instead of flirting, he offers to rehearse your scenes together. Unlike most variations of The Nutcracker, Wootae’s version includes a pas de deux between the nutcracker and Clara at the end of Act I.

Throughout the hour, he tries to keep things strictly professional between the two of you. He listens and asks questions, soaks up your explanations and demonstrations, and keeps his hands to himself.

He tries. He does. But he can’t help but find it endearing when you refuse to meet his gaze. Especially when he clearly sees you sneaking peeks at his thighs when he’s not looking.

It’s harmless, he thinks, when he asks you if you want to grab coffee after dancing for an hour. Coffee can be strictly professional, right? He’s not breaking any of his rules.

He brings you to his favorite coffee shop, happy with his decision when you look around, enchanted by the holiday decorations. It’s a small, hole in the wall kind of place, not known to many people. Jimin enjoys it because he can breathe in through his nose without getting his sense of smell overloaded.

You’re humming along to Jingle Bell Rock when he decides to ask, as casually as possible, “what class do you have after this?”

“Modern II and then dance studies. I finish early today.”

“Ah... Near Horton Hall?” When you nod, he quickly adds, “what a coincidence. I have a portfolio I need to pick up near there.”

“Oh!” your eyes light up in interest and Jimin almost feels bad for lying to you. “For your senior project? Wow. I still can’t believe you signed up for the fundraiser event when you’re so busy.”

He coughs and looks away.

“Not - not that it’s a bad thing!” you hurry on to clarify, misinterpreting his awkward response. “I think it’s really cool, actually. You’re different from who I expected you to be.”

“What did you think I was going to be like?”

“I dunno.” It’s your turn to look embarrassed. “I just... You’re so talented and well-known on campus...”

“So you thought I’d be an arrogant little diva?” he can’t resist teasing.

“N-no!”

He laughs, loud and unrestrained. “I guess you weren’t really wrong. I didn’t want to participate at first but one of my professor’s convinced me to give it a try. And - well, I can’t say I regret it.”

He tries to express his feelings through a heated stare. Meeting you has made him rethink his position on so many subjects - dance, life, himself - but he doesn’t know how to convey such deep sentiment in words alone.

“Order for Jimin!” A voice interrupts his musings.

Jimin watches as you carefully take the cup of cocoa from his outstretched hand, cold fingers brushing against his own. They walk out of the coffee shop and into the cold winter air, shoulders brushing up against each other. Jimin reels in the urge to wrap you his scarf when he sees you shiver - he doesn’t know if that’s due to his omegean instinct to nurture, but the itch to just cover you up in his scent grows stronger by the minute.

“Look! A snowman.” A smile stretches across your face, making the apples of your cheeks rise and your eyes crease into half-moons.

He glances down at the tiny marshmallows floating atop the beverage. It’s a sad excuse for a snowman - the marshmallows have begun to melt, distorting the figure until it’s almost unidentifiable - but the grin that lights up your face is so infectious and precious that Jimin doesn’t have the heart to critique the candied monstrosity.

“Cute, right?”

He hums in response, his gaze flitting back to your face.

You’re cuter, he wants to profess, but the words stay stuck on the tip of his tongue. You smile up at him and Jimin gulps, hoping his inner thoughts aren’t written out plainly on his face.

Damn, he thinks, as he watches you puff up your cheeks, blowing air onto the surface of your cup. Maybe I’ve got it bad.

“... I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not even near my heat cycle.”

He’s stares at the half-empty beer in his hand and sighs, wishing he could banish all these unnecessary feelings stirring inside of him.

“You know what I think, Jimin?” Hoseok taps the side of his glass as he gathers his thoughts.

Jimin gives a half-shrug, too busy staring into the bottom his glass.

“I think this is a sign!” Hoseok says, eyes lighting up in excitement. “You haven’t been interested in anyone in years.”

“I’m not - interested.”

“Interested, down to fuck. It all means the same thing.”

“She’s my dance partner,” he protests, mouth pursed in a pout.

“Yeah, and?” Hoseok rolls his eyes. “You’re the only one I’ve seen actually follow that rule.”

“If more people followed it, I wouldn’t have gotten roped into joining the fundraiser in the first place!”

“What happened anyway?”

“Dunno, exactly.” Jimin takes another swig of beer. “I think one guy was cheating on his girlfriend with his dance partner and word somehow got out. Things got messy - as expected. None of that would have happened though if he’d kept it in his pants. Which is exactly why I should just - get over this. Not - not that there’s anything to get over.”

Hoseok is quick to point out, “you don’t have a girlfriend, though. And it’s not like you’re going to partner up with the cute ballet dancer after this one performance, am I right? Both of you are responsible adults so I don’t see the problem.”

Jimin tries not to let his friend’s advice sway him. Maybe the no-strings-attached mindset would work for someone easy-going and considerate, with nothing on his mind but a good time.

“When was the last time you even liked someone?”

“Maybe - freshman year?”

In his early college years, he’d been too inexperienced, easily influenced by sweet words and suave pick-up lines. He hadn’t realized back then that a lot of people wanted to date the idea of him. That dating Jimin came with bragging rights.

“And now someone new comes along - someone you don’t actively want to strangle every time they open their mouth - that thinks you’re so cool and talented and is a fan of your thighs -”

Jimin’s cheeks burn. He regrets telling Hoseok about you. Now his friend will never let this subject go. Lord knows how long he’d tried setting Jimin up on dates with no success.

“I just... Don’t want you to regret it, you know?” Hoseok’s grin dims, just a little. “Once you get caught up in the what-ifs, it’s hard to get out.”

What-if...?

Jimin gulps down the last of his beer and attempts to ignore how much those words shake him to the core.

❆ in the cold air that is really suffocating, your warmth soaks through my body ❆

As the week cycles on, Tuesday bleeding into Friday, the two of you fall into a stable routine. Early morning practice, then coffee, before you part ways as you continue on with your day. Each day, he finds himself more and more reluctant to leave your side, drawing out conversations just to prolong your time together.

All of this cumulates to his most ridiculous feat yet.

Inwardly, he curses at himself, upset that he’s let his mind wander off again.

It’s - unnerving. Usually as soon as the music starts, the rest of the world melts away, his universe shrinking into the size of the stage. Overdue assignments, looming deadlines, what he’s going to eat for dinner - all these things cease to matter.

But today his focus is in shambles. All throughout rehearsal, he’s felt distracted, utterly unlike himself. Even when it’s not his time to dance, his gaze always ends up following your figure, the force of your magnetic field too strong.

He blames Hoseok and his tipsy love advice for his slip in focus. His words from last night have carved themselves into his subconscious, their effect on him absolute. What if...? The words loop around in his head like a broken record player.

“Alright! Good work everyone.” Wootae claps his hands as the music comes to a stop.

The dancers on the floor catch their breath, some going to grab their water bottles for the sidelines. Jimin wipes at the sweat gathering at his hairline and resists the urge to rub at kohl-lined eyes.

“We’ve made good progress. I know this has been a challenging week with many last minute changes but - you’ve made this work. Thank you all for your hard work. For those who need reminding - we’ll meet at the theater at 3 -”

Jimin does his best to listen, he does, but he can’t resist sneaking a look in your direction. Something in him warms at the sight of your expression. You look like a child waiting to unwrap Christmas gifts, too impatient and excited to fall asleep.

He’s so enraptured by the sight, he fails to notice Wootae’s speech has ended. It’s not until the rest of the students gather their belongings and filter out of the studio that he realizes he had blanked out completely.

“ - I’ll get going then.” The friend you’re chattering with says as he nears you. She raises her brow in your direction, lips quirked into a smirk. “See you tomorrow!”

“Get home safely!”

He waits until she leaves before striking up a conversation. Honestly, Jimin feels like he’s got a schoolboy crush with the awkward and nervous way he’s acting around you.

“Dress rehearsals start tomorrow.” You break the silence after taking a generous gulp of water. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

“Why? Are you nervous?”

“Well - it is my first time dancing a solo,” you say defensively, a pout sitting on your lips.

Jimin shakes his head. “Maybe it’s easy for me to say but - don’t worry about what they’ll think. Your hard work won’t betray you.”

“Yeah.” You nod but the doubt still lingers on your face.

“I’ve seen you practice,” he insists, determined to chase away every last trace of uncertainty. “You’re good. And you have something that I lack.”

“Eh? Don’t say nonsense just to comfort me.”

“It’s true, though. Your love for dancing is different than mine.”

He trails off, wrapped up in his thoughts. After a moment of reflection, words begin to flow out of his parted mouth, unbidden.

“I think I used to be like you, once. I don’t know when that love morphed into obsession but - over the years, dance somehow became a requirement...a joyless job...the fulfillment of someone else’s expectations. The truth is, when I’m onstage, I don’t feel anything anymore.”

“Jimin...”

You’re at a loss for words, fingers twitching at your side like they’re itching to reach out and console him.

“I didn’t even notice what was missing - until I met you.”

“M-me?�� you look taken aback, footsteps slowing to a halt.

Jimin hides his grin between two sips of water. He can smell the surprise in your scent, the small shift in vetiver and blackcurrant.

“You know I like you, right?”

There. He’s said it. Somehow, the confession feels liberating. The muscles in his shoulders relax, his breath evens out.

“Huh?” you splutter as your gaze meets his in stark surprise.

“I like you,” he repeats, unwavering.

He watches as his words slowly sink in and your scent lightens in response. Unlike omegas and alphas, your scent isn’t honey-sweet or overpowering in its spiciness; he can easily breathe in a lungful without feeling dizzy or nauseated.

In truth, Jimin’s never felt more attracted to a scent in his life. The breezy, fruity notes remind him of the early days of spring when flowers begin to bud.

”You like me?”

Bewildered, you can only repeat his words back.

“I like you,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Your breath catches and, briefly, you wonder if you’re caught in the tail-end of a dream, heartbeats away from waking up. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’d expected him to go back on his word and change his mind.

“If you need time, I’ll wait for you.” He brings up his hand to cup the side of your face, his touch gentle and caring. “I’m good at waiting. So take all the time you need.”

“Jimin...” You swallow, overwhelmed by his proximity. Although he’s not in costume, he hasn’t taken off his stage makeup - and the stare he levels you with - intensified by gray contacts and eyes lined with shadow and glitter - makes it hard to collect your thoughts. “I don’t need more time.”

You tilt your head, lips brushing against his inner wrist. Jimin’s eyes darken, pleased by the possessive gesture. You sniff at the air, tentative, and preen when your weak nose detects the sweet fragrance of magnolias in bloom.

“So it’s fine if I do this -”

He leans in, lips meeting yours in a tentative peck.

When you stay still, frozen, he pulls back and peruses your features for any hint of discomfort.

“It’s fine,” you say in a small voice, smiling tentatively. “More than fine.”

He wastes no time kissing you once more, his plush lips melting against your own. His other arm wraps around your waist, pressing your chests flush together, and your entire body shivers, the end of your nerves on fire.

It’s the first time someone kisses you like this - slow and sensual, like time is no longer relevant. Not that you’ve got much to compare it with - your past college hookups consisting of sloppy, half-hearted kissing in the back of bars and night clubs. They’re hazy recollections with no substance, blurry images of lips and tongues moving in clumsy coordination, void of passion and finesse.

Here, right now, it feels like your entire world is tilting on its axis. Spotlights dance behind your closed lids, tinting your existence in a kaleidoscope of colors. You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers carding through Jimin’s styled hair, and pull him towards you, needing him closer still.

Jimin nudges your mouth open with his tongue, his movements relaxed and completely unhurried. You wonder how he can be so composed when you’re seconds away from combusting on the spot. Heat builds up in your core the longer he teases you with his tongue, his muscle flicking lightly against your own before running along the roof of your mouth.

Your fingers yank at the ends his hair and he relents, pulling back to stare into your eyes. It’s almost just as bad - the intensity he pins you down with makes your body burn up and your legs quake.

“So pretty for me,” he croons, thumb tracing your quivering lips. When you try to shy away from his praise, he insists, voice firm, “Hey, hey. I’ve got you, angel.”

You relax in his hold, all loose and pliant. His voice washes over you, warm and powerful.

“Let me take care of you. I’ll make you feel so good.”

The promise of danger makes your pulse accelerate. His hand cupping your cheek trails down the curvature of your neck, fingers rubbing against your swollen scent gland, and you bite back a moan.

Anyone can walk back into the studio at any moment. You’re aware of this and yet - you can’t stop now. It’s as if his touch has lit up a wildfire beneath your skin, the fire spreading far too quickly to extinguish. You don’t - you’re not exactly sure what to do, but you know you want to draw out this moment until the very end. Maybe even further than that.

“I want you.”

“Are you sure you won’t regret it?” he presses, gaze searching.

“I trust you.”

The words almost feel too slight to convey the vastness of your emotions. Thankfully, Jimin understands. His gaze softens, fond, while his hands tighten their hold around your waist.

The sensation of his hands on you is strange and familiar all at once. When you’re dancing together, his arms are a solid force you can lean and jump into with his hands supporting and guiding you into your next movement. They never slip past your waistline like they are right now.

You gasp, open-mouthed and panting as his hand traces the curves of your hip. This is - new. But definitely not unwelcome. His touch leaves you squirming in place, trails of heat blazing across your skin.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

“Of course.”

You quickly realize you might have bitten off more than you could chew when Jimin’s gaze darkens, the arousal in the air thickening. You can smell how aroused he is, the sweet scent of magnolias in bloom overwhelming, and secretly you’re happy you have than effect on him.

“Come here.”

He takes you by the wrist and leads you towards the barre near the back wall. Your eyes widen as you take in your dazed expression in the mirror’s reflection. From this close up, it’s impossible to ignore how fucked-out you look with your swollen lips and hazy eyes. You almost want to look away, embarrassed, but Jimin tuts in disapproval.

“Look how pretty you are.”

His words only inflame you further. You rub your thighs together - the movement not escaping Jimin’s intense stare.

“You like that?” he says, eyes lighting up in mischief. He lets his head rest in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the curve of your ear as he continues to croon, “My pretty angel likes getting praised, huh? You like it when I tell you how fuckin’ pretty you are?”

You bite down on your lip, refusing to moan and prove him right. Although - you’re pretty sure he’s well aware of his effect on you.

“God.” He mouths at your neck, lips dangerously close to your scent gland. “You smell so good.”

“I have a smell?” Curiosity manages to break through the cloud of lust dampening your senses. It’s your first time hearing that.

“Mhm. My nose picks up beta scents.”

“What - ah - do I smell like?”

His hands reach around to squeeze your breasts. Without the thick layering of a bra, his hands easily find your nipples, pinching them through your leotard.

“Like wild blackcurrants. Freshly picked.” He moans, lips right against you ear, and the sound goes straight to your core. “You’re soaking for me.”

“J-Jimin...” His words make you squirm.

“I want to taste you from the source.”

“In here?”

The thought of someone walking in with your leotard and tights pulled down around your knees and Jimin’s head between your thighs leaves you dizzy with desire. It’s - almost too much. You shudder as you imagine yourself half-naked with your hips canted back, and Jimin squatting behind you, tongue fucking you open with his tongue.

“Dirty girl.” Jimin grins at your through the reflection. “You get off that? I can smell how wet you got.”

“I just...” you lick your lips, feeling terribly parched. “I want you to fuck me.”

Jimin’s hand around your breasts still as he registers your words. “You know... When I pictured this moment, I didn’t expect you to be this lewd.”

“I’m sorry,” you pant. You’re not even sure why you’re apologizing. You just want Jimin’s hands back on your body. Stroking, caressing, pinching. Anything is okay with you as long as he keeps touching you.

“Sorry? For wanting my dick?” Jimin huffs out a laugh, the warm breath tickling the shell of your ear. God, you want him bad.

“Yeah.” You nod, having the decency of looking shameful. “I - I thought about you all the time. But -”

Jimin’s scent flares, pleased. Your lids flutter shut as you manage to finish your confession without dying of embarrassment.

“But?” he prompts.

“It’s just - you were so serious during practice I felt bad for thinking about you like that.”

“What did you think about? Hm? Look at me.”

He pinches your right nipple and you yelp, eyes flying open. The stare that greets you in the reflection is too intense - his expression alone looks like he can’t wait to bend you over the barre and ravish you. Not that you’d be opposed but - it’s a lot to take in. You try avoiding his heated gaze but that only provokes him into abusing your tender breasts. Each forceful squeeze and twist of his fingers are a reminder to keep eye contact as you list off your list of sins.

“Just! Ah, me riding your thigh... And... I thought about sucking you off after rehearsals. Maybe.”

Those ideas seem to excite him, too. Shivers run down his back and he presses up against you from behind, making you very aware of his erection. You gulp, excitement building as you wonder what will happen next. Any of those two ideas sound appealing but you know the only way you’ll be fully satisfied is with his cock buried deep in your pussy.

“Hm...” Jimin’s fingers trail down to your thighs, expertly stimulating the scent glands located on your inner thighs.

The moan that leaves your lips is loud. Too loud. You’re sure that if there are still students standing outside the door, they’d have heard you mewl shamelessly.

“That good, huh?” Jimin smirks, sultry and smug.

“Sh- shut up.”

“Wait until I touch your cunt.”

You gasp, another moan escaping your swollen lips. He continues rubbing, teasing, his touch so good - but not enough. Breathless, you almost want to beg for more stimulation but Jimin’s stare pins you in place.

His nails seem to catch on your tights and he looks down, intrigued. “You have a hole in your tights. A small tear.”

“Yeah.” Your brows furrow as you try to reply without stuttering. “They - um - they ripped earlier this morning. I had to put some nail polish over the tear to stop it from snagging further but - they’re basically ruined.”

“Is that so?”

Jimin raises his brow and before you can try to guess what that question even means he pinches the fabric and pulls. You watch, entranced, as the hole in your tight gets larger and larger, big enough for two fists to squeeze through. Jimin uses the opportunity to snake his hand under your tights, fingers reaching for your soaked slit. His other hand pulls your leotard to the side, giving him more room for maneuver.

“What a pretty pussy.”

You moan loudly as his fingers come into contact with your core. They swipe through the wetness that’s collected between your thighs, circling back to your clitoris in messy, nonsensical patterns.

“Shit - you’re really wet.” Jimin says, awe in his voice. “Feel that? You’re sloppy.”

He runs his digits along the seam of your pussy lips, never dipping in further. You whine, frustrated by his never-ending teasing and attempt to grind your hips on his hand, hungry with desire.

A loud slap echoes in the open space.

You jolt forward from the force of his smack, your grip around the barre tightening as you lose your balance. Jimin raises a brow at you, challenging, his right hand smoothing over the sting on your ass cheek. It’s - you can feel your juices smearing down your thigh, ruining your tights.

“Don’t take more than what I give you unless you want to be spanked.”

His other hand never leaves your pussy, fingers still running through the moisture that’s pooling between your thighs. Occasionally, he’ll take mercy on your and flick your clitoris, drawing out pleasured cries from your lips.

As this little game continues, you resign yourself to play by his rules. Even if you’re dying to get fucked by his cock, Jimin’s self-control is impressive. He doesn’t look like he’s in any hurry to get off, content with playing with you at his leisure.

Just as you’re lulled into this false sense of security, his lips twist into a smirk. He gives no prior warning before plugging one finger inside your aching pussy. And it’s enough to drive you mad - the touch filling the emptiness, but not as well as would his cock. You whimper, squeezing your walls around him, hoping he’ll give you more to satiate your hunger.

“Ah - shit. You feel so good around me. Can’t wait to have you on my cock.”

The filth that escapes his lips only heightens your arousal. His every word makes you feel feverish with desire and you nod, hoping he’ll give you what you need.

He laughs at your expression. “Yeah, you’d like it if I fed you my cock? Your little hole is so hungry. Maybe. Only if you’re good. Come on, leg up for me.”

His fingers leave your pussy and your hole clenches, feeling empty. You quickly get into the position he wants, hoping that he’ll reward your good behavior.

“Good girl. Even pointing your toes.” He chuckles, eyes bright. “I’m going to fuck you with my fingers. If you can hold this position until you orgasm, I’ll consider fucking you with my cock. How does that sound?”

Like a game from hell, you want to bite back. Your legs are stretched into a side split position. Although it’s definitely not a full split you can still feel the stretch in your muscles and you know that if Jimin starts playing with your body, you’ll have to use all of your focus just to keep your leg upright.

“You up for the challenge?”

You hesitate before nodding, catching his hungry expression in the mirror. You’re not confident you’ll win - especially since even the slightest touch is enough to make you shake all over - but you want to try.

Jimin kisses the crown of your head before his fingers return to your pussy. He doesn’t start off slowly - two fingers plunge into your hole roughly causing you to cry out as your walls flutter around the intrusion.

Obscene, wet sounds echo throughout the empty room as he fucks his fingers into your soaked cunt. You groan as you feel the strain in your muscles in you struggle to keep your leg up and your hips open.

“Jimin!” you moan brokenly, your grip around the barre tightening.

His smile widens, gaze flitting between your expression of rapture and the filthy sight of your pussy.

“You’re doing so good, angel.” He presses open-mouthed kisses into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against your scent gland. “Just a little more and you’ll cum for me, right?”

You can do nothing but moan as he picks up the pace, wetness dripping down his hand. It’s taking everything in you not to buck your hips in time with his thrusts, your every thought consumed by the pressing need to cum. His fingers just feel too good. Jimin definitely knows what he’s doing; his fingers aren’t aimlessly poking around. He rubs his digits against your walls, brushing up against you sweet spot. Not every time - but enough to keep you on edge.

Your mind goes hazy, lost in the pleasure, and your grip around the bar starts to slip. Your left leg shakes from the strain of holding it in position.

“Careful now,” Jimin says but thumbs your clitoris, watching in delight as you slowly start to fall apart for him. “I can feel you tighten.”

“Let me cum, please. Ah!”

“No one’s stopping you. Go on, then. Cum.”

He removes his fingers from your walls and focuses all of his skills on your clitoris, rubbing hard and fast. His movements are so quick it’s like he’s got a vibrating egg pressed up against your pussy. How is he real? you think before your brain stops working, muscles locking up as your orgasm crashes into you.

Pleasure bursts behind your closed lids and you hear yourself yell out his name. Your leg falls from the barre as you spasm, but Jimin doesn’t let that deter him. He pushes you forward against the barre so that you’re leaning against it.

“Hey. Who told you to close your eyes?” Jimin chastises as his fingers continue to rub and pluck your clitoris.

At his command, you force your eyes open. Immediately, you have no choice but to take note of your debauched expression - face still contorted in pleasure, drool running past the side of your opened mouth. It’s shocking. An hour ago, your hair had been perfectly tied back, your appearance impeccable. Now, your promiscuous appearance is almost shameful.

Jimin finally slows down his movements and you take the much needed break to finally breathe.

It’s a struggle getting your heartbeat back to normal. You still feel the aftershocks of the orgasm, light shivers that run down your neck and back, while your slick walls occasionally twitch, wetness seeping out of your puffy cunt.

Jimin also doesn’t help. You watch, unable to look away as he brings his hand up to his mouth and licks it clean. Something in your belly twists at the sight, dark and possessive. The thought of the two of you sharing each other’s scents pleases you more than you ever imagined it would.

“You were perfect.” He kisses the side of your face and you try not to melt under his praise. “Let’s go get dressed?”

You try to stand properly without the aid of the barre but stumble, legs almost giving out. Jimin catches you easily, amusement dancing on his face.

“If I can’t dance properly tomorrow, you better take responsibility,” you mutter.

“Hey. Why did you think I didn’t give you my cock tonight?”

You look down and stare at his very prominent bulge. The white tights leave nothing to the imagination - just the sight has your mouth watering. When you meet his gaze, he looks amused by your reaction.

“You know... I don’t need my voice to dance well.” You flutter your lashes, expectant.

“Anyone tell you you’re a dirty girl?”

“No. Only you.”

He growls as he kisses you, lips melting into a smile. Stars shine in his eyes when he pulls back, his expression melting into adoration.

“Only mine.”

❆ we’ll melt the sand at the bottom of the sea, we’ll dance to fight the despair over the frozen asphalt city ❆

Everywhere around you it’s a whirlwind of movement. Dancers mill about the wings as they work their arches and stretch their limbs to keep their bodies warm. Some scurry from dancer to dancer as they conduct last-minute costume check-ups.

Only you stay immobile, fear rooting you in place. The feeling is as unfamiliar as it is unwelcome; you've never experienced stage fright in your life. Never, not once.

Admittedly, you’ve always been a part of the corps or running around backstage, using your minimal sewing skills to help out with last minute costume adjustments. You’ve never had the spotlight directed towards you, potentially highlighting your every misstep.

The moment the overhead projectors dim and Wootae motions at you to find your mark, your heart feels like it’ll burst from your rib cage. All of a sudden, your legs feel weak, like they’ll give out at any given moment. You don’t know how you’ll be able to walk across the stage with trembling limbs - let alone balance en pointe.

Just as you gather your courage to step onto center stage, someone grabs your hand and squeezes tightly.

“You’re overthinking.” When you turn around, Jimin’s gaze on yours is unwavering - a stable constant that tethers you to reality. “Nothing matters now but the music.”

The words strike a chord within you. They’re comforting, familiar. Words you’ve thought to yourself a thousand times but needed to hear said to you.

His thumb rubs circles over the back of your hand, his inner wrist brushing up against the sensitive skin of your own, and your lips part open in surprise. Scenting is a subtle and intimate act generally reserved for lovers - a universal sign you’ve claimed someone as your own.

“J-Jimin...”

“I believe in you.” His eyes gleam in the dark like two bright stars. “Let’s do our best today too, okay?”

You’re unable to respond, still struck dumb by his actions, his words, and the realization that you’ll soon be dancing in front of a real, live audience in a few minutes. It all seems too surreal.

The past week comes back to you in flashes of color and sound - Jimin’s hands on your hips as he lifts you high into the air, the familiar opening notes of Tchaikovsky’s March, Wootae’s careful corrections as he monitors your solo. All these memories rush in, melting away the shards of self-doubt that had taken root in your heart.

Jimin’s right. You’ve shed sweat and tears preparing for this part. All the extra hours spent before and after rehearsals perfecting your dancing have brought you here. There’s no reason to start doubting yourself now.

Your lips bloom into a smile and Jimin, in turn, squeezes your hand one last time.

#jordan i swear this fic isn't as weird as it sounds lmao #happy holidays!#dance majors pls dont come for me thanks #bts smut #jimin smut #jimin #jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #bts fic #bts x reader

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1-800-imagines · 3 years ago

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then | changes part 8

masterlist of series

authors note: kind of a transition chapter, not the best, i apologize. ALSO this fic is obvi not cannon and selina kyle is not in it so i am adapting around that, some events are out of order

PRINCESS OF GOTHAM DEAD

the text scrolled across the screen and you bit your lip.

you bounced your leg as you watched the press release. usually it would be thomas you would be thomas you would be bouncing, but he was making his first public appearance today.

jim gordon was currently standing outside the gotham precinct talking to the reporters where they were all hungry for bruce’s appearance.

everyone had decided it be necessary to have thomas be there as no one would believe you dead if thomas were no where to be found either.

gordon stepped up to the mic. everyone had been in arms about your 'death' as you were a far different target than the mayor, the commissioner, and the da.

"it is with great sorrow to announce that y/n y/l/n was tragically murdered last night by the riddler. we know this without a doubt and we are using all of our resources to find him. a tape has been leaked of y/n's death and we are advising the public not to listen out of respect of her family. now a word from mr. wayne, her fiancé." jim finished.

bruce walked out of the precinct doors carrying thomas. bruce stepped up to the mic and cleared his throat, "this is the second person the riddler has hurt because of me. first alfred, now y/n." thomas started to whine, “this is our child, thomas bruce wayne jr or tommy as y/n called him. he’s without a mother now.” you could see the pain in bruce’s face as he spoke these words as they were his biggest fears and he needed to make it seem realistic.

you swallowed hard you were worried about the two of them being in such a public place when the riddler was clearly obsessed with him.

“she was a great woman and an even better mother. i should have made better use of our time together. that’s all, thank you.” bruce said and walked back inside as the reporters went wild with questions.

your heart broke, seeing the pain in bruce’s eyes knowing he meant every word of it. tears streamed down your face as you clicked off the tv.

“would you like some tea, ms. y/n?” you heard the voice around the corner, wiping the tears away from your cheeks.

you stood up, “dotty?” you asked softly. you knew she was around, but you hadn’t seen her during your arrival last night.

“i didn’t mean to interrupt. i made you tea. i thought you might like some.” she said, walking in and presenting you tea, just how you liked it.

“you remembered.” this made the tears come falling again and your knees buckled. dotty had always made you tea when you weee upset when you were a teenager, it had been a staple comfort item and a bonding moment between the two of you.

dotty quickly put the tray down and rushed to your side, “sweet girl, everything will be alright. you’re home safe again. we will take care of you.”

you leaned into her shoulder, just as you had when you were a young teenager, “how can anything be the same?” you whispered.

“well it won’t be and it shouldn’t be. there’s a baby now. and if that doesn’t make you want to work things out with him, i don’t know what will.” she said, stroking your hair.

you sniffled, “i’m just so worried about him.”

“well aren’t we all, but now he has someone to come home to besides just me and silly alfred.”

you hugged her a final time, “thank you dot.”

your phone beeped and you looked at it. it was a text from bruce with a link to a news article titled SECRET LOVE CHILD OF LATE Y/N Y/LN AND BRUCE WAYNE? FIND OUT MORE TONIGHT

you swore, you knew that meant reporters would be swarming the manor trying to get more pictures of thomas, especially after that pressconference. there was nowhere safe for them to go in gotham. you needed to find the riddler and be done with this, fast.

thankfully, bruce and tommy would have a police escort back to the house later, but you had gone down to start analyzing the latest letter. as you were about to shut down the computers a pattern in the code caught your eye of your initials. you erased all of those symbols which pertained and it spelled out perfect, ‘44’.

you felt sick, you never wanted to step foot in the iceberg lounge or 44 below again. your last name was a legend in that club because of your father as he was known to take any hit job no matter the target, no questions asked. a year after he had killed your mother, you went looking for answers and had a horrible encounter with falcone and the penguin. if it hadn’t been for young bruce, you wouldn’t have made it out alive.

but you knew you were the only one who was going to get in, even if you were supposed to be dead.

#battinson x reader #battinson #battinson imagine #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #robert pattinson #robert pattinson!batman x reader #the batman #the batman x reader #the batman x y/n #the batman x fem!reader #batman #battinson x y/n

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therealjammy · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! I just wanted to let you know I adore your fics and original works. Your writing style is so lovely! I was wondering if there were any specific works that influenced your writing?

Hi Anon! Thank you so much for sending me this lovely ask; it really brightened my day <3

And as for works that've influenced my own, that's quite a lengthy answer, so be prepared for a wall of text!

I grew up reading fantasy and classics; a bit of an odd combination for a child, but I adored dragons and I wanted to be Older at the same time, so I would read fantasy at home and bring classics with me to school, or attempt to check out Tolstoy's 'War and Peace' from the library only for the librarian to give me a puzzled look and ask me "Aren't you a bit young for that?"

Cue slightly older me, writing seriously now, and the books I grew up reading have begun to show up in my own writing in terns of style. I can't really remember all of them, but these are a few: Christopher Paolini's 'Inheritance Cycle', Phillip Pullman's 'The Golden Compass' (Or 'Northern Lights'), Edgar Allan Poe's gothic short stories, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's 'Sherlock Holmes' stories... and quite a few others.

But now that I'm an adult and am really beginning to hone my craft, I've found authors whose styles resonate with me, and they are as follows: Virginia Woolf and her novel 'Night and Day,'; she's brilliant at capturing the depth of human emotion and struggles, most especially between the classes and between the self; Marion Zimmer Bradley's 'The Mists of Avalon,' which is the most beautiful novel I've ever had the privilege of reading; the prose was like reading poetry but somehow higher, and the way she dives so deeply into characters and makes them so human is absolutely incredible! Nicola Griffith's latest novella 'Spear,' once again a piece filled with beautiful, flowery writing and a heart-wrenching queer love story. And my latest influence is someone I've discovered quite recently, and I'm a little ashamed of that because she's such a prolific writer, and that is Emma Donoghue (best known for her novel Room); the amount of research she does for her stories is impeccable, and I truly admire her way with words. Unlike the previous authors I've mentioned in this paragraph, her language is a bit sparser, and I've noticed she tends to be a little more dialogue heavy, but she has a way of writing that's just to the point without beating around anything, and it makes her stories that much more immediate and captivating. (A great example of this is her novel The Wonder, which was also adapted for the screen and is currently on Netflix; a wonderful and tense historical novel!)

As for how all of these have influenced my own style, well, I can say I do like the flowery and beautiful prose, but I also sometimes wish I could be a little sparser... But like visual art, writing styles can change over the years, so who knows? Maybe in a couple I'll be writing more concisely lol

Thank you so much for sending this again; it was a lot of fun to answer! I'm so pleased you like my works xx

#personal #asks #asks from lovely people #writing stuff #and if any of you want some specific recommendations so you can get a better handle of my writing influences don't hesitate to ask!#i could talk about it all day long

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rigelmejo · 3 years ago

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Some September 1st Updates

the READING SPEED difference of a novel at my level! I read the first chapter of 撒野 yesterday and this author is at exactly my reading level right now. I hit 0-2 new words each pleco page, which is usually the sweet spot to either guess the word or if I look it up I can pretty quickly adapt to recognizing it in context. Its also the sweet spot where if I only rely on guessing for new word meanings, on a second pass through I can fairly well guess the meaning quickly.

It was a 32 page chapter in pleco and I read it in 20 minutes. Compared to the 20 pleco page per chapter pingxie fic i just finished (like 124k characters! WOW I read and FINISHED that much!), which was taking 30-40 minutes per chapter (mainly because of number of new vocabulary per chapter being a bit higher). If I’d wanted to speed read saye I could have, I’d have missed some small details but I could have tried if I wanted.

Then I did a second pass later in the day with the audiobook just following along with the text. Realized 1. I knew most words in the audiobook and did not follow as well as i thought - but those first listen throughs without having seen the chapter I did manage to figure out the main character just broke up, just travelled somewhere, ran into a girl and somehow the girls brother showed and the two guys interacted a little and someone was being somewhat helpful, then the main guy met his father trying to ‘pick him up.’ Which is a true but very rough summary of what happens in the first chapter. By reading I could confirm the words I thought were names AS names, figured out WHY the girl was interacting with the main guy and that there were actually two girls in chapter 1, and figure out who helped who and who was the girl’s brother. Also somehow before I looked at the chapter text I never caught that the audiobook mentions a motorcycle despite me knowing that word and it SOUNDING like mota-che/motorche! it sounds like the word and i knew it and didn’t hear it! Then later following the audiobook with the text I realized another issue I had, is I’m not used to listening to soft voices with such faint pronunciations of the final sounds. I’m much more used to deeper crisper pronunciations and being able to rely clearly on initials and finals AS much as tones to recognize the words, whereas this particular audiobook i needed to mainly rely on tones and initials to figure out what word was what - that probably threw me off a bit. It’s probably good for me to get practice listening to such a different voice to what I’m used to. I have definitely learned the deeper the voice, the more I have a far easier time figuring out what’s being said. Also standard accent more like beijing but without a huge amount of ‘er’s just some, and taiwan accent are the easiest for me to hear when i’m not pa

For anyone curious, here is the audiobook for SaYe I’m listening to: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2w27tfjeeaySbMK272NpXwUtsBc-e3YN

Also here’s a chinese audiobook youtube I found: https://www.youtube.com/c/%E6%9C%89%E5%A3%B0%E5%B0%8F%E8%AF%B4%E5%90%AC%E4%B9%A6%E4%B8%96%E7%95%8Cyoushengxiaoshuo/playlists

Which includes The King’s Avatar: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLTJaWZoVPdT1ZhIQIKxVci7fVEHr-oX6k

And ErHa: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLsxEOGKlBMaFa6CS6Hf5ndy6qTtUL0Au_

Anyway, its a great book right now for reading practice. It’s very much around my level. I will probably stick with this author for a little while and solidify what I know/my base reading level.

IN OTHER NEWS:

I am apparently living proof listening-reading, heavy emphasis on re-listening a TON in the background as you work or type or walk/drive whatever, works for learning new words.

I re-listened to guardian chapter 1 audiobook at least 20-30 times by now, just a tremendous amount. Chapters 1-10 I’ve listened to at least 5 times by now random chapters at random days, and some probably also 20 times.

I have listened to these chapters enough, that I can officially follow so much that I know nearly every freaking word I hear, I know it immediately on hearing in at least 3 different audiobooks, and the few ‘less familiar’ words I recognize a second after hearing (like hearing ‘audacious’ or ‘glum’ in english it just takes me a second to re-remember), and the very few still forgotten words/specific details I learn From those words I can actually pick up from the context of listening.

I hear ‘powei’ and somehow forgot it AGAIN? Oh it means ‘rather’ in this context. ‘anli’ well i always hear ‘anlishuo’ as in ‘people say/generally speaking’ so ‘anli’ in this context must mean ‘generally/generally speaking.’ chuanghu? can’t remember it because i was just typing this JUST now and only hearing a few words from the audiobook in the background - well in context its obviously window, but out of context my brain said window and i just couldn’t remember if it was window or curtain but felt curtain had something more complex than ‘hu’ as the second half - just looked it up and my guess was right, even with no context which i’d have had if i’d been listening better and it had been clear it’s window, it still made me think ‘window’ immediately just hearing the sound. ‘xiang yi ge ren’ sounds like ‘looks like a person’ which is the next phrase i just randomly heard. ‘hua le yao ming’ shouted for their life/in awful terror? or that would be ‘huo’, so maybe ‘streaking toward him to take his life’? would make sense in context of a horror scene - i just looked it up and 划了要命 would be the second one. even IF i heard the wrong line, both of those are pretty close to a good guess in context and hua is the only unknown because without context i can’t place if it was hua or huo. i still confuse the words wu and wo for hold etc, but in context i can tell which one it is (wo is hold a hand, hold a face, etc).

I’m genuinely at a point where I can just completely follow the plot through at least the first 20 chapters from listening. And for most scenes, follow every detail too including stuff like guo changcheng spending half a year not working at home after he graduated, being so afraid of the phone, da qing being fawning to shen wei when they meet and rubbing against his leg, the specific conversation details when da qing runs across zhao yunlan’s car in chapter 2, what zhao yunlan’s room exactly looks like, etc. Its super cool to be able to follow the audiobook so well I can follow the story and details even when I don’t have time to read! It’s so fun! And it was not very hard!

It took 40 minutes of upfront study where you set time aside to focus: 20 minutes to have a program read the chapter aloud while you either see unknown word definitions pop up (like in Pleco) or look them up with some click dictionary as you listen. 20 minutes to go through and listen to the audiobook as you follow along with the text. Then after that, just play the audiobook chapters you’ve done this with whenever you want, either paying attention like when going to bed soon or walking, or in the background like when cleaning or doing busy work or driving. Since background listening can be done easily whenever all you have to do is remember to click play when you want something to listen to.

I’m honestly blown away by how much 3 months of studying mainly like this (which is quite fun and only requires me to carve out a small amount of actual study focused time) has improved my listening skills. I can now also listen to the 2ha audiobook okay and follow along (provided its a chapter I’ve read before so I have at least some prior context to help me out) - at least so far as that’s what I’m listening to right now. Basically, I can tell Guardian has both upped my vocabulary significantly and also improved my automatic recognition of many words I half-knew and learned since.

I recently found a new Guardian audiobook read by a deep voice and its lovely (and utilizes music and echo for effects, its lovely to listen to) I hope the poster keeps updating: https://fm.qq.com/show/rd002ED4aN0mYz2L__

I’ve been listening to it lately.

---

Also! Directions for using Pleco Android for screen reader:

1. To get any page bookmarked online:

Open a page in your mobile web browser you want to read. Click the menu, click share, click Pleco Reader (or ‘more’ or ‘...’ then Pleco Reader).

Go to Clipboard Reader. Now when you click text, dictate text megaphone will be an option.

*Since Clipboard Reader is free, you can do this to read in Pleco and have things spoken aloud with no money spent. (Though I find the Reader tool worth the money and add ons).

2. To have any text ‘dictated aloud’:

Go to Pleco’s menu, Settings, Audio, click ‘use TTS if no recording,’ then for Sentence Audio section area System TTS Setting click Speech Services by Google (you can also experiment by clicking other options I am just stating what worked for me, it didn’t work at first I had to make that my default TTS in my Accessibility-Talkback Settings menu on my main phone first and restart my phone before all this).

Then click the area right below to mess with speed and sound of the TTS voice.

(Note, to test if TTS is working you can go to any dictionary entry sentence, click the speaker next to the sentence and see if it plays audio. If it does not, you will get an error message and directions on what to change in your phone settings. That is what initially happened to me: I had to go to phone Settings, Accessibility, Talkback, TTS Engine, TTS Engine voice and settings. Pleco recommended I choose Speech Services by Google, and uninstall then reinstall the Chinese voice. Then restart the phone. That worked for me. An additional note: I have Talkback setting on ‘on’ and just have it in my toolbar to use if desired but am not actively using it. If you turn Talkback setting ‘off’ in the actual Settings area of Accessibility, I am not sure if it will affect Pleco’s ability to dictate).

3. How to put it together:

Now go to Clipboard Reader and read the page from the internet you wanted or text you pasted, or go to Document Reader and open the document you wish to read.

Click a word as a place to start. Now you should see both the loudspeaker (for pronouncing the single word) and the Megaphone next to it to start dictating all text. (If your phone is weird like me, you may need to press the megaphone a couple times before the audio works).

If you wish to change dictation reading speed, simply hold down the megaphone and select the speed desired.

Now that I’ve figured this out I really want to take pictures of my print book, make a pdf, and listen to all the changes.

(Now I just have to fix my weird dictionary in Idiom app and I’m all set on the new phone!)

---

All I’ve been doing the past august study wise is just reading pingxie fic and finishing, and listening to audiobooks. It’s been a busy time for me ToT

I do think it proved you can be lazy and still make some improvements though:

1. Reading in Pleco (or click-dictionary tool of your choice): pick something and read a chapter a day (that’s what I did, obviously the easier this is the less time you’ll need, but aim for around 30 minutes a day and reading material closer to your level if you don’t want to read too long)

2. Listening-Reading Method something above your reading level that you enjoy. Should take 40 minutes a couple times a week to several times a week to hours a week, depending on how intense you want to get with it and how much you’re going to alternate/include the reading portion. I did like 1-2 chapters a week so I was only spending 40 minutes to 1.5 hours a week doing this, or 3 hours one week no time another week. This is definitely something where you can do 6-12 hours one month then coast on it for another month just repeating older material’s audio/re-reading sections (which is what I did with guardian, doing 22 chapters then switching to just listening to audio a lot).

Once you’ve done a little L-R steps 2 and 3 (in either order, whatever works for you - and doing step 1 if you want more context prior to steps 2 and 3), then just make time during your days to play the audiobook chapters you’ve studied. You don’t need to be focusing every single time (although focusing on actually trying to follow the audio the first time you listen without text to aid you will probably speed up your comprehension a lot by giving you a lot of basic-context to help you comprehend more later). Aim to listen whenever you’ve got down time! Or time where you’d play music or some background youtube video or podcast - walks, exercise, drives, when cleaning, when browsing the web goofing off, when working if you have times when you’d listen to music with lyrics or a podcast in the background without issues, times when you don’t need to focus 100% on listening just putting it on to hear in the background).

That’s all I’ve done for study since May. It takes me about 30 minutes 5 days a week, plus 1-2 hours listening-reading actively a week. So 2.5 hours plus 2 = 4 hours of active study a week. Sometimes more like 8-10 if I got really into reading something or Listening-reading to several chapters. Then after that (very easy to fit into my life 4-10 hours per week of study) I just play the audiobook whenever I have downtime at work (that’s usually 0.5-4 hours where I just let it play because I forget its on while working on spreadsheets, updates, emails, etc, or play the audiobook while messing around on the internet in my free time at home, sometimes I put on music instead), while walking so 15-30 minutes maybe 3 days a week, while driving far so maybe 20 minutes - 2 hours per week. maybe lets say 2 hours*4 days a week (I don’t remember to listen every day) so 8 hours random listening+1.5 hours walking+1 hour driving per week. That’s 11.5 hours listening in the background or paying attention plus lets say 4 hours of active study a week. So 15.5 ‘study’ hours for chinese per week - an average overall of ~2.21 hours of chinese ‘study’ per day. This isn’t counting when I get into weibo and goof off, get into some chinese show with no english subs and just start watching it (I watched 16 episodes of Humans cdrama in August which is ~10.66 hours for a total of at least (15.5*4 weeks = 62 hours + 10.66 hours -> ~72.66 hours spent ‘with chinese’ in August at minimum. 4 weeks*7 days = 28, so over around 28 days or most of august I did 72.66 total hours/28 days -> or ~2.595 hours of chinese per day as an average. So... my guess that I spend at least 1-2 hours on chinese per day as the average was a decent guess. Looks like I’m usually 2 hours to 2.5 hours daily as an overall average. It’s not that hard to get in that much without a ton of time in the day once you get some listening skills built up ToT Deciding to build up my listening skills has been one of the funnest goals in chinese so far.

Notes on Listening Reading Actively - it also doubles as increasing your exposure to listening to your target language, and the more hours the better even if its passive in the background, just more hours adding up toward your mind getting a better ability to parse the sounds of the language is going to help your overall listening comprehension in general. So even if you don’t pay attention much and can’t follow the whole plot and only catch certain scenes, you will be improving at least comprehension of: hearing words you know, hearing colocations and common phrases and recognizing more automatically which will help with speaking/writing indirectly and reading recognition of those things, overall ability to hear things correctly in different combinations and getting used to the common combinations.

You will be surprised how much more you can pick up of plot and details the 3rd listen compared to the first, the 5th listen, the 10th listen. It’s wild. Like... I’m listening to the 2ha audiobook and even having never read it in chinese, just knowing basic context, the 2nd read through I caught so much more of the plot throughout just because I had forewarning of when scenes change a lot, what audio plays during some parts I recognized in previous listens, and so I have more focus for figuring out the new details I missed. Whereas the first listen, I didn’t always know WHAT the scene context was until I heard a familiar line or description I remembered from the english version of the scene, but on a second listen I now have a better guess at the scene the lines are probably taking place in before and after those lines I recognized in the first listen. And this continues etc each time you re-listen to something. (So yes, that initial context of knowing what you’re listening to with a previous read of its translation or target language transcript will definitely speed up comprehension pick up - but if you just wanna test what your basic listening comprehension to new content is then it works fine just going into new audio with no prior context its just more difficult at first lol until you build an idea of the context from listening).

The original Listening-Reading Method person did like 40+ hours a week, 8 hours most days, no wonder they made fast progress! They often included reading in some form (hence the name) and later translation, so they also were constantly working on listening AND some reading skills AND eventually often some speaking/writing skills. Doing it my way results in mostly listening comprehension of stuff you could already read to a degree, more automaticity in recognition, and for picking up new vocabulary both in listening and reading. I do extra reading on the side with other stuff to get more reading practice in an isolated way (since I’m trying to push my reading speed up above speaking speed). I always try to do it the way the creator originally intended, but I am not able to focus on things for more than 20 minutes at a time, 40 to a couple hours if I take a break every 20 minutes. So doing it 8 hours just doesn’t work out.

---

I’m fairly happy!

I am on plan for my main goals that started this style study plan:

1. Improving my reading level to get to start being able to extensively read actual danmei novels - we got there! I am at a reading level appropriate for SaYe at 98% comprehension when I checked, and at a bit above 95% comprehension for Guardian! I’m now continuing with that goal while adding on increasing reading Speed in general.

2. Improving listening skills so I have better automatic recognition of partly-known words from reading (working super well so far - I can tell because ability to watch cdramas in only chinese has improved noticeably and gotten much easier), and so I can start following the main plot and key details of audiobooks of things I’ve read before (working great for guardian, starting to work with other audiobooks provided I listen to the chapters a few times or several times if its brand new material I have no context for, however reading level matters and while things I have prior familiarity with are going very well - brand new materials are still quite challenging in that they require multiple listens for the full plot and several listens before I start picking up most non-plot-critical details).

#rant #september #september progress #august #august progress #listening reading method #pleco #rec list #audiobook #guardian #take all my study advice with heaps of salt #do what feels right for YOU #this is just the study plan that's been working for me recently #for my main goals: increasing base reading level and improve listening comprehension

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scribblingfangirl · 4 years ago

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WRITTEN WORDS & WHISPERED WISHES | Julie and The Phantoms - Luke Patterson

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Author’s Note: I wrote this fic for an old fandom of mine and thought I could re-write/re-use it to finally get started on my JaTP bingo card (because my creativity and originality are nowhere to be found) - I hope you enjoy, yet I’m still sorry in advance? (song’s Poet by Bastille but slightly adapted by me)

word count: 1.9k

prompt: ‘Song Fic’ on my @jatpbingo bingo card

summary: It took several sleepless nights, days of throwing up and feeling bad and the pressure of cuddling with Luke to finally discover that you were pregnant.

warnings: teen pregnancy, character death, a very hastly scribbeled down fic idea (this was not beta read (or read over in general) so typos, inconsistent grammar and other faboulous little annoyances (if anyone loves to read my fanfics and would like to volunteer as my beta reader I’ll kiss your feet))

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It had been a few weeks since you, well... since you had seen another room rather than your classrooms and your own four walls. You even missed your kitchen and living room. But especially, you missed the boys' studio.

Today, however, has been a good day. You had managed to eat properly without feeling sick and were starting to catch up on some shortly due essays, papers and homework assignments, so you wouldn’t need to do them when feeling utterly sick again.

Luke had come to visit you (or tried to) a few times, needing to use his charm at your door, as you told your parents that you didn’t want him to see you. Your hair was a mess and unkempt, it pained you to stand for a long period of time (so you reduced the times you washed it to a minimum), your eyes had dark circles under them and you were exhausted even if you didn’t do anything the whole day long.

“I brought you food. I know that your fridge only knows like three meals”, he had said once quietly, putting the tray with the steaming meal on your bed, gesturing for you to move a little, so he could sit beside you.

“You mean to say that I and/or my parents only know three meals”, you had coughed laughing and refused to move. You didn’t want him to get sick too.

“No don’t,” you had muttered when he started to push you to the side, “I think I might have a bad bug and Sunset Curve can’t function without its lead vocalist and guitarist. And I can’t eat anyway.”

He had looked at you, confused and concerned. “Still? Alex told me you were able to keep your breakfast in, and I thought that meant you were on your way of improvement.”

“Some illnesses take longer to go away. I just didn’t want you to check on me because things like a normal cold or a little stomach bug can pass without unnecessary medications even if it takes longer.”

That had been two weeks ago. But today, when you were finally looking presentable again and were even able to open the door yourself, it wasn’t Luke that was visiting you.

“Oh… it’s you guys.”

“Geez, thanks Y/N. No need to kill us with all this kindness,” Reggie said laughing and sniffed, “Uh! Smells amazing. Pizza?” Without any hesitation or warning, he entered your house and vanished into the kitchen.

“Pizza? Wow, you must really be feeling better. I remember you throwing up on me a week ago when I tried to feed you chicken soup,” Alex smiled, hands in his pockets and not moving until you invited him in.

“Oh no,” hiding your face in your hands after you closed the door behind you both and groaned. “I’m so sorry about that. Again. Tell me how much the cleaning bill was and I-”

“Chill Y/N, relax. You’ve seen me at my worst and now I’ve seen you at your worst. Sure, I was still way more elegant and not as weak as you, but you just gave me a reason to finally get rid of those shoes.”

“No Alex! You loved those sneakers!” you said horrified.

“Just kidding. Give me 50 bucks and we’re even. Or, you know, better yet, come back to the studio and help us get rid of an overly clingy Luke. Now that you’re better, pleeeease, give him some cuddles!”

You giggled. “You know you have two perfectly fine arms to hug him with as well, right?”

“Yeah!” He said, raising his voice. “But not ALL the time. And I want to be appreciated for myself once too! Not just because I am the only one available to give hugs as an ‘emergency solution’!”

“You make it sound like you actually let us hug you dude, don’t lie,” Reggie muttered through a mouthful of Pizza, throwing himself on your couch.

Throwing Reggie a stink eye Alex turned to you again. “Anyway… You and I will go to the studio now. Yeah?”

“Well”, you stocked, not sure if you could talk to them about it. You had hoped for a few more days to think it over. “You know… It might actually not have been a bad bug, but rather a big bug that I caught.”

At their confused faces, you sighed. “I’m a few days, or even weeks... late”, you mumbled the last part so quietly, you weren’t even sure if they had heard you (if they even knew what you meant).

You were definitely not expecting Reggie to be the one to answer. “Do you want me to drive you to the hospital or do you just want a pregnancy test first?”

You didn’t know who of them had told Luke, or when, but after a few minutes of waiting in the hospital’s waiting room he came barreling in, beanie askew on his head and guitar case on his back. His searching eyes found yours in a haze and you could basically hear the question in his gaze ‘Are you?’. Silently you shook your head, averting your eyes.

Alex offered him his place beside you and Luke grabbed your hand while you waited. A few moments later your name was called and the nurse brought you and Luke to an empty room and told you to wait again. She came back a few minutes later and Luke moved to the side of the bed and held your hand again.

You didn’t feel the cold gel on your belly. Didn’t feel the way Luke was almost crushing your hand in his. Didn’t hear the words the nurse said. You only heard the faint heartbeat of your baby. You were pregnant.

Luke was beaming, looking at the screen where you could see the ultrasound of your baby, but he also looked at you with a little bit of fear in his eyes.

I can't say the words out loud So in a rhyme, I wrote you down Now you'll live through the ages I can feel your pulse in the pages

Even though you were only in your eighth week and not really showing yet, Luke wouldn’t allow you to wear anything else than his oversized hoodies, sweaters, pullovers and flannels (the ones that still had sleeves. And okay, fair enough, it might also have been because he absolutely loved to see you in his clothes.)

He was like an eagle watching over you, flying down as soon as you were doing or were going to do something he didn’t approve of. He even almost convinced his and your parents to move into your room so he could reach you faster in case of an emergency. (It was a clear no from both parents and he even got grounded for that idea - though later on, you learned from Alex that it was because he had said ‘Why not? It’s not like I can impregnate her again!’)

Of course, your parents weren’t happy about the situation, but they weren’t about to throw you out on the street. They both loved you and Luke (after all, they did fall for his charms one to many times), but they never really spoke the words out loud, never really talked about the fact that you two were going to be parents, a family at such a young age.

And Luke and you? While he was acting like an overprotective husband you both weren’t really talking about it either. You both were terrified about the fact that you were going to raise a child while Sunset Curve was trying to make it big, while you were still in High School and it still seemed more like a dream to you both, a dream from which neither of you wanted to wake up and face reality.

That’s why you started to write the letters. Or in Luke’s case - lyrics. Letters to future you’s, letters to your unborn child telling them about your adventures, your experiences and feelings. It was a way to tell yourself all the reasons why it was okay that you were going to be having sleepless nights filled with the cries of a baby, telling you that it was all going to be worth it.

And for the first time, while writing those letters and lyrics, it was as if both you could feel your baby.

Your body lies upon the sheets Of paper in words so sweet I can't say the words So I wrote you into my verse Now you'll live through the ages I can feel your pulse in the pages

Time went by fast. You remembered the first time you felt the little kick very well, as if it was yesterday, but at that time you still could somewhat see your feet and now you couldn’t even stand up anymore without somebody’s help.

School was weird, but you had the boys to help you through it.

You started to draw little babies beside your letters, trying to imagine the different looks it could have. Would it have your hair or Luke’s? His eyes and your nose? Your eyes and his smile?

And then you started to write your letters and lyrics around the baby, making it look like it was cradled by your warm words, hoping that whenever you wouldn’t be able to hold your child, it would be able to read your letters and feel the love, because you surely did.

How could you have known that in just a few weeks these lyrics would be the only words your child would ever ‘hear’ from their father?

I have read you with these eyes I've read you with these eyes I have held you in these hands

You had never seen your parents looking so fragile and broken like the night they came into your room to tell you the boys died.

And then, the next thing you knew was that your son was born. The doctors and nurses said that it was the stress, the emotional overload of being told that your friends, your loves, the father of your child died that caused your water to break.

That’s why it was Bobby and not Luke that was by your side that night and held your hand. It was Bobby, the normally strong and grumpy teenager, that was smiling like a little kid that just got told it would get to eat as much candy as it wanted.

His eyes were glistening with tears as the nurse handed him the little bundle of joy and he started to sway him - Luke - slowly back and forth, knowing that you were too tired to hold him at the moment.

“He is beautiful”, you murmured as he took a seat beside you, his gaze still fixed on his nephew, because obviously, he would be Uncle Bobby (though not for a very long time), “Just like his father.”

You didn’t hear Bobby’s answer as you fell asleep and dreamed of Luke, tucking you in and kissing your forehead before he dedicated himself entirely to the new tiny human in his arms, singing a sweet lullaby.

“We have written you down. Now you will live forever and all the world will hear you and you will live forever. In eyes not yet created, on tongues that are not born, in ears not yet listening. I have written you down, now you will live forever and Sunset Curve will sing about you.”

#luke patterson x reader #julie and the phantoms x reader #jatp #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson one shot #luke patterson oneshot #julie and the phantoms imagine #julie and the phantoms oneshot #julie and the phantoms one shot #jatp imagine #jatp one shot #jatp oneshot #my writing #viascribbles

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mikkeneko · 3 years ago

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Got tagged by @veliseraptor for a writing meme!

How many works do you have on AO3? What’s your total AO3 word count?

193 works over 10 fandoms; 2,591,823 words.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I would count 10 real ones. Dragon Age; Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle; Critical Role; Marvel Cinematic Universe; The Untamed; The Witcher; Cardcaptor Sakura; Fullmetal Alchemist; Gundam Wing; Weiss Kreuz. Some of these pre-date the existence of AO3, and some of them are better off that way.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

A Villain State of Mind; Cover Up the Sun; Laughing As I Pray; I do solemnly swear; The Morning After. All Loki fandom fics. Not too surprising as that was the most mainstream fandom I wrote for, and they’ve been around for a while now, lots of time to accumulate stats.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do! I have a somewhat complex set of criteria for when I respond and how.

I will respond to all comments left on works in my current/active fandom except for: comments consisting entirely of emojis (mainly because I have no idea what to say to that) comments consisting of single words (same) or comments that seem to be about something other than my fic entirely or focus entirely on negativity (i.e., the commentor is using this box as a space to rant about how much they hate a character, the show, or another author/trope.)

I will usually but not always respond to comments on my next-to-last fandom. On older fandoms I will respond only to especially long or thoughtful comments, or ones that specifically ask a question that I can answer.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

That would have to be Rise From Ash, the Loki timeloop fic I wrote in MCU. Since it was intended to lead into Avengers, it naturally had a downer ending since we know how Avengers went for Loki; but the story also ended with him having a major mental health break and resolving to kill himself in order to end the timeloop, so, uh, that was pretty unhappy.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I think that the Never Gonna Tell A Lie series has to qualify for this one by default; two fics of the “characters from wildly different series meet in a bar” format, spanning seven different franchises.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Occasionally. I can’t answer in a lot of detail because I make a conscious policy of thinking about these comments as little as possible, so I tend to forget the details. Off the top of my head I know I received a few comments on my MCU fics of people complaining that the fic was nothing more than a Thor-bashing exercise (it wasn’t intended as such, but you can’t control how the audience will receive, I guess.) And then there was the whole infamous “ableist torture porn of a mentally ill man” episode.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I can recall. It may have happened that I just don’t know about. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Have you ever had a fic translated?

A fair amount! Sometimes people will leave a comment asking permission to translate. I have always granted it. Sometimes they go through with the translation and sometimes not.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! In Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle I co-wrote a couple fics with @faux-fires which were a lot of fun. (Which... doesn’t seem to be on AO3, huh. But Not Quite Paradise is still on ff.net.) And more recently @cerusee and I have been trading scenes back and forth for each other’s stories.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

I don’t know if I have just one. Maybe Kurogane/Fai. They really manage to straddle all my favorite ship dynamics.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Both of my WIPs in Critical Role fandom, Molly’s Moving Castle and Fjord Mustang’s YEEHAW! Fun and Pony Ranch, are at this point probably never going to be finished. Partly because of Characterization Marches On; the characters that I thought they were when I started writing were not the characters they ended up being in canon. But mostly just because I’m no longer really in the fandom.

Wonder if it’s worth closing out the WIPs on AO3 with final chapters describing how the fic would have ended?

What are your writing strengths?

I can do humor, I can do horror, I can do heartbreak. I can write a complex outline and stick to it, I have a fair amount of discipline and perseverance. People occasionally compliment my character voice, so I’d say that’s decent. I can spin up a plot for just about any situation. I love adapting canon to AU. My dialogue is pretty punchy and my action sequences are adequate.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I’m really bad at writing OCs, as I admit to every darn time this comes up. I’ve also recently realized that I have a strong tendency to avoid writing about characters I don’t like, on several fronts.

The first way that manifests is that if there’s a main/good guy character who the fandom likes and I dislike, I will avoid writing about them whenever possible. I don’t do character bashing. (Which means that if I am writing about a protagonist character, even if they’re being a jerk and the narrative is whacking them for it, that doesn’t mean I hate the character. It just means that the story requires that they get a good whacking, Thor.)

But the second way this manifests is that I will often just... avoid writing about the bad guys, if they’re unpleasant and I dislike them. Which in shorter things is fine! We’re here to read about the characters we like. But in longer or more plotful things, that means that all of the villain’s bad things happen off screen if they happen at all, so the audience doesn’t get a chance to really build up anger against them, so their eventual downfall is less satisfying.

I’m also weaker at writing romance than I would like, I’d say. If it’s a story that has a plot, the romance will frequently get shoved in around the corners or at the last minute. If it’s a story that’s supposed to be about romance, the characters will usually sidetrack into having philosophical discussions about moral relativity when they’re supposed to be flirting.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’m not sure I understand the question. I don’t think this has ever come up in my fic. I do not speak any other languages fluently enough to have ever tried to write any part of my fics, dialogue or otherwise, in a language other than english. Is this asking my thoughts on other people doing that? Sure, why not?

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

That would have been Gundam Wing! Gosh, it’s been so long that I barely remember what that first fic was. But the biggest thing I wrote for that fandom was a ghost story on a space station, which was not very good, objectively, but I look back on it and think it had some seeds of a pretty cool horror/psychological drama going there.

Was Duo Maxwell really haunting the space station? Or was Heero Yuy just going mad with grief? Who can say.

Tagging! Well, Lise tagged me, so she’s out. How about... @hollyand-writes (if you have the time to spare,) @curiosity-killed, @thethirdamell, @plotdesigner, and @cerusee ?

#long post #mikke memes #mikke meta

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clarasimone · 3 years ago

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Fic interview tag

tagged by @lodessa thank you <3

Name: @clarasimone

Fandoms I write for: Games of Thrones. The series; not the books. Yes, I’m nuancing for you, obtuse totalitarian purity subscribers ;-)

Two-shot: I have NO idea what this is.

Most popular multichapter: UNDER QARTH’S SHELTERING SKY (https://archiveofourown.org/works/21383854/chapters/50938501) but maybe that’s cheating because it’s really a collection of stand-alone short stories. The real multi-chapter fic to win this category is THE KEEP (https://archiveofourown.org/works/29416008/chapters/72264993)

Actual Worst part of writing: Writing the first draft. It’s like walking in mud, I swear. It’s all clear and flowing in my mind so why is the actual writing so HARD? (Plus, english is not my mother tongue so, ya know). But I love, love, love writing the next drafts and polishing and polishing and polishing. I love finding the right word, the rare word, the right-sounding word... It’s like finally seeing the garden you were trying to grow :-)

How you choose your titles: I have to confess that I am drawn to hommages. Hommages to past works of fiction or cinema, so my first instinct is to aim for a playful title. For instance, UNDER QARTH’S SHELTERING SKY comes from THE SHELTERING SKY by Paul Bowles and adapted to the screen in 1990 by the amazing Bertolucci. Not his best film, alas, but the atmosphere, the desert location, the perfume of eroticism were so right for my collection of Jorleesi erotica, taking place in Qarth’s jewel desert city! The title just popped in my mind. More recently though, my script-ed @terisrog pointed out to me that I also have a fondness for titles evoking the concept of home which, as any Jorleesi fan knows, is central to what binds Ser Jorah and Daenerys in the series. So IN A LIBRARY WITH RED DOORS (which became THE LIBRARY in our discussions), THE KEEP (or The Ghost and Ms Targaryen) for my two real multi-chapter tales.

Do you outline: I don’t. Isn’t that bizarre? Then again, THE KEEP is a remake (of the movie The Ghost and Mrs Muir) so the film’s narrative structure acted as an outline of sorts... but I imploded its story by adding many scenes.

Ideas I probably won’t get to but it would be nice: Ask @terisrog ;-)... More seriously, Jorleesi is sooooo inspiring to me, I think I might continue on and on, so I hope I’ll get many WIPs out... including writing again with @houseofthebear, I hope :-)......... The ideas I won’t get to, I think, have to do with other projects, like finishing the Gladiator AU I began 20 years ago and stopped to have kids. Thankfully that mandate is almost over LOL...

Best writing habits: When I start a new project, I work at it every day. It’s why I don’t have actual WIPs. I mean written WIPs. If people ask me to drop a line from a WIP on Tumblr, I actually have to write something because I don’t have WIP folders. I have WIPs in my head. So, yeah, as soon as I begin writing, I WRITE; many hours each day, and I don’t stop until it’s done.

Spicy opinions: Those who know me know what I am about to write, so feel free to scoot ;-) (Deep breath) I hate, haaaaaaaaate reductive fanfic labels: smut, fluff, angst... OK, I’m slowly making peace with the expression fluff because, yes, fluffy things are cute. But to call a fic “fluff” is such an echo of mainstream bashing of fanfics that I choke on the word. When a regular editor or author labels something “fluff” it is NOT a compliment. But OK, in our world, it’s a positive thing...... The one I truly have a hard time with, and I’ll be on a life-long crusade about it, is “smut”. A synonym for that word is dirt and, I’m sorry, but are we still in a world where sex has to be deemed dirty to be hot and arousing? Sex can be luminous. Explicit erotic fics can be funny, poetic, joyful, dark, romantic, sad and all the while be arousing without having to be termed “smut”. I hate it, I hate it, I. HATE. IT. So my banner is Erotica, and if that sounds intellectual or pretentious, so be it. (p.s. I’m aware that my peeve stems from cultural differences. I’m not American. I’m not even Anglo-saxon. French literature has long given credentials to erotica so I’m like: hum, we’re not on the same page, are we? ;-)

Tagging @gettingovergreta @houseofthebear @terisrog @rileypotter17 @toas-tea @chryssadirewolf @fandomsbyladymelodrama @bridgr6 @memoir-of-stars @here-we-blog @wizfrog and @salzrand

#tag game #writing

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mbrokenheart93 · 3 years ago

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First Dance Since 1943

Character: James Bucky Barnes

Inspired by (song): I still don’t remember it, actually 😬

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/ Fem!StarkScientist Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Dancing at Work. Insecurities. Jokes. Memories.

Author's Note: Hello!!! I hope you're ok today ❤️.

First of all, thanks you for all the replies on my last Fics! Really that is very appreciated 😍

This fic was the first that I ve write with Bucky when the series came out, so... This was the first steps of my new (lost) love about Bucky (And Sebastian too)

I hope you like this one!!!

XOXO ❤️

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

- Leslie - He raised his head as soon as he heard Joaquín's voice and gave him a smile when he saw him poke his head through the door of my office, even though it is transparent - I bring Sam with me so you can take a look at Redwing.

- It will be my pleasure - I mutter as I type a quick reply to Agent Johnson about the malfunction of Agent Sousa's new pistol. Men who come from bygone ages have serious problems with modern technology - How can I help you?

He looked up from the laptop and my eyes meet that sad look that my dreams seemed to reflect conscientiously. The owner of those blue eyes and painful memories sees me with a hint of a smile while his partner holds Redwing as if I were going to touch him just to detonate him.

- I want it to be clear that I let you intervene with him only because Torres made it clear to me that you worked for Stark.

I give a laugh that reflects my nervousness as I turn to Bucky.

- Sergeant Barnes.

- Hey. How have you been, Leslie? - The way my name sounds in his voice, which is seductive without even looking for it makes him feel that my legs melt like jelly at those words.

- Busy with so much work - I reach out to Sam making a mental note of how good that blue shirt looks on Bucky and coming to the conclusion that men who come from 1940 like the color blue - What is it? What it's the problem?

- The laser was decalibrated. I wanted to repair it but it was impossible.

- If you let me examine it, at most I will have it ready in a couple of hours - The soldier nods somewhat suspiciously but takes a step back as soon as I take that small device. - The dream of any woman, to fix one of the many work items of the Avengers.

Sam laughs as he begins to explain that he is no longer part of the Avengers as many believe. To all this, Bucky, as I allow myself to call him in my thoughts, is in silence, leaning against one of the many glass walls of the room, looking out of the building and I do not doubt for a second when I believe that he was not paying attention in the least to our conversation.

Joaquín's voice interrupts my thoughts and from the smile he brings, I know that every time he meets these two men, he considers himself one of the luckiest beings in the universe.

- Excuse me, Sam - The two men turn around as I turn the little drone and see the typical signs that this prototype of Stark technology is very poorly maintained. I make a mental note not to say that to Sam and concentrate on fixing the laser as I hear them being called from "Higher Spheres" as I call high-ranking Air Force people - They need you, there's a new report on the mission in Libya.

- Take good care of him, Leslie - I nodded smiling without looking up and muttered a "Better than you, sure" that was only audible to me.

If there was one thing he hated about Stark technologies, it was that, in addition to having the F.R.I.D.A.Y tech matrix, and without it, he couldn't do much more than touch some cables and hope the little drone would work. And i prayed that would work, otherwise i would have to ask Pepper for permission to use her facilities, but Sam would flatly refuse to take Redwing to Stark Industries.

- He screwed it up, didn't he?

I jerked my head up when I heard Bucky's voice and when I looked at him, he was still in the same position as before, looking outside the building.

- I thought you had left with Sam ...

- Excuse me, I did not want to scare you - He approached the table where i was working and indicated the drone with his metal arm, which he no longer hid under layers of clothing, much less, leather gloves - He treats that drone very badly .

- Sorry?

- Do you think that murmur was imperceptible only for you? I assure you that Sam heard it too- I cursed as he dropped the tools i had in my hands and covered my face with both, wishing that the earth would open and swallow me, as a minimum option.

- Why didn't you go with Sam? and please do not get me wrong, I like the company and I like that you are here, but it is simple curiosity - I cursed myself internally as I listened over and over again to the words that I had said aloud and I wanted the earth to pity me again and swallow me. Definitely Joaquín's idea of just nodding and not talking was an excellent idea to implement.

Had I told him out loud that I liked him being there? Oh my God…

- This is Sam's land, I don't fit in here.

- And yet, here you are - I take Redwing and walk to the testing room of the laboratory that is adjacent to my office, where the music begins to play as soon as I enter the small room and as much as I want to deactivate it, I can not do it. I resign myself as soon as I hear Bucky's footsteps behind me and as soon as he enters the room, it seems too small with him there. I put the drone on the long metal table that occupies a large part of it and I type the password in the auxiliary panel of one of the screens around me and the little drone turns on, taking flight a few meters above our heads - At least It leaves me happy that I still fly with all those blows.

- I'm surprised that it's still whole - Bucky's murmur makes me laugh as I calibrate the laser to shoot the target in front of him. I try to shoot but nothing happens. I curse silently as I see from the corner of my eye that the man cautiously observes the room, as he stops when the first melodies of “She's got a Way” by Billy Joel begin to play- Do you like the music of the 20th century?

- I'll tell you the truth: I don't like current music, I prefer the lyrics of 1980s artists where they say heartfelt things rather than the lyrics that speak about certain topics in a very direct way. 1980 was a very good time, maybe you would like it.

- I have a list of songs on Spotify that I listened to in the 40's. I thought I couldn't find them again - The hint of melancholy that invades his voice makes for a moment that I wanted to meet that 23-year-old young man who should be very different from the one in front of me, with a totally different way of being and without all the suffering that would happen later - What if, that was when I learned to use a computer.

- You know, you would get along with Agent Sousa from SWORD - He turned at the mention of the new agency with a frown, clearly annoyed at the idea of interacting with another agency. - He's just like you, technically speaking.

- He went through psychological torture and became a Hydra assassin? -The sincerity and ease with which those words came out of his mouth made my eyes fill with tears. The pain in his voice made my words sound clearly wrong in that conversation.

- No ... He also comes from an ancient time, like you and Steve. Only Daniel was taken out of 1955 because of Agent Coulson and his feeling of not being able to let him die in front of his eyes - Bucky nodded as he stood next to me again and watched my movements on the screen trying to get Redwing to respond, something that did not happen - Perhaps it would do them good to chat between the two ... You are not from the same era, but I imagine that their feelings towards this century are similar, and both are adapting. You can get to understand each other more than they think.

- I will keep it in mind…. Thank you, Doll - I felt the heat begin to rise up my neck at that nickname and I assumed that my cheeks must be a scarlet red color, because, despite the fact that it was cold in that room, I felt that I was on fire - I all this is strange, even though I know this technology, it is difficult for me not to relate it to all this - Unconsciously, he touches his metal arm and I let out a sigh. I'd like to know how to help him get through that, but I don't know how to do it without bringing up bad memories.

- Is there something you like?

- What are you talking about? - I put aside the PADD I had in my hands and touched the "Stand By" button for Redwing to return to his original position in the center of the table.

- Sometimes, learning becomes easier when there is something you like - I lean on the table while he remains silent and I watch him waiting for his answer, but all I get is a smile about something he is thinking - What makes you smile?

- Dance. I haven't danced in a long time. Since 1943, to be exact - He leans on the other end of the table, facing me exactly and gives me a look with a flash of mischief - And I'm not going to those places that they call discos to dance with someone.

I laughed at his tone of indignation, when I could contain my laughter, I saw him watching me with what seemed like affection, but I tried not to give it too much importance, but when I felt that my heart was going to leave my chest so hard it hit my rib cage.

- Why that tone against the discos?

- The music is too loud and there are colored lights that I don't even know what they are called, plus you can't talk to anyone - I laughed again at his complaints that were very sincere and were very similar to mine - Don't make fun of me.

- I do not, I am funny the tone you use. You seem really annoyed with it - Bucky rolls his eyes and taps on the table - What do you miss most about 1940?

- Everything, my family, my friends, my life ... The way I could go to an amusement park and not have to worry about whoever saw me wanted to run out of fear, when I could take a girl on a date without I would worry about my past, dancing with someone, that closeness that made me so comfortable and so relaxing at the same time.

- Well, at least the dance thing can be fixed - I take my iPhone out of my pocket and search the playlist for Eric Clapton's song, Wonderful Tonight and once the notes start to play, I walk over to Bucky, holding out my hand towards him, in an attack of courage, the kind that I don't usually have, but all that was to get a smile from the owner of those beautiful sad eyes - Would you dance this song with me?

Although I notice that my actions catch him off guard, he smiles at me and takes my hand, nodding his head.

When the two of us are standing in front of each other, I realize that I don't know where to put my hands, much less stop to think if that could be uncomfortable for him. I wanted to back away, looking for a good enough excuse before falling into the misfortune of having to apologize to him, but Bucky, who will have simply seen my worried expression, took my free hand and brought it to his forearm, and laid it there gently, While with his right hand he held mine, and with his metal arm, he encircled my waist, drawing me close to him. We began to move slowly to the beat of the music, but he was definitely the one leading the way.

- How does it feel to dance decently again? - I was silent at the inappropriate comment and let out a sigh while I concentrated on trying not to step on it.

- It feels strange to do it after a long time - Bucky ignores my comment or downplays it, but when I look at him, I realize that he is concentrating on remembering the steps and trying to guide the inexperienced woman in front of him.

- To do it a long time ago, you do it very well - He shakes his head, trying not to smile, and before I even knew it, he released one of my hands and made me turn, taking my hand perfectly synchronized at the end of it.

- If Steve were here, I'd say it's innate ability.

- Well, if he makes you feel more comfortable, this is my first time dancing with someone, that is, I dance with a man. And I must admit that I never believed it would be in my workplace.

- Why's that? - I let out a sigh as I watch him at the same time that he looks towards the laboratory door. When he looks back at me, in his blue eyes I can see a flicker of doubt and curiosity.

Anyone could feel safe with my poor social and love life.

- It's weird to dance in your workplace. Everyone here is watching you from the other side of the glass and ...

- I meant because you never danced with anyone - Oh ... I drop my head until it almost touches his chest, but I feel that the pressure of his arm grows stronger around my waist, as if he knows that I am about to fall and I won't notice - I'm sorry if the question bothers you.

- No, no, he doesn't. What happens is that I'm not usually the type of girl who gets asked to dance. Besides, I don't like going to the disco or going out at night. In that respect I am similar to you - I admit while he gives me a smirk - I prefer to stay home and read. Or spend time with my cat.

- Intellectuals are the best - Bucky's voice sounds annoying and safe at the same time, as if something in his own words bothered him.

- But the less interesting for the men of this time apparently, more when they talk a lot about science and current affairs - Between the chords of the music, I get him to laugh. And I must admit, he has a beautiful smile, one of the prettiest I have ever seen, in fact. I start to laugh and in the midst of my laughter, he spins me around again at the same time the song ends.

- Not for me. Are you sure you didn't come out of the 40's like me? - We don't even part, and our hands are still joined as I shake my head.

I smile as I take a step away from him as I pick up my cell phone to stop the music and see him approach the window again.

- No, but I think I was born at the wrong time.

- Thanks for this - his murmur reaches me far away, but with a clear hint of satisfaction in his voice. I smile happy to have served my purpose.

- Thanks to you, at least I have experienced what it feels like to dance with someone.

- You will do it more often, trust me.

- I take the word.

Sam who had arrived at the scene a few minutes before with Torres, smiled as he watched the whole scene and remembered those days when he took advantage of Steve's innocence with women and smiled wistfully when he realized that Bucky was the clear image of his best friend. Seeing him for a moment concentrating on something other than work filled him with satisfaction, perhaps Joaquín's idea of bringing him here hadn't been so bad after all.

Then he would take advantage of letting him know of his observations when the two of them were alone.

I turn towards the door as soon as I hear a series of light knocks and I meet Sam's mischievous smile, who sees me as if he had discovered gold or something much more valuable.

- I'm so sorry to interrupt, but we have work, Buck.

- Sure - Bucky turns to where I am and before he could even move me away, he takes one of my hands and leaves a kiss on it. I can barely contain the sigh that tries to escape from my lips and I simply remain silent, feeling how the color begins to invade my cheeks, in the company of the heat - Thanks for the dance.

- My pleasure, Sergeant Barnes.

Sam, who is behind us, rolls his eyes and leans against the door while Bucky approaches him with a heavy sigh - Don't even think about making jokes about this.

- Did I say something? - I let out a laugh at his comical and ironic tone as Bucky walks past him shaking his head. "See you later, Leslie." I need to make some arrangements on the suit.

- Yes Sir.

Sam glares at me as Torres chuckles at my horrified expression. I forgot he don't like me calling him sir.

- Sorry, Sam.

After a few minutes, I find myself alone again, so I return to the laboratory to work on Redwing and allow myself to release that sigh that I have been holding since Bucky appeared in that room.

That moment had been incredible ... Even if it was only that, a moment that will remain in my head.

I startle as soon as I hear a knock on the door, I take off the receiver and as soon as I turn around, I see that the one at the door is Bucky, who has his left hand hidden behind his back.

- You know, "Sergeant" is very formal - he leaves his left hand exposed and has a white flower on it. I doubt if I approach but I do it feeling that the colors begin to invade my face. No one had never given me flowers. That gesture was beautiful, I take it and I respond with a smile - Call me James.

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