#and yesterday i was thinking about that dance performance in school and i remember i did not want to do it because i was scared i had lost

[folkloregirlfriend]

why did i leave dance classes

[pandenewie]

EPILOGUE: New Contract

Prev | Masterlist

Y/n taps their pen anxiously against the page of their notebook, eyes shifting towards the clock. How is it that the last 5 minutes of class always seem to last for hours? With every second that goes by, Y/n can feel their body tingling with excitement.

“Got somewhere to be?” Danielle asks, taking note of her friend's restlessness. “We do.” Y/n smiles, causing her to cock her brow with confusion. She doesn’t remember having any plans at lunch.

“Are we going to eat lunch together tomorrow or with our friends?” Y/n asks, peering up at Niki as they swing their interlocked hands back and forth. “Tomorrow? Uh… I think I’ve got a dance thing.” Niki mumbles. Y/n had been at the forefront of his mind over the last couple of weeks so he’d almost forgotten the lunch-time dance recital their team had prepared.

“A dance thing?” Y/n asks, intrigued. “Yeah, it’s some mini recital thing we’re doing at the front of the school. Practicing for nationals, I think. I don’t know, it’s not that important.” Niki trails off. “It sounds fun though, I can’t wait to watch.” Y/n smiles, making Niki laugh slightly. “You don’t have to, it’ll probably be bad.” He laughs. “It won’t be bad, Riki. Besides, I’ve gotta be there! Who else is gonna cheer on my boyfriend?” Niki’s face heats a bright pink when the word “boyfriend” slips past Y/n’s lips. After fake dating this entire time, he’s still not used to it being real. “Okay… but don’t complain when it sucks.” Niki teases, letting out a yelp when Y/n whacks him in the chest.

Danielle watches her friend in confusion as Y/n begins to slowly pack up their books. There’s still about 2 minutes of class left and Mr Yoon is still going over some of the key notes for the next assignment. 

“Put your stuff away.” Y/n whispers, only adding to Danielle’s confusion. Never one to question Y/n, Danielle too begins slowly packing up - careful not to alert Mr Yoon. 

The second that the bell rings, Y/n is out of their chair. They immediately grab Danielle by the hand, slinging their bag over their shoulder before pulling her out of the classroom.

“What the hell, Y/n?” Danielle laughs as Y/n drags them through the hall, which is slowly starting to fill up with students. Y/n just smiles in response, pulling out their phone and calling Eunchae. She barely gets a word in before Y/n is speaking down the line “meet us at the front steps!” before hanging up.

Once outside, they are immediately met with the school’s dance team standing at the bottom of the steps, going over a few of the steps with their teacher. The area quickly begins to fill up with students so Y/n drags Danielle to the bottom of the stairs, sitting in the spot that’ll give them the best view.

“What are we doing?” Danielle asks, confused. “The dance team’s doing a performance. I wanted to get good seats.” Y/n says, knees bouncing with excitement. Danielle watches with adoration as Y/n makes eye contact with Niki - sending him a small wave. A few moments later, Eunchae bursts through the crowd, manoeuvring through a few groups of students before finally sitting with Y/n and Danielle.

“Never call me like that again. I thought you were dying.” Eunchae scolds, flicking Y/n’s forehead. “But I should’ve known you were wanting to watch the performance.” She adds, playfully rolling her eyes. “Let me simp for my boyfriend in peace.” Y/n frowns - the word boyfriend causing both friend’s eyes to widen. “Oh, so we're official, huh?” Danielle teases, nudging her friend. Y/n blushes, mumbling a small “shut up” before nudging her back. “Shhh, it's starting.” Eunchae whisper-yells, making the other two turn to watch the performance.

Y/n can’t help the wide smile that spreads across their face as they watch Niki perform. He does amazing - obviously. Despite the way he tried to downplay it yesterday, it really does look like a professional performance. Y/n can tell that Niki is purposefully avoiding making eye contact with them in order to keep his focus - an action they find much cuter than they probably should. Glancing at the others in the crowd, Y/n’s gaze lands on Niki’s friend group - their grin increasing at the way the group of boys scream and cheer for their friend.

When the performance comes to an end, the crowd erupts into fits of applause. The dance team thanks everyone for coming and the crowd slowly begins to disperse. Once most of the crowd has left, Y/n gets up and runs towards Niki. They call his name to gain his attention before jumping into his arms - the action causing him to stumble slightly as he catches them.

“You did so amazing!” Y/n exclaims, giggling as Niki spins them in his arms. He mumbles a small thank you, his face burning slightly at the compliment. “I saw you were trying not to look at me.” Y/n teases, making him scoff. “What? That’s not true! I was just focused on the performance.” Niki bluffs. Y/n doesn't believe him for a second but chooses not to press, opting for pressing a peck against his cheek instead.

“Uh… are we interrupting something?” Jay asks, the sudden voice making Niki almost drop Y/n. “You two look cozy.” Jungwon teases. “Shut up.” Niki retorts, his bitter tone making the group burst out laughing.

“Wait… are you guys actually dating now?” Jake asks, confused. “Uh… yeah.” Niki smiles awkwardly, eyes shifting between his friend and Y/n (who is still in his arms). “I’ve been telling everyone you broke up.” Jake groans, throwing his arms up in defeat. “Your fault for sticking your nose in other people’s business.” Sunoo mumbles.

“Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I want to spend the rest of my lunch with Y/n.” Niki says, making the group roll their eyes. “You two are disgusting.” Heeseung says, his face twisted in disgust. Niki ignores the insult, flipping Heeseung off before walking away.

“You know you can put me down now, right?” Y/n asks, laughing slightly as Niki keeps walking. “I’m trying to prove how strong I am.” Niki huffs. Despite his words, it’s clear that he’s reaching his limit. Thankfully, the bleachers are close by - Niki placing Y/n firmly on the ground as soon as he’s gone far enough for his ego. “Who knew getting a boyfriend would mean I didn’t have to walk anywhere?” Y/n jokes, sitting down on the bleachers and pulling out their lunchbox.

The two eat their lunch quickly, chatting about whatever crosses their mind. Niki makes sure to steal a few gummies from Y/n when he thinks they aren’t looking. They roll their eyes at his immaturity yet still tilt the bag to give him easier access.

Eventually, Niki gets bored stealing Y/n’s food and settles on playing with their free hand. Y/n doesn’t pay much attention to what he’s doing, enjoying the feeling of Niki’s warm hand brushing against their own. Suddenly, the feeling is gone and Y/n turns to see Niki pulling something out of their bag.

“What are you doing?” Y/n asks, watching curiously as Niki pulls out one of their journals, as well as their pencil case. He silently flicks to the back of the book before stopping on a familiar page.

It’s their contract.

“Oh my god.” Y/n laughs as soon as they get a glimpse of the colourful page. “Figured this needs a bit of an update.” Niki laughs. Y/n scooches closer to him to get a better look at the page. “Yeah, we broke most of these.” They laugh.

Niki flicks to the next page, titling it Actually Dating. “Draw a heart.” Y/n mumbles, their head falling to Niki’s shoulder. He playfully rolls his eyes yet doodles a small heart next to the words without a second thought. Niki quickly jots down the first rule to the new contract, Y/n letting out a small snort as soon as they read it.

Rule One: Riki must give at least 5 head pats a day

“It’s crazy that you put that and not me.” Y/n laughs. “I think we both know that the head pats are more for me than you.” Niki snickers, giving a quick one as an example. “Well, what if I start doing them back?” Y/n asks, reaching up to ruffle Niki’s hair quickly. He lets out a complained whine, immediately bringing his hands up to fix his hair. “Never do that again.” He says, looking at Y/n with a deadpan expression. He quickly looks back at the page, writing down the next rule.

Rule Two: Y/n is not allowed to walk home alone!!!

Before Y/n can even get in a word about rule two, Niki immediately follows it up with the third rule.

Rule Three: Riki gets to see Y/n’s art before anyone else

“Okay, these are starting to sound a bit one-sided.” Y/n laughs, pulling the book out of Niki’s grip before he can write another rule. “They sound like your everyday boyfriend privileges if you ask me.” Niki mumbles, making Y/n roll their eyes. They carefully take the pen from his grip before adding to rule three.

Rule Three: Riki gets to see Y/n’s art before anyone else (same for Y/n with Riki’s dancing!!)

“That is not the same thing!” Niki argues, a small pout on his face. “You just show me a piece of paper and call it quits. Am I supposed to bust out into some choreography in the middle of the library?” He asks. “No but you could let me watch some of your practices.” Y/n suggests, a small smile on their face. The words cause Niki to pause his mini-speech. “... you liked watching me dance that much?” He asks, a soft pink blush adorning his cheeks. “I loved it.” Y/n corrects, poking his blushing cheek before turning back to the list.

Rule Four: Wednesday is still for study dates

“That’s if you’re not sick of me already.” Y/n jokes, nudging Niki slightly with their elbow. “I actually hate spending time with you and that’s why I asked you out.” Niki rolls his eyes. He reaches quickly to grab the book from Y/n’s grip, jotting down one final rule before handing it back with a cheesy smile.

Rule Five: Give Riki lots of kisses

“You’re unbelievable.” Y/n laughs, their cheeks reddening slightly. “You get head pats, I get kisses. It’s only fair, Y/nnie.” Niki teases. “You literally just admitted that the head pats are for you!” Y/n exclaims, pointing at Niki with a pout on their lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Niki shrugs nonchalantly. “This is an unequal relationship.” Y/n frowns, turning away from Niki. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll change it.” Niki laughs, erasing the rule (thank god for erasable markers) before scribbling another one in its place.

Actual Rule Five: Love each other for as long as we can <3

Niki slowly slides the book back onto Y/n’s lap, biting his lip to hold back his smile. Y/n glances down at the colourful page, their face immediately turning three shades darker when they read the fifth and final rule.

“You’re such an idiot.” Y/n mumbles, turning around and pulling Niki into a hug. It’s at a slightly odd angle due to the book in their lap but Niki immediately settles into the contact nevertheless. “I’m your idiot.” Niki jokes, his corniness making Y/n groan with embarrassment. “Okay, okay, I’ll actually stop now.” Niki laughs, patting Y/n’s head gently as they nuzzle into his neck.

The two sit like that for a while, just enjoying each other’s presence. “I’m really happy.” Niki suddenly mumbles - the confession making Y/n’s heart flutter with excitement. It’s such a simple statement, something so minimal that could go overlooked by anyone else - but to Y/n, it means the world.

“Me too.” Y/n whispers back. They slowly pull their head out from its hiding spot in Niki’s neck, looking up at him with shining eyes. Niki suddenly thinks back to all the times his friends had talked about their first kisses, how the moment felt and how they knew it was time. Niki never understood what they meant until now. This is the moment.

So he kisses Y/n. Although they technically already shared their first kiss together - back when their relationship was still fake - it was nothing like this one. That kiss was quick and rushed, done without much thought or meaning. This one is planned, precise and oh-so-special.

Y/n smiles gently against Niki’s lips, making him do the same. It gets to the point where the kiss can no longer continue, both breaking out into fits of giggles as they press their noses against each other. Niki can’t believe all the years he spent thinking love was gross. If he knew it felt like this he would’ve never been so stubborn in the first place. But maybe his objection to love was the right call - after all, it led him to Y/n.

TAG LIST: @j-wyoung @thesassy-mia @luvistqrzzz @yourmyst4r @heerinnie @odisdad @wzy3ka @mrchweeee @rizzkisworld @beomsbeanie @ablackbtsstan @sweet-kisses-and-bloody-screams @kang-yeosangs-initials @wildflowermooon @k1ttylvr @nikisdubblchococake @luva1y @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @en-happiness @haechansbbg @ashiitex @nuttyenthusiastdaze @coolwitu @schniti-is-in-the-house @wrosie-writes @beomgyusonlywife @ye0nvibezzn @soobiverse @im-yn-suckers @tomomorin @eupherbia @raginghellfire

[alotofpockets]

In love | Florence Pugh

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Reader

Prompt: "You’re in love with her.”

masterlist | marvel masterlist | Words: 1400

You and Florence have been best friends since you were seven years old. Now twenty years later, you’re still as close as you were back then, if not closer. You’ve been there for the good parts like discovering who you were as people, growing individually, and what your hopes and dreams for your futures are. You’ve been there for each other for the bad parts like heartbreaks, job rejections, and family health issues. In other words, you had always been there for each other. She was the most important person in your life.

Growing up you had monthly sleepovers together and you often with on the Pugh families vacations with them. The sleepovers turned into rooming together in college and eventually living together after you graduated. Her family had considered you a part of their family a long time ago, and you considered them family as well.

You were invited to the big reopening of Clint’s restaurant tonight. He had given it a more modern look, while keeping the cozy vibe. He was throwing a party in celebration, the place was full of friends, family, and food lovers from around the area.

Finding yourself amongst a group of strangers you get to talking. You were interested in where they came from and how they knew about the restaurant, it was fun to hear the experience of all these individuals that came together to celebrate the reopening. You got into conversation with one of the girls that was standing at your table. While finding out where everyone came from, you realized you went to the same school. You weren’t in the same year, she was a couple years older than you were, but you found out you had a lot of the same teachers. You were laughing together as you were each telling stories about the teachers that you had in common.

On the other side of the room, you were being watched by Florence, she watched your every move. Her face showed that she was growing more and more annoyed with what she was looking at. Raffie walked back up to Florence with their drinks. “What are you looking all annoyed about?” She asked. Florence turned red as she felt caught. “Nothing.” She quicky said diverting her eyes away from you. Though she was too slow, Raffie had already spotted where her sister had been looking and smirked. “When are you going to just admit it?” Florence sends her sister a confused look, “Admit what?” Raffie shakes her head in disbelief, did her sister really think she was fooling anyone. “Come on, it's obvious, you’re in love with her.” As if you sensed that the conversation was about you, you were headed their way. “Act cool.” Florence warned her sister. “Pfft, worry about yourself.” Raffie laughed. You walked right up to Florence and put an arm around her shoulder, not noticing her flushed cheeks at your action. “Hey, have you’ve spoken to any of the people here? They’re like from all over the place, it’s so cool they’re all here for your dad’s food!” Florence sent a warning look to Raffie who was looking a little too smug in her direction.

“Hey Raf, mind if I steal this one for a dance?” You ask shaking Flo’s shoulder playfully. “Not at all.” You smile her way and turn around walking Florence over to the middle of the restaurant where some people had started to dance. Florence looks back at her sister who winks her way. Right as you make your way to the dance floor a slow song starts playing, you take Flo’s hand and pull her closer. You’re both laughing as you spin her right onto the dance floor. “Remember the dance we made up to this song for that talent show?” You ask her. “Yeah, every move.” Florence smiles. You reach out your hand, “What do you say we show these people how it’s done?” She takes your hand and you both start moving to the dance you rehearsed day after day for weeks. It was like you had performed the choreography yesterday, moving in sync and all the right moves. You were both wearing the biggest smiles on your faces as you moved effortlessly around the dance floor, not noticing that you had gathered a crowd with their phones out filming you. It happened to you often, the world around you disappearing when you were with Florence. Dancing with her brought back so many happy memories. You had been in a dance class together when you were younger and used to dance everywhere you could, inside, in the backyard, and even on your way home from school. The outro of the song played, and you moved into your ending position. The crowd erupted in cheer, which was the first time you noticed that people had been looking at you two. You both bowed and walked off. Subconsciously you kept holding her hand as you walked back over to the table Raffie was sitting at. When you noticed you were still holding her hand you got a warm feeling in your chest, she hadn’t let you. You rub your thumb over the back of her hand as you look at your intertwined fingers. Florence looked up at you and smiled, you returned the smile before she leaned her head into your side.

You stay like that talking with Raffie for a bit before Florence asks if you can help her with something in the kitchen. “Of course, lead the way.” You answered. She expertly moved her way through the crowd, leading you to the kitchen. When you entered the kitchen Florence stood still, she seemed to be deep in thought. “What did you need my help with?” Florence takes a deep breath, “Nothing actually, I just wanted some privacy.” Your feel your heart start beating faster. You’re both quiet for a moment. Florence takes a small step forward and takes your hand in hers once again. She looks up into your eyes and breaks the silence, “Tell me this isn’t all in my head.” You pull her closer, “It’s not.” That’s when you kiss her with all the passion you’ve been hiding for years. You move your hand to cup her cheek and the hand that was previously holding hers was now on her lower back, pulling her closer to you. One of her hands was in the nape of your neck, also trying to get you even closer than you already were. It was a kiss full of feelings, every build up piece of chemistry emerging from your bodies. When you both pull away to catch your breath, you keep holding each other close. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” Florence says. “Me too.” You respond before you kiss her again.

After kissing some more, you sit down in the kitchen and talk about what just happened. Though it was very clear that it was a want from both your ends. “Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?” Florence asks shyly. “Yes, of course, Flo. I would love to be.” You share another sweet kiss before you decide to head back to the party. You walk back over to Raffie, but you get stopped on the way by Flo’s mom. “Hey y/n, can I borrow you for one second?” You squeeze Flo’s hand as you say “Of course, Deb, right behind you!”

Florence does make her way back to Raffie. “Hm helping in the kitchen but coming back out with any food, care to explain?” Florence rolls her eyes jokingly. “Oh, shush you. You were right, I should just admit it. I didn’t tell her that I love her yet, but we kissed, and I asked her to be my girlfriend.” Raffie’s face lights up, “Oh my god! I was just messing with you, I didn’t know you actually did anything. Ahh this is so exciting, tell me everything!” You looked over your shoulder as you were helping Deb with the photobooth and saw Florence excitedly talking to her sister. You felt that warm feeling come back to your chest and smiled to yourself. You were head over heels in love with Florence and you were so excited to see where life was going to take you. All you knew was that with her by your side as your girlfriend it was going to be incredible.

~

Turn on notifications for @pocketslibrary to be notified when I post a new fic! 

[ladykailitha]

Star Child Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

They arrived at the green room for the little dive bar they were playing at the next day. They always sold out stadiums, but this was a way for them to give back to the dive bars that got them their start.

Sitting among the swaths of things mentioned in their rider was a bouquet of flowers.

Jeff turned to the owner, Jess. “Hey, what’s this? We said no fan gifts in the green room.”

“I wasn’t sure where else to put it,” she said with a shrug. “Because it’s not from a fan. Or at least not the usual kind.”

Eddie walked over to the flowers and picked them. Inside the black tissue paper were some of the most beautiful black and dark red flowers he’d ever seen. There was a card.

-Eddie

Good luck, in case I miss the concert.

Steve

And there was a little heart next to his name.

“Oh.”

Jess smiled. “So I was right, not the usual fan.”

The other three members crowded over Eddie’s shoulder and read the note.

Gareth looked up at her and grinned. “Nope, you were so right. This a suitor for the fair Eddie.”

Eddie smacked his arm. “Fuck off, man.”

“So is he going to try to come to the concert then?” Brian asked, pointing to card.

“That’s what it looks like,” Jeff said.

Eddie leaned around his friends to look at Jess. “But I thought it was sold out.”

“It is,” Jess agreed. “But if he bought a ticket before hand, he’s going to get in, right?”

Eddie just frowned. Steve didn’t seem to know about the concert tonight when they talked yesterday.

“He bought me flowers.”

He cheeks turned as red as the roses.

Brian just squeezed his shoulder.

“Come on, man,” he said. “Let’s get set up.”

*

Eddie kept an eye out on the crowd looking for any pop stars in tight leather pants, but to no avail.

So with a pout he slunk back to the green room and there sitting on the ratty neon green sofa was Steve Harrington.

He gave them a dorky little wave.

Jeff laughed. “How the hell, man?”

Steve turned on his cheesiest grin. “Jess and I went to high school together.”

Jess came in behind the band and glared at him. “And if you tell them anything else, do not forget I have still have our eighth grade year book.”

Steve’s grin turned feral. “I don’t have to tell them anything, sweetheart. Or did you forget Corroded Coffin are Hawkins High boys, too?”

Jess circled around them, eyeing them critically. “I think I’d remember those hot asses.”

Gareth laughed. “We were sophomores when you were a senior, well except Eddie here.”

“What the hell were you doing hanging out with sophomores?” Jess asked.

“Trying to graduate for billionth time,” Eddie groused. “I was the year above you, your year, and the year after you.”  

“And then we made it big and didn’t matter anymore,” Brian said, clapping Eddie on the back.

“We all still graduated,” Jeff said. “We made sure of that.”

“Lucky you,” Steve said with a pained smile.

“What?”

The whole band turned to Steve.

He shrugged. “I have my GED, but I never actually graduated. I was too busy learning dance moves and trying to keep my falsetto.”

“Thank fuck that didn’t last long,” Gareth said flopping on the couch next to Steve.

“What the dance moves or the falsetto?” Steve asked bumping him with his shoulder.

“The falsetto, man,” Jeff agreed. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have got that kick ass performance two nights ago.”

Jess moved further into the room. “What’s this? I didn’t know you guys performed together.”

Steve and Eddie pulled out their phones but Eddie was faster, pulling up the video of the “Low Key in Love” portion of the concert.

And Jess watched as Steve started the song. And then her eyebrows went up and she glanced at Steve who ducked his head blushing.

And then it got to the end and she stared at him open mouthed. “Holy shit dude. Why are you still doing bubblegum pop?”

“That’s what I want to know!” Jeff said.

“Contract.” Steve’s smile had gone and a mask shuttered his features.

Eddie frowned and then realized why.

“Sometimes you’ve got walk before you can run,” Eddie said putting his phone away. “And when you do release that kickass alt rock album, give me a call, I want in.”

Steve’s expression cleared to something resembling hope. “Yeah? I’d like that. A lot.”

*

The guys were in the green room clearing up their stuff, so Jess and Steve left them to it.

“Those boys know what you are?” she asked, popping a cap off a beer and sliding it over to him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Steve said, scraping the label with his fingernail.

“Steve,” Jess said, low. “A lot of us figured you for gay or at the very least bisexual.”

Steve’s head rocked up in shock. “What?”

“I don’t know how you thought you were being subtle,” Jess said opening up a beer for herself. “You were eyeing Billy’s ass as often as you were eyeing Nancy’s tits.”

Steve blushed.

“So I’m gonna ask again,” Jess said, leaning on the bar. “Do those boys know what you are?”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “I’d sure hope so. I’m flirting with their lead singer.”

Jess boggled. “You’re Steve, the Steve that sent the flowers?”

Steve grinned.

“That’s right,” Gareth said, coming up from behind. “Steve-o here sent our Eddie flowers.”

“And what flowers they were,” Eddie agreed. “Very metal.”

Steve laughed again. “That’s a good thing I hope.”

“The best,” Eddie said with a wink.

“Beers for all you boys?” Jess asked.

“I’d kill for a cocktail,” Brian said. “Not sure what I’m in the mood for, but I want something sweet.”

Steve chuckled. “I know how to make one cocktail. Learned for an girlfriend who loved them.”

Jess raised an eyebrow. “This I’ve got to see.” She stepped out from behind the bar and bowed.

Steve laughed.

“All you boys wanna try this or am I just making one for Brian?” he said as he slid easily behind the bar, looking around for what he needed. “Where are your glasses?”

Jess pointed them out and looked over his shoulder. Everyone agreed to try Steve’s little cocktail so he got out four glasses. Poured the tequila, orange juice and the grenadine making a beautiful color gradient in the glass.

Everyone grabbed a glass and downed the drink.

Jeff began coughing. “Holy shit, dude, that is way too sweet.”

Gareth shrugged. “It’s not bad, but it’s not my thing.”

Brian grabbed their glasses and hoarded them. “I’ll take them then. Mine!”

Everyone laughed.

Steve turned to Eddie. “So what did you think?”

Eddie looked him in the eyes. “It’s good. Not something I’d order myself. But if I was handed it to me a party I wouldn’t turn it down.”

“Fair enough,” Steve said.

“So what’s it called?” Jeff asked. “The Harrington special?”

“Fuck no,” Steve said with a laugh. “It was invented in the 70s.”

“You going to tell us what it is, then, big boy?” Eddie teased.

“I don’t want to say, it’s embarrassing.”

Jess laughed. “I’d say. So cliche, man.” She slapped the bar. “You learned it for an ex girlfriend, should I guess the one?”

“No, no, nope,” Eddie said, waving his hands. “I don’t want to know. Let me enjoy the drink.”

Jess laughed and Steve blushed.

“You can look it up,” Steve mumbled. “It’s the second fill in when you start typing in tequila.”

The boys hurried to pull out their phones. One by one they started laughing when they got their answer.

Eddie rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. “Hey Siri.”

“Yes?” came the robotic voice.

“What is the drink called with orange juice, tequila, and grenadine?”

“A tequila sunrise.”

Eddie slowly licked his lips. “Thanks, Siri.”

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7  Part 8 Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14 Part 15  Part 16

Tag List: @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @novelnovella @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @gleek4twd @gregre369 @whatthemeepever @cutepumpkin4  @spectrum-spectre @livelaughlexa @ohlook-afrog @linkydinky06 @goodolefashionedloverboi @moonshadows-13 @eboyawstenn @avacrebs @bejeweledbaby

[cheerscoops]

@cheerscoopscentral's cheerscoops week 2023 | day 1: school royalty

Title: Secret Admirer Pairings: Steve Harrington x Chrissy Cunningham Word Count: 3.6k Summary: When Steve starts getting secret admirer notes in his locker, all he wants to do is take his mystery girl to the prom. The only problem? He has no idea who she is. A/N: Happy Day One of Cheerscoops Week my loves! I can't wait to share the rest of this week with you!

Prom was only two weeks away, and Steve Harrington still didn’t have a date. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He didn’t need to go with anyone. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if he went stag. He was perfectly capable of going alone. He just knew that he’d most likely have more fun if he had a date to spend time with while he was there.

Therein lies the problem. As much as he knew he would have more fun with a date, he couldn’t think of a girl he’d actually have fun going with. If this had been last year in the prime of his King Steve days, it wouldn’t have mattered. He’d find any pretty, popular girl who didn’t already have a date, and they’d spend prom night dancing together and drinking the punch that Tommy H. was inevitably going to spike. There wouldn’t be much talking other than shallow comments about loving whatever song was playing or how the food was surprisingly good that year. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d get to make out with her in a quiet corner or the back of the limo.

But this year was different. After getting dumped by Nancy Wheeler, he realized that he craved an actual connection with the girls he chose to spend time with. And, while he was sure that there were plenty of girls who wouldn’t mind going to prom with him, he lacked a connection with any of them.

He had pretty much resigned himself to going alone when a note fell to the ground by his feet when he opened his locker to grab his things before first period. He tucked the note into his history book and headed over to Click’s class. Once he was in his seat, he pulled out the note and unfolded it.

I look over at you, and I see sunshine. There is no one else in this school that just seems to effortlessly brighten my day. I wish I was brave enough to tell you who I am, but until I gather that courage, I’ll just have to learn to be content with the attention you give me already. Please know that this school would be unbearable without you in it.

He tried to hide the smile that he was sure was lighting up his face. He was sunshine? No one had ever said anything like that to him before. He was used to people inflating his ego somewhat, but the girls who flirted with him usually focused on his physical appearance or his performance at the most recent basketball game. It was all surface level stuff.

This note was different though. It didn’t say much, but it didn’t have to. He didn’t know who this mystery girl was, but knowing that he made her feel special brightened his day in the same way he supposed her brightened hers.

The next day, there was another note waiting for him when he opened his locker. Mrs. Click was the kind of teacher who made people stand up in front of the class and read them out loud if they were caught passing notes, so he took a moment to read it at his locker to save him and this mystery girl from the potential embarrassment.

I have a hard time feeling comfortable talking to anyone in the halls. I hate how shy I get when I’m not prepared for everyone’s attention to be on me. But you smiled at me in between classes yesterday, and I didn’t feel like running away. Maybe you weren’t even smiling at me, and you probably smiled at everyone, but I don’t know. This is just to say that you have a really lovely smile, and I wouldn’t mind getting to see more of it.

Steve didn’t even remember smiling at anyone in the halls the day before. He tended to be on autopilot between classes. It was different when he had a girlfriend to look forward to talking to for a few brief moments as they grabbed their things from their lockers. Now, he was just doing what he had to do to get himself through the day.

He wished he could remember who he smiled at the day before, but it was all a blur. He’d have to pay more attention if wanted any idea of who this girl could be.

He took a quick look up and down the hallway. Nobody was paying attention to him or looking like they were waiting to see his reactions to the note, but that didn't mean his secret admirer hadn't been caught by anyone else.

"Hey, Chrissy," he said, as he turned to the girl at the locker next to him. "You haven't seen anyone putting anything in my locker lately, have you?"

"I can't say that I have," she said as she shut her own locker and turned towards him. "Why? Did someone vandalize it or something?"

"Nothing like that. I've just been getting these notes, and I'm trying to figure out who left them."

"Are they mean?"

"No. The opposite actually. They've been really sweet."

"Aw, you've got a secret admirer. Can I see?" she asked.

Steve tucked the note into his binder. It wasn't that he thought Chrissy would make fun of him. He didn't know her all that well other than knowing she was on the cheerleading squad, but he knew that she was maybe the nicest girl on the squad. Her request probably came out of curiosity more than anything else. He just didn't want to share this little pocket of happiness that these notes had given him.

"I'd rather keep them to myself if that's okay," he told her.

"That's totally fine. They're your notes anyway. I'll let you know if I see anybody though."

With that, she left him and headed off towards her next class leaving Steve to continue wondering who his secret admirer might be alone.

The third day of finding a note in his locker only reinforced the fact that he needed to find out who this girl was.

I really liked the sweater you were wearing yesterday. What was it made out of? Boyfriend material?

Sorry. That was cheesy, but I’m hoping it made you laugh even just a little bit. This is just to say that yellow is definitely your color, and you should wear it more often.

Steve let out a small chuckle, and Chrissy, who was just finishing up at her locker, turned her attention towards him.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

Steve held up the note but made sure she couldn’t read it.

“You got another secret admirer note. Is she funny?”

“Yeah, a little bit. Still don’t have any idea who she might be though.”

“Have you tried to find her at all other than asking me if I’d seen anyone?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “I don’t know where I would start.”

“Well, if there’s anyone that you suspect could be her, you could try and take a peek at their handwriting to see if it matches. Or, you could stake out your locker and see if you could catch her in the act. Of course, if she saw you waiting, she might get scared and leave without dropping off her note.”

Her first suggestion didn’t seem doable to him. He had no idea who this girl could be, so he wouldn’t know where to start when it came to comparing handwriting, and he definitely didn’t want to have to find a way to check every girl in the school. And he definitely didn’t want to do anything that would scare this girl away and stop her from leaving him any other notes.

“What would you do?” he asked her. “If you were the one getting the notes, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” she replied as she clutched her binder to her chest. “I’d probably write back. Leave the note sticking out of the locker vents a little bit in the hopes that he’d know to take it. Maybe he’d be more comfortable telling me who he was if he knew that the notes were well-received, you know?”

“That’s not a bad idea. Thanks, Chrissy. I owe you one.”

“Oh, you don’t owe me anything. Just let me know when you think you’ve figured out who your mystery girl is, okay?”

With that, Chrissy was leaving him alone at his locker again. Steve pulled a sheet of notebook paper out of his binder and grabbed a pencil so he could write a quick note to his mystery girl.

Boyfriend material, huh? That’s not a bad line, and it did make me laugh, so mission accomplished? Have any other lines for me? I’m open to reading them or hearing them in person if you’re feeling up to letting me know who you are. Either way, I can’t wait to hear from you again.

He folded up the note and tucked it into the vents of his locker the way Chrissy said that she would have. He hoped that was enough for this mystery girl to know that the note was for her.

Their correspondence picked up after that. Steve didn’t know how she was managing to do it without him seeing her, but Steve was trading notes with this girl at least three times a day. He wished he could write more to her than just responses to her pick up lines and compliments, but he knew nothing about her other than the fact that she liked him, and he somehow managed to brighten her day even before they’d started writing these notes to each other. Occasionally, she'd share tidbits of her life with him, but she was always vague enough he couldn't use them to pinpoint anything that would make finding her easier.

With prom only two days away, he had to take one last shot at getting her to reveal herself to him.

Your notes have made me feel better about myself than I have in a long time. Maybe that’s weird to say, but I feel comfortable talking to you even if I’m still unsure of who you are. I’d kind of like to change that though. Maybe it’s a little last minute, but would you want to be my date to the prom? I can’t promise that my tux is made out of boyfriend material, but I’ve got a yellow tie if you’re interested.

Steve placed the note in the same spot he’d placed all the others and hoped for the best.

Unfortunately, when he got her response at the end of the day, it wasn’t the one he was looking for.

I wish I was braver. Even though I know nothing bad will happen if I tell you who I am, I keep playing the worst case scenarios in my head, and I'm still scared. I really like you, and the notes we've been sharing have been the best part of my day, so I really don't want to lose that if you don't feel the same way. If I can work up the courage to tell you who I am, I'll reveal myself at prom. Save a dance for me?

Steve tried not to feel crushed. He knew he had a connection with this girl, and he wished there was something he could do to make her see that there was nothing to be afraid of when it came to revealing herself to him.

"What's got you looking so down in the dumps?" Chrissy asked him, breaking him from his chain of thought.

"It's nothing," he told her. "I asked my mystery girl to prom, and she shot me down. I'll get over it."

"I'm sorry. That really sucks. Maybe she had a good reason though?"

"I guess. And I feel like she'll never be comfortable telling me who she is if she feels pressured into it, so I'm trying to be cool about it, but it's still upsetting, you know? I'm sorry. I shouldn't be dumping all of this on you."

"Oh, I don't mind. Feel free to keep venting to me if you need to."

"It's okay. I think I'm good. So, are you going to the prom?"

"A group of girls from the squad are going together, and I'm tagging along."

"No date?"

"Nobody asked me," she said with a shrug.

"I find that really hard to believe," he told her. "There have to be dozens of guys dying to take you."

"It's the truth," she replied. "And anyway, I'd much rather go with the girls anyway. There's a lot less pressure that way."

"Save a dance for me then? For when you're not dancing with the girls?"

"Absolutely."

As Chrissy walked away, Steve couldn't help but think that he might have asked her to prom if she didn't already have plans. He didn't know what it was about her, but something deep inside him was saying that she was the kind of girl that he could have fun with there. It was too late to invite her now, though. He'd just have to be content with going stag.

Steve wore his yellow tie with his suit to prom just like he'd said he would in his note. Even if he hadn't convinced his mystery girl to be his date, he still wanted to wear the color that she'd said suited him. Maybe it would make her feel more comfortable if she decided to talk to him.

It occurred to him that he didn't even really want to be at the prom. It had been a while since he'd felt like participating in these kinds of school activities, but he was King Steve. Going to this stuff was expected of him. So, he stood on the outskirts of the dance floor talking to whoever wanted to chat with him and pretended that he was there for more than just the opportunity to talk to his mystery girl.

He was losing hope though. They were getting ready to announce who'd won prom king and queen, and after that there was only another hour of the dance. He'd danced with a few girls, but none of them so much as hinted at being the one who'd been leaving notes in his locker. Or, if they had, he hadn't noticed. None of those girls seemed like the type anyway. They didn't say anything that made him laugh, and he didn't feel connected to them in the way that he felt connected to her - whoever she was.

He was thinking about dipping out early when he was approached by none other than Chrissy Cunningham, and he was stopped in his tracks by how breathtaking she looked. She was dressed up in yellow, and she'd taken down her typical ponytail to let her strawberry blonde waves frame her face.

"We match," he said, gesturing at his tie.

"We do. May I?"

He nodded his head, and she moved to straighten his tie for him.

"That's better," she said, her hand lingering against his chest for maybe a moment too long. "We can't have you going up there with a crooked tie when you inevitably win prom king."

"I was debating about leaving before they announced prom court, so I don't think it really matters."

"Are you not having fun?"

"It's not that. It's just . . . Have you ever felt alone in a crowded room?"

"Yes. More often than I'd probably like to admit."

"Well, that's what I'm dealing with now," he told her. "All of these people want to talk to me, but I feel like none of them really know me, and they don't care about finding out. But then there's that girl who's been writing me notes. I feel like she gets me, and I wish I was spending tonight with her, but I'm starting to think she might not even be real."

"Of course, she's real. Where else would those notes be coming from if she's not?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's all been a joke from Carol and Tommy H. or something. I can't think of any other reason why she wouldn't want to tell me who she is."

"Maybe she finds you intimidating? I mean, you're King Steve. Even if she's gotten the chance to know you better through your notes, she could be afraid of not living up to your expectations. Maybe she's afraid she's not up to your standards?"

"Or maybe she's realized that I'm not what she thought I was and decided to find someone better."

"Don't talk about yourself like that," she said in an attempt to put an end to his pity party. "I'll never understand how you could be so cruel to yourself. You're a good person, and you deserve to have good things happen to you. Even if you’re intimidating because of your social status, I’ve seen you be kind to people when no one else notices. I’ve seen you put others before yourself, and you do so much to make other people happy. You’re sunshine! Why can’t you see that?”

“Sunshine?” 

The only other person who’d ever called him sunshine was his secret admirer. And just like that, it finally clicked. Chrissy Cunningham was his secret admirer. She hadn’t seen anyone putting anything in his locker even though she was there between almost every period because she’d been the one leaving him notes. It all made sense now.

She must have noticed a wave of realization wash over his face because she was pulling away from him before he could react.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she backed away from him. “I should go. Enjoy the rest of your prom.”

“Chrissy, wait. I -”

Whatever he was going to say was cut off by the prom committee announcing that it was time for them to crown this year’s prom king and queen.

“For the class of 1985, your prom king and queen are . . . Steve Harrington and Tammy Thompson!”

All Steve wanted to do was find Chrissy again and talk this out with her, but he was engulfed by people pushing him towards the stage to accept his crown. He was just going through the motions at that point. He let the prom committee chair place the crown on his head, and he let Tammy pull him onto the dance floor for their dance as king and queen.

“Isn’t this amazing?” Tammy asked as she and Steve swayed back and forth to the music. “I was hoping you’d ask me to prom, but you never got around to doing it. This is almost better though, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Steve let Tammy ramble on about how she had been hoping they’d get crowned together because she’d been longing to hang out with King Steve since they were in Click’s class together. He smiled and let her have her moment, but he was pulling away from her as soon as the song ended.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, Tammy,” he told her. “I’m sure you’re great and all, but there’s someone else, and I don’t want to lead you on. Thanks for the dance though.”

With that, he was off to look for Chrissy. He couldn’t find her anywhere inside the dance, but he easily found her standing out in the hallway.

“Chrissy!” he called after her as he made his way over to her. “Why’d you run away in there?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ever written you those notes. That was selfish of me.”

“Why was it selfish?”

“Because you’re King Steve. Even with my place on the cheerleading squad, I don’t think I could measure up to what you’d want me to be. Anonymity was easy because I could get to know you without having to live up to the expectations of what your girlfriend should be. You deserve someone who can be equally as amazing as you are.”

“And what if I don’t want whatever image of perfection everyone else thinks I should have?” he asked. “What if I don’t want to be King Steve?”

“You don’t?”

“In your last note, you told me that our notes had been the best part of your day, but I never told you that they were the best part of mine too. You make me laugh, and you’ve made me feel better about myself than I have in a long time. You may not think you’re perfect, but you’re the perfect girl for me. You’re sunshine.”

“I am?”

“Definitely. I should have said it before, but you look really beautiful tonight.”

Chrissy blushed and looked down at her feet. Steve took the crown off his head and placed it on hers instead before placing a finger under her chin and tilting her head back up to face him.

“I’m just Steve. And just Steve would love to get to know you a little bit better without having to talk to you through notes if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

“I’d really like that.”

“I know we both technically asked to save a dance for the other, but how would you feel about skipping the rest of prom? There’s a booth at Benny’s calling our names.”

He offered her his hand, and she took it as she beamed up at him.

“Lead the way.”

And, as they walked out of the building together, Steve was content in knowing that maybe he didn’t need to be popular. He didn’t need to be King Steve and attempt to live up to everyone else’s weird expectations for him. All he needed was for someone to see him for who he was. The real man beneath the crown. He was certain that he’d found that in Chrissy.

[yoshimonster]

Blog #10: Wrote this yesterday, so I'll post it tomorrow

Happy 10th post! I just posted my previous blog post which I’ve actually had written up for a couple days now and decided that why not get started on the next one because I’m feeling in a creative mood (and would love to procrastinate on my assignments). Speaking of, I do have to ramp up the studying – I did actually have a 2hr tutoring session yesterday and that did not go over well, as I only wrote less than 2 lines of code for something that most likely will be over 100 lines long. The plagiarism detectors have been getting stronger especially with AI legitimately taking over the world. It came out last year which was perfect timing as I used it to answer every single academic question I had under the sun. Apparently, it’s “dangerous” and doesn’t allow us to think, which I sort of agree with by the way – I found this out the hard way when I tried to use it do multiple mini assignments last semester; it was fruitless and studying will always remain studying.

Otherwise, things have really been ramping up in terms of the group project. A bunch of us are doing a hackathon this weekend and that means I have to wake up super early to get through content/study so I can keep working on the project moving forward – I’ve been lacking these past few days because of the mental exhaustion that comes with having such shaky academic foundation vs your midterms. The routine is getting better slowly, though the casual parading around that things are fine really hasn’t. I think being more indirectly honest is helping much more, though the thing about that is the person who is receiving the information. Like the main culprits have way too much time on their hands while the other culprits are super busy and see me stressed out all the time to even care (cause we’ve been taking our subjects together lol). That’s the environment to see me get the most annoyed haha.

I’ve been feeling better since the last blog post, because signing up for these hackathons means I can skip dance class which is a different type of gymnastics. The dance classes aren’t actually aerobic in the slightest as it’s more of a traditional dance and therefore it’s not floaty like in those reality dance shows. I personally enjoy the semi-classical (as anyone would) where you get to look and feel elegant, without the rigid pure-math structure and also I really enjoy a lot of folk songs which typically get a lot of mixed responses depending on how idiotic we have to look on stage while performing them. These days, as in from August to December is festive season and essentially lots of dance groups from my city are asked to perform for various events or the dance heads volunteer their groups so that the dance schools can get more exposure at this type of prime time. I feel like that would be one of the reasons I would hate to be a real professional dancer (aside from the fact that dancing 24/7 is it’s own type of dedication) because of the seasonal nature of it. A lot of times if I’m not using a skill on the regular I will most likely forget a lot of it. Though yes festive season this year has been really up and down in terms of performances, and at an all time high in terms of family parties. Just this past month has been the quiet before the storm with invites reaching for the end of October and early November, in my case it’s mostly been end of year catchups being planned, though the family events have become insanely packed.

Otherwise, I took a mini-break to listen to my friend rant about a really horrible pushing of boundaries and it just reaffirmed the idea that subtle cues/non-cues even can give away so much. Sort of like being really conscious of yourself, what you mean and how the other person sees your intentions – and the importance of having really strong mental and physical health and overall firmness. I remember realising this a while ago, when something similar happened, though luckily I was able to get out of it by navigating really carefully and moving past most negative thoughts as fast as possible. It actually took me a while to accept things overall but the fact that I was guided into being really firm helped lessen the blow for sure and allowed me space to breathe and consider how I felt. A lot of the time, it’s so hard to be aware of your own thoughts/feelings when you fixate on others’ perceptions. I’m actually really excited to take things as they come, even though I will need to plan for things in advance for logistical and sanity purposes. It’s been much nicer dealing with things this way because it reminds me things don’t just end; they usually accumulate. Speaking of, I probably should get back to semi-cramming but still keep my head above water.

-yoshimonster-

[mmelionsblog]

Stereo Heart || Bradley Bradshaw

It was a lazy Monday morning, you and Bradley were in bed snuggling closely together. He had woken up about twenty minutes ago, playing with your hair. He couldn’t help but think about how lucky he was to have you by his side. “You’re so good to me,” he slurred out.

You had woken up about ten minutes ago, circling some shapes on Bradley’s chest. “Yeah?” You question, he nodded. “Yeah. And- and to be honest, I don’t think I’d know where I’d be without you right now.” You two were met with comfortable silence once again.

“You’re good to me too, Bradley.” You look up to his eyes, and his eyes met with yours. “I’d hope so,” he chuckled out. You smile and kiss his chin, then you got up slightly to be on top of him. “You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had in life.” You admitted.

He hummed, tilting his head. “Surely your exes weren’t that bad.” You shook your head. “They were pretty bad, I mean one of them were alright but she’s nothing compared to you.” You caressed his cheek, kissing his nose.

“What were you like in high school?” He asked, as you kiss his left cheek slowly. “I was a bit weird,” you laughed. “Weird? A bit? You are.” He attacked you and moved positions, where he was the one on top of you. “Ouch Lieutenant,” you wheeze.

“Okay. So I was a band geek- more less, I was a colorguard member. Nobody knows what the hell we were, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t know.” His eyebrows squinted. “I’m intrigued! Tell me.” You look at your boyfriend, and then sigh. “Alright.”

You decide to first explain what colorguard was- and still is. “We were teams of performers for band, and we danced, threw poles around, and threw other stuff around like rifles and swords.” He nodded, looking you in the eye.

“Even though it was fun, I wanted to quit so Badly my last few years in high school.” “Why didn’t you?” You shrugged. “They needed people on the team, we were small. And plus even if I did, I wouldn’t know what other class I’d have to pick.” Your hand found it’s way towards his cheek again, leaving it there.

He kissed the palm of your cheek, and then kissed your wrist and then went up your arm; to kiss your lips last. “Your high school experience seems hectic.” He said. “It was. There was so much drama I had back then, and I wasn’t even the cause of it!” You laughed out, resembling half of the bullshit you went through.

“Can you tell me the biggest one that you went through?” You remember the biggest drama you went through like it was yesterday. And you nodded, “sure.” You explain it to him, and he would gasp and say ‘no they didn’t…’ and stuff like that. “That’s tuff, I’m sorry you had to go through that baby.”

He kissed your nose, and you smiled. “It’s alright. At least I have stories to tell our little ones in the future.” He nodded. “For sure, my high school experience was a bit boring, but it was something.” Bradley hummed. The two of you talked and talked, for what seemed like hours.

You two had gotten into a deep conversation, and the both of you had your backs planted on the grey sheets on your bed. “I don’t deserve you,” he blurted out. “What?” You prop your elbows on the bed. “I don’t deserve you. You’re too good for me,” he rubbed your arm, “it feels like- you’re my guardian Angel whenever you’re around.”

Your heart clenched. “Does it really feel like that? You asked, “it really does. I just get so.. so drunk over love whenever you’re nearby. Like now- just when looking at you, I can’t help but think how much I got lucky.” He rambled. You sighed lovingly, before kissing his lips.

“That’s how I feel with you too.” He smiled as you rest your head back onto his chest, before you heard his stomach growl signaling it was probably time to get up and go get something to eat. You giggle a bit, looking at him. “You hungry, big guy?”

He nodded. “Let’s go,” and the two of you were up.

You loved days like these, were the lazy mornings just made you talk for hours of hours not realizing what time it was before your stomachs interrupts you.

These days were also rare, considering Bradley’s job. Always out before 5 am, getting ready for work. And you always out before 7 am, getting ready to go teach students at a high school.

You couldn’t wait for more days like these.

—

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve last posted on here or wrote, so sorry this wasn’t that good 😵‍💫. I don’t really like it my self but I got unshadowbanned so I decided to post something for the night! I hope you all enjoy this while I was gone :))))

Tagged;

@nyotamalfoy

@blessupbless

@luckyladycreator2

[matryosika]

truth or dare

pairing – seungmin x reader

word count – 3.8 k

warnings – smut, inexperienced seungmin, sub! guiding reader, slight choking, masturbation (female), dirty talk, corruption kink (if you squint), unprotected sex, creampie.

note – this is my first seungmin writing! i adore this man dearly and everytime i look at him, all i can think is about corrupting him to the point of crafting him into the perfect dom. this drabble is in a way like that, maybe not that hardcore but i had so much fun writing this.

please, remember that english is not my first language and i haven't read this, so i apologize for any mistakes in advance.

"so i was thinking about doing that assignment now so that we could focus on the final project later on, " the guy in front of you mumbled, his hands moving across the textbook and showing you a lot of pages that you couldn't even bother to pay attention to. "that way it would be way easier to finish everything on time".

"yeah" you muttered, both of your eyes fixed on both of his hands. his long, slim fingers captured your attention the whole time, the lingering thought of having them inside you was wrecking you to the point that you couldn't even get yourself to focus on anything but him.

"it's not hard" he added, closing the textbook and leaning his whole body on his seat, "history of art, it's such an easy subject if you grow to like it".

"it seemed interesting" you replied, trying to fight the urge to keep on daydreaming about your team mate, "that's why i chose it, even if it's not part of my major's curriculum".

"oh" seungmin muttered, his cute eyes opening slightly more than usual, "so you are not majoring in anything related to art?"

"i'm prefer social sciences" you admitted, realizing that the tension building up increased as he stopped talking about the school projects.

you knew seungmin, and you knew he was a very shy guy. nonetheless, he was a genius when it came to art, whether it was music, painting, dancing, writing, he excelled at anything. for the rest of the stuff, though, it seemed like he was just born yesterday.

"i see" he continued, lowering his gaze to both of his hands. earlier, when he was talking about the projects, he was way more talkative and enthusiastic than he was at that moment but, for some reason, you only found that ten times more interesting.

"do you have any plans for today?" you asked in an attempt of continuing with the conversation. you didn't feel uncomfortable, but you were determined to try and do your best so he could feel comfortable as well.

"not really" he replied, tilting his head and smiling, "i was only going to stop by this coffee shop that just opened yesterday near my apartment".

"would you like to stay for dinner?" you questioned, without thinking your proposal twice.

it wasn't that you liked seungmin, but something about him really captured your attention. a part of you wanted to get more and more of him, anything and everything.

after a couple of silent seconds and visible hesitation from the dark-haired, he finally agreed.

as the evening progressed and the two of you debated on what to order for dinner, the awkward tension began to fade away. seungmin had a very unique sense of humor, but it was very easy to get along with. if anything, his whole personality made him even more attractive -if that was any possible-.

"so," you questioned, drinking a sip of your glass of water, "have you ever played truth or dare?"

"we are eating" he scoffed, taking a bite of his dish.

"i just want to get to know you a bit better" you mumbled, shrugging both of your shoulders. that was a pretty good excuse and a lie you wanted to believe but, deep down, your intentions were more selfish than for research purposes.

"i don't like completing dares" he mumbled, fixing his eyes on you, "if you have any questions, just ask them".

"but that's not fun" you continued, "it's not like you are a celebrity for me to perform a whole interview right now".

"and yet you are interested in knowing more about me" he teased, giving you a subtle smile.

you left your food on the coffe table near the couch, grabbing one of the cushions and holding it tightly against your body, "truth or dare?"

"truth" he nodded, his soft voice becoming a bit more timid than before.

"what do you think of me?" you asked him right away, not giving any room for embarrassment.

"what do you want me to think of you?" he counterattacked, repeating the same actions you did and leaving his food on the coffee table.

"that's not how this works" you scolded, resting your head on the couch.

"i think you are nice" he replied, "and whatever you want me to think about you, i probably already do".

"what is that supp-"

"that's not how it works" seungmin interrupted, giving you a bit of a smirk. even though he was very witty with his responses and, in general, with his way of expressing himself, you could still see the shyness washing up on his body every know and then. "truth or dare?"

"truth" you answered, confident.

"why did you invite me to stay for dinner?" he questioned, licking his lips and slightly fidgeting with his hands.

"because you are my classmate" you replied, trying to come up as honest as possible, "and i wanted to get to know you a bit better".

he nodded and took a sip from his beverage, not diverting his gaze from you.

"truth or dare?" you inquired again.

"truth"

"and whatever you want me to think about you, i probably already do, what does that mean?" you had the opportunity to make a question and you were sure you were going to take full advantage of it.

"you asked me your first question for a reason" seungmin explained, "you probably have these ideas on your head that you want me to think about you, and i probably already do".

even though his answer was somewhat confusing, you understood what he meant. and for the first time in the whole evening, you caught yourself feeling nervous.

"truth or dare?" seungmin asked again.

"truth"

"what is it that you want me to think of you?" he questioned with a teasing smile on his face.

"well," you gulped, thinking about finding the right choice of words that wouldn't make you seem any desperate for him in any way, "i want you to think i am pretty and fun to be around".

he licked his lips again, a small gesture that could get you on your knees any time. yet he didn't say anything or counterattacked like he had been doing for the past rounds.

"truth or dare?" you mumbled.

"truth"

"is that what you think of me?" you queried, tilting your head and giving him the most innocent gaze you could. as much as you needed to get close to him, the last thing you wanted was for him to feel uncomfortable.

"i think you are very attractive" he admitted, his words making your heart skip a beat or two, "and even though we haven't really interacted as much as i'd like, i think you are very relaxed and fun to be around".

"do you think i am attractive?" you repeated, earning a smirk from the man himself.

"truth or dare?" he rushed to mumble, not giving you any time to push the question any further.

"truth"

his gaze lingered on your face for a while, his hesitant eyes and tense body language making you feel even more nervous than you already were.

you didn't expect things to escalate that quickly, considering seungmin's nature, but the energy shifted somewhere in the middle of the game and it was absolutely obvious.

"have you ever thought about kissing me?"

and if it weren't because both of your gazes were locked in an intense eye-contact, you swore your eyes could've opened like plates.

"dare" you rushed to change your answer, not thinking it twice.

"i dare you to kiss me" he shoot, making you feel both uneasy and excited at the same time.

"are you sure?" you questioned him, your heart racing at a thousand milea per hour while the blood underneath your skin started to boil.

he nodded slighlty, any sign of boldness fading away as soon as your body approached his, "how many people have you kissed before?"

"why is that relevant?" he murmured with a timid tone.

"it isn't" you rushed to say, "i am just curious".

"not that many" he answered, his breath becoming a bit faster than before.

"it's alright" you reassured in a whisper, leaning into him and tilting your head to approach his lips, "come here".

his soft lips caressed yours in a slow movement, not leaning completely into capturing yours in a kiss. you withdrew a few centimeters away from his face, teasing him, only to feel how his body approached yours even more.

"you really want it, don't you?" you asked with your face a few centimeters away from his, coming out almost as a whimper. he slightly opened his eyes and fixed them on your facial features, going from making eye contact to posing his gaze on your lips.

"you don't?" he softly asked.

and, instead of giving him an answer, you captured his lips in a kiss.

it felt heavenly. even more heavenly than what you had been imagining the whole evening.

he quickly picked up a steady pace, not fast nor slow. the way he tilted his head was both sweet and attractive at the same time, the sound of his heartbeats and hitching breath hogging your whole attention. his hands carefully traveled to the sides of your thighs, caressing the skin underneath your cotton shorts.

both of your hands rested on each side of his neck, pushing him even closer to you. however, a devilish thought appeared on your mind forcing you to break the kiss.

"truth or dare?" you inquired with hitching breath.

"truth" he panted, licking his lips in hopes of getting the last taste of you.

"do you want to keep going?" you queried, knowing the answer before hand but still, you needed to hear it from him.

"yes, please" he replied, his soft voice now being replaced with a deep and needy tone, sending shivers throughout your whole body.

he kissed you again, with no hesitation, and you climbed on top of his body to end up sitting on his lap.

the clothes you were wearing didn't make you any favors, sending waves of pleasure all along your body as soon your core made contact with his bulge.

"god-" you whispered in between kisses, your hips moving instinctively against him.

he, however, interrupted completely the contact as soon as his head rolled back due to the sensations.

"does this feels good?" you softly teased, rolling your hips on top of him and making sure to have the desired effect on him.

"mhm" he hummed, his eyes slightly closed while both of his hands rested on your hips. you placed both of your hands on top of his, moving them across your body as an invitation to touch you more.

he was shy, you knew that.

still, you couldnt help to feel your cunt throbbing once you saw his face while he dragged his hands along your body, from your hips to your thighs and then to your arse.

"like that" you whispered, leaving a trail of kisses along his jaw so you could approach his neck next.

"fuck" he cursed under his breath making you feel butterflies all on your stomach, your hips grinding even more eagerly against his bulge to provide him just the right stimulation.

"does it feel good?" you shyly asked, nipping the skin of his neck and getting lost in the smell of his fragrance.

"yes" he sighed, his hands moving on their own now.

his digits traced the hems of your oversized t-shirt, lifting it up ever so slightly in an attempt of removing them, but his shyness prevented him of initiating the task completely.

"don't hold back" you mumbled, placing one of your hands on the side of his face, "do whatever you want to me, please".

his hands slowly lifted up your shirt and you helped him get rid of it, leaving you with nothing to cover your upper body but your bra. he dragged his digits along the sides of your body, the warmth of his skin sending shivers down your spine.

"you are so pretty," he praised, interrupting the kiss to admire your body, "really".

you couldn't help but smile at his comment, feeling how your cheeks started to glow red in response of such compliment.

"your turn" you ordered, giving him enough space to remove his shirt.

once he completed his task, you placed both of your hands on his body, starting on his shoulders. you then dragged them across his clavicles, teasing his chest and brushing your digits over every single inch of skin you could touch.

"truth or dare?" you mumbled again, without caring any more about turns. yet, he seemed pleased with you taking the initiative.

"dare" he replied, earning a smirk from you.

"i thought you didn't like dares" you muttered, your fingers tracing his abdomen and causing his heartbeats to go even faster than before. "i dare you to touch me".

he tilted his head and gave you a bashful look, "i've never-"

"i can guide you" you rushed to add, wanting to make him feel as comfortable as possible, "i'll show you what makes me feel good".

his half-lidded eyes fixed on you as he thought the request, his fingers tapping on your hips. he pushed your forward to kiss you one more time before lifting your body and resting you on the couch, kneeling in front of you as his hands dragged your grey shorts, as well as your underwear, off of you.

his lips traveled along your legs and inner thighs, leaving faint kisses as he made his way up. you spreaded your legs for him, one of your hands signaling for him to lean into you.

"look at me" you whispered feeling his hungry eyes placed on your dripping core, "you made me a mess".

his gaze moved from your cunt to your face, the sight of pleasure imprinted on his facial expressions was maybe too much to handle. with delicacy, you took his hand and drove his fingers all the way to your mouth.

and, after fantasizing about that thought for hours on end, you took them in your mouth. sucking them from top to bottom, your warm tongue welcoming every single one of his digits into your wet hole.

seungmin never broke eye-contact with you though, his lustful eyes recording the image of your lips wrapped around his fingers.

"i prefer a slower pace" you mumbled while withdrawing his fingers from your mouth, guiding them all the way to your throbbing cunt, "still, do as you please with me. i am all yours for you to use".

his innocent gaze was long gone, specially after hearing those words. as shy as he might seemed at the beginning, and even though this was a new task he was going to attempt for the first time, all of that fade away as soon as you presented yourself as something for him to use.

he wanted to use you, yes. he wanted to learn all kinds of things with you, he wanted to explore your body over and over again until you couldn't take it. but even so, the only thing on his mind in that moment was your own pleasure.

he needed to hear you, feel your trembling body, feel your warm skin, feel your touch on him. and he was determined to fulfill his needs.

after guiding his wrist, the next thing you felt was the overwhelming -but delicious- stretchness inside of your walls. two of his slim fingers went inside you, thrusting them as deeply as he possibly could.

"yes, go on" you moaned, your head rolling back as your hips moved against his digits every now and then, "just like that, seungmin".

hearing your words and observing how your body reacted, he felt more and more encouraged to keep on completing his task.

one of you hand traveled all the way to your core, rubbing your clit in circular motions as he continued on fucking your whole.

"your fingers feel so much better than mine do" you whimpered, your available hand caressing his hair, "god, you are making me feel so, so good".

he smiled against the skin of your thighs, carefully increasing the pace on his thrusts as you increased yours.

"can you feel me clenching around you?" you asked with a desperate voice, the knot on your stomach almost coming undone as you chased your sweet released, "that's just proof of how good you are making me feel".

he kissed your inner thighs while his fingers got coat with your essence, interrupting the pace of his thrusts as the lewd noises coming out of you became more and more frecuente.

"n-no, seungmin-" you whined, your hips bucking and your cunt clenching around nothing, "i am so close, just-"

"i want to be inside you" he darted, still kneeling in front of you as his eyes found yours, "i need it".

the needy tone in his voice made you, if possible, ten times more wet than you initially were. you needed it just as much as him and you were absolutely no one to deny him such pleasure of fucking with someone for the first time.

seungmin sat down next to you, rising his hips slowly to get rid of his clothes.

and oh, another expectation surpassed.

you swallowed hard in anticipation, knowing that he wasn't like the guys you had been with before.

you sat on his lap again, not giving any room to overthinking. your dripping pussy made contact with his erected cock, grazing against it ever so slightly but earning an immediate reaction from the man underneath you.

"i can't wait to feel you inside me" you whined, kissing his cheek as you made your way to his neck, "i am sure your cock will feel heavenly".

seungmin's grip on your body intensified as soon as he heard those words coming out of you, his hips sloppily moving against yours as a signal that he was ready to thrust himself inside you.

"you want this just as bad as i wanted" you whispered, feeling your sweat starting to mix with his.

you raised your hips slowly and placed the tip of his cock on your entrance, letting out a sigh of pain as soon as you felt the head stretching your hole just right.

"oh, god" you moaned, closing your eyes an rolling your head back while your pussy welcomed him completely, "you are so big".

seungmin let out a faint groan, but it was enough to have you clenching around him almost aggressively. only then, he understood the power words and sounds could have over you.

"you are so tight" he mumbled both of his hands placing on your hip and forcing you even more against his cock, "and you feel so wet around me, y/n".

"can i ride you?" you softly asked, placing both of your hands on his chest as you awaited the magic word.

"go on" he groaned, his hips moving ever so slightly against you.

with strength, you managed to start moving on his cock, even if it sometimes felt a bit too painful for your own liking. however, even then, the sounds of his accelerated breath and faint grunts made your arousal increase in a couple of seconds.

"like this?" he questioned, driving his thumb to your aching clit and rubbing it in circles just like you did earlier.

"you learn quickly" you mumbled in between moans, both of your hands traveling to your back in order to unclench your top underwear and be completely naked for him, just like he desired.

"you are so fucking hot" he admitted, both of his eyes fixed on the way your breasts bounced every time you rode his cock.

"yeah?" you questioned, increasing the pace of your movements as waves of pleasure washed up on your body, "and do i feel good?"

"you feel perfect with my cock inside you" he replied, both of his eyes closed and his head rolled back, "please, y/n, i need to know how you feel cumming around my cock".

"you do, seungmin?" you cried, the soreness on your thighs starting to hurt, "that's all you have been thinking about tonight, right? making me cum?"

one of your hands grabbed one of his, guiding them all the way to your neck and, much to your surprise, he didn't need an order or indication to do what you wanted.

he grabbed both sides of your neck and choked you as continued on riding his cock, his intense gaze fixed on yours as the grimaces of pleasure on your face contributed more to his arousal.

"i am going to-" you barely whispered, the words coming out broken as seungmin's grip on your throat increased.

"do it" he pleaded, "cum all over me".

and as if he was performing some kind of magic in your body, the anticipated knot in your stomach came undone.

you leaned on to hid your face on the crook of his neck, moaning his name over and over as goosebumps covered his skin.

"your cock feels so good" you panted, still not coming down from your high, "god, i-"

however he didn't stop. the feeling of you clenching violently against him was the last thing he needed to approach his orgasm, his hips sloppily bucking into you as his eyes appreciated your whole body from top to bottom.

"fuck" you painfully cried, the pleasure turning into overstimulation in a matter of seconds. even so, by the way his breathing hitched frequently and his hips bucked weakly against you, you understood that he was just as close as he release as well.

"come on" you whispered into his ear, letting out faint groans every time the overstimulation overwhelmed you, "cum inside me".

in the middle of the heat, he was so needy that he couldn't stop to think about his decision. he licked his lips as he turned his face to yours, softly biting at your lower lip while his thrusts became frequently each time.

"cum" you softly pleaded, finding his pretty gaze observing you, "i know you want to, seungmin".

he groaned one more time, closed his eyes and bit his lips as he released himself inside you. "seungmin," you moaned, moving your hips and continued on riding him to help him, "fuck-"

his movements stopped gradually and, as his hands withdrew from your hips, you noticed that his grip was rough enough to leave your skin decorated with bruises, making you smile at the realization.

"you are dripping" he mumbled, looking at how his arousal leaked from your cunt.

"don't i look pretty like this?" you questioned, trying to stabilize your breath.

"you look even more pretty like this" he cooed, still with his cock inside you.

"truth or dare?" you asked once again, leaning into his body to leave a trail of kisses from his lips to his jaw.

"truth"

"will we do this again?"

[burnedbyshoto]

the bodyguard

— Kirishima gets assigned to be the bodyguard to one of the worlds greatest idols: you. —

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, brat taming, authority kink, spanking, blowjob, slapping, choking, brat taming, brat!reader, modern!au, no quirks, bodyguard!kirishima, idol!reader, PTSD portrayal, anxiety, war flashbacks, implied minor character death, drugging, alcohol consumption, size difference: kirishima is 2 feet taller than you, regardless of the reader’s original height. If you’re 6 ft congrats he’s 8 ft.

word count: 20,500

a/n: this is for the bnharem collab.... im so sorry, it’s 4:30 am and I have a plane to catch in 2 hours to get back to school. thank you jo for proofreading this for me because lol I am a mess. if the paragraph spacing did not work as I wish it does, please let me know so I can go in and edit in visible paragraph spacers!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“I’ll be okay.”

The smell of dirt, sweat, and blood clung to the air.

The sun was setting, its blood-red shine illuminating against the destroyed earth, making the already bloodied soil even bloodier. 

There was no telling if the land was quiet, if the reason why the world's silence was because the world just for this moment had gone silent, or if the earlier explosions were still ringing in his ears.

Kirishima sat wounded, his back pressed to the wall, his eyes wide, breathing erratic. He can’t move, can’t bother picking up the gun that lays abandoned by his knee as warm, sticky liquid spills onto his clothed knees and continues to soak the fabric of his jeans.

What had he done?

What in the fucking world had he done?!

BOOM!

Kirishima stills, his eyes stilling on the floor and looking at the clear moisture. He doesn’t need to touch his face to know it’s a combination of both sweat and tears. 

His ears sing with white noise, the erratic beat of his heart, and his pained breathing.

“I’ll be okay,” the ghost taunts his mind.

But I’m not okay, Kirishima tries to speak, but knows with how his tongue is sitting like a thick dried sponge in his mouth, he won’t be able to speak. Pushing off the cold floor, flops onto his back, his arm flinging over his closed, shaken eyes until the ringing in his ear disappears into his alarm clock. 

05:30.

Kirishima lays there for a bit more, his chest still heaving heavily with the weight of lead.

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

Better?

No, not yet.

Kirishima runs through breathing exercises, his chest never stopping in it’s hiccuped, broken pants as his memories continue to haunt his mind. If only he was smarter, more observant, better.

“Time to get up, time to get up, time to get up,” his phone screams with his second alarm set at 06:45. The sound does what it’s intended, jolting Kirishima out of his own head. His labored breathing shallowing just enough for his lungs to finally grasp ahold of its required function.

Today was an important day for him; he needed to be on his tiptop game, according to what Toshinori said yesterday.

I’m okay, he convinced himself as he does every morning after having this dream. Kirishima flings his arm off his eyes, the morning purple sun shining softly through his blinds. I’m okay.

Date: 4/2 Time: 08:00 Location: UA Services

“And in other news, music industries princess Y/n has been attacked by yet another round of masked perpetrators. Fortunately for the music idol, she was left unhurt but was clearly rattled. This is but the fourth attack on Y/n since three weeks ago. It’s leaving many of us fans, spectators, and civilians wondering just what is being done to ensure her safety? Y/n is reported to not have a single bodyguard to her name, wanting to quote-on-quote ‘experience her fans to the fullest’, but with these recent attacks, we can’t help but hope something is done. At least until something is done about these attackers—”

Kirishima’s eyes tore away from the screen, his lips pressed into a deep frown as he took in the story. There was deep worry about it, not only because he hated the idea of people getting hurt, but because he was a big fan of yours.

Your debut album had come out during his training camp for the military. Not only was it an instant billboard smasher breaking every standing record, but his commanding officers were obsessed with the album and played it continuously until they graduated. Most of Kirishima’s comrades came to dislike your music solely because they remember throwing up, bleeding, and suffering while you sang about love and whatnot, but Kirishima? Kirishima fell in love.

It was a bright spot in his life, and he was grateful for your music, even if it has been ten years and six albums since the training camp.

“Yo, Kiri!” a voice cheered out happily as a hand clasped onto his shoulder from behind. Kirishima held the flinch that threatened to rip through his bones. Kirishima turned to find Kaminari grinning up at him, a cup of steaming tea in one hand as he grinned brightly at his coworker. “I heard you’re finally getting a good case today!”

Kirishima found himself relaxing at the sight of his rather spontaneous friend, a warm smile easing onto his face as he raised his fist for a greeting fist bump.

“We’ll see, I know Toshi’ said it was going to be important, but he also said escorting the paranoid old lady was important,” Kirishima sighed, his smile softening a bit.

Kaminari laughed, his arm slinging around Kirishima’s shoulders as he remembered that.

The little old lady was sure that the government was out to kill her and wanted protection until her son returned from his vacation. Needless to say, Kirishima had thoroughly enjoyed his time with her, even if she was a bit scary. It was a low-risk job, and he only was paranoid by her cane, which she used to thwack his back many times as she talked about how plums extended your life.

“God, I remember subbing in for you for one hour because of your family emergency, and she was so scary! She still haunts my nightmares!” Kaminari shudders, placing the cup of his tea to his lip and taking a long, slow drink. His eyes shift over to the TV, which is still broadcasting the story of your attack. “What a bunch of bastards,” he growls, eyebrows scrunching as the news reporter ends the segment. “Thinking they can go after such a beautiful and talented idol… I’ll kill them.”

Kirishima was more than well aware of Kaminari’s plentiful budding romances. The blond man fell in love with just about any smiling woman who happened to waltz in front of him. Still, unlike most times, he found himself agreeing with him.

“It sounds really serious. I hope that she really considers some type of security team,” Kirishima inputs too, taking the teacup in his fingers with a nod of thanks. “There’re too many weirdos in Japan and in the world, I wouldn’t want to hear the news the day something bad happens.”

Kaminari hums, his face nearing Kirishima’s as he takes a small sip of the apparently black tea. His eyes scrunch, and Kirishima smiles awkwardly as the blond studies him intently.

“W-Wha—”

“You like Y/n!” Kaminari exclaims (accuses, maybe?), his arm leaving Kirishima’s shoulders as he points a finger accusingly at him. “I thought I was the only one in this department who did!”

“Don’t be an idiot, Denki,” the familiar voice of Sero responds for Kirishima. “Everyone in the world is in love with Y/n; she was voted the favorite artist of the year in our company. Everyone but Bakugou voted for her if I remember correctly.”

Kirishima looks over at his black-haired friend who is rummaging through his locker, his mouth curved into an easy, teasing smile as he looks between the bashful Kaminari and sneering Bakugou, who also seemed to just walk in.

“Her shit is basic and overrated,” Bakugou defended himself. “Nothing special and bad for your brain and ears.”

“Your go-to music playlist is fifty percent death metal and alt. rock. I don’t think you have ground to say that it’s bad for your brain and ears,” Midoriya’s snicker sounded from behind Kirishima, and he looked around to see the freckled man grinning at the snarling ash blond.

“And how does your stalker ass know that, shitnerd?!”

“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”

“Oh, Bakugou-kun, Midoriya-kun! You’re both here! Todoroki-kun is looking for you!”

“I’m just saying that Y/n’s dates to all the award shows and premieres have been blond. She’s into blonds, so she would totally be into me!”

“Deku, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill you myself.”

“You wouldn’t even be able to protect Y/n, bro. The only thing you performed well on in the application process was the tasing part. You can’t even tase people repetitively! She’d be dead in a second.”

“Can you believe my client dropped me because I couldn’t cook a five-star meal correctly? Hello, I can make 7-11 into a five-star course; it’s not my fault they’re not refined.”

“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”

“I deadass got into a dance competition on the way to work. That’s why I’m late, why would I lie? Of course, I had to compete; my reputation was on the line!”

“Kirishima-kun?”

“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”

“Kirishima?!”

“Can you hear us?!”

Silence.

Kirishima found himself opening his eyes — when had he closed them? For a moment, the air turned coppery, his body feeling weak, and he thought he felt something heavy on his lap. But that wasn’t right; he was standing up, he wasn’t sitting down. Most importantly, he was in Tokyo, Japan. He was alright. He was safe.

The sweat that clung to the back of his neck was cold, clammy, and intrusive. His chest felt tight again, his hands shaking so harshly the tea's warm, dark liquid was sloshing onto the floor.

There were seven pairs of eyes on him, each a different color, each swimming with concern and other emotions. Kirishima knew his ears weren’t working right now, his face unable to meet his brain's screaming demands to smile, and he watched as their mouths moved as they questioned his sanity.

He was okay.

He was okay.

He was okay.

“Kirishima?”

Kirishima looked up, his neck craning to the side to see a tall, skinny man standing at the doorway. 

Toshinori Yagi was an esteemed bodyguard, one of the best in the industry, which was saying something considering that most bodyguards went unknown and unnamed. According to Google, Toshinori gained the nickname All Might after saving multiple political and celebrity lives when the government could not. It was long after his prime, and the man had retired but has since filled as the company’s head — thus why this job was near impossible to get.

Kirishima heaved a breath, realizing that he hadn’t taken a single breath when Toshinori’s bruised eyes narrowed in his concern.

“C-Coming,” Kirishima smiled, the blood rushing to his ears mostly ignorable now, but the scorching concerned gazes of his friends feel like cinders on his shoulder.

He straightens his tie, fingers curling when he feels the cold sweat penetrating through his clothes, but Kirishima doesn’t let it show. Smiling like he does, Kirishima pushed through his friends and followed Toshinori out the door.

They walked down towards the conference rooms, rooms that held their contractors, in complete silence.

“This is an important case,” Toshinori began, his voice gentle and poorly hiding his concern. “I chose you because you are a great asset to have, Kirishima. You are strong and smart, and most importantly, are personable.”

Kirishima looked at the man, his face contorting with his anxiety. He didn’t want to be treated like glass.

“Honestly, you being so personable is why I chose you for this assignment. Todoroki-shounen was a contender at first, but he’s not much of a talker; the same goes for Bakugou-shounen. Midoriya-shounen was probably the best choice, but there’s a new assignment that asked for three, so I gave up those three,” Toshinori explained the current assignments. It both delighted Kirishima to hear that he could keep up with arguably the three most qualified workers here as it did, at times, make him feel lesser. 

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

“The only reason why you weren’t the first choice is because of what I walked into just now,” Toshinori interrupts Kirishima’s thoughts and words. Kirishima finds his eyes tearing away from the smooth, polished wood floor to see Toshinori stopping in front of Conference Room A, his gaze intense on him. “To be frank, I wasn’t too sure if we should have hired you all that time ago. You are excellent on the field, your skills are phenomenal. Something to be proud of, truly, but you are clearly not completely healed from your time on the force.”

“Toshinori—”

“Kirishima-shonen, I’m not saying that there’s shame in your current struggles,” Toshinori once again interrupts, his hand a soothing warmth on Kirishima’s shoulder. “I’m still not healed from my past injuries, and as many people have undoubtedly told you, it’s okay to not be okay. But you barely passed the psych evaluation and only passed your field training because you scored so phenomenally on the other things your lack of a shooting score passed you.”

Kirishima felt unable to look away from the piercing blue eyes, and the lump in his throat never tasted as bitter, as sad.

He had barely passed the admittance test.

“I just need to know, are you ready to take on this assignment?” Toshinori asks in complete seriousness. “It’s a high stake, big-name client. We do not expect anything untoward to happen, but we never know in these cases. I think highly of you, Kirishima-shonen, and if you are ready to take this on, I’ll believe you, but likewise, if you’re not, I will gladly give this to someone else.”

Kirishima swallowed, his dry tongue passing through his equally dry lips.

Without question, he was not okay, not when he nearly broke down twice in a matter of hours, but it was just a bad day. He wasn’t as shaken as he was two months ago; he was going to his mandated therapy, talking to people who could assist him. Kirishima just didn’t want to be treated like glass anymore; he wasn’t glass; he was an unbreakable force.

Steeling over his nerves and ignoring how his stomach twisted and turned, Kirishima raised his gaze to Toshinori.

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

If Kirishima was sweating because he was on a mental slip earlier, he was now sweating because he was beyond petrified and embarrassed. His hands raised up to brush against his red spikey hair, praying to God that it didn’t look dumb. His legs bounced at a speed that was bordering insanity, but he could only hear the sound of his racing heart as he stared at your frowning form from across the table.

It was you — the Y/n, the world's biggest music idol, an absolute legend in the making.

“This is our very own Kirishima Eijirou, age twenty-eight. He has been with U.A.Services for approximately six months now and is without a doubt one of our most capable and well-serviced men,” Toshinori began the introduction to the three people on the other side of the table. Kirishima could feel a blush rising up his neck and settling into his cheeks as what he presumed to be you, your manager, and your lawyer shuffling through paperwork that was very thorough on his background. “He was enlisted in the military before joining our ranks and was honorably discharged at the age of twenty-six as First Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou due to extreme injury. He excels in negotiating, scouting, and is, as you know, a skilled close combatant and was skilled in handguns—”

“I don’t think he’ll need firearms,” you interrupt, a frown on your face in contrast to the bright smile Kirishima was so used to seeing on your face. He tensed in worry.

“Y/l/n!” your manager, Sato Kimiko, scolded.

“What? It’s true! We’ll be around my fans for the majority, if not all the time! How is that right? For him to have a firearm around defenseless, and may I add, harmless individuals?!” you argued, your eyebrows scrunching in your fury.

Kirishima felt frozen in his chair, his eyes seeking Toshinori for guidance, but found himself unable to look away from you. He knew nearly everything about you, he could admit with a proud grin that he was a super mega fan of you, and he might have, at one point, looked your height up to imagine how you would appear beside him. Kirishima had known this entire time that you were two feet shorter than him, but it hadn’t hit what that meant until he was shaking your hand when he first entered.

You were tiny.

His dick and mind really liked that, and seeing your own passion spilling out for your fans was making him fall deeper into this hole he had for you.

“You don’t have a say anymore? Do you understand? You were nearly assaulted yesterday, and we are all done waiting around for something serious to happen!” Kimiko yelled, her face contorted into a look of both frustration and fear. “Either you take this, or we all leave you. I won’t have you murdered in front of me! You’re twenty-six now, stop acting like a damn brat and grow the hell up!”

The words scorched the table, blistering heat filling the conference room as you met Kimiko’s glare.

Kirishima watched with a dropped jaw as your nostrils flared, your lips pursing, and your eyebrows furrowing with unspoken distaste and anger.

“Six months tops.”

“Uh, yes,” Toshinori interjected. “Our contracts only last up to six months for new clients, but if you find yourself wanting to extend your contract after those six months, we are very much open to negotiations.”

You nodded your head, your eyes falling back onto the booklet in your hands that exposed all the information available on Kirishima. From his likes, dislikes, to his allergies and the reason why he was discharged. Each in disturbingly deep detail to make sure all things were up on the table.

“So, you can’t shoot your gun, Kirishima-san?” you speak, your voice tight, a pleased, almost taunting tone.

Kirishima stills, embarrassment bubbling in his chest as you drop the booklet onto the table, exposing his military history to him and you. 

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

The lawyer shifts from the other side of you, his eyebrows scrunching as he too comes across that piece of information. 

“He won’t use firearms?” the lawyer scoffs, his semi-permanent frown deepening. “How will we know that he will keep Y/n completely safe from any sort of danger that may come her way? We’ll be paying six months for a glorified security guard? We want a bodyguard.”

“And we clearly have one,” you snap back, your eyes narrowing. “If my bodyguard isn’t Kirishima-san, I’m not getting one. I mean, isn’t that what you said earlier?”

“When we were assuming that the person Toshinori was assigning to your case was a well-rounded bodyguard. Not one that was still clearly haunted by his past.”

Fuck, that one hurt.

You scowled, your head tilting as you bared your teeth slightly, “And what? He managed to get into the best agency in all of Japan in spite of that. Sounds like he’s competent. I already told you I won’t take on a team, just one individual. I trust in Toshinori-san’s guidance and his choice in picking Kirishima-san. If you disagree, that’s too bad for you.”

“Y/n! Please stop this! You’re being ridiculous!” Kimiko huffed, slamming her own booklet down, her eyes drowning with her exhaustion. “I’m so sorry, Toshinori-san, Kirishima-san.”

“H-Hey, it’s okay!” Kirishima immediately imputed, his hands raising in a sign of retreat. “I know that Y/n has always enjoyed her independence as a solo star, and how me being involved now is imposing, especially after multiple attacks.”

Kirishima felt that his smile was a bit strained, a bit too forced, especially as your eyes hawked onto him. He felt like you were examining him, like a lab rat going through its initial trial and not knowing just what was to be expected.

“Six months?” you spoke, your gaze not leaving Kirishima’s own.

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

You hum, your head nodding. “Fine, six months tops unless the Lieutenant Colonel can apprehend these assholes faster.”

It had been ages since Kirishima had been called by his title, and for some reason, he found himself blushing. His mouth, for the first time this entire meeting, curled into a wolfish grin.

“You got it.”

The lawyer groaned, entirely aggravated and insulted. He stood up, “You’re asking to be murdered, Y/n. Don’t come haunting me when you end up dead and mutilated. You deserve all the shit you’re getting.”

Kirishima watched with his lips parted in a bewildered expression as the lawyer walked out of the room with a loud slam of the door.

You were unfazed, and Kimiko groaned, exhausted and embarrassed as she mumbled a weak, sullen, “I am so, so sorry, Toshinori-kun.”

“Ah, Kimiko-chan, it’s okay!” Toshinori shook his head and smiled knowingly. It wasn’t as if the long time famous bodyguard hadn’t seen his fair share of childish fights between clients. “Thank you for coming as always, and we’ll do our best to make sure that Y/n is in the best of hands.”

“Thank you… and so, the rest of the contract?”

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

For six months, Kirishima would be attached to your side. He must always remain at most three meters away from you when there is no one around, and during fan interactions no more than one meter. He had a full say about your safety. If things got rough, you were to follow his every command. Your agency would pay for his room and lodging. He was to wear black pants and a black long-sleeved cotton tee. He would be working with every venue, every hotel, every conventions security team. He would lead them and never leave your side. He was to be awake an hour before you, rest when you were asleep so long as it was safe to do so. He was your guardian angel of sorts, and you would do nothing but adhere to him. 

Most importantly, according to Kimiko, there was one thing they were hoping for: Kirishima's help and discretion. For the next six months, they would be relying on Kirishima’s support to figure out who the group behind the assault was and who the mastermind was behind it all is.

Or so the contract said.

“Y/n!” Kirishima called when the papers were signed, and the day he was set to start was printed. He will begin tomorrow. “Wait!”

You stopped at the door, Kimiko and Toshinori chatting merrily between them as they exited the conference room, Toshinori’s booming voice asking if it was true that Kimiko was attending to a near forty clients to which she bashfully admitted to. You were dressed in a creme knit long-sleeved shirt, faded ripped jeans, and a pair of nude heels. The heels were big, undoubtedly giving you inches, but you still barely got to his shoulder.

“I-I’m looking forward to looking — I mean working with you!”

You looked at him closely, your eyes dragging to the top of his toes to the tallest spike in his hair before your lips pulled into a contemplative pout. You looked back to his eyes, and you steeled over, your head tilting to the side.

“I mean no offense, Sergeant, I thank you for doing your job, but I have no intention of looking forward to working with you. I don’t want you here, so do your best to ignore the contract and realize that I am the most important person, so you will follow my demands.”

Kirishima can do nothing but stare as you turn on your heel and leave.

Well, so much for a good case.

Date: 5/2 Time: 14:00 Location: Tokyo Music Stadium

If you would have told Kirishima Eijirou that he had been working for the grand, the perfect, the fantastic music idol Y/n for a month now, two months ago, he would have laughed so hard he’d cry. Not only would he have not believed it, but he would only think of a million and two scenarios where he would go the entire day flirting.

Now a month into knowing you, of being your bodyguard on a contract for six months, Kirishima could say that of that entire thought, the only thing he had been right about was that he was, in fact, crying. Not only has he never managed to speak an entire conversation with you despite being attached to your hip seven days a week, but despite your much shorter stature, you had managed to get away from him.

You always managed to sneak away from him.

Kirishima could admit that the no more than five meters rule had been wholly and utterly demolished.

And now, Kirishima was crying, not out of joy, but of pure manly fear as he raced through the backstages of the stadium, desperate to find your short-ass anywhere.

“Go, Kirishima!” someone yelled as Kirishima whizzed past him, “Find Y/n!”

“T-Thank you!” Kirishima screamed as he continued onward, the yellow-lit concrete hallway seemingly haunting the further he went into it. The earpiece in his left ear shrilled, the telling sign he was getting a call. Putting a finger to the circle in his ear, he answered the car. “Hello?!”

“Ah, Kirishima-san!” Kimiko’s voice chirped on the other side of the line. “Wonderful to hear your voice again! I’m calling to let you know that the tour bus is parked outside of the venue now. The concert was a smashing success, and she’s come out unharmed for the past month! To make matters even better, since your arrival, there have been no more assault attempts! Oh, um, sorry, where are you guys?”

“We’re just, um!” Kirishima tried not to pant into the microphone; he was still racing ahead, his head peeking into every door and room he passed. “Y/n needed to use the restroom?!”

“Oh, wonderful. Okay! Let me know when you two are on your way over!”

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

Kirishima hung up as he crashed through the doors at the end of the hallway.

It was night out right now, the full moon reflecting down on the dirty concrete with the same intensity as the streetlamps overhead. And in the middle of a crowd of around twenty people was the person Kirishima was trying to find: you.

You were still dressed in the final costume change of your concert. Even from a distance, Kirishima could see the glitter and highlight on the tip of your nose and the curve of your cheekbones. The crowd around you was clearly not hostile. Each face was bright with broad smiles and sparkling with fresh tears, each voice high and pitchy as if they were talking with some goddess and not you. 

There was a slight longing in Kirishima’s chest at the sight of you interacting with your fans, your smile was so beautiful, and he wished just for a moment that he was the one that it was directed towards. If he had met you as a fan, and only a fan, he wonders if you would look at him as you did the others. Would he see the pure joy in the depths in your eyes, the love, wonder, and pride as they asked you questions and answered your own?

He wanted to be just a fan.

“Y/n, the tour bus is here,” Kirishima finally found his voice, the tenor of his voice spreading through the narrow alleyway. “Say your goodbyes.”

He had to ignore the way you stiffened immediately, the unsolicited joy in your face breaking and becoming bleak as you met his gaze. Kirishima absolutely did not feel pressure behind his eyes when you rolled your eyes and began to say your goodbyes; he did not!

The group of fans waved goodbye as you walked backward toward Kirishima; you didn’t stop waving and continuing your parting conversations with the group until the metal doors of the stadium doors closed behind the two of you. Kirishima let out a sigh, his eyes closing for a brief moment before looking down at you. You were expressionless, eyes cold as you looked dead ahead.

“You’re not supposed to run away like that.”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t tell me what to do, Sergeant.”

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

“Part of your contract. Yeah, I know, but that’s your contract, not mine.”

“Oh, okay. Um, Kimiko? ...yeah, we’re heading out now. Five minutes, till.”

And then there’s only silence.

Neither Kirishima nor you bother talking the entire walk towards the tour bus, and you ignore Kimiko’s call that your lawyer would be meeting briefly before tomorrow's fan signing event. You walk into the bus and go directly to the beds, throwing yourself into the terribly padded bunk and passing out without so much as a sound.

Kirishima sinks into his own bed, it’s too small for him, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Sleep overcomes him easily these days; he’s always way too exhausted in chasing you down like some spoiled toddler you’re behaving like to dream. But that’s okay, he thinks as the comfort of sleep begins to dig its skeleton fingers into his side, at least the exhaustion stops the night terrors.

Date: 5/3 Time: 10:00 Location: Tokyo Music Tower

Now, Kirishima knew that it was a common belief and a nearly proven theory that when you met your idols, you should never ever have your expectations high on who they are as a person. Celebrities were out of touch, cruel, rude, nearly jaded. They weren’t exactly the common folk. With people willing to forget things like them being human beings themselves or the common thread of celebrities being too rich to care, any type of famous person was cold, rude, and ruthless.

He knew that.

He also knew that you weren’t like the nearly proven theory.

You were kind, sweet, a practical angel to anyone who dared to approach you. You were the exception to the rule, an outlier to them all. You spoke politely to all your fans, domestic and foreign, and you treated each fan like the most special person in the world.

You were a good person.

But Kirishima knew, just as you reacted to any cruel person you encountered, you had an edge. Your words were as vicious as your name was known. He genuinely enjoyed watching you put assholes into place, but he sulked, knowing he was always at the receiving end of the sharp, bitter tongue of yours.

For a month and a day now, he had been the number target of your bitter words and scorching hate, but he admitted that he enjoyed it when it wasn’t directed at him, if but a little bit.

“I’m not renegotiating my contract!” you groan, your palms slamming into the depths of your eyes. “I already told you that I don’t need all that money!”

“And I’m telling you that you need to increase the wages that you pay the rest of your team instead of all those charities or else people will begin dropping you!” the lawyer countered with similar fire, his scowl angry enough that Kirishima felt like he had to tear his gaze away from this horrible battle. “You won’t be the best of the best forever, y/n, get over your stupid savior act and look over the changes!”

Kirishima looked over at you, his eyebrows pinching as he watched you fold your arms, your cheeks pushed out to a puff as you looked at the stack of papers with the title page fully covered with the word Contract of Y/n and Co. on it. Well, it seemed that the rumor of you spending your paycheck on things that weren’t you was right, how entirely manly.

“Oh fuck off,” you growl, pushing out of the chair and storming away.

Kirishima glanced over at Kimiko, who was looking pale and exhausted, undoubtedly exhausted from the past thirty-minute battle between the lawyer and the idol that neither made a single step forward nor a step back. How you had the energy to fight so passionately was beyond him. Kimiko nodded minimally, her lips parting in a sigh as Kirishima stood up and followed after her.

“The only way that brat is going to listen is by force,” the lawyer sneered, his voice fading into the room that Kirishima exited. “If that’s how she wants to play, so be it.”

Fortunately for Kirishima, he catches up to you. There are tears of fury dripping down your cheeks, and he feels unable to speak as he discovers a new layer to you.

...how interesting.

“It’s my money,” you speak, but Kirishima is unsure if those words are meant for him or for the void, the earth that you would much rather converse with than him. “I already pay them all a much greater paycheck than they should be getting considering their client pool. Why do I have to bend to their stupid will when I’m the one making the money.”

Kirishima blinks, wondering just what people might want to raise with their contracts. But, he knew you were right. By her account, Kimiko had a client list of many successful individuals, and he may not know anything about the lawyer, but if he worked with Y/n, his name must be good. Guess they weren’t like you.

“People are selfish assholes,” was the only thing that Kirishima could think of, and was something he spoke before he could stop himself.

But you stop in your storm, the anger that clouded you somewhat dissipating, clearing just enough for you to turn to him, your sharp, beautiful eyes for the first time filled with rage that was not pointed at him, and an emotion that made him think of… amusement?

“Yeah,” you agree, a half-smile cracking onto your face, and Kirishima feels his soul begin leaving his very body. “People are selfish assholes, huh?”

“Very much.”

There’s a calm, a snorted chuckle, and Kirishima finds himself stumbling further into the abyss of his feelings for you.

The next ten hours seem to pass in a blur, Kirishima feeling like he was on Cloud Nine as he stood behind you, three meters as he watched fan after fan approach you. Signatures were made, pictures were taken, and Kirishima found that he never once had to approach.

Maybe, he thinks, just perhaps, the two of you can overcome this.

Ten minutes after the official signing is done, Kirishima can’t find you, and he curses loudly into the echoing floor.

So much for change.

Date: 5/17 Time: 23:00 Location: The Parking Lot - Mt. Lady Studios

Kirishima was, for the lack of better words, completely fucking done with you.

Don’t get it wrong, he still was a complete and massive fan of yours. He would never once betray his loyalty to you and your musical career, but he was slowly starting to realize just why the lawyer was set to dying of a heart attack any time soon. Despite your early entrance to stardom and the stuff of legends, you had kept your fiery, stubborn individualism.

Kirishima thought it was absolutely hot and sexy at times, especially the times where you strut around in revealing clothes because ‘this is your body,’ or the lingerie campaign you completed two days ago as part of some fundraising event. There were significant perks to your strong handle and claim to keeping your indestructible personality, but it came back to rub them all back in the worst of ways when once again, you escaped from Kirishima’s side.

To be fair, most of the time, Kirishima was a very level headed individual; he was near impossible to rile up despite popular initial belief. I mean, he was good friends with Bakugou Katsuki, who riled up just about anyone he talked to! He needed to have steel calm emotions, or at the very least portray that he does. But even the unbreakable after tireless attempts can, at times, be broken.

It had been a hard morning.

Kirishima had woken up in a panic, the sweat of his night terror soaking through the sheets of his bed, and his head felt like lead. They had been in the tour bus for the entire day because you were going from the tip of Japan to the bottom of it, thus meaning that you couldn’t run away from him, concluding that when he went to bed that night, he was merely tired, not exhausted.

“K...Kiri...shima?” the voice whispered in his ears when he bolted from his bed and tumbled to the ground, his chest heaving in his panic as he cried.

He only slept for four hours that night, the ghost of his comrade haunting him too much for him to ever drift back to sleep. The only thing he was grateful for when he stumbled down to the hotel lobby for breakfast was that he had an attack while in his own room and not in a tour bus with ten others.

But the lack of sleep and the twisting of his guts from his still unburied memories meant that his exhaustion was dialed up larger than he thought was capable. Today was an interview day plus a miniconcert at said interview.

That meant that for an hour before your interview and two hours afterward, Kirishima lost you and had to hunt you down. You weren’t making it easy on him and had started moving with the crowd you gathered to evade him.

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

“Let’s go,” Kirishima spoke in a low, commanding voice. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at you, the crowd of fans parting like the red sea as he stands behind you, larger than life, imposing.

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

“Aw, did you make that just for me?! This beading is gorgeous!”

To be fair, Kirishima isn’t really sure if he’s crying right now or if steam is protruding from his ears like some stupid cartoon. The only thing he knows is that it's been a bit longer than a month, and his client is the most perfect person in the world except to him and some lawyer. All he knows is that he has been continuously mocked, shamed, and disrespected by his client, and at this moment, with his mind and body aching with the memories of the morning, he can no longer stop the tsunami of emotions and thoughts that shove out of him.

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

“We’re leaving now, sorry to disrupt your time. Come see Y/n another day.”

Kirishima isn’t even aware of your screams, the banging of your small fist against his back as his hand encompasses your bicep easily. He walks and walks and walks until he stops, his mind slightly put back into place.

“—FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?! LET GO OF ME, SERGEANT!”

Oh, right.

He lets go of you immediately and nearly snorts at how you stumble into his back. So small, so delicate, and so completely weak.

“You want to know my problem, y/l/n?” he asks, voice eerily calm, much calmer than he actually is. “My fucking problem is that I signed onto this case with a single rule: keep you in sight and protect you. It’s simple, almost too easy, isn’t it? But easy and simple is everything that this assignment is!”

Your face contorted into a flash of anger and embarrassment, your nose scrunching as you found your footing, “And I told you that I don’t give a crap about that contract! I didn’t want it in the first place, but no one listens to me!”

Kirishima snorts, his body shifting so that he can look at you properly; your face is seething, your teeth bared and eyes wild, but Kirishima has faced worse.

“It’s not in my contract to listen to you, unfortunately,” Kirishima points out, his eyes narrowing. “I would have a better time listening to you, trying to find an agreement that worked if you used that brain of yours and figured out a way to compromise with me.”

“Compromises aren’t—”

“You think I wouldn’t?” Kirishima almost whines, his voice tight with emotions, fingers fisting in his hair, “You really fucking think that after a month and how many days of me spending stupid hours trying to find your ass, most of the time never knowing if you’re dead or not, I wouldn’t want a better solution?!”

“Like hell they’ll kill me! And if they do, I don’t fucking care!” you stubbornly insist, finger buried against the swell of your chest.

“Oh my god,” Kirishima can’t stop the bitter laugh from escaping, “you’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous?! I’m not the ridiculous one here!” you cry, your eyes bursting with unshed, bitter tears. “So what that I run away from you? Can you imagine living the past ten years of your life trying to be something that the media wants you to be? No! You can’t, Sergeant! Those times where I’m running away isn’t to be some dick, but to give me time to be me!”

“You’re a goddamn idiot!” Kirishima barks, his anger curdling in his chest like a raging fire. “If you had looked at my damn file correctly, instead of focusing on the stupid shit like me not being able to fire my gun correctly, you would be more than aware of the fact that you are one of my favorite artists!”

“Wh-”

“I am one of the best in my company! I am easy to get along with, personal, manageable, flexible even, but from the very first moment you laid eyes on me, you’ve hated me! You talk down on me, you shit on me, my job, the reason I’m here! Listen, I would fucking love to be anywhere but here right now. I have literally never hated my job before, but you just made that a reality. But the worst part of this all is the fact that you seem to think I would have kept you away, prohibited you from doing things that I already know you love! You stand there and tell me that I would try to force you to do shit you don’t want when I have merely been asking for you to take me there with you! I don’t care if I have to stand away and watch, but I want to be there! I’m supposed to be protecting you, but you’re being nothing more than a stubborn brat who refuses to see the efforts I’m trying to make, and frankly, I’m done.”

Kirishima’s chest is burning with the lack of oxygen, his eyes narrowed and filled with raging fire as he stares down at you, his neck craned so that he could be closer, more daunting, intimidating.

“Fuck o-off,” you snap suddenly, a lone tear, your voice tight and shoulders tense as you storm off.

“So predictable,” Kirishima calls after you, but it’s not filled with the previous anger he had but the sinking misery and regret.

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

And then the all too familiar sound of a fist colliding with skin.

The anger in Kirishima’s blood evaporates immediately, and horror sinks in as he turns towards where you had stormed off. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

The parking lot is filled with an ugly yellow light that seems to set the stage for what was to come down. His footsteps crashing down against the black pavement were mute in his ears, and his eyes were focused on your limp body slung over somebody's shoulder. There was one person behind him, the other one already hopping into a van; Kirishima was the devil on their heels.

“Come on! Let’s go!” the one in the van screamed, his voice full of gruff apprehension and fear.

The van turns on.

Kirishima grunts, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he sidesteps the man who was lingering behind the one carrying you and quickly slams his shoulder into the man's sternum, knocking him out the moment he collapses onto the ground. 

He lets out a roar of such, his eyes glowing with anger and a single mind track to take down the person who held you, ready to throw your unconscious body into the back of the van.

Kirishima doesn’t even know when he manages to get to the man's side, one hand on his shoulder, the other on you, and with the strength and anger of a million fighting warriors, he ripped you from his hold and sent him stumbling into the trunk. Your shallow breathing brushes against his neck, and Kirishima is hyper-aware of the cursing men who chose to abandon their unconscious comrade on the floor. 

With his arms filled by your unconscious body, Kirishima can only watch the van scurry out of the lot, the license plate immediately burning into his mind.

T082-23

When the man on the floor finally wakes up, he’s in police custody, and you’re just waking up. There's a bruise on your cheek, and you begin crying immediately.

Kirishima watches from the distance, his heart aching and guilt climbing up his throat as he watches Kimiko hold you close, her arms warm and tight.

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

Kirishima sits in a waiting room, his head relaxed against the wall as he waits for your discharge from the hospital. They suspect a concussion, and they’re running some tests right now. The police are there too, trying to get information from you on the failed kidnapping attempt as well as beginning the initial trials of interrogation of the abandoned kidnapper with a broken sternum, ruptured spleen, and three cracked ribs.

He was not surprised when the police officers came to talk to him, and he gave them the license plate.

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

(“Well, when we asked for a motive, it seemed that it wasn’t his idea,” the detective admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “His boss said that, and I quote, Y/n will end up dead and mutilated as is deserved. She deserves all the shit she has coming her way, end quote. Any ideas of who it could be”

Kirishima rubbed a hand across his face, the words striking a bit too familiarly to him, but from where. He shook his head, his eyes focusing on his bouncing knee.

“Thank you,” Kirishima said, his tone pointed in a clear indicator that this conversation was now over. The detective nodded, his frown slight as he left. The moment he was gone, Kirishima pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Kimiko? Yeah, I think we might have our first suspect.”)

For now, he was waiting for you.

An hour passed before you shuffled into the waiting room. There was a bandage on your swollen cheek, but besides the obvious attack, your eyes looked strong, and it seemed like there was no concussion.

“I should be fine,” you speak first, your jaw tensing as if it physically pained you to speak (whether it was because you hated talking to him or because of the injury, Kirishima had no idea). “I will be fine; I just need some sleep.”

Kirishima nodded, his body completely exhausted, and his mind filled with nothing but regrets on how he handled his anger earlier. He needed to apologize. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but he had definitely crossed a few too many lines.

“Should we go?”

You chewed on your lip, your eyes looking down at the white tiled floors of the hospital — so bleak, so anxiety driving.

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

Your eyes raise back up before looking away again, “the contract.”

Kirishima finds himself nodding, his hand gesturing towards the empty seat in front of him.

“Sure.”

And with a heaving sigh that sounds like you were on the verge of tears, you sit before him.

The contract was then discussed.

It was decided that you could continue to interact with fans as you wish, so long as you took Kirishima with you. He didn’t care about the long hours, the manic fans, or the impending doom of a group of people who meant business. He needed to be there.

Everything else stayed the same, but Kirishima looked at you one last time that night in the hospital, his body leaning towards you as he did his best to keep his face void of emotion and any lingering teasing.

“I’ll only accept this new negotiation on one term.”

“W-What?!” you pause, thinking. “Fine, say it.”

“From here on out, I think we should be friends, yeah? I’m on your side, after all, it’s a bit weird if we stay just acquaintances.”

The tension and horror leave your body, and Kirishima, for the first time ever, bears witness to the most relaxed, meaningful smile he has ever seen you give. It had been one hell of a shitty night, but at that very moment when the seventh turned into the eighth, Kirishima felt a new warmth flood through his chest, his heart racing at the sight of your glorious smile.

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?” 

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry about all that I said. It was unmanly of me and out of line.”

“It’s okay. To be fair, I was a bit of a self-absorbed brat, too.”

The next day, a picture of Kirishima holding you bridal style is trending.

Date: 6/12 Time: 19:00 Location: Hime Onsen

An Interview with Y/n | Vogue Japan 4.5 million views • Premiered 2 hours ago 874k [liked this] 12.3k [disliked this] Timestamp: 05:32 / 10:33

[Interviewer]: Now, Y/n, we must congratulate you on your latest achievement! Your latest self-titled album, ‘Y/N,’ has been nominated for a record high of twelve awards for the upcoming Japan Record Awards, which will be coming up in about a month! Tell us how you feel about this?

[You]: It was quite a surprise actually! I didn’t realize that it would have done so well in the critic's eyes to get this type of award. I am proud of myself and am excited to see all the other amazing artists and musicians who were nominated as well.

[Interviewer]: Now, your album is all about staying true to yourself, whether that be in love or war. It depicts your own highs and lows while also highlighting beautifully universal things many of us face. Without question, you have always been adamant on staying connected with your fans and keeping a simple rule: no bodyguards.

[Y/n]: Oh, (laughs) yes! That is definitely a new thing, huh?

[Interviewer]: A new thing and a beautiful thing at that, too! Look here!

[captioner notes: interviewer displays many photos of Y/n’s bodyguard, including the most famous one where he’s holding y/n after the failed kidnapped attempt]

[Interviewer]: This is a beautiful — don’t giggle! — a beautiful man, Y/n! What do you have to say for yourself?! Did you finally succumb to keeping untrue to yourself for this beautiful man?! If so, it is perfectly acceptable. By chance, is your contract with him done? I would personally love to have this man on my team.

[Y/n]: (laughing) By all means, take him! (Y/n looks behind her, her bodyguard is there) I’m kidding, I’m kidding! (pauses) No, actually, sorry. Kirishima is an outstanding bodyguard, and I have no intentions of leaving him so soon. Uh, while I did say I had no wish or intentions to have a bodyguard, obviously that was not the best solution, so I hired Kirishima. He is a wonderful addition to my team and still allows me to be authentically me, so it’s still all good.

[Interviewer]: Ah, okay, well, Kirishima-kun, if you ever need a new client, call me. But moving on, yes! Would you like to discuss the series of increasingly concerning attacks?

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

Today was one of the last remaining days you had off, and in celebration of your upcoming award season, you had decided that it was mandatory to visit the hot springs. Everyone on your team — the backup dancers, band, and hair and makeup — were ecstatic to learn that they were being involved with it too.

This high-end resort had accommodated your entire team to receive their own private spring with an all-inclusive menu too. 

It was thanks from the owner for the free PR and, of course, because they were some of your biggest fans. So, in thanks, everyone got to enjoy the springs.

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

As of the past month, things between Kirishima and you had improved a lot.

With Kirishima no longer needing to run a marathon daily to find where you were, he would find himself walking at your side. He no longer felt like you hated him. There was respect and actual friendship between the two of you. You joked with him, showed him memes and TikTok, sent him snapchat streaks, and invited him to watch weird shows with you. You even complained to him about the things that annoyed you, namely Kimiko’s attention being stolen by other clients and the rude conversations you would have with the lawyer.

It made Kirishima’s chest warm up knowing that you were friends now.

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

But there were some things that Kirishima would not have expected to… arise.

Namely you growing to be comfortable enough to walk around with nothing but a thin pair of panties and a large shirt. You curling into his side whenever you watched a show together in the bus, the way your lips brushed against his neck when he leaned down to hug you, or the very so not obvious teasing you would do when you changed in front of him. It was as if you were watching his every reaction, enjoying the way that his eyes horribly tore away, or the silent hitch in his throat whenever you speed his heart up.

The biggest surprise arose the night after the failed kidnapping attempt:

You had come to his room, hours after you were supposed to have fallen asleep.

Your eyes were sunken, still a bit tired, and the bruise on your cheek was looking bad. In your arms was a white binder undoubtedly filled with the introductory packet you had received at your initial meeting. Kirishima had opened the door in his sleepy state in nothing but gym shorts. He had barely started dozing off, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of what could have happened if you hadn’t managed to scream, and so he kept tossing and turning.

Seeing you outside of his room, his head dropped down to look at you properly, and his fist rubbing at his eye fell, “Y/n?”

“Did I wake you?” you asked, your face filled with a shocked, near uncomfortable, and embarrassed expression he doesn’t recall ever seeing on you. “I’m so sorry! I’ll wait until—”

“No,” Kirishima grunts while he shakes his head, his voice raspy and dry from his lack of use. “I’ve been tossing and turning, um, what is it? Do you want to come in?”

“I-If that’s okay?”

Kirishima breathes out a bit, his shoulders relaxing as he smiles softly, “Come on, let’s talk about what’s on your mind.”

The door clicked behind your tentative steps with an echo, and Kirishima watched as you walked into the hotel room with wariness and caution.

“Would you like some tea?” Kirishima offered, picking up a shirt from his dresser and pulling it over his body. The fabric was tight against his chest and shoulders, but felt more appropriate to wear around you.

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

You stood in the center of the room, unsure of where to sit, stand, or lay.

“Go ahead and make the bed,” Kirishima offered, taking the chair by the desk. “I promise it’s still clean.”

You laugh slightly, smile strained but grateful as you sit at the edge of the bed, binder resting on your lap.

“Thanks, I wouldn’t want to sit on a dirty bed,” you joke, but it sounds weak to Kirishima’s ears.

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

“You have my portfolio,” he shrugs, leaning forward so that his forearms rest on his knees. “I have a feeling you have some questions.”

“Oh, right,” you whisper, your eyebrows scrunching as you open the binder to the first page, but your eyes are focused on the desk. “What’s the medication for?”

Kirishima turns his head to follow your gaze and comes across the yellow tinted medicine containers.

“My PTSD,” Kirishima answers honestly, his voice soft with emotion, but there was no shame in it. “My service had a difficult end.”

“That’s actually… that’s what I came to talk about,” you rush, your hands slamming the binder closed. “If you don’t want to talk about it, obviously I won’t push it! God, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s okay,” Kirishima interrupted, his smile sad, but he stood up, his body a tower in front of yours as he urged you to sit back down. “It’s okay; I don’t mind talking about it.”

“B-But what if I say something that makes it all worse?”

A pause.

“Then I’ll tell you that it’s too much.”

A nod.

“Are you… are you still experiencing a lot of symptoms?” you ask, your fingers tightening and untightening around the binder.

“Some days are worse than others,” Kirishima admits, his shoulders shrugging. “I don’t experience much anxiety while in crowds anymore; I don’t have many flashbacks to those days anymore, not since February at least. I do still get… I still get night terrors and dream of that day. It’s nowhere near as bad as the first few months after the accident, but it’s still here.”

“What happened?” you asked after a bit, morbidly curious.

The file had all the details that proved Kirishima to be a master of firearms during his entire time on the force. He was a powerful combatist, and his ranking was a clear indicator of the respect and skills he had. Still, it was the quick honorable discharge, the near year-long hospitalization, and the current inability to use a firearm that concerned you.

What had happened?

“I was involved in a grenade explosion on my last day on tour. I was the only one who managed to survive the blast,” Kirishima easily stated, his voice quiet.

“Oh my god, I… holy shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, it’s all good. There were only two others around, and one of them was already dead.”

“Was that um, Major—”

“We called him Crimson Riot, actually,” Kirishima smiled, a chuckle light on his tongue as he leaned back onto the chair, nodding. “Yeah, that was him.”

“Crimson Riot,” you repeat, nodding. “Did you watch him… watch him die?”

Kirishima presses his lips tightly together, and for a moment, you’re unsure if he’s going to cry, answer you, or tell you to leave. There’s a whirlwind of emotions on your optimistic and typically jubilant bodyguard despite your asshole tendencies that make your stomach twist.

“Yes,” Kirishima finally answers, and you nod.

It’s hours into the morning before you finally depart back to your room, the horrors of Kirishima’s past still pounding into your ears. Kirishima wouldn’t notice, and neither would you, but on his shirt and yours, there’s a few drops of tears the both of you shed when you said goodnight.

Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou, while on an active warzone, had accidentally struck and killed his superior officer, his friend, his role model Crimson Riot, thinking that he was nothing more than an enemy target as he sat wounded behind a wall. He died on his lap, and as someone came to help, a grenade landed two meters away before detonating.

“K...Kiri...shima?” Crimson Riot had whispered as he fell to his knees, blood gushing and seeping through his clothes, spilling onto Kirishima’s lap. “I’ll be okay.”

For whatever reason, since that night, Kirishima felt something in him shift. He still took his medication, still had his virtual therapy sessions when he could fit them in, and even had painful night terrors of that moment, but it was becoming less frequent.

He wasn’t made of glass.

There had been more instances after the kidnapping attempt, but unlike the last times, Kirishima was prepared. He had stopped each one, keeping you safe and sound. As of one week ago, he had officially been given a firearm to keep strapped to his thigh at all times now.

It was an unfamiliar weight, one that still twisted his stomach and made him nervous, but he knew the reason why it was needed. Since the gun had been added to his gear, the attacks stopped. He was definitely not ready to be firing it anytime soon, but it had deterred the attackers for the time being.

Kirishima paused when he heard his earpiece ring, and he dropped his phone where he had been watching your interview despite being there himself.

“Talk to me,” Kirishima answered, his finger pressing the accept button.

“Kirishima!” came the distressed voice of Kimiko, “We just got a tip!”

Kirishima stilled, his eyes scanning the empty hallways that stretched throughout the private hot springs.

“I don’t know, but a person with connections with this mastermind said something about how there were two more events he was staging. Today is one of them!”

Kirishima’s eyes widened, his lips parting to answer Kimiko when instead there was a large, loud crash in the water from inside your room. He assumed the worst.

“Y/n!” Kirishima shouted, hands throwing open the sliding door and racing through the storage room, the shower, and exited out into the hot spring.

Steam curled through the wind, the white wisps of steam feeling warm and light against Kirishima’s skin, and Kirishima panicked when he couldn’t see your shadow or figure in the hot springs.

“Where is she?! Is she alright?!” Kimiko panicked, her voice panicking already. “I’ll call the—”

Kirishima turned on his heel, ready to complete a full sweep of the outdoor hot spring when he crashed into something smaller than he was… smaller, softer, and definitely the shape of a woman. Kirishima felt his entire body stiffen when his rough palms felt the undeniable feeling of wet, warm skin.

“Oh my god,” he heard you shriek. “KIRISHIMA!”

“She’s all good, Kimiko,” Kirishima stifled out, his voice tight, his head slamming backward so that his eyes were concentrated on the starry night sky.

“...sorry… uh aha! Another client of mine is calling, goodbye!” Kimiko’s apology was meek and small before she hung up.

Kirishima’s mind was racing a mile a minute, but his body was frozen, unmoving like a rock when he realized that pressing to his stomach was, without a doubt, your breasts.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What are you doing in here, pervert?!” you splutter, your hands pressing to his stomach as you step away. “Are you a pervert or something?!”

“I, no! No! Of course not! Fuck, shit, I’m so sorry! I’ll go! There was a tip that something was going to happen right now, and there was a crash and—”

“What are you looking at?” you exclaim, squeaky frustration heavy on your tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with the sky! Look me in the eyes? Have you never been to a co-ed hot spring before?!”

“Y-Yes, sorry!” Kirishima apologized, bowing slightly in apology before he peered down. Still, his face bursted in a flame as he watched the way your jaw dropped in disbelief, the dewy wetness of the hot spring clinging to your body. You were, obviously, soaked, and Kirishima bit his tongue as hard as he could to keep the whimper from expelling past his lips when he saw the light gleaming off your breasts. But he watched your face shift between a million emotions, each one appearing too fast for him to read, too fast to register, but he saw the way a single-arm wrap around your breast and the other shoving into his stomach.

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

“That was a test! This is my private room! I have the right to not be willing to be looked at right now!” you shrieked as Kirishima spun around, allowing you the complete privacy of his gaze.

“You told me to look at you!” he squawked. “Y-You told me, and I listened because of our contract!”

Kirishima could feel his body trembling, his mind reeling in disbelief that he definitely saw you in your entire nakedness, and if the swirling heat in his stomach had anything to say about it, he liked it. Fuck.

There was a soft laugh and the sound of sloshing water as you probably (he wouldn’t know because he wasn’t looking) reentered the spring.

“I know, I was teasing,” you sing, and he can tell the water is gliding around your body. “Turn around, Kiri, let’s talk.”

“Haha, um, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Kirishima admits, although sitting in this steam-filled space with just you sounds so very nice. 

“Why not?” you asked, voice sounding a bit upset.

“I’m supposed to be outside, doing my job?”

“Augh, but these private springs are so boring alone,” your voice whines; the water sloshes, and Kirishima winces at the slight throb on his tongue as he continues to look at not your direction. “Turn around, Kiri.”

Not too long ago, you had taken to calling him Kiri, a subtle change, a not unusual nickname people gave him. But just because it was you, his stomach flipped and twisted, and now with the image of your tits in mind, his dick throbbed. 

Gulping, Kirishima turned, his gaze bashfully looking down at you before glancing away. You were chest-deep in the hot springs, tendrils of your wet hair sticking to your neck. Was he dead? Maybe dreaming?

No, his dreams were never like this.

“Do you want to come in?” you continued to ask, your body moving towards him in the water until you reached the edge of the pool, arms testing into the black rocks. “You’re the only one not in one, and since I hate being in these alone, I figured you’d like to join.”

Kirishima wanted to join. More than anything, he wanted to take his clothes off and jump into the springs with you, for you, but that would be unprofessional. Entirely and utterly unprofessional.

“Please?” you ask softly, pleadingly, and Kirishima makes the mistake of locking his gaze with yours. 

“...fine, but I’ll be on the other side of the spring,” he concedes, his steps near clumsy and oafish as he stumbles backward to the shower and closet.

“Such a gentleman pervert,” you tease, fingers curling as you wave at him until Kirishima finally closes the door behind him.

The empty room is nearly deafening in its silence and the future as Kirishima slumps against the sliding door, excited apprehension rippling through every cell of his skin as a smile spreads across his face. He walks to the storage room, and despite it being a private room, there were two closets. The closet not already occupying your clothes had the things needed for him, and thankfully, it fit. 

He undressed slowly, folding his clothes and placing them into the cubbies. Fully naked, he approached the showers, and under the lukewarm showerhead, he cleaned his body of any grime, dirt, and sweat. 

Feeling refreshed and clean, Kirishima began his descent to the hot spring, his heart hammering when his fingers grabbed the handle of the door.

“I’m coming in,” he announced, a healthy amount of fear, excitement, and heat drumming through him.

“I’ll keep my virgin eyes away from your body, don’t worry,” came your slow tease, and Kirishima snorted softly.

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

Just like the first time, the entrance to the spring was warm, the steam seeming thicker than last time, clouding the outdoor room and his sight. You were at the furthest out part of the pool, your back towards them as you worked your fingers through your scalp.

Discarding his slippers at the edge, Kirishima climbed into the pool.

The pool only went as far as his thigh, and he sank into the warm water. It felt wonderful on his body, relaxing his muscles just enough for him to wonder when was the last time he had managed to visit a hot spring.

“I’m in,” Kirishima said, his arms rising up out of the water, resting onto the black stone. “You can turn around now.”

“God, took you long enough,” you tease, your body twisting so that you were facing him again.

To Kirishima’s complete and utter surprise, you stilled, eyes dragging up and down his exposed chest, eyes locked on the series of tattoos all over his right pectoral, and trailed down his right arm. His lips felt dry as your eyes shifted back to his face, to his arm, and back to him. The smile on your face felt weak, but it sent a spiral of dizzying heat through Kirishima when he noticed the hushed lust.

For a while, the two of you remained at opposite ends of the hot spring. Eyes closed, hummed melodies passing through the song. You asked Kirishima about how he felt, if his medication was due for refills, if therapy was okay (he was doing better, a refill was due in two weeks, and therapy was going the same). He asked you about your relationship with Kimiko, with the lawyer, and if you had any real friends within the music industry (Kimiko was like an older cousin to you, the lawyer was a pain to deal with at times, and surprisingly, you did meet some genuine friends). You questioned how his friends were doing, if he had any contact with them despite their busy schedules. 

So Kirishima found himself retelling stories of his coworkers turned close friends. Each story he told left both of you with sore stomachs from laughter, and tears at the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard. 

“Was the tip story true?” you asked once the quiet overcame and grew old. You shift through the water, getting a bit closer to Kirishima.

Kirishima coughed, suddenly feeling a tad bit shy about his posture, but decided to keep from moving.

“You honestly think I would have barged into here just because I wanted to see you?”

Truthfully, had Kirishima been a man without morals, chivalry, or disrespect for you, he would have. Definitely would have.

“Let a girl dream,” you smile, like a luring siren as you wander closer by just a step. “It would go against everything I know about you, but it’s fun to tease.”

“You’re a bigger brat than I thought you would be,” Kirishima smiles back, trying his best to not show the way goosebumps were bursting against his skin, his eyes locked on yours, trying to not get distracted by the way your wet skin made his mind spin.

“I don’t think I’m a brat,” you counter, getting close enough that he could feel the currents of the water with your movement. But you were far enough that Kirishima felt like pointing out the fact you disregarded his keep apart rule would be a mistake. “How am I a brat?”

The sound of the water rippling through the springs along with the growing noises of the bugs began a melody around the two of you, and all Kirishima could do was stare at the way you blinked your eyes slowly — like a feline stalking a prey.

“A lot of ways, really,” Kirishima breathes, his heart rising up to his throat as he felt your hands gingerly place themselves on his knees.

“Yeah?” you ask, parting through his naked legs, and Kirishima felt his breathing stop when your exposed chest pressed against his. Your lips were ghosting so far from his but tantalizingly close enough that he felt drunk off your sweet breath. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Kirishima sucked in air, his arms resisting movement, and his eyes glanced down at the way your mouth was millimeters from his. His dick was very much interested in what he could do about it, and when your hands grazed up his thigh and onto his chest, Kirishima could feel something rumble in his chest.

He moved to eliminate the space, but there was a crash in the following spring, pushing you away from him long before he could claim your mouth.

“FUCK!” the person in the opposite spring screamed, and Kirishima’s eyes closed in his muted annoyance as you sighed.

His eyes dropped to the water, giving you the privacy to rise out of the water and make your way over to the wall.

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

“Give me a warning the next time you try fucking your hot bodyguard in the middle of a private onsen!”

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

And with that, Kirishima took this as his embarrassed cue to leave.

He stood at the entrance of your private spring for about twenty minutes, entirely uncomfortable with the still hard dick in his pants, rubbing and chaffing against his jeans as he stood there. Eventually, you exited the hot spring, face glowing from the steam and eyes avoiding his gaze as you walked back to your room. Your robe was tight on your body, the hair on the nape of your neck pressed to your skin.

Kirishima sighed as he watched you enter your room, your smile short as you nodded a simple goodnight before letting the door slam shut behind you.

Rubbing his face, Kirishima listened to the voices in his intercom talk about how nothing had happened tonight. An attempted unwelcome visitor tried to get into your room, but they had stopped him. They didn’t fight, but they had run away the moment they caught on to the fact that they weren’t exactly authentic.

Kirishima sighed as he slumped into his room, collapsing on the too small bed as he found himself looking at the ceiling in deep concentration.

What was he going to do now?

That was undeniably sexual, his still semi-hard dick damning evidence to the known fact that he wanted you. By god did he want you. Wanted you beneath him, over him, splitting yourself down onto his cock while you gripped your arms and legs around him, fucking down onto his driving cock. 

Kirishima groaned low in his chest, guilt blooming in the back of his throat as his palm rubbed his pulsing cock.

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

“Kirishima-san?” a voice broke through his earpiece, and Kirishima nearly jumped out of his skin. “Are you there?”

“Hi Kimiko,” Kirishima sighed, his dick deflating instantly. “Everything all right?”

“Ah, yes! Sorry about earlier, the false tip and the sudden abandonment!” Kimiko embarrassingly apologized. “My client was ringing for the fourth time, and while I care deeply for y/n, I had to take it!”

“Mm, no worries, Kimiko,” Kirishima smiled politely despite the lack of visual contact. “How can I help you?”

“Ah, yes,” Kimiko asserted, her tone changing from apology to one of formality. “So, about the visitor incident I’m sure you were brought attention to, it seems that the vehicle they came in was with the driver's plate: T082-23. Does that sound familiar?”

“Not currently,” Kirishima sighed, his body stretching into a sitting up position. “Does it to you?”

“No…” Kimiko admitted, and Kirishima could feel the worried frown on her face. “Well, I just wanted to call and give you that information. It was passed along to me, and they mentioned they hadn’t told you. And since I was going to give you the schedule for the upcoming JRA’s award day, I figured I’d let you know!”

“No problem! Let’s go over the schedule now?”

“Yes! I have a client meeting in America right after this! Can you believe it? An American celebrity wants my help?!”

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

“Okay, so this is how the day’s going to go!”

Date: 7/10 Time: 18:00 Location: Tokyo Hotel Room 101

Kirishima watched as an entire team was getting you dressed up.

Two people were doing your hair, three people doing your nails, one person doing your makeup, and five getting one of your three outfits for the night ready.

According to you, as you had strutted around in these outfits nearly two weeks ago were your red carpet and beginning of the award show outfit, your performance outfit, and of course, the after-party outfit. Each one was different, yet when adorned on your body was a perfect replica of who you were.

Most importantly, the two of you had decided to ignore every single instance of tremendous sexual energy and desire that basically leaked from both of your pores. It was for the best to ignore it. There was no point in pursuing it, especially when there was a known hunt for you, and Kirishima was the last line of defense between you and whoever it was.

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

Since the night of the initial kidnapping that finally closed the gap between you and Kirishima, there was something that the caught criminal said that stuck with him.

Everything you had coming your way, you deserved, he had said in bitter spite.

The interesting thing was that it was the lawyer who had said that, multiple times at that. The lawyer seemed to have everything to fuel him to rage against you. Everything you said or tried, the lawyer was on your heel, barking at you that it was wrong. Kirishima had also seen the contracts between you and the lawyer, and the amount that he was paid to be your attorney was not large at all.

The mass majority of the funds you earned were always funneled towards charities and organizations you trusted to help people in need — in fact, it was almost 80% of your total earnings. A meek, barely larger than 20% was split between you, your lawyer, Kimiko, your music crew, and any other unforeseen expenses. The lawyer was also in a situation where he was not in demand with clients, and if you weren’t heeding his expensive tag, he needed a new contract with you.

A contract he was always demanding to discuss with you that you denied to change.

Attacks tended to happen days after you and the lawyer tumbled, not enough to rouse suspicion if you weren’t looking, but Kirishima was. He just needed damning evidence now.

Something.

Anything.

And for some reason, his gut was screaming at him that something big was going to happen tonight, that tonight was going to be the last attack—the one to end everything.

So he had told everyone about it. Kimiko, the security at the JRA’s, even you. It made him nervous.

It made his hand sweat, the gun strapped to his thigh feeling like hot iron as he stood about as you laughed with your makeup crew.

Kirishima swore, promised, and vowed he would protect you.

He was going to.

And when the gold dress was tied to your body, fitting you beautifully, Kirishima found himself unable to look away like strands of your hair framed your temples.

“What do you think, Kiri? Will I be on the Best Dressed List?” you asked, tearing Kirishima’s attention away from the bodice and skirt of the dress. Your eyes were bright, hopeful, yearning for a positive reaction from him.

“How could you not be?” Kirishima admitted, his grin toothy, and he shifted against the wall.

“You’ll make me blush,” you grin back, eyes batting just a bit as you clasp your hands together. It takes everything in Kirishima to keep from striding across the space between the two of you and kissing you silly. “Are we ready to go?”

Kirishima wet his lips, unwillingly tearing his gaze from you, and whispers into the intercom.

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

Straightening back up, Kirishima smiled at you, his head motioning towards the door.

“Alright, y/n, let’s see you make some history?”

“Damn right I will.”

Kirishima smiled as he exited first, carving the path for you. 

Paparazzi were on you immediately, the lights flashing and terribly bright as he helped you through the throngs of them. His hand pressed to your back as they screamed demands, most of which you complied with until Kirishima stated that you would be late. You, unfortunately, couldn’t be late to the awards show.

Ushering you into the limousine, Kirishima follows in shortly after you, scrunching up in his seat as he sits opposite of you. However, your typical light and bright demeanor are gone; instead, you seem almost anxious as you open your handbag.

“You okay there?” Kirishima asks as he realizes you pulled out a distinctly obvious metal flask.

“Awards make me nervous,” you painfully admit; you're weakly smiling as you knock back a shot of the drink. “I hate winning and losing; the alcohol makes me less… of a wreck. Do you want some? I think it’s apple soju, I don’t know, a good luck gift from Kimiko.”

Kirishima grins, his eyes rolling as he decides to decline the drink. “Sorry, love, I think that I need to be completely sober for today.”

You scrunch your nose, obviously displeased, “Lame, who shows up to these awards sober?”

“Me,” Kirishima laughed, his head tilting back and scraping against the ceiling of the limousine. 

“Such a prude, sober, pervert,” you sigh, taking yet another swig before putting the flask back into your bag. 

“Such a brat.”

Just like every previous instance, your eyes seem to glow in glee at that name, your lips curling into a pleased smirk as you shrug. It's a sight that makes Kirishima’s mouth dry and heart racing. Fuck, he should not be thinking about fucking you in the limousine right now.

But before the heat in the limousine could simmer to one of undeniable boiling, you had arrived.

Kirishima cleared his throat, sending a quick wink your way as he exited the car first. The first stop was for him to join the lineup to guide you through all the different photo and interview sessions. No one wanted pictures of him emerging from the limo after all. 

There's a moment where after Kirishima closes the door, your eyes filled with worry and excitement as he winked goodbye, that things changed. He stood up, his eyes already scanning the area for anything suspicious, when he saw the all too familiar van.

T082-23.

His eyes widened, his head looking around for anyone else, but there was no one to help. No one could do anything as the car continued to drive away, disappearing from Kirishima’s line of sight. His heart hammered in his chest, and his hands instinctively went to his thigh. He had his firearm… he had it.

With nothing but a quick report to the head of security via his com, Kirishima pushed on ahead, waiting for your descent down the red carpet.

When you eventually emerged from the limousine, Kirishima found that at this moment, the entire world faded away as a gloved hand assisted you out of the vehicle. You were elegant, stunning, a realistic vibrant portrait within his world of greys. As you took photos for the cameras, he was by your side a few strides away as you talked to reporters.

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

“For all the pain in the world that she is, she’s quite charming from a distance, huh?” a voice spoke to his side, and Kirishima froze. His eyes widened completely when he noticed that standing beside him was none other than the lawyer.

The lawyer was dressed in a nice suit, glasses perched on his nose, and for the first time Kirishima had seen, the scowl was not quite so hard.

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

This was the man he was so sure was the reason behind your every attack. A man fueled by insufficient funding, a need for a new contract that would never be approved without your signature.

“What are you doing here?” Kirishima asked, subtlety never being something he was ever good with. “I’ve never seen you anywhere except to argue with Y/n about contracts. This doesn’t seem like the appropriate time to be discussing it.”

“Kimiko wanted me to give her a new contract proposal to give to y/n. However, to be fair, it’s quite easy for anything to come down to an argument with y/n,” he shrugs, and Kirishima watches a cloud of emotions pass between the man’s eyes. “At least between her and me, we’ve never gotten along, but I suppose that’s how it is for any type of family who works together.”

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

“Yes, I know it’s strange to believe. I am quite ugly, and she is not, but we’re family.”

Kirishima’s mind was racing now. It didn’t make sense. If he was family, why would he be in such pursuit of potentially murdering you? If you were family, he was sure that you would help out? If he needed a raise like he thought, wouldn’t you have helped?

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

“Kiri!” your voice broke into his mind and tore him back to reality. You waved at him, then passed a stuck-out tongue to the lawyer in a teasing fashion. “Let’s go in?”

Kirishima looked over at the lawyer who greeted a woman, who was also walking down the red carpet, a celebrity he could name no less, with a warm kiss. 

Oh fuck.

He needed to call Kimiko; he was so very wrong.

You had won two awards so far, and at this very moment, Kirishima was being ushered back to his seat in the audience as you were being escorted to the main stage to perform your latest song. You had removed your gold dress for a black, sleek gown. Your lipstick changed to a dark red, and your hands trembled in the white lace gloves you wore.

“Oh, Kiri,” you wheezed almost, your hands shaking as the announcers on stage were announcing the last awards before your performance. “I’m getting nervous. What if I mess up or sing off-key? I’d be the laughing stock!”

Kirishima laughed gently, his hands easily encompassing your waist as he stilled your frantic moves. “Y/l/n y/n, if there is anything I know for sure about you is that you are one hell of a singer and a performer. The awards you’re nominated for tonight speak for themselves! You never fail at your performances, and even if you somehow manage to sing off-key, I’m sure that no one would notice! Your biggest fan in the world won’t notice, at least.”

Not more than seven days ago, when you had cried about the impending nerves of being an artist, Kirishima had come to claim the title of being your biggest fan in the world. It had made you chuckle through your tears before coming near a hysterical laugh as the two of you held each other close.

“You’re a nut, Kirishima Eijirou,” you laugh, hands resting on his lower ribs, but your smile was bright, warm. You paused a bit, fingers pulling at the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll sing just for you then, but I think I should take another swig of that soju.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Could you tell that Takeyama is completely drunk off her ass?”

“...she’s drunk?!”

“Exactly, I’ll be fine,” you breathe, taking a new smaller flask from the purse Kirishima was holding for you and taking the final swig. Your face contorts at the bitter liquid. “Ew, Kimiko really fucked me over with this one. Why is it blue?! Have you ever seen blue apple soju?!”

“No?” Kirishima startled, his eyes looking at the indeed splash of blue liquid tainting a small part of your gloves. “Who gave you that one? What happened with the other flask of yours?”

“Oh, Kimiko sent it along after I lost my other one; it’s her own flask,” you said before the backstage crew whisked you away to begin your set, and without you, Kirishima was sent to the audience.

Kirishima felt trapped as he was ushered into his seat, his eyes scanning the entire audience for something suspicious, a familiar face perhaps. His broad shoulders continued to bump into his neighbors, their disgruntled noises doing nothing to stop his worry.

“And now, Y/n,” came the strong voice of the male announcer, and the light dimmed.

Kirishima watched as the spotlight came down upon you, a golden halo of colors against your darkened gown as the instrumentals began to play in the background. And he saw you take a step forward, the building motifs suddenly silencing when you finally sang the first note.

Despite the panic arising in Kirishima, the unknown of who was behind it all, what was going to happen, he stilled at the unmatched strength and ambiance of your voice.

You sang as you did at every stage, to every audience.

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

And then, with one last sound, one last melody, and your hand holding your microphone dropped. Your chest heaving, tears falling down your face, and the roar of the audience was silent. You looked through the audience, unable to see, but for some reason, you just knew where Kirishima was.

You smile.

But as the looming sounds begin to fill your ear again, you find that the world is hazy.

You swallow, eyes unfocused as you bowed, hurrying to leave the stage.

Kirishima watched as you took a final stumbling step off the stage, something he felt was going to be written off as you stepped on your dress. But his mind whirled.

The lawyer felt like a setup; the contracts made no sense, the blue soju.

How were they related?

What connected them?

“Oh, fuck,” Kirishima whispered, horrified, and immediately his finger pressed to his earpiece. “Find Y/n! Now!”

Kirishima was racing through the back of the venue, the announcers' voices still ringing through the dirty, bleak hallways. You had just won but was written off as being somewhere backstage; after all, the show must go on.

Voices screamed in his earpiece, each declining to have found you. No one had seen you after you stepped off the stage. No one knew who had taken you.

Kirishima noticed the doors closing at the end of the hallway, and with a dreading sense of doom, Kirishima removed the gun from his harness. And with the devil on his heels, he ran.

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

You were passed out, draped limp, confused, and woozy against Kimiko’s body, and two men knocked unconscious beside them. To anyone else, it looked as if Kimiko had saved you, some guardian angel within this world, but if Kirishima’s gut meant anything, he knew better.

“Kirishima-san!’ Kimiko squeaked as Kirishima raised his gun, his body tense, unwilling to take a chance on her. “I don’t know what those two were doing! I was saving her, I swear!”

“Don’t do this, Kimiko,” Kirishima whispered, his head shaking. “I figured it out.”

There was a shift in Kimiko’s face at that; the scared unknowing hero melted into one of anger, resentment, one of someone who knew they had been outed.

“So, you figured it out,” she bitterly spoke, her arms that were supporting you from behind revealing to be a firearm of your own. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“I can’t say I figured out your reasoning; honestly, it doesn’t make sense to me, but I felt like it was you,” Kirishima carefully states, his heart roaring at the implied danger of the firearm against your chin. “Don’t do anything stupid, Kimiko.”

Kimiko stares, her lips forming a small o before changing into one of a large, near unattached grin.

“Anything stupid? If anyone is doing anything stupid, it's this selfish prick!” Kimiko spits, her arms tightening around you, making you whimper ever so gently in pain. “She thinks she’s so great, so rich, so smart! Just because she wastes most of her money on stupid shit like charity! Everyone thinks working for her is a dream, but they’re all blind idiots!”

Kirishima’s eyes widen as he notices the glazed, unfocused of your eyes as you shift your attention over to him. Were you listening?

“What’s wrong with the contract?” he asks, a small attempt to diffuse the situation.

“The fact she pays me next to nothing, and yet she works me half to death!”

“You have multiple clients, don’t you?” Kirishima splutters, unsure as to what was wrong. “Why is this one contract so important you wanted to frame her lawyer?!”

Kimiko laughs; it’s pitchy, almost hysterical as she bends over, your body slumping further onto the floor. “That was a lie! All a fucking lie! Do you know that I knew no one when I first started? Y/n is a name everyone wants. I don’t need to do anything to get her things! The world wants her! But the other clients? None of them stayed, none of them wanted me past a month! The salary was okay when she was a snot-nosed brat, but ten years later?! NO! She won’t fucking listen. She never fucking listens to anything but herself! So she has the option to give me the eighty percent, or fucking die here!”

Suddenly the gun in Kirishima’s hand feels like a ton, the skin on the back of his neck crawling and slicking with sweat.

“You know how much those charities mean to her,” Kirishima whispers. “She won’t do it.”

Kimiko trembles for a second, her arm holding the firearm lowering as she looks at the wall, shaking.

“Oh my god… you’re right,” Kimiko realizes, horror and uncertainty flashing across her face. “I guess… she has to die, oh my god, she has to die.”

At that moment, the world slowed down, and Kirishima swore he could see the atoms, the electricity flowing through the space between them. Kimiko’s arm holding the gun raising back up to your temple, her smile detached, horrific yet gleeful.

His body trembled as he doubted himself, his mind unsure if the finger on the trigger was going to be strong enough to fire away. Could he do it?

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

Kirishima raised his arm, his focus blaring, his past just for a moment, forgotten.

BANG!

“The effects of the rohypnol have already worn out. Thankfully she wasn’t given a whole pill. If she experiences any nausea or throws up, please bring her back, should anything else happen, she’ll be okay.”

The words of the doctor rang in Kirishima’s ears. For tonight, they were going to be discharging you to him. Thankfully, it was all happening in Tokyo, so Kirishima’s apartment was near, and if Bakugou was true to his word, it was clean.

With the help of hospital security, he had managed to get your tuxedo concealed body into a car, and the two of you rode off to his apartment. You’ve been silent the entire time, eyes downcasted as you sit pressed to his side, feeling like a small child compared to him. You knew that he was much larger than you, a near two feet taller, but this felt unmatched. 

Kirishima’s jacket was warm around you, it’s sheer largeness another dress on your body, and despite the horrific turn of events, you were feeling warm. You couldn’t remember much of what transpired after stumbling off stage, but you did remember Kirishima bursting through the doors, a look of anger and fear blistering off his person in such a way that made you whimper when you remembered.

You remembered the onsen basically every night, cursing your stupid makeup team for interrupting a night that definitely would have ended with you fucking Kirishima. You cursed yourself for being a coward and not just saying fuck it and fucking him afterward despite the brief awkwardness.

He wanted you, it was clear as day, and you wanted him as well.

Tonight.

“Sorry about how small my apartment is, or if it’s messy, I don’t actually know if my friends have been keeping up with it,” Kirishima apologized, guiding you into the apartment by the small of your back. “You’ll be safe here tonight, and I promise we can get back to your own place tomorrow!”

“Oh, don’t apologize, it’s okay,” you smile, feeling flushed as you cross the entryway to the apartment. His apartment, despite not being home in so long, is clean. The halls aren’t messy, and a hint of lavender is saturated to the air. The dim hallway lights were barely bright enough to cause you to squint as it was dark out. “Thank you for having me tonight, especially after everything.”

At the hospital, you had been given a pair of sweats and a cotton t-shirt. The change in outfit from your event dress was definitely needed, and even though you were sure your makeup was streaked down your face, you felt good hidden in the depths of Kirishima’s jacket.

“Are you hungry?” Kirishima asked, handing over his guest slippers, which you gratefully accepted. “I might have some microwaveable food leftover.”

“Ramen doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit as Kirishima unbuttons the first few buttons on his white dress shirt. You were instantly captivated by the movement, your eyes shifting back to his face when he began to walk off towards the kitchen.

Kirishima talked warmly, keeping the conversation going merrily and bright throughout the entire time in the kitchen. He undoubtedly knew you weren’t entirely okay, and at moments like this, you were entirely grateful for his sweet personality. 

To be fair, you knew that you had been quite unfair to Kirishima in the beginning. Looking back at the first entire month of knowing him, you were horrified and impressed that Kirishima didn’t demand to be dropped. You had been selfish, stubborn, a bottom line brat, and he took it day after day. It wasn’t that you disliked him back then; hell, you had been in a near state of delirium when he entered the door during your first meeting because you had no idea such huge men existed to the caliber of his hotness.

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

It was okay now; after all, if he was genuinely bitter about that entire month still, the onsen said otherwise.

It didn’t take long for your stomach to be filled with warm broth, soft boiled eggs, and ramen noodles. Kirishima did, in fact, have ramen, fresh eggs, and some vegetables. In a grand act of preparing you the most sufficient dinner he could, Kirishima presented this under budget ramen and laughed when you said it was terrific.

But it was growing late.

The two of you still sat at his table that was full of a card game, your empty ramen bowls, and cups of water. The clock on the oven read 23:38, and the city lights were slowly dying.

“Are you ready for bed?” Kirishima eventually asked you. 

You looked up from your joined hands; your fingers had been playing with his thick and long fingers for some time now. The apartment grew steadily quieter as you studied and attempted to memorize each callous and scar on his hands. They were definitely marked and nicked, the sign of the warrior he once was.

“Depends on the bed,” you tease, lips rising into a small smile as you compare your much tinier hands than his. Your fingertips barely passed the edge of his palm. “What does a big guy like you sleep in? A twin? Tatami mat?”

Kirishima laughed, his hands twisting in yours, wrapping it around so that he raised your hands up to press a kiss to the center of your palms. 

“A futon, brat,” Kirishima explained, his smile small but sharp with his humor. “Let’s get you to bed?”

You frown. 

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

“I’m sure your stuffing in a trash bag had holes in it.”

“That’s okay,” Kirishima laughed, standing up and quickly taking you to your feet as well. “It’s just for a night, I’ll live.”

Your face warmed immediately as he guided you down the hallway of his apartment before finally coming into what was definitely his room.

Kirishima’s scent was faint in this room, cinnamon, wood, and warm spices. It made your eyes flutter as you observed his room from the entryway as he began to set up the room. 

His eye for interior decoration was quite… different. You smiled brightly as you glanced around; the diverse and rather boyish decorations around the room warmed your heart. It seemed exactly like what you would think of for Kirishima. 

“Well, that’s all!” Kirishima exclaimed, his hands landing on his hips in triumph as he looked around. “The bathroom is the next door over, and I’ll leave a toothbrush out for you. I also left out a new t-shirt of mine if you want to change!”

You nod some more, watching as Kirishima seems unsure of what to do next. He looks around, coughs a bit before nodding.

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

“Um, can we talk?” you interrupt, arms wrapping around your body. “I have some things I want to say.”

“Oh, sure!”

“You can sit,” you say, motioning toward the bed. “I have a few things to get off my chest.”

Kirishima pauses for a bit, his eyes looking you over before he eventually nods, and he sits down. The bed slightly creaks under his weight, and you feel your body warm-up at the sound. You want to hear the bed creak more, to rock under the weight of you and him pressed against the sheets as you cried his name.

“What is it?” he asks gently, observing you.

“I just…” you huff, words failing you, your tongue feeling heavy. “I wanted to say thank you for saving me.”

“It was my job to do that,” Kirishima smiled warmly, his arms crossing again.

He was relaxed.

“I mean, I can’t even begin to believe that it was Kimiko who was behind all that, even though we know it was… I know it was,” you trail off, shivering slightly as you remember your ex-managers demented laugh in your ear. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Nothing would’ve happened to you,” Kirishima spoke with finality. “I promised to myself at the first meeting I was going to protect you, hell the entire world would. You’re not going to be taken down by pathetic people like that, not you.”

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

“I feel like I should repay you in some way, though,” you rub the back of your neck, eyes fluttering just the slightest bit flirtatious. Kirishima looked at you with full mooned eyes, his arms unfolding and his palms resting onto the bedspread.

“You repay me plenty already,” came his whispered answer, so quiet, so pure you almost smiled. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Your tongue pushes past your lip, wetting the drying skin as you take a step toward him. The shoulders of the jacket slowly fall from your own shoulders, pooling just above your elbows as you stop before him, hands resting daintily on his broad shoulders.

“And what if I want something?” you ask, finding yourself stemming with energy as his legs part, allowing you closer access to him. 

You step in closer and closer until your outer thighs are ghosting against the inner part of his.

“I think it’s in our contract for me to do everything that you request if I remember correctly,” Kirishima whispers, his bright clear red eyes turning a burnt shade: dark and ever consuming. 

“And if I want you to finish what you started over at the onsen?” you press, fingers curling against the muscles of his shoulders before locking behind his neck.

His nose was brushing against yours, cold yet burning against your own skin.

“I’ll gladly show you what I wanted to do that night,” he grunts, eyes deadly, and for the first time, his hands held your waist.

You took a second to recover, your skin sparking with the electricity of his touch, and you suppressed a shiver as you opened your eyes.

“Do it,” you cement your fates, “coward.”

And just like that, in a movement so euphoric, Kirishima’s mouth crashed against yours.

His mouth was hot, dangerous against yours -- a live wire sparking with uncontrollable energy and heat as your mouths danced. Hot puffs of air were passed between your mouths, your fingers shaking with an undeniable release of tension and want. 

The kiss was sloppy, desperate, so needy with unspoken frantic determination to fuck each other until the other could no longer move. 

Kirishima’s hand removed the jacket from your arms, letting the expensive material fall onto the floor with a heavy thud. Despite the lack of warmth the clothing provided, the feeling of Kirishima’s hands rubbing against your bare arms sent your mind spiraling.

“Get on the bed,” Kirishima commands against your mouth. “Let me fuck you.”

The words were nearly embarrassingly desperate, but the tone of his voice spoke of the absolute domination he wished to assert on you. He wanted you in one exact way, and you had a feeling you knew what it was. But if he had been paying attention, Kirishima should already know that getting you to listen was not easy.

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

Kirishima pulls away instantly, his lips red and swollen as he replays your word in his head. He looks frazzled, absolutely delirious already at the simple, passion-filled makeout. As soon as his eyes clear away the fog, your grin drops, and instead, you look at him with fierce determination and defiance. 

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

Your chest feels light, your head spinning as the hands on your waist tighten, and his eyes flash dangerously. The tip of his tongue pushes past his lips before quickly disappearing again. 

“Of course, you’re a brat in bed too, such a fucking princess,” Kirishima shakes his head, but his mouth curving into a shark-like grin. 

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

The world spins faster than you can keep up, your mouth opening to shriek as Kirishima easily lifts you up, and has you lying against his lap. 

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, princess,” Kirishima begins, his large fingers hooking into the waistband of the sweats you have on and the panties you’re wearing. “My princess gets rewards for being good. If she can behave properly, she gets to be fucked with dick, her pussy gets to be fucked just the way she pleases.”

You can’t help but stifle a moan that threatens to spill out with his words and the way his hands move down the curve of your ass, exposing the naked skin to him. The waistband of both your panties and sweats stay high up your thighs, and it’s almost embarrassing to know you’re still so clothed despite what’s to come.

“And just what does the Sergeant do to bad girls?” you ask, unable to keep your tongue down, your hips rolling against his lap in undeserved friction.

Unexpectedly, abruptly, a hand comes down harshly onto your bare ass.

The contact is rough, stinging against your ass as you cry out in slight pain.

The hand not currently rubbing a warning circle into your ass twists the hair at the top of your head, lifting your head up so that your ear could near his mouth.

“Bad girls get punishments. They get what I want to give them. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Holy shit,” you whimper, heat flaring between your thighs at the thought of Kirishima doing anything to you regardless of if you were good or bad. You rut your ass back against his hand, longing for a heavier touch, a plea for something more.

“What does the princess want?”

“Nothing,” you bite, and the crashing smack of another spank has you moaning loudly at the stinging pleasure-filled pain. 

“You moaning like a whore at a simple spank says otherwise,” Kirishima chuckles darkly, his fingers pinching your stinging ass as your body bucks against him. He spanks you again, again, and again. Each slap is intentful, powerful, wanting to get you to admit what you want, and you cry against your hands each time, your eyes fluttering as the pain feels good. 

“Of course, a slut like you would be getting off on this,” Kirishima seems amused, his thick finger pressing to the slit of your cunt, spreading your dripping essence against your cunt. He presses against your entrance with just the tip of his finger, and you shriek in a sound for more, your hips jerking backward to get his finger into you, to fuck you with those thick fingers to do something about the growing desperate heat. 

“Kirishima!” you scream, your body sweating and twisting on his lap, desperate to find some way to get him to finger fuck you. 

“Ah, there we go,” he sighs in delight as his fingers swirl at your entrance, increasing the teasing and making your mind spin. “Tell me what you want, brat.”

“You!” you wail, two of his fingers carting between your wet, sloppy heated lips. They graze your clit, stimulating you further as you can do nothing but instinctively jerk against his hold, trying to get him to give you the needed pleasure to build up to an orgasm. “I want you to fuck me so good! Please, Sergeant, please, I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember anything but your name.”

“But you haven’t proven to be a good princess,” Kirishima tuts, his hands disappearing from your pussy despite your crying pleas. His hand grabs your ass, though, massaging the abused skin, grasping it tightly.

You moan, embarrassed at the sensation of his massive hand easily cupping your ass cheek, your fingers fisting into the fabric of his pants as you shake your head.

“Are you going to prove that you’re good?” he asks you, his tone like that of a parent chastising a child. “Gonna prove to me that you can be good?”

You shake pathetically against his legs, but you can’t keep yourself from shaking your head. You can’t prove to him that you would be.

“I can’t!” you whimper loudly, your body twisting on his lap to look up at him, your eyes filled with tears and pleading need. Kirishima looked down at you with lust filled eyes and an undeniable need to be followed.

“You can’t?” he repeats, his head tilting, eyes narrowing, and his fingers dug into your ass. “Or you won’t?”

You tremble on top of him, unable to answer because you weren’t ready to hand over the reins just yet. You didn’t want to submit so fast, you wanted to make his own head dizzy with need but the stubbornness to continue punishing you the way he was promising.

“I won’t,” you gasp, eyes fluttering at the way he finally drops your head.

You gasp loudly as you find him shoving you off his lap, and with your panties and sweats sitting so awkwardly high on your legs, you find yourself tumbling off his lap and onto the floor.

“Guess if you don’t want to behave, I’ll treat you like some fucking pussy pocket and dispose of you once I’m done,” Kirishima easily breathes, and you look up at the now standing man as he tears his shirt off.

Your mouth waters, your cunt throbbing at the sight of the rippling muscles and dark lines of his tattoos on his upper body. You watch fascinated, like one does to a masterpiece, as he undresses until he’s in nothing but his socks. And at the sight of his dick, you can feel at once all the blood in your flushed face drop directly into your throbbing cunt.

He was fucking enormous, his girth barely fitting into his hand, and the angry red head spilled its precum against his abs. A black happy trail connecting Kirishima’s abs to his vein throbbing cock.

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

Kirishima doesn’t ask any questions as he watches your awkwardly dressed state of a body on the floor. His head is tilted upwards, a small pleased smile on his face as he looks down on you, his hand slowly, leisurely fisting his cock as you can do nothing but stare.

You make some insane noise at the back of your throat at this sight, your thighs trembling with need, and you're pushing off your side, your ass burning, and your balance off as you open your mouth, offering all you could to him.

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

He’s much too tall for you to suck him off on your knees, so he sits back down onto the bed, letting you scamper between his legs, mouth open wide like some needy pet.

“Such a good little slut,” Kirishima sighs, sinking his cock into your wet, hot mouth. “Such a fucking cockwhore, all it took was a single glance for you to lose your will.”

You whine against his dick, your jaw tight with the stretch, your tongue lapping so desperately around the cock that was no more than halfway in yet couldn’t go in any further.

“Suck me right, and I’ll reward you by fucking that pretty little pussy of yours,” Kirishima grunts, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he ruts his hips up into your mouth, shoving his cock even further into your mouth. “And don’t you dare look away from me while you suck me off.”

It feels like fire.

His cock driving down your throat hurts, the taste of his salty pre-cum slathering all over your tongue and dripping out of your mouth with the saliva you can’t control. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you continue to bob your head, continue to fuck him with your throat as animalistic, praiseworthy noises begin spilling from Kirishima’s mouth.

You whimper at the sight of his head dipping back, and you nearly whine when he shoves the fingers he had gathered your juices on into his mouth. He moans at the contact and with his pleasure with your actions so obvious as you choke against his girth. That was hot, holy fuck, you wanted him to fuck you, please fuck you. 

Your eyes close as he begins to fuck faster into your mouth, his delight in hearing you choke around him his driving force. Tears start pouring from your eyes despite your best efforts, your throat and inner thighs burning with lust and need as Kirishima groans, his cock twitching deep in your throat.

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

You gag harshly as your cheeks sting with his heavy slap, your teeth grazing underneath his cock, right against a thick, twisting vein.

“Did I tell you to close your eyes?” Kirishima practically growls, his hands grasping the back of your neck, the other one slapping you across the face yet again. “No. I said… fuck… I said, keep your eyes on me!”

Tears weep down your face, your eyes struggling to keep focus on him as he continued to fuck deep and intensely into your mouth, shoving himself further into you until you could feel his thighs grazing your chin. Oxygen wasn’t flowing anymore; your gags and chokes the only time the burning element could manage to flow through you, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to care. He seems to delight in the way you are, despite it all, are moaning and looking at him in a pleading way for more.

More, you plead.

And he delivers. 

Kirishima pulls his still hard, not yet cummed, dick out of your mouth and stands. 

You splutter with the sudden intake of oxygen to your lungs, burning you from the inside out as you splutter on the ground.

“W-What’s going on?” you hoarsely stammer, your jaw and throat aching from its prolonged abuse. “E-Ei?”

However, Kirishima seems dead set on getting you naked, and you squeal in flustered excitement as he rips the shirt off of you and his mouth pressing against yours again. His mouth crashes against yours, and you moan into his mouth immediately.

His tongue curls into your mouth and your tongues press and rub against each other. Each passing second growing more desperate, needier, more intense as your clothes are ripped one by one off your body.

“Holy fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long,” Kirishima nearly whines, his mouth trailing down your neck, biting and sucking against every centimeter of skin he passed. “Wanted to fuck you against the wall, in my bed, and now I get to do that.”

“Please, please, fuck me, please,” you beg, your voice bordering a wail as your arms wrap around his neck, letting him lift you up off the floor. Despite you being so much smaller than him that when he held you to him, your cunt wasn’t pressed to his angry leaking cock, you continued to desperately roll your hips against his abs, the friction welcomed and easing the building pressure. It was an action conveying just what you wanted. “I need you in me, Sergeant!”

“Just cuz… holy fuck,” Kirishima breathes ragged, his body twisting around, and you cried when the cold sheets pressed into your back. “Imma fuck you, Imma… god, just fucking watch.”

Your head thrashed back onto the pillow as Kirishima’s teeth sunk into your collarbone, then captured your sensitive nipples, his fingers dancing against your clit and teasing your center. 

“Now!” you cry, fingers digging into his shoulder. “Put it in!”

This time, Kirishima didn’t need to be told twice.

His larger body was suddenly pressed entirely against yours, dwarfing you immediately as your arms wrapped around his back as his cock slammed into you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, your pussy stretched beyond its typical limits by his girth, his size, his power.

Your cunt throbbed around him, your face buried within his pecs as you, despite the searing pain, shove your hips up towards him. Fucking into him, sucking him further into you.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima groans, “you’re amazing.”

“Talk less, fuck me more!” you screech, your body spasming, twitching so hard from the splitting pleasure and the lava pit in your stomach, and Kirishima does that exactly.

His hips begin to meet yours in equaled power, slamming into you so that the bed creaked beneath you. He fucked you until he had to hold a hand on your hip so you could stay there, and you kept a hand on the wall to continue to push yourself down onto his cock.

You screamed with pleasure, cried for more, Kirishima’s shark-like smirk getting bolder, darker, hotter with every slam of his hips until his tattooed right arm shot down. His hand wrapped around your throat, choking you.

“You’re so loud, princess,” Kirishima moans, clearly liking your loud noises, “but you’re going to wake everyone in Tokyo.”

His hand around your throat is enough to have your legs trembling around his waist, your choked and muffled moans and splutters drowning out even more as he pressed a kiss onto you. He kissed you, licking your mouth, and devouring your every word and thought. Your core twisted, tightened, and burned. It throbbed and clenched with it’s impending orgasm, and your body began to tense to the heavens as his cock throbbed deep within you.

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

“Who’s going to fucking cum when I tell her to?”

“Me! Fuck, me!”

Kirishima laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist, and in one final, fleeting burst of strength, fucks into you with his own power, needs, and desire, and you can only take it. “Cum, princess,” he whispered almost sweetly against the top of your head, and it was all over. Your teeth sink into his chest as you scream, a blinding white light erupting through your vision as you cum around his cock.

Kirishima whimpers, his cock still pushing deep into your cunt, until you can feel the warm spill of his seed in your womb.

He collapses to the side of you, taking you with him so that you were resting on his sweaty chest.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima whispered after a bit, your body already warm and too lethargic to notice the star-like tone to his voice. “That was fucking… holy shit.”

“Does this mean you like me?” you half tease, half wonder.

There’s a pause, a silence, and you wonder if maybe he had fallen asleep.

But he didn’t.

“I’ve been in love with you for some time now, I think,” he admits, his hand beginning to rub small circles into your back.

You find that despite the exhaustion, warmth floods your cheeks.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to discuss a more… permanent and maybe different contract tomorrow morning, huh?”

Kirishima chuckles, and you find yourself smiling into his chest.

“I think we do.”

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Ch. 10)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: the angst continues, but this time there are glimmers of progress

Word Count: 7,221

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  

For the first time all year, Jimin didn’t show up at class the next day.

You’d been dreading seeing him, unable to sleep all night as the kiss replayed itself in your mind. You’d told Jimin you needed to think and now, one day later, you still had no idea what to say.

You’d fucked up – big time.

Cheater had never been a label you would’ve applied to yourself; but here you were, scarlet letter on your chest. Yesterday seemed fuzzy whenever you remembered it, as though it had happened to you, as opposed to being something you’d done. Each time you recalled the moment, the kiss, your heart threatened to burst in your chest. You weren’t sure if this was because of Jimin or Finn.

Finn still hadn’t texted or called you since the fight. Maybe fight wasn’t the right word to describe the knock-down, blowout match you’d had in the library. You and Finn had never fought like that before. You’d had disagreements of course but had always managed to work things out. This was the first time you’d left an argument and found yourself at a loss.

Finn wanted a more available girlfriend and you wanted to dance.

Deep down, you knew this was an unsolvable problem, but the idea just seemed so unfathomable. The idea that this would be the thing to break you up. It hadn’t been a problem back in high school. Maybe Finn hadn’t always come to your dance competitions, but he’d attended recitals and brought you flowers at nearby performances. He’d always seemed to enjoy your dancing, even if he hadn’t fully understood it.

It made your heart ache to imagine that deep down, Finn thought your decisions were foolish. When you awoke Thursday morning, you saw Finn hadn’t called and nearly dialed his number, but then you looked at the clock and swore. Ballet began in an hour.

This conversation wasn’t one to do over the phone. Talking to Finn would have to wait, so you scrambled out of bed and threw on your clothes. Noelle had comforted you the best she could the night prior, but she still didn’t know the extent of what’d happened. All you’d said was you had a fight with Finn.

Saying it out loud felt like admitting defeat. Admitting what you’d done meant you’d have to see Noelle’s expression when you explained – when you told her you’d kissed Jimin while still dating Finn. You didn’t want to see her face when she learned the truth; you were having enough difficulty confronting it yourself.

Pushing this from mind, you focused on today as you entered the classroom. You would be forced to see Jimin this morning. You’d been so worried about talking to Finn, you’d nearly forgotten about the other piece of the equation.

You had kissed Jimin, and then you’d run away.

As you entered, you scanned the room and frowned when you didn’t immediately see him. Jimin usually arrived before you and Noelle. Setting your bag down, you began to warm up and continued to glance at the clock. At one minute until the hour, you began to grow nervous. If Jimin didn’t arrive in the next thirty seconds, the door to the room would shut and that would be that.

Watching the second hand tick, your stomach twisted as the unthinkable happened. Jimin didn’t show up. Ballet on Thursdays was taught by Mr. Vlad, who was notoriously punctual and at exactly 9:00 AM, he shut the door.

You had the sudden urge to check your phone for missed texts, but there was no time. Instead, you were forced to stand at the barre as you began pliés. You knew the second you started today would be a lost cause but could do nothing about it. Your relationship with Finn was in shambles, Jimin was clearly avoiding you but still, you needed to dance.

After class, you called Finn and went again to voicemail. Standing alone in your dorm room, you swallowed and tossed your phone on the bed. Fine – if he wouldn’t answer, you’d go and see him.

Stripping out of your leotard, you tossed this in the laundry to pull on new clothes. Jeans, sweater, coat – slamming a hat on your head, you shoved both hands in mittens and threw your bag over your shoulder. You were halfway out the door when you came to a stop.

You had no idea what to say to Finn.

Shutting your eyes, you slowly exhaled. You were angry, that much was true. Furious, even – his words had been biting, you were still hurting but you also still loved him, as insane as that sounded. Opening your eyes, you glanced at your trembling hands.

You hated feeling this way – weak, irrational. You hated wanting Finn, loving him and being so hurt all at the same time. Worse still, you hated the guilt clouding your judgement and lessening some of your anger. Finn had been wrong to say what he’d said, but you’d also been wrong to kiss Jimin.

For weeks now, you’d felt something for Jimin. Maybe months if you were being totally honest with yourself. Jimin had always consumed a larger amount of your waking hours than could be considered entirely normal for a supposed enemy.

Slowly, you turned and set down your keys. Removing your hat from your head, you stared at the door. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you sat at your desk and dialed Finn’s number.

It rang several times and then went to voicemail. This time, you didn’t hang up.

“Hey. It’s me.” You paused. “Finn, listen, I… we need to talk. Things have gotten so messed up lately. So… fucked up, right? I’m pissed, Finn. I’m really mad at you, but that’s not the only reason we need to talk. I – just call me back. Okay?”

You hesitated, wanting to tell him I love you, but forced yourself to hang up instead. Lowering your phone to your lap, you released a sigh. You supposed for all your avoidance of Finn, you deserved to give him a little more time to think.

Even though sitting here not doing anything was killing you.

As stupid as it sounded, you couldn’t bring yourself to break up over the phone. That would be considered the lowest of low. If you even wanted to break up, that is. It had been less than a week since you’d first had the thought in the cab – maybe you and Finn didn’t belong together. It seemed like a foreign concept still, as nonsense to you as chopping off your own hand.

But you couldn’t ignore things any longer. Something was obviously wrong between you. You needed to talk, you needed to lay all cards on the table and decide where you’d go next.

Closing your eyes, you leaned back in the chair. Without quite meaning to, your thoughts wandered to Jimin.

This seemed to happen more and more lately. You weren’t sure when he started vying for Finn’s place in your mind. The shift had been subtle, a change you’d barely noticed at first. But no – that wasn’t entirely true. It wasn’t as though Jimin had taken Finn’s place, but rather forged an entirely new one.

What you felt for Jimin was different from how you felt for Finn. With Finn, things between you were comfortable, things – had – felt supportive and strong. Now, Finn was none of those things to you, but he still didn’t compare to how you felt for Jimin.

Jimin was like a breath of fresh air after being inside for too long. He was something you hadn’t even realized you missed until you went out. You wouldn’t feel like this for Jimin unless something were wrong with the room you were currently in.

Suddenly, you felt very tired.

You’d always prided yourself on your ability to persevere, on your talent for overcoming by simply pushing on. This though wasn’t something you could solve through sheer force of will. The mess you’d created was only made worse by your infernal stubbornness.

Opening your phone, you flipped to the thread between you and Jimin. The last text he’d sent you had been a TikTok before the night of the kiss. True to his word, Jimin had pretended to forget all about the club and instead, simply returned to being your friend. Rereading your texts, you felt your chest tighten.

It wasn’t as though Jimin had been entirely innocent.

He’d known you had a boyfriend, but you’d never done anything to push him away. You’d been the one to move closer in the club. You had been the one to kiss him first. Jimin didn’t deserve to be treated this way and slowly, you lowered your head to your hands.

It was too much. By all rights, several people should hate you right now and you had no idea how to fix any of it.

Looking up, you set your jaw and sent Jimin a text.

Y/N: you weren’t in ballet class today. Is everything okay? [3:14 PM]

It took Jimin a while to respond. While you waited, you stared at the ceiling, then the floor until you saw ellipses typing. Jimin paused, then stopped and started again. After several long minutes, you got a new text.

Jimin: was sick, sorry [3:22 PM]

Y/N: that sucks :/ [3:22 PM]

Jimin: Y/N. What do you want? [3:23 PM]

Swallowing hard, you sat back. You had no idea what you wanted, and therein lay the problem. Belatedly, you realized you couldn’t have this conversation before you talked to Finn. You couldn’t know what you were apologizing for until you knew where you stood with your current relationship.

You needed more time, which was what you had told Jimin yesterday – and then proceeded to ignore, texting him now.

Y/N: nothing. I’m sorry. I just… wanted to make sure you were okay [3:25 PM]

He started typing again, then stopped. This happened a few more times and you imagined Jimin rewriting whatever it was he wanted to tell you. Finally, he sent his text and you felt your heart sink.

Jimin: yeah. I’m fine. [3:27 PM]

Y/N: okay [3:28 PM]

Placing your phone to the side, you fought back the tears which now threatened to fall.

You’d never imagined yourself an emotional person, so you couldn’t imagine where all this was coming from. Some long-lost, pent-up part of yourself which throbbed and whispered how stupid you were. Stupid to have fought with Finn, stupid to have pushed Jimin away, stupid to have kissed him and hurt everyone in the process.

Climbing into your bed, you curled into a ball and let the tears fall until you had nothing left.

The next morning, you walked into ballet class with red-rimmed eyes. Noelle had returned yesterday afternoon, taken one look at your face and transitioned to mom mode. She thought your breakdown was all about Finn and you hadn’t bothered to correct her. In a way, it all was.

He still hadn’t called. When you woke, you battled again whether to go to Redfield and confront him in person. That hadn’t worked out so well the last time, but it was driving you crazy to exist in this state of not knowing.

When you entered class Friday morning, you saw an unfamiliar woman at the front and felt your heart sink. In the chaos of this past week, you’d nearly forgotten about today’s master class.

Maisie Vern was a renowned choreographer of classical ballet. She’d choreographed for some of the most well-known ballets all over the world, with her pas de deux choreography receiving comparisons to Balanchine originals.

You’d completely forgotten she was teaching today. Starting to panic, you forced yourself to stay calm. Just because your private life was falling to pieces didn’t mean this needed to manifest in your dancing. You could do this.

And then Jimin walked into the room and you realized you couldn’t.

He looked as tired as you felt, dark circles shadowed beneath his eyes. He hardly glanced your way as he entered, crossing to the other side to set down his things. Following him with your gaze, you watched Jimin begin to stretch at the barre. Dark hair fell over his forehead, hiding his face from view.

Forcing yourself not to look, you noticed Seokjin standing at the front. Seeing him beside Miss Vern made your stomach sink. Seokjin was in high demand as a teacher’s assistant; the only reason he’d be here was if he were assisting Miss Vern. And if he were assisting Miss Vern, this meant today’s combination must be a pas de deux.

Confirming your growing dread, Miss Vern clapped both her hands. She was dressed in a slouchy sweater, wispy bun and flat canvas ballet shoes. Effortlessly standing in first position, she glanced around the room.

“Hello,” she said. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Maisie Vern. We have a long class today, so make sure your water bottles are full. For the first hour we’ll warm up at the barre, then we’ll move to center and learn some choreography. I will warn you,” she said, raising her brow. “This pas de deux is from a ballet I’m choreographing for the San Francisco ballet, so it has never been performed live before. Therefore! A certain amount of professionalism and confidentiality is expected.”

Whispers swept the room, everyone eager for the opportunity to prove their worth. Even you found yourself awed by the moment – it was a privilege to dance in the same room as Maisie Vern, let alone learn choreography she’d yet to reveal to the public.

“Now.” Miss Vern gestured to Seokjin. “Some of you might know Kim Seokjin, my assistant for the day. He comes to me highly recommended and will help demonstrate some of the more complicated lifts. Today’s pas de deux is less about the choreography though, and more about the emotion.”

Hearing this, you froze at the barre.

“The ballet is a modern-day retelling of the Odyssey epic. Our hero, Odysseus, has just returned home and is reunited with his love, Penelope. He suspects her of cheating in his absence, so he disguises himself as someone else to test her. Penelope realizes who he is and is furious at her husband for his lack of faith.”

Your gaze darted to Jimin. He stared ahead at Miss Vern, but you could see his jaw tense from all the way across the room.

“This pas de deux is all about tension! Two people in love but pushed beyond their limits. Time and distrust have come between them. This,” Miss Vern announced, “will be the goal of you ballerinas and danseurs to convey.”

All around, a few people nodded, but most of the class seemed unnerved by the prospect. Thus far, your classes at Russet had mainly focused on technique. Even in weekly variations class, the emphasis had been on learning the choreography, rather than on how to tell a story.

This was the hallmark of a great dancer, though. Being able to act as you moved, telling a story which the audience could understand.

“It will be a challenge,” Miss Vern said. “However, I think you will find it to be enjoyable. With that said, let’s start at the barre. Pliés!”

Everyone scrambled to stand, including you and Noelle. Pressing play on the music, Miss Vern demonstrated the combination before you began. Barre passed quickly, possibly because you were dreading center so much. All too soon, the hour was up, and Miss Vern instructed the class to find their partners.

Warily, you crossed the room and came to a stop beside Jimin. He looked up as you approached but kept his face carefully neutral. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking and for a moment, felt a glimmer of resentment.

It had taken two people to kiss in that practice room.

Jimin had known you were taken, just as much as you’d known you were dating Finn. Even if you’d started the kiss, Jimin hadn’t stopped it – if anything, he’d kissed you back.

The moment you thought this, some of your anger drained away. Jimin had wanted to talk, but you hadn’t let him. Maybe you’d realized you felt something for him since then, but Jimin had never said anything similar to you.

For all you knew, he’d simply been caught in the moment. It wasn’t as though Jimin had ever said anything about wanting to be more than friends.

“Alright!” Miss Vern clapped her hands. “Ballerinas, you’ll start offstage. We begin at the end of the male solo. By this point in the choreography, Penelope and Odysseus have reunited. In her solo, we realize she knows who he is. In his solo, he’s angry to hear she’s entertained other suitors. They reunite for the coda!”

Glancing again at Jimin, he immediately looked down. The kernel of anger returned and this time, it grew larger. Although yes, you’d initially run away, you had at least tried to reach out to him yesterday. Jimin had been the one to skip class and shut you down.

It wasn’t fair for him to expect you to have all the answers. You had a boyfriend and you’d kissed. Clearly, you had a few things to work through.

Jaw tense, you separated from Jimin and went to stand on the sidelines. Miss Vern began teaching the danseurs the end of their solo, instructing the men to spread out on the floor. Unscrewing the cap of your water bottle, you took a large, angry sip.

As the music began, the male dancers followed suit while you watched from the side.

“Y/N?”

Turning your head, you found Sabrina before you.

She was dressed in her usual ballet clothes, but there was something about her which seemed different today. Maybe it was the hesitancy in her expression.

Looking at her in surprise, you wondered what she had to say. The fight you’d had on Halloween night seemed so far away but had barely been a week ago.

“Yeah?” you said as you set down your water.

Sabrina hesitated, seeming at war with herself. “Hey. So, I was wondering…”

Miss Vern yelled a correction at the group. Gaze darting sideways, you attempted to see who it had been directed to. After a moment, you returned to Sabrina.

“Wondering what?” you said, arching a brow.

“I was just… wondering if we could talk,” Sabrina finished lamely.

You blinked and stared at her in surprise. Out of everything, this was quite possibly the last thing you’d suspected would happen today. Before you could respond though, Miss Vern called for ballerinas to enter.

“Ballerinas!” She motioned you forward. “Your entrance will come from the top right wing. Run through the center and find your partner.”

“I – okay,” you said, realizing Sabrina waited for an answer. “Later.”

Sabrina frowned, about to respond but Miss Vern clapped her hands again, forcing you to move. Hurrying past, you hastily positioned yourself in the back of the room. With everything else that was happening, you didn’t really have time to worry about another enemy.

Speaking of whom – Jimin’s gaze hardened when you approached and in response to this, anger flared in your belly.

You’d asked him to give you time and he had agreed. It seemed this was no longer the case.

Woodenly, Jimin held out his hand. Staying carefully neutral, you took this as Miss Vern began to teach you the steps. She hadn’t been lying when she’d called the pas de deux difficult. By necessity, some of your anger disappeared as you focused on learning.

Jimin seemed equally concentrated, barely looking your way while he practiced. It took nearly forty-five minutes to learn the entire coda, with Miss Vern stopping partway for a water break. By the time you knew the choreography, both of you were sweating.

Miss Vern had also been right to call the pas de deux one about tension. At the start, Jimin’s character was testing Penelope. This involved him pulling you towards him, turning you and making you chase him – until halfway through the coda, when Penelope snapped. Choreography shifting, you began to chase him, revealing you knew who he was.

The choreography was intricate, necessitating trust between partners. Despite everything, you were relieved to find this still existed between you. When you jumped, you knew Jimin would catch you. When you fell, you knew his hands would find your waist.

Still, this didn’t mean things had returned normal. As you practiced a fouetté, turning quickly to face him, Jimin gripped your wrist harder than usual. Wincing, you pushed on towards the next jump.

The combination involved several lifts, one of which was the most psychologically taxing. It involved Jimin lifting you overhead with your front leg extended, holding only your waist. While not the most difficult move technically, it required a certain fortitude of mind to dangle, upside-down from his arms.

This certainly wasn’t helped by the fact that Jimin kept grunting.

“Will you stop doing that?” you hissed as he set you back down.

A muscle in Jimin’s jaw ticked.

“Stop doing what?”

“Grunting. I keep thinking you’re about to drop me.”

Jimin gave you a look, chest heaving for breath. “Well, it’s hard.”

“Our job is to make it look easy.”

“Yeah, look easy,” he argued. “That doesn’t mean it actually is.”

“Well –”

“Let’s just try it again,” Jimin said, cutting you off.

After a moment, you nodded and returned to your position. As you began to practice with music, you felt a familiar sinking feeling in your stomach. It seemed you’d taken several steps backwards since the start of the year. Instead of continuing to grow as partners, you and Jimin had returned to the start.

As you repeated the steps, you felt his grip on you tighten, but Jimin lifted you overhead with nary a grunt. He set you back down, your leg extended in arabesque.

“Good!” said Miss Vern as she walked past. “Try to support her lower back more, though, Jimin. She shouldn’t be falling that far behind.”

As she walked away, Jimin nodded and exhaled a breath. Once she was gone, he turned sideways to face you. Again, his gaze was unfamiliar and cold.

“Alright,” Jimin said. “Again?”

“From where?”

“Middle of the partner section?”

You nodded, taking a step backwards to catch your breath. The break in the partner section began with you running towards him, Jimin catching you around the waist to sweep you into a fish lift.

As you ran through the steps, you tried to concentrate on the choreography. Not on your partner, nor on the uncertainties which roared through your mind. Jimin certainly didn’t seem to have the same qualms you did. By all accounts, Jimin was a sharp, perfunctory, and timely dance partner.

You found this to be maddening.

Just when you’d forgotten how strained things had become, he’d grip your hand a little too tightly, or turn you a little too sharply and your eyes would narrow. After another ten minutes of practice, Miss Vern called your attention by the stereo.

“Let’s try it full out,” she suggested. “I won’t hold the first time against you, but please do your best to execute every lift.”

The class grunted in agreement; wiping sweat from their brows, they retreated to their starting positions.

Glancing at Jimin, you said, “Full out?”

He nodded. “If you want.”

Turning on his heel, he walked across the room. You watched him go, your blood beginning to reach a boiling point. Jimin was acting like a petulant child. This was how he used to be in high school, back when he was your enemy and everything had been simpler, but you didn’t want that anymore.

Now that you knew who Jimin was, you couldn’t possibly go back to hating him. The very idea made your heart hurt.

Possibly you were being unfair, or naïve. Clearly, you’d hurt Jimin, but there wasn’t time to fix things between you before the end of class. You needed to be professional, you needed to pull your shit together and you needed Jimin to do the same. Turning around, you crossed the room and reached your starting spot.

Taking a deep breath, you waited for your cue.

When Miss Vern signaled the ballerinas to enter, you ran – and felt Jimin catch you by the wrist. He wasn’t gentle, pivoting you to a penché and waiting for you to rise. When you did, he crushed you to his chest and caught your knee in posse.

Teeth gritted, you kept your gaze on him while extending á la second. Hand finding your calf, Jimin raised your leg higher. His grip was rougher than usual, making you shiver as his hand slid to your ankle.

Gaze lidded, Jimin bent you in cambré. When he pulled you upwards to face him, your noses practically touched. Your frustration, previously under control, began to unwind.

“Why weren’t you in class yesterday?” you whispered.

Jimin’s eyes flashed, as though in warning. When you turned around, he caught you deftly around the waist. Pulling you to him, Jimin’s breath ghosted your neck.

“I told you,” he murmured. “I was sick.”

“Bullshit,” you said, breaking free of his hold.

Jimin followed close behind, his feet skimming the floor. As you piqued to arabesque, he caught up and pulled you against him.

“You’re avoiding me,” you accused.

“I’m not. And it’s not bullshit,” he added. Turning you around, Jimin dipped you, only to catch you before you hit the floor. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

The next part required more footwork, both of you circling the other. Your breathing was heavier the next time you were close enough to speak.

“You’ve barely spoken to me today,” you hissed.

A mirthless laugh left his lips. Spinning you sideways, Jimin caught you against his chest, your bodies pressed together in heated silence.

“I thought you told me not to say anything?” he said sweetly.

The next move tore you apart, your feet skimming the floor before Jimin caught up and lifted you high overhead. You saw the ground for a moment, heartbeat hammering your ribs before he set you back down. Chasséing forward, you battemented and were again caught by Jimin at the ankle.

Dragging you closer, his hand found your waist.

Stubbornly, you met his gaze. “I needed time to think.”

“Oh, did you?”

Releasing your leg, he lowered you to a penché. As you rose, you managed to say, “I did. And now, I think we should talk.”

Jimin snorted. “What’s there to talk about?”

Your next battement nearly hit him in the head. Jimin’s eyes widened, but it was all part of the choreography. Timed to a change in tempo, the choreography shifted to you as the pursuer.

On pointe, you ran forward, leaping into his arms at the last second. Fish dives were difficult, since they required complete trust of your partner, but Jimin caught you easily, cradling you close to his chest. 

Lips brushing your ear, he set you back down. “Are you still with him?” he asked, chest heaving behind you. “Your boyfriend?”

Meeting his gaze in the mirror, you hesitated. “Yes.”

His gaze hardened. “Then, there’s nothing to talk about.”

There was no time to respond since the next sequence involved Jimin chasséing away into a tour jeté. You followed with chainés, head whipping around to spot him every time. As soon as you were within speaking distance, you caught him by the arm again.

“I say there is,” you insisted. “Why are you making this so difficult?”

“Me?” Jimin barked a laugh as he turned. “You’re the one driving me crazy. Like you always do.”

“What the hell does that mean?” you said to him, baffled.

Jimin’s gaze cut to yours.

For the briefest of moments, you saw his façade break. All of his pain, all of his hurt and frustration shone through and you felt yourself falter. Staring at him, you couldn’t form a response.

Not that there was time. The dance hadn’t ended and class hadn’t stopped. Taking a slow step towards you, Jimin tenderly caught your attitude effacé and extended your leg. Dragging you forward, he pulled you across the floor.

As he came to a stop, Jimin swept your body to his as your fingers curled in his hair. In the choreography, the moment was one of near reconciliation between Penelope and Odysseus, a breather before their intense ending sequence. Jimin’s chest was concave with your breath, his gaze dark and lidded when he pulled back to see you.

You swallowed, disentangling yourself as you bourreéd away.

Heart pounding, you skimmed the floor with glissades, crossing the room with Jimin close behind. The final sequence was the grand reveal, with Penelope exposing Odysseus for who he is and forgiving his mistrust.

You could relate to the sequence.

Not all of it – had you been Penelope, you might have cheated while Odysseus had been away. You might have fallen for someone else; one of the suitors, perhaps. When you looked at Jimin now, you saw that clearly. There were feelings here which extended beyond a normal crush.

Still, you could relate to the dance. You could relate to Penelope’s frustration at Odysseus for being gone for so long. For leaving in the first place, for forcing her to withstand all her burdens alone. She’d been faithful to him and all he’d done was accuse her of cheating. You remembered Finn’s words to you in the library and felt your heart sink, since you’d ended up proving him right after all.

You’d also hurt Jimin though, which you hadn’t intended. Of course, he was angry – you’d repeatedly led him on, not pushing him away when you should have. And when things between you had finally snapped, you hadn’t let him speak. You’d run away.

Executing a double pirouette, you extended in attitude for a quick promenade. Shutting down your mind, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the music. Swept away by the characters, the dance and its emotions. The choreography became less important as the story came alive. Jimin’s hands were as familiar to you as your own, lifting you easily and setting you back on the ground.

Your heart ached with each step, wanting to be closer, wanting to be nearer to him than you were. As the steps slowed, you found yourself softening. Jimin’s hand slid to your thigh, settling you against his chest in a move reminiscent of the first time you’d felt a spark. Locking gazes with him, you inhaled and lifted your hand to rest on his cheek.

Time seemed to slow; you both felt and saw a muscle tick in his jaw. Jimin roughly exhaled, his chest pressed to yours as his gaze dropped to your lips.

“Bravo! Brava!”

Startled, both of you looked up.

Dazedly, you remembered you weren’t alone. You were in Miss Vern’s ballet class, most of whom had stopped dancing midway to watch. Placing you down on the ground, Jimin took a step backwards. Lacing both hands before him, he refused to meet your gaze, choosing instead to focus on Miss Vern.

“Beautifully done!” Crossing the floor, Miss Vern stopped before you. “The passion you showed! Such emotion, such artistry. My own principals couldn’t have done any better.”

Eyes widening, your lips parted. A flutter of incredulity went through you. It was unthinkable to receive such a high compliment from a teacher at Russet, let alone a choreographer as famed as Maisie Vern.

If you’d been looking for a sign to continue, this had to be it. One of the top choreographers in the world, commending your talent and somehow, her words didn’t feel nearly as good as when Jimin had said them.

Glancing at him, you found Jimin looking as stunned as you felt. The ache within you sharpened to a point, realizing how much he meant to you. How much you wanted his success, regardless of your own.

In that moment, you knew it had never been about anyone else’s perception of you as a dancer.

You knew you could do this. You knew you could make it at Russet, could make it as a dancer. Deep down, you’d always known this, despite your moments of doubt. Jimin had been right. You wanted to dance, you loved to dance and you would continue down this path regardless of what anyone else said.

That hadn’t been what crushed you about Finn’s words.

It had crushed you that after all this time, he still didn’t seem to know who you were. The fact that he could throw out those words so casually, as though you might simply stop dancing meant he didn’t see you. He might as well have asked you to stop breathing.

Jimin, though – Jimin understood. Jimin knew who you were. He’d been a part of your life for so long, he got what made you tick. He’d seen you at your worst, as your most bitter enemy and then again, as your most trusted partner.

It was part of why he meant so much to you.

You understood all this in the blink of an eye, then realized you hadn’t responded to Miss Vern’s praise.

“Oh,” you said, fighting to catch your breath. “I – thank you so much, Miss Vern. I honestly don’t know what to say.”

Miss Vern nodded, as though she were used to such a response. Beside you, Jimin was still breathing hard, but he nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “Thank you so much.”

She nodded, not choosing to linger as she faced the room. “Use them as an example!” she said, striding towards the stereo. “Seokjin and I will demonstrate, but that is the level of performance you should aim for. Again!”

The rest of the class passed in a blur, some of the fight dissipated between you and Jimin. He was still quiet, but you didn’t push him again to speak. You’d done enough for now.

As the class came to an end, Miss Vern gathered you round to give a short speech. She thanked everyone for the pleasure of teaching and, once you were dismissed, turned towards the barre.

Jimin left before you could, throwing his things in his bag as he rushed from the room. You followed him with your eyes, knowing he was avoiding you, but not blaming him in the slightest.

Sabrina wasn’t far behind and your gaze lingered on her, remembering the attempted conversation during class. You still had no idea what she’d wanted to say but honestly, Sabrina was the least of your problems right now.

Exhaling, you stood from the ground and checked your phone. Still no word from Finn.

You were trying desperately to understand, trying to give him time to think, but after your fight on Wednesday, you honestly weren’t sure if you still had a boyfriend. Finn’s radio silence didn’t seem to indicate anything positive, but you refused to let this be the way things ended between you. He owed you that much, at least.

Returning to your dorm, the knot tightened further as you imagined what he might say. Both of you had said hurtful things and now, you needed to tell him something which would change your relationship forever.

You needed advice. You needed to talk to Fin. You needed to apologize, you needed–

Plopping down on your bed, you dialed the only number you could think of to call. Noelle had graciously left to stay at Irene’s, giving you the room to yourself.

Your mom answered on the first ring.

“Y/N? Hello?”

“Mom?” you said, your voice suddenly tight.

“Oh, honey” she said, hearing your shift. You heard a soft click, as though she’d entered the next room. “What’s going on?”

“I – nothing.”

Closing your eyes, you fought to control your breathing.

“Nothing, hm?” Your mom made a gentle noise. “You’re still coming home for the holidays, aren’t you? That’s not what this is about? Your dad won’t stop talking about plans for when you get here. He just goes on and on! You’d think he didn’t have a wife.”

“No, no,” you said, opening your eyes. “I just… missed you. That’s all.”

“Well, then call more!”

When you tried to laugh, the sound came out weaker than usual.

Your mom fell quiet for a moment. “That’s not all, is it?”

“… No.”

“Tell me,” she prodded.

So, you did.

Once you started talking, you found you couldn’t stop. Everything came pouring out. The difficulties you’d had at Russet, the need for private lessons, the injury to your ankle and everything going on with Finn. The time he missed brunch, the gradual growing apart, the night he left you at the club – your mom had some choice words at this point – and your growing feelings for Jimin.

Everything had changed when you’d gone to Russet, and you’d always assumed Finn would stay the same but now, even he was crumbling into pieces.

When you were done, your mom was silent a moment, then sighed. You could picture her so clearly in your mind’s eye, seated in your dad’s office chair. This was likely where she’d gone when you heard the door click. The image made you so homesick, it physically pained you.

“Life isn’t ever as neat as we wish it would be,” your mom said at last. “People make mistakes, Y/N. People change. Sometimes the things we thought were permanent turn out not to be.”

“I know. And I know Finn and I are young, but –”

“It’s not that,” your mom said, cutting you off. “Some people meet the person they want to be with early on. That happens. Some people know who they are from the minute they’re born, but other people change and want different things.”

“I – I know. Objectively, I know but… it’s so hard to do something I don’t want to do. And I… I don’t want to break up with Finn.”

“Why not?” your mom said gently.

Biting down on your lower lip, you felt tears fill your eyes. Your answer was stupid – you knew it was. Partly, this was why you kept running away. You knew the answer wasn’t enough, which was why you didn’t want to say it.

“We’ve just been together so long,” you said, closing your eyes. “We’ve gone through rough patches before. Why is now any different?”

“I don’t know. Why is it?”

Swallowing hard, you whispered, “Because this time, I have no idea how to fix things. I think we’ve hurt each other too much, mom. I don’t know… I don’t see a way back to how we were.”

Hearing the words said out loud, you opened your eyes.

There it was. The thing you’d known for weeks but had been unwilling to say. So long as you kept it bottled in, pushed down, you didn’t have to acknowledge its presence or pain.

In truth, your fights with Finn had become so commonplace, you could no longer point to ‘the big one.’ The fight about spending time together had mutated, becoming a multi-headed dragon of differing life goals, de-prioritization and feelings for others.

Whenever you and Finn were happy these days, you found yourself holding your breath. You were waiting for said happiness to dissolve into pain. You had no clue when a relationship was supposed to end but had to imagine this wasn’t a good sign.

“I don’t think there are any easy answers, Y/N,” said your mom. “This is something you need to decide for yourself.”

“Shouldn’t it be easy, though?” you demanded, grip tightening on your phone. “When I list out everything that’s happened, I know things are bad. I haven’t been telling you things because deep down, I don’t want you saying what I already know.”

“Which is?”

“We… that we should break up.”

Your mom was quiet a moment. “It’s never easy to give up something you love.”

You wanted to respond but found you couldn’t, simply nodding even though she couldn’t see. On some level, she was your mom and she understood.

“What about the other boy you mentioned?” she said, sounding curious. “The one you’re having feelings for. Is this the same Jimin as high school?”

“Yes,” you whispered, the white-hot shame of your kiss burning you from the inside.

That was something you couldn’t tell your mom. Not now, at least. Maybe sometime in the future but for now, you couldn’t bear the shame of admitting what you’d done. You never should have let things get to this point.

“Hm.” She made a thoughtful sound. “You know, I’m not surprised to hear you’re getting along. He always seemed like a nice boy, despite how you treated him.”

“Mom!” you blurted. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am, honey.”

“Jimin used to bet I’d lose against him in competitions.”

“Mhm. And who started those bets?”

Although you huffed, you didn’t respond because your mom was right. Your bet senior year had been Jimin’s idea, but you’d been the one to start them before.

“It’s not even about Jimin,” you said, quieting somewhat. “It’s more… nothing in my life is solid anymore. I had a plan, mom. I knew exactly what I wanted and now that I’m here, nothing’s how I imagined.”

Softly, your mom chuckled. “Welcome to your twenties.”

“Mom!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Welcome to adulthood.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Her voice grew softer. “I wish I was there, so I could give you a hug. You’ve always been the type of person who needed a plan. But there’s more than one way to be happy, Y/N. What is it you really want?”

Her words were so reminiscent of Jimin that for a moment, you could only pause. What you wanted was dance, but you knew acknowledging this meant giving up Finn.

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

“Well, then. That’s probably the first thing you should figure out.”

Closing your eyes, you nodded. You stayed on the phone with her a while longer, talking about nothing and slowly calming down. When you finally hung up, you promised to call more and confirmed your plans to come home for the holidays.

Lowering your phone to the bed, heavy realization settled over you. You’d reached your lowest moment. If you sunk any further, there’d be no salvaging anything.

What else could happen? You barely had a relationship with Finn to speak of, had hurt Jimin’s friendship in the process and were so distracted, so tired, you were in danger of jeopardizing your future at Russet.

Somewhere along the line, everything had become twisted. You had too many problems to ignore any longer. Sitting up straighter in bed, you wiped tears away with your palm. All you could do was move forward – starting with Finn.

Satisfied by this, you rolled over in bed and closed your eyes. It had been a long time since you’d slept; you figured you could try and nap before you called. Finn wouldn’t be out of his classes for a few hours yet.

For the first time in a week, you managed to fall asleep before your mind could talk yourself out of rest.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading 😊 ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT! (and then the epilogue, but you know) New chapters of Raise the Barre will be posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST 

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[enthusiasticharry]

Swan Lake

summary: you've recently audition to be the White Swan in the Royal Ballet’s next production, only to learn that the new choreographer, Harry, will make this experience a lot more thrilling. 

author’s note: hiya! sorry the has taken so long but I've been busy with classes and only just had time to sit down and write this. this has been an idea of mine since i first saw harry’s snl promo when he was in the tutu and i'm glad i can finally share it!

word count: 10.6k words of smut, fluff and me trying to sound like i have a clue what i’m on about whilst describing ballet moves (i'm no ballerina, just a pre-warning) 

masterlist    |    asks

Even from being a small child, it had been your dream to become a dancer. You had originally gotten into dancing when you were very little, watching the different dancing programmes on the TV. You can remember like it was yesterday, the day you first watched the Royal Ballets performance of Swan Lake. You were around six, and you remember your mother flicking through the TV guide and seeing it and deciding to put it on, much to your detest at the start. But, you found yourself mesmerised as you watched the dancers flitter across the screen with such elegance and grace that you knew straight away that in the future you wanted to embody. It wasn’t the easiest occupation to get into, and it was very draining upon your body. But you loved it, and you were always going to — until you physically couldn’t anymore.

“Have you heard about the new choreographer?” Ethel, your friend asks as you walk towards the academy. You shake your head, “Apparently he’s very fit.”

“But he’s a choreographer.” You curl your nose up, “No choreographers are ever fit. They’re all old and hate the world.”

Ethel shakes her head, “This one is. He’s not too older than us either, but apparently he’s one of best Ballerino’s to ever walk out of the Royal Ballet School.”

“That’s a bold statement.” You say, pulling your bag tighter on your shoulder, “What is he choreographing?”

“The solos, I think.” Ethel adds, holding the door open as you both walk through, “He’s taking over Vernon.”

“Thank god.” You sigh, letting the door close behind you, “He was a horrible man.”

“He was.” Ethel laughs, “At least he’s someone new. We haven’t had a new choreographer in a year.”

A year ago, you and Ethel had graduated from the Royal Ballet school in London and you immediately joined the Royal Ballet. After auditions upon auditions you both had made it to the shortlist and then even made it through to the corps de ballet and were preparing for the audition for Swan Lake. You were positive that you wouldn’t get in, but you were also positive that you wouldn’t get into the school, never mind to the actual Royal Ballet.

Even though you felt like you had made it in life, you certainly hadn’t just yet. Today, you were auditioning to dance as White Swan. It was the next step into completing your dream completely. You were nervous to say the least, and you don’t think you’ve ever practiced something so much in your life.

“Are you ready for this?” Ethel asks as you walk into the back room, where there were quite a few other people who were obviously auditioning for other solos within the ballet.

You sigh, sitting down on the floor and starting to tie your pointe shoes, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You’ll smash it.” She smiles.

“I certainly hoped so.”

You were third to go, which wasn’t too bad. You certainly didn’t want to go first but you didn’t want to go last either. You were nervous, but you felt as though you dealt with it well and floated across the dance floor. You hated to say it, but you did find yourself being distracted quite a bit by the new man in the room, sat at the end of the table with a notebook and pen, watching intently as you dance and making certain notes. None of the choreographers made any hints that you were doing anything good, or not so good for that matter.

“Thank you.” The man said, his voice as soft as silk, “We’ll get to you shortly.”

A week later you were making your way to the notice board, where the solo and cast list were being posted. Ethel was in a rehearsal, so she wasn’t able to come with you and you found yourself being even more nervous due to being on your own.

You hung back and watched as other people rushed towards the list. You had just finished a pointe class, and your muscles were aching and you didn’t feel quite like making a huge scene trying to see the list. You watched as some people had very happy faces, and other had quite disappointed ones.

The group had dispersed quite a while ago, but you still found yourself stood in the corner. You had even started to pretend to scroll through your phone to distract yourself from actually going up to look at what it says on the sheet.

“I don’t think you can see the list from back here.”

You eyes flick up to the voice that startled you from your scroll. The man, who you had since the audition had learnt was called Harry Styles, stood across from you with one corner of his lips curled up.

“I was, uh.” You tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I was psyching myself up to look.”

“I’d go look if I was you.”

You nod your head and walk up the sheet, flicking your eyes down until your saw ‘White Swan’. What surprised you even more was the sight of your name in the column next to it. You eyes widen and you turn to look at Harry, who’s stood leant against the wall next to you. He smiles at you, nodding your head as you look at him with a confused look upon your face.

“Me?”

“Yes.” He nods, “You.”

“I got it?” You’re in complete shock, “Me?”

“You did. You earned it. You have one of the best form’s I’ve ever seen in my life. It was an unanimous decision, and you were the certain choice.”

“Wow.” You smile, “Thank you.”

“It’s really no problem.” You watch as he turns slightly to walk away, “Don’t let us down, though.”

You really hoped you wouldn’t. You hadn’t worked harder for something in your entire life, and he was mistaken if he thought it would be the same for this. It was your dream, plain and simple. It was hard to have a dream that lasted only the first thirty years or so of your life. If you were only going to get a limited amount of time to do this, you were going to make the most of it and you had made your first step by doing this.

“I won’t.” You nod your head, “I promise.”

“Good.” And with that, he’s gone.

The first day of rehearsals came quicker than you expected, but you had spent every minute of every day thinking about this day. Ethel had landed a role in the corps de ballet which she was proud of, and you were proud of her for doing so too. It meant that you both were going to be in the performance and go to all the main rehearsals for the group dances. Ethel wouldn’t have to come to the solo rehearsals, which was understandable, but at least you still had the time together now.

“Have I told you how much I really love that leotard?” She says as you shrug your coat off, revealing your black leotard which you’ve paired with a blush pink jumper that falls off your shoulder to match your pointe shoes.

“It’s just a simple black leotard.” You shrug, “It’s nothing special. I think I got it on sale.”

“You style it well, though.”

You sit on the bench and lift your feet up, slipping your toes into your pointe shoes. They weren’t comfortable, that’s a given, but you were used to it by now. You went to your first ballet class at seven years old, and you were now twenty-three. Sixteen years of wearing these shoes frequently meant that your feet had gotten very used to feeling.

“Thank you, Ethel.” You smile, grabbing your water bottle and following her as she walks out of the door and towards the training room.

“Do you think Harry will be here?” She asks, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

You shrug, “I don’t know. Possibly. He does solos so he isn’t technically required to be here.”

“He does. It’s the first rehearsal, though. He may want to at least show his face to the rest of us.”

You laugh, “You just want to see his face, Ethel.”

“Maybe I do.” She doesn’t even hide the blush on her cheeks.

In the training room, groups of dancers stand together either stretching or talking. It’s important to stretch and warm up before anything you do, so you and Ethel find a spare spot by the bar and start to stretch your muscles. You stretch every morning quite intensely, warming your muscles up for the day just because you know that you won’t get a lot of time to do so when you arrive at rehearsals and they even ask you to do so before you come so it works better. It’s nice to just refresh your muscles when you arrive, though.

“Can I have everyone’s attention?” Holland, the main choreographer says as her and a few other people walk into the room, “Welcome all to this years production of Swan Lake.”

A chorus of claps circle around the room, smiles all around as everyone congratulates each other on getting a part. It was very hard to get into productions like these, so you weren’t surprised that you were around the best of the best.

“I’m Holland, I’m pretty sure all of you know me but I’d like to introduce you all to the rest of the team.” She motions to the people behind her, “Isabella is in charge of Pas de deux this year and Harry is in charge of Solo’s, more specifically the Black and White swan’s solos.”

You immediately feel your heats cheek up, knowing that you and whoever is playing the Black swan will be spending time with him. You couldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t a handsome man, because he certainly was, but he was your choreographer and he spoke to you in a tone the other day that you couldn’t quite pinpoint but you knew that you weren’t too keen of.

“Today we’re taking it easy, and just introducing some of the group dances. Can both the White and Black swans see Harry, please?”

You freeze with your eyes upon the floor, not wanting to look up.

“That’s you.” Ethel nudges your shoulders.

You nod and stand up, walking towards the corner of the room where Harry stands as well as another girl who you know is called Frances, from being in a few of your classes during school. You smile as you walk over, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Behind you, everyones already stood and following what Holland is saying.

“Hope you don’t mind.” He smiles, “But I just want to discuss some things with the two of you before proper rehearsals start.”

You both follow him out of the large training room into one of the smaller practice rooms that people can you use whenever they want. You find yourself lagging behind as you walk, the feeling of nerves bubbling within you. You have had one solo before in your life, but it certainly wasn’t as important as this one, and you felt yourself getting more and more worried with every second.

“It’s important that the two of you know that I’m your main choreographer, but also that you’re in the group sessions when they’re on.” You both nod, “There aren’t a lot, because even in the group dances you have a lot of solos so you are with me a lot more than in there.”

“That’s why we got these parts though, right?” Frances says, a smile across her lips that you can just tell isn’t a sweet one.

“Not really.” He tilts his head to the side, “You got these parts because we think that you’re able to make the role yours and work hard for it. We can take it away just as easy as we’ve given them you.”

You nod your head and Frances does too, but there’s a little huff that escapes her lips as she does so.

“Our rehearsals start tomorrow, with the White swan, and they’re all going to be in this room.” You nod, but you don’t take any notice of what Fran does, but you guess she nods too, “Just so you know, I don’t appreciate lateness or laziness whilst in the rehearsal.”

“Understood.” You smile, tucking a piece of your hair behind your head.

“Good.” He nods, “You can both return to the main group.”

The next day you find yourself walking into the studio ten minutes before the rehearsal is set to start. The door is open when you walk in, but no one is in which your thankful for. You place your bag down in the corner and start to put your pointe shoes on.

“Morning.” You jump out of your skin at the sound of Harry’s voice walking into the room, “Didn’t mean to make jump.”

“It’s okay.” You chuckle, “I was in my own world and wasn’t paying attention.

He smiles and drops his bag in the corner next to yours. He walks closer to where you’re stood and leans against the bar.

“Have you stretched?” He asks, shrugging off his hoodie. You try not to stare at his physique, but it’s hard not to. Especially when you notice the tattoos that you can see across his arms and his check and stomach underneath the white wife-beater he had on. He also had one some joggers, but you knew it wouldn’t make the best first impression if you continued to stare at him.

“Before I left.” You say, “Not since I got here.”

“We can stretch together.” He says, “Do you use the bar.”

You nod and stand up, smoothing down the wispy bits of your hair that had escaped your bun. You pull your jumper up on your shoulder also, due to the material slipping off everyone once in a while. Your eyes drift to watch as he starts to stretch, using the bar to stretch his peculiarly long limbs. Average male ballet dancers that you’d met in your life hadn’t been as tall as he was, but he had a sort of elegance to him even when he was only stretching that his long limbs only extenuated.

“Have you been dancing long?” You certainly hadn’t expected him to be making small talk with you, but here he was.

You nod, “Since I was seven. Have you?”

“I was ten.” He says and your eyes widen, “I was quite late, to be honest.”

That was quite late, you had to agree with him. Most ballet dancers that you met within your life started even earlier than you, and a lot of them were surprised that you’d started so late but were so successful. Talent comes in any shape or form, and even though he did start quite late, if he was as talented as people made him out to be, then you weren’t surprised that he was as successful as he was starting quite late.

“Did you dance before then?”

“I did.” He nods, “I did tap for a few years before I decided that it wasn’t for me, and then I started ballet lessons.”

You smile and continue to stretch, lifting your leg up to the bar to stretch as far as you can. You can feel your muscles starting to relax as you do so, and you know you’re warmed up.

“Are you ready?” You nod and make your way to stand behind him, at the side slightly so you could see both yourself and Harry in the mirror. You were nervous, to say the least, but you had a slight suspicion that Harry was going to try and make you feel as comfortable as possible.

“We’re going to take it easy.” He says, “Well, as easy as it can be with this show.”

You chuckle and watch as he starts to teach you your solo. You wondered how many times he’d watched the previous performances of the ballet to know the solo as well as he did. You got through the first quarter of the dance or so. It was very quick, and it was basically going through al of the steps and seeing where you needed to focus your practice.

By the end of the rehearsal, you were sweating and you knew that you didn’t look the best just from looking at yourself in the mirror. The dance was one of the hardest you’ve ever done in your life but you knew that was how it was going to be. It was intense, and Harry was certainly right when he said that he knew you’d be able to do it but you needed to put in the hard work. One of the hardest things you found yourself having to do was stopping yourself from getting distracted at the sight of him.

Every time he moved, the muscles within his arms contracted. You didn’t want to stare at him, but you physically couldn’t stop yourself. You wondered if he could tell, or if he was staring at you. More than once during the rehearsal your jumper slipped from your shoulder, dangerously close to revealing your chest and you swear that you saw his eyes drifting at some points but you would never say anything.

“You’ve done well.” He nods, taking a quite a large gulp of water from his bottle, “I knew there was a reason why we’d chosen you, and that certainly was it” 

“There are plenty of other dancers that will have been just as good, maybe even better, I’m sure.” You say, placing your hands upon your hips as you try to catch your breath from the jeté’s you had just been doing.

He chuckles, walking over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder, “Have a little more faith in yourself. Not many people will be able to do what you’ve just done.”

You hate to say it, but you do feel fuzzy inside at his words. Flutters fill your belly and you can feel your cheeks heat up. He can see it as well, you’re absolutely sure of it and you nearly faint. The feeling of his fingers upon your skin leaves it heated for quite a while, long after he’d taken his hand off, and way after you’d left the room.

He was your new choreographer, but you couldn’t help but feel as this was the start of something else.

You had been in the practice room for an hour or so.

The group rehearsal had finished an hour ago, and you had planned to go into a practice room to spend a little extra time going over the new moves that Harry had added a day ago at their second rehearsal. The new steps weren’t too bad, but the order they fell in you just couldn’t pick up. You practiced it over and over again but you still couldn’t get it right. You found yourself becoming more and more annoyed with yourself that you couldn’t do it.

You started to do it again, starting with the jeté before moving to the pirouette but you found yourself loosing your balance yet again.

“You need to keep your core straight.”

You jump out of your skin, placing your hand upon your chest as you turn to look at the culprit. It’s Harry, and you aren’t surprised to say the least. He has a tendency of jumping out at you when you least expect it.

“You should wear a bell.” You say, standing up and and walking towards his body, which is leant against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing actual trousers today, and you were wondering if that’s why he wasn’t in the group rehearsal earlier.

“I’ll announce myself next time, I promise.” He laughs, walking towards you. His shoes tap upon the floor as he moves towards you, “Your movements aren’t flowing because your core isn’t strong, and you’re letting your body go dizzy.”

He walks towards you, holding his hands out before retracting them.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” He asks, and you nod, allowing his hands to fall one upon your back and the other upon your stomach. He pushes your stomach in, straightening your back as he does so. You find yourself struggling to breath slightly, but once you do you catch up quickly, “Try again like this.”

“Okay.”

You stay as upright as you can, keeping your core straight as you move. Somehow, you manage to do the sequence without falling over. You sigh in relief and drop down to the floor once you’ve done it. He stands and nods his head, watching as you take a sip of your water.

“See.” He nods his head, “I knew you could do it.”

“Thank you.” You smile, “I knew I could too, I think I was just becoming lazy because I’m tired.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Go home, take a break.” You start to unfasten your pointe shoes, sighing in relief as your toes separate after being in the shoes for way too long, “How long have you been in here?”

“An hour or so.” You shake your head, “I just wanted to get it right.”

“I bet it was right before.” He says, opening the door for you to slip through once you’ve put your proper shoes on and gathered your things, “Your body is just tired, that’s why your form was off. You usually have a great core.”

He had been looking at your. . . core? You felt your cheeks heat up, and you tired your hardest to not to let him see it but it was quite hard under the spotlights of the hallway.

“Thank you, but it really wasn’t. That was the first time I’ve done it properly.”

He turns to you with a grin, “We’ll just to have to agree to disagree, won’t we?”

You can’t stop the blush that rises upon your cheeks at his words, but more so at his grin. It’s cheeky and boyish and sort of flirty. He couldn’t have been flirting with you, but a part of you prayed that he was.

“Have a good night.” He smiles at you, “Sleep and don’t worry about the dance.” 

“I’ll try.”

“One. . . two. . . three. . . four—”

His counting has been ringing through your ears since your arrived at the rehearsal an hour ago. You couldn’t tell whether there was something wrong with him, or whether you had done something wrong for him to be in such a mood.

You had managed to ignore the fact that he completely ignored you once you’d walked in, and focused more on showing him that since you last saw him, you had mastered the sequence you were struggling with completely.

Everyone has bad days, you knew that, but it’s hard to learn a dance when your teacher is so stoic that you can’t tell whether or not you’re doing the moves right. His eyebrows have been furrowed since you walked through the door, and the clicks of his fingers were so loud that you can’t help but wonder whether or not they have blistered.

You manage to perform the sequence of steps, from start to about half way which you’ve managed to learn in the two weeks that you’ve been learning the steps. It’s nice to know that you’re able to do it, no matter how much you’ve struggled and that it’s been hard work, you’ve done it.

“We’re moving onto the pirouettes next.” He says, standing with his hands upon his hips as he does so. The harsh look upon his face doesn’t leave, and you truly wonder what had happened for him to be this way with you.

It’s making you feel as though every step you make isn’t right, when you know in fact that it is.

“The what?” You are struggling to catch your breath, after non-stop dancing for an hour can’t believe that he wants to do the pirouettes with you.

“Pirouettes.” He stands facing you, instead of you looking at him through the mirror and you wonder what you’re going to do, “Do as many as you can until the music drops.”

You weren’t quite sure what he was asking of you. You furrow your eyebrows, but Harry just stares at you. He looks at you as if to say why aren’t you doing it yet, so you decide you’re better off just starting the pirouettes.

You start, lifting your body into fourth position with both legs straight. You fix your eyes onto a spot where the mirrors meet. After taking a breath, you bend both legs into a deep pilé, concentrating on sinking your heels into the wooden floor so you could push into the spin. You focus your core, keeping it tight. You spring to a retiré position, before relevé to a full pointe with your back foot to your front leg. You hold your body in the position spin, flicking your head quickly so that you can focus yet again on the gap in the mirror. Once you’ve completed one, you continue to go round and round, trying to ignore the aching within your bones and the throbbing within your head.

You manage eight before you loose your balance and drop to the ground, immediately sitting with your head in between your legs. 

“Have a break, and then we’ll start again.” 

You sigh and shake your head, “I can’t do it.” 

“What do you mean?” Harry says, furrowing his eyebrows, “Of course you can.” 

“I can’t do it.” 

“You’ve done eight.” He shrugs, “You can do more.” 

“I’ll be able to.” You say, “But I can’t do them now.” 

If you honest, you hadn’t woken up feeling the best this morning. You often get headaches that throughout the course of the day transition into migraines. You had felt it coming on at the start of the day, and you knew with how much you had to do you couldn’t pull out of the rehearsal but at this point you were seriously considering it. The pirouettes seriously hadn’t helped with the throbbing within your head and you had started to feel quite nauseous. 

“If you have that attitude then you certainly won’t be able to, and it’s probably best that you leave.” 

You’re completely taken aback, unable to believe that the man who has been nothing but nice to you throughout this whole thing had just said something so horrid to you. You were mortified and if you hadn’t felt sick before, you certainly did now. 

“You know what.” You stand up, “I think that’s a good idea.” 

You leave the room and don’t look back. 

The next rehearsal, thankfully, was a group one. You and Ethel had made your way to the training room bright and early, ready for what the day was going to hold. You hadn’t told Ethel about what happened earlier in the week with Harry. It would have been nice to talk to someone about it but you knew that you shouldn’t, so you didn’t. It was, however, the thing that fluttered around in your brain on a loop. Doing everyday mundane things you found yourself distracted. Instead of being upset or angry anymore, you were concerned, and you just hoped that he was okay mainly. 

The two of you had stretched yourselves pretty quickly, leaving you stood in the right corner of the room waiting for it to start. You couldn’t help but wonder whether or not Harry was going to be in the rehearsal today. He normally was, but after the last one, you had no idea what was going to happen. A part of you wished to see him, and the other part of you didn’t. It was as though you had a devil and angel on your shoulder, bickering between the options of whether or not you wanted to see his face. 

In the back of your mind you knew that this man was your choreographer. You knew that traditionally that you shouldn’t be feeling this way about him, since he had the same role as a teacher would, but you really couldn’t help it. It didn’t help that he was one of the prettiest people you had ever seen in your life — and one of the nicest apart from the last time you saw him — but the was besides the point. You were an adult, and you were allowed to have these feelings, even though you were positively sure that they aren’t reciprocated. 

Both Holland and Isabella walk into the room, but there is no sign of Harry. You try to ignore the disappointment that sits in the pit of your stomach but you can’t. 

You should be angry at the man, livid even, that he said such a thing to you but you really weren’t. That was your own fault, but that didn’t mean that all would be forgotten from that day. You were at least expecting an apology the next time you saw him. 

“Everyone get into positions for the start of the second half.” Holland calls and everyone moves from their groups into positions. 

You weren’t on the stage at the start, so you move to the corner of the room by the door and watch everyone else. You try your hardest not to let your mind wander, but you can’t help it. Your thumb is running back and forth over your bottom lip, furrowing your eyebrows as you did so. 

“If you furrow your eyebrows anymore your face is going to stay like that.” 

You don’t even jump at the sound of his voice. Your heart does start to beat a little faster, since your certainly weren’t expecting him to be so close to you, but you wouldn’t tell anybody that. 

“Was starting to think you just hated me.” 

“Could never hate you.” He shakes his head, “You’re too good of a dancer for me to ever hate you.” 

You have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. You manage to, but before either one of you could say anything else, you see your cue and you’re out on the floor. 

You try to ignore his stare as you move around the room, remembering the choreography you had learnt whilst also trying to be as elegant and strong as you physically could be. You remembered to keep your core straight, and if you weren’t mistaken by the few times you looked over at him, Harry’s eyes hadn’t left you.

You were unsure whether it was something your were flattered about, or whether you were slightly concerned about it. You weren’t too concerned, but you found yourself wondering why he was doing this. The last time he saw you he told you to leave, and now he couldn’t get his eyes off of you. 

Once the dance had finished, and you had your lips around your water bottle that you were taking a sip from, you swear you saw Harry’s head flick towards the door. You furrow your eyebrows and lift you finger up, pointing at yourself as if to ask whether he was looking at you. 

He nods his head and walks out of the door, leaving you confused but walking towards him and consequently out of the room. You bite the lid of your bottle as you do so. You knew exactly where he was, and the second you walked into the room you saw him stood in the middle of it with an almost defeated look upon his face. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You swear your heart almost bursts out of your chest. 

You nod your head, “Okay.” 

“I was a dick.” You nod again, “And you didn’t deserve it at all. I shouldn’t have asked you to leave and I should’ve asked if you were okay the second you dropped to the floor. I’m sorry, I really am.” 

“I accept your apology, I do.” He seems to sigh with relief, “But! You have to be extra nice to me next rehearsal. If I want a break, I want a break.” 

He chuckles, “You can have as many breaks as you like.” 

“Good.” 

To say rehearsals have been different since Harry apologised to you would be an understatement. You found yourself enjoying them, no matter how hard you had to work, and you looked forward to them in your week.

You believe it might have been because of the change in relationship between the two of you. It was much nicer, and also a little flirtier. You had noticed Harry coming over to help you by touching you more, he was forever smirking and winking at you and some of the things he said completely turned you to putty in his arms. 

You’d like to think he’d noticed, but you really couldn’t be sure. 

“Dress rehearsals start next week.” He says as you take a break, sipping on some water whilst holding a banana in your other hand, “Are you nervous?”

You shrug, “A little bit. I know I’ve worked hard but there are still a lot of things that could go wrong.” 

“I disagree.” You throw him a quizzical look, “I agree that you work hard because you’re one of the most hardworking people I’ve ever met. I don’t agree that a lot of things could go wrong because that just isn’t true — one thing could.” 

You knew what he was talking about. 

You drop back so you’re laid on the group, “The pirouettes.” 

“The pirouettes.” He nods and stands up, so you sit up, “I know you can do it, you just need to believe in yourself.” 

You sigh, “Can you just do the pirouettes for me?” 

“Yeah.” He laughs, “Like the audience wouldn’t notice you slipping off and a six-foot man taking your place to do some spins.” 

“I’m sure they’d be highly entertained.” 

“I’m sure we’d have thousands of complaints to deal with.” 

You laugh and he joins in. You finish your banana and stand up, tucking some of the hair that had fallen out of your bun back before moving to the middle of the room. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to do it.” 

“I do.” Harry nods, crossing his arms over his chest, “Focus on your spot and never take your eyes off it, remember your core and remember to bounce yourself. The higher bounce you get at the start, the more you’ll be able to spin.” 

You’re unsure how it happened, but after listening to Harry’s words you manage to complete almost twenty pirouettes. The most that had taken place during the small amount of time in a performance had been thirty-two, and to say that you’d never done more than ten in your life before meant that you were pretty proud of yourself. 

“See.” He says smugly, “I knew you could do it.” 

You watch as he walks towards you, shoving this hand into the pocket of his jogging bottoms. You weren’t one to necessarily like people who are so in-your-face smug but there was something different about the way Harry said things. He didn’t say them maliciously, or to make himself feel better but to just tease you slightly. He was close to you, and you resisted the urge to let out a little squeak of nervousness. 

“Are you going to start believing in yourself?” 

“Hmm.” You ponder, “I might have to be reminded again, and again.” 

It all happened quickly, but before you could process anything happening, Harry’s lips were on yours. 

He kissed you. You felt his lips upon yours, his hand immediately reaching to rest upon her cheek. The nervous squeak you held in escaped your lips as he did so, but he masked it with him. You gripped the material of his wife-beater, bunching it up at his stomach as you pulled him towards you. Your lips parted once you’d felt his tongue dance upon your lips, allowing it to slip through them. You were shocked, but you never wanted it to end. 

It did end though, like all good things do. He pulled away from you and you felt even more out of breath than if you had just performed your solo. You looked at him with wide eyes and lifted your fingers to run over your swollen lips, 

“Did that remind you?” 

Dress rehearsals had started, but all you could find yourself thinking about was Harry’s lips on yours. 

You stood backstage at the Royal Opera House, looking at yourself within the mirror as you ran your hand over your costume. It was white, and completely gorgeous. The tutu fluttered out gems and sparkles fluttered along the bodice with a hugged your curves perfectly. You had the head piece on as well, but you hadn’t done your makeup. It was the first time you’d seen the costume upon your body, and you were in love with it. 

“You proper look like the white swan now.” Ethel smiles, placing her hand upon your shoulder, squeezing slightly, “You look gorgeous.” 

“Thank you.” You turn to look at her, and the costume she had on and you gasp, “And look at you!  Absolutely beautiful!” 

The two of you giggle and walk towards the main stage where everyone was collected. You stood to the side with Ethel, even though she’s quickly scooped away by some of her friends. You stand and done move, going over the moves of your solo in your head just to make sure you knew what you were doing. 

Holland calls you all to start soon. It wasn’t the first time that you’d ran the performance all the way through, but it was the first time that you’d done it in your costume. 

You manage to make it through the first half of the performance without any malfunctions from yourself, but you can’t say the same for everyone else. It was around half way through the third section of dance or so when you noticed Harry sat on the front row, his eyes never leaving you as you dance around the stage. When your first section of solo dance came up, you saw Harry’s eyes furrowing as you danced. You couldn’t watch him throughout the entire thing, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he never looked away from you. 

During the interval, you go backstage and make your way towards a bathroom. As you make your way closer, you try to find the fasten of your tutu so that you can quickly pull it off. What you hadn’t expected as you down the hall and towards the bathroom was to be pulled into one of the rooms you pass.

You squeal as you feel the hand around your arm, but once you’re in the room, you’re silenced by someone’s lips upon yours. 

You can tell that it’s Harry immediately. You can tell not only from his lips upon yours, but also from his hand that he places upon your cheek. You feel the coolness of his ring, and the slight itch from his stubble, but you really aren’t complaining. You lift your hand to the back of his neck, slipping your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

His fingers run across your thighs, being light so that he doesn’t rip the thin material. After a minute or so, you pull away, turning your head so that his drops upon your shoulder whilst you catch you breath.” 

“Harry?” He hums against your neck, placing a small kiss there, “I really need a wee.” 

He laughs and stands up, pecking your lips once more. You smile into the kiss and it seems to only grow afterwards. 

“Well you better go and have one.” He chuckles and you nod, “But I’ll only let you go if your promise me something.” 

“What?” 

“You’ll wait for me afterwards?” 

“After what? My wee, because I have to back on stage after—”

“No.” He chuckles, “Not after you’ve had your wee, but after you’ve finished tonight. I want to take you somewhere.” 

“Sounding very stalker-ish of you, Styles.” She furrows her eyebrows, “But I’ll wait for you.” 

The second half, and your solo goes okay. You managed to do sixteen pirouettes but your brain was in overdrive, thinking of everywhere that Harry could be taking you. Once you all finished, you couldn’t help but rush to get changed and ready to leave. You hadn’t borough the nicest of clothes, only some jeans and a jumper since the air had started to get quite a lot cooler now that autumn had shown its face. 

“You ready?” He asks once you’ve walked out of the theatre and find him stood by the wall next to the door. 

You nod and follow him. The two of you don’t talk, but his hand does slip into yours as you walk. He’s very smooth in the way that he does it, slipping his hand into yours as you walked across the busy London road. Your cheeks heated as he did so, and you couldn’t help the small smile that planted across your lips. 

You knew that you shouldn’t feel this way about someone who was like a teacher for you, and you knew at some point that the two of you would have to speak about what this even was but at this point you were just happy. 

You certainly hadn’t expected to end up at a cinema, but here you were. Harry scanned the two tickets he already conveniently already had. The tickets were halfway up in the cinema, where you normally enjoyed sitting but you certainly had never told Harry this. 

“If you wanted to see a movie with me, you should’ve just asked.” You whisper to Harry as you both sit down, “You didn’t have to basically kidnap me into a storage room and shove your tongue down my throat.” 

“I didn’t hear you complaining about my tongue down your throat.” He says, and you can almost hear the smirk upon his lips, “Just watch, you’ll understand why I brought you here in a second.” 

You did understand. The recording was from 2015, one that you hadn’t seem before which was surprising because you’re absolutely certain that you’d watched the majority of them. You wonder if this was one that you hadn’t been able to find before, to nitpick every single movement that the white swan made. 

Harry’s hand sat tightly in yours as you watched, never moving throughout the entire performance. 

Once it had finished, you found yourself sat in an Italian restaurant that was next to the cinema, the both of you having ordered pasta and having large glasses of red wine to wash it down. 

“Why did you bring me to see that?” 

Harry smiles, placing his glass down that he had just taken a sip from, “It’s my favourite performance, so far, of Swan Lake. I didn’t know whether you’d already seen it, and you’re probably fed up of it but I thought you needed to see it.” 

You shake your head, “I hadn’t seen it.” 

“You remind me of her.” He smiles, “Giovanna, who was the White Swan. She was a few years older than me, and I met her getting lost in the school.” 

“You knew her?” 

He nods, “We were best friends, for a few years, and she taught me everything I know about how to be the best ballerino I could be. I was there when she was got the part, and I used to watch her practice.” 

“That’s how you know the solo so well.” 

He nods, “She believed she couldn’t do it. I can’t count the amount of times she said that she couldn’t do it. She hardly slept because of it. They recorded that opening night, and it took me sitting her down and showing her that for her to believe that she could do it.” 

He’s interrupted by the waitress coming with their pasta, which they smile in thanks at. 

“Thank you.” He nods his head at the waitress, “I’m more involved with you as the White Swan, and I swore to never let anyone who I worked with whether it be on this production or not, feel like Giovanna did.” 

“How could you tell?” 

“You always look as though you’re battling with yourself within your head.” He says, “You need to know that when you’re on that stage, and it’ll be even more like this when you believe yourself, you are elegant and you look absolutely beautiful.” 

If you weren’t in public, and if you didn’t have a mouthful of tomato pasta in your mouth, you probably would’ve cried at his words. You couldn’t believe how much this man actually cared about you and how you were doing. 

“Are you still friends with her?” 

“No.” He shakes his head, “She left a few years ago, didn’t tell me where she was going or why she was doing it. I haven’t heard from her since.” 

You drop your head, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He shakes his head, “You’re the new swan in my life, and between the two of us, I much prefer you.” 

“Do you think people are going to mind?” You ask, moving your pasta around on your plate, not daring to look up at him, “You’re like my teacher, and we don’t exactly have one of the more conventional relationships.” 

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, “And you shouldn’t either, swan.” 

The day of the first performance was here, and you were absolutely dreading it. 

“Ethel.” You shake your head, “I really can’t do this.” 

“Oh shut up.” She places her hands upon your shoulders as you look at yourself in the mirror, sighing as you made sure your wispy pieces of your hair were down, “You’re going to be fine. You’re only worried about the pirouettes and you managed twenty-two yesterday.” 

“It’s not thirty-two though.” You shake your head, “It isn’t good enough.” 

Yesterday it was your last run through of the solo with Harry in the practice room. Even though the relationship between the two had shifted dramatically since their first rehearsal, and yesterday it almost felt as though you were back in with that Harry. 

The flirty banter that the two had adopted wasn’t there, and you were both focused on getting it right. It was the first time that you had managed to do more than twenty pirouettes, which had been your best, but it was now twenty-two. You had sighed in relief and finished your solo dance with a smile upon your face. 

“You’ll be fine.” Ethel smiles, “You’ve got nothing to worry about, you’ll go out there and smash it. I have to go and do my makeup, but I’ll see you during the interval — I promise.” 

You nod, accept her hug and sigh yet again at yourself in the mirror. You hadn’t felt this nervous in a long time, not even when you auditioned for the ballet school, or even when you auditioned for the part of the white swan. In every other aspect of your life, you were confident. In your dancing, that’s when you found yourself spiralling in the most. 

“Hey white swan.” You can’t help but smile at the sound of Harry’s voice behind you, your body immediately turning around to look at him. 

You don’t want to seem shocked, but the sight of him all dressed up causes your heart to beat quickly within your chest. You hadn’t seen him dressed up in this way before, a blue button up upon his body, as well as yellow trousers and a grey jacket. His hair framed his face in such a way that you couldn’t help but press your thighs together. You very much liked Harry’s practice outfits that show off his strong body, but there was something else about seeing him dressed in such a way that you liked even more. 

“Hi.” You laugh, standing up to wrap your arms around him. It’s an awkward hug, with the two of you trying to navigate your way around your tutu, “You look fancy.” 

“And you look gorgeous.” He pulled away from you and leant back against the wall, whilst you leant against the chair you were just sat on, “Ethel saw me on the way in.” 

You laugh, “What did she say?” 

“That you’re spiralling again.” He laughs, “I thought we’d spoken about this.” 

“I know.” You nod your head, “I’m just scared about the pir—”

“—If you dare say pirouettes!” 

You laugh as he interrupts your words, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He shakes his head, “You know that you can do it, and I believe in you. You’re going to smash this and I’m going to be front row cheering your on.” 

Without a single hesitation, you cast your eyes around the room in hopes to see nobody there, which there isn’t, and you throw your arms around his neck and place your lips upon his. He smiles into the kiss, and you do too, but you quickly pull away because you know that anybody could walk in at any moment. 

Harry flutters his eyes over at the clock, “It’s time, white swan. I’ll be here afterwards.” 

In your first performance of Swan Lake, you manage twenty-six pirouettes. It’s the most you’ve ever done, and once you’ve done it, you find yourself finishing the entire performance in higher spirits than when you started it. 

Somehow, you were finishing the day of your first performance with your thighs wrapped around Harry’s waist as he presses you up against the door of your flat. He had offered to walk you home, and the flirty way the two of you had become accustomed to felt a change as you walked home. You felt as though there was a magnet pulling you together and the closer you got to your flat, the closer you felt towards each other. 

You suspect that was why you were now pressed up against your door. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” Harry murmurs against your lips, and you smile against them. 

With him holding you up by your thighs, and with your half arsed directions, you both make your way towards your bedroom. Harry places you down upon your bed, his fingers grasping the jumper upon your skin. You pull away slightly and he pulls it above your head, exposing your chest to him. He leans down to press another kiss to your lips, moving down to your neck. He litters kisses down your cheeks, and your neck until he’s upon your chest. You hadn’t worn a bra with your jumper, so you’re completely exposed to him. 

The next movement he makes is to wrap his lips around one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around one of your budding nipples, using his thumb to tweak the other. Your hips are involuntarily bucking towards his. 

“Fuck, Harry.” You sigh, smiling down at his head as he kisses down your stomach until he reaches the band of your jogging bottoms. 

He stops his movements and rests his head upon your stomach, “What do you want?” 

“Want you to lick me.” He smiles at your words, and hooks his fingers into the band of your jogging bottoms, pulling them as well your underwear down your legs. 

He placed a litter of kisses across the inside of your thighs, teasing you until you can help but lift your hips up to him. 

“Are you this wet all for me, baby?” He questions, running his thumb across your clothed clit, “Got yourself all messy for me.” 

“You have a way with words.” You grin, reaching forward to run your fingers through his hair, “And a way with your mouth.” 

“You don’t need to flatter me anymore, I’m already in your bed.” He pecks your pubic bone, “But my ego really appreciates it.” 

“Your narcissistic side is showing.” 

“What did you expect?” He runs his fingers across your pubic bone, “You’re so fucking ready for me. All wet and ready for me to have a taste.” 

He starts with small kitten licks that have you withering across your duvet, small whines leaving your lips. He wraps his lips around your clit, mixing between nibbling and licking. 

You moan, lifting your back up off of the bed, “Can I use my fingers, baby?” 

“Please.” You nod, watching as he lifting his fingers up to your mouth, pushing them through your parted lips so you could swivel your tongue around them, wetting them to make them easier for him to push into you. He pushes his index finger in, rhythmically moving it in and out whilst also licking and flicking your clit with his tongue. Each thing his does coaxes you closer and closer to your orgasm, the way he skilfully uses his tongue sending moans spilling out of your lips.

“Don’t stop!” Harry drops his hand to your stomach, pushing down so that you aren’t moving you hips as he brings you closer to your peak, “M’gonna come.” 

“Come for me, baby.” He murmurs against you, flicking his tongue quickly. 

You can feel your stomach tightening as he moves quickly, the feeling causing your toes to curl as he does so. 

“Fuck.” He uses his fingers and his tongue to coax you through your orgasm. 

You honestly couldn’t believe that you had waited this long to have him touch you. Moans spill out of your lips as you reach your high, the euphoric feeling spreading over your entire body. 

Harry kisses your clit one last time, kissing up your stomach and around your breasts, up until he wrapped his lips around your nipple. He allowed you to recover and calm your breathing whilst he kissed up your body. 

“Good?” 

You hum, a small giggle escaping your lips, “Fucking amazing.” 

“I’m glad your enjoyed it.” He laughed, leaning down to place a kiss to your lips. 

Feeling as though you had recovered from your orgasm, you start to unbutton his trousers. He grins against your lips as you slip your hand beneath the band of his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his length. 

“I want you to fuck me.” You whisper against his lips, the corners of yours curling up. 

“Yeah.” He grins, “Have you got any condoms?” 

You were glad at this point that you’d picked some up during your daily shop. Not that you had expected anything, but it was always good to be prepared. 

“Yeah.” You nod, “In the bedside table.” 

He stands up from the bed and unbuttons his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and he makes his way towards the drawer. You eyes never leave his body, watching as his ever muscle flexes. He opens the drawer and drops his hand in, and if you weren’t already flushed, you certainly would be from what he pulls out. 

“What’s this?” He holds up the small vibrator that you had bought a few years ago to relive some of your tension every once in a while. 

“God.” You drop back upon the bed, your head rested on the pillow as your bring your hand to your forehead, “Just something I use to relive some of the tension in me every once in a while.”  

“The tension?” He raises his eyebrow, “When was the last time you used it?” 

You shrug, “Ages ago. I think it was after the first dress rehearsal.” 

“That long ago? We’ll have to change that.” He turns the little machine on to its first setting, holding it as it vibrates in his hand. 

“Are you going to use that on me?” You ask, writhing as he places it upon your budding nipple. 

“As tempting as it is.”  He smirks, taking it away just as a moan threatens to leave your lips, “I think we’ll save it for another day.” 

He turns it off and places it back in the bedside table, taking the box of condoms that are in there out also. He takes the foil packet out and at the same time pushes his underwear off of his body, revealing his member to you. It was already red, the tip angry and already leaking pre-come as it stood out from his body. 

You can’t take your eyes off him. You had had some encounters with people before hand, you had needs, but you certainly hadn’t been with anyone quite so well endowed. He uses his teeth to rip open the packet, pinching it between his fingers and rolling it over his length. 

“Can I ride you?” You ask, watching as Harry kneels on the edge of the bed. 

He raises his eyebrows, “Do you want to?” 

“I do.” You smile, watching as he laid down next to you. 

“Hop on then.” He smirks, reaching for your hips as your straddle him. 

You take him in your hand, lining him up with your centre. He grips your hips, guiding you down onto his cock. You moan as he fills you up, but you can move at your own speed and wait as long as you needed. 

“Fuck.” He moans, sitting up to rest his head against your shoulder, “So fucking tight around my cock. Squeezing me just right.” 

You couldn’t believe how much you were throbbing between your legs at the sounds of his words. Once you’ve become accustomed to his size, you started to bounce up and down on him. You catch his lips with yours, allowing yourself to succumb under the pleasure he was giving you. You couldn’t help the moans that tumbled out of your lips whilst you bounce, Harry’s hips lifting to meet yours.

“Harry, fucking hell.” He was making you feel so full, and so good, “Fuck, can I go faster?” 

“Go as fast as you want, baby.” He kisses your lips briefly, “Make yourself come on my cock.” 

You bounce your hips faster, leaning forward to grip your headboard to give you more leverage to move your hips. You could feel sweat collecting upon your brow and body, your hair sticking to your neck. The only sound in the room was your moans and your groans, as well as the creaking of your bed and your headboard hitting the wall. You prayed at this point that your neighbours couldn’t hear you through your wall. 

“I’m gonna come, H.” You moan out, lowering one of your hands so that you could rub your clit. Harry immediately notices and pushes your hand away, replacing it with his own finger rubbing quickly to coax your second orgasm of the night. 

“Come on my cock, baby.” He speeds up his hips meeting yours, “Come on, I wanna feel you.” 

Your second orgasm washes over you quicker than your first, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Harry thrusts harshly up into you a few time and you feel him spill into the condom. He groans against your neck as you collapse on top of him. 

You had never felt so close to someone as you did to Harry, and even though you weren’t together yet it just felt right to take this step. 

“You’re incredible, swan.” 

You laugh and roll off him, whimpering at the feeling of him leaving you. You lay down next to him and watch as he takes the condom off and places it in the small bin in the corner of your room. Whilst he does that, you quickly make your way towards the bathroom to pee and clean yourself up. Never in your whole life had you felt this wet and orgasmed so hard from being with someone, and you don’t know whether to thank Harry or worship the ground that he walks on. 

As you walk back into your room, you notice Harry laid upon your bed, shirtless and smiling as you walk back into the room. You slip into bed next to him. 

“Harry?” He hums, “If I perform like this every night, are you going to do this overnight?” 

“If you want me to, swan, I’ll never stop.” 

You didn’t want him to. 

A couple of months later, your time as the White Swan had finished. Your parents, as well as both Ethel and Harry, joined you for celebratory drinks. You found yourself loving having Harry with you, and Harry loved being with you as far as you could tell. 

Waking up the next morning, you can’t remember the last time you woke up without having something to do the next day. Harry’s deep breaths fill your ears as he rests upon your neck, his arm around your waist and his leg pressed in between yours. You loved the feeling of having him so close to you, and you felt as though you couldn’t ever have him away from you now.

“Are you awake?” His voice is low and gruff in a morning, and it sparks something between your legs almost immediately. 

“No.” You smile, “I’m still asleep.” 

“I think you should stick to ballet, lying isn’t your forte.” He squeezes your middle, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“I’m not lying. I’m still asleep.” You smile, relishing in the feeling of his arm around you.

He laughs, “I didn’t know I was with a sleep talker, swan. If I’d have known I would’ve been running for the hills.” 

“How long have you been awake then?” You laugh, “Have you been watching me sleep?” 

“Not watching.” He laughs, “Observing.” 

You turn your head briefly so that you’re looking at him, leaning forward to place a kiss to his cheek. 

“Kissy?” 

“Morning breath.” You grimace, “Once I’ve brushed my teeth, maybe.” 

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, “I just want a kiss.” 

“I care, though.” 

“‘Gis a kiss, baby.” You lean forward and place a closed-lipped peck to his lips. 

“Good enough?” 

“I guess that’s all I’m getting.” 

“That is correct.” You laugh. 

Harry’s eyes fall upon yours, and he doesn’t look away. Even though he just woke up, he’s so effortlessly gorgeous that you can’t help but want to jump his bones and kiss him all of the time. 

In your opinion, you had hit the jackpot. It was the most traditional relationship, but Harry was your person. From the first day you walked into the rehearsal room and Harry looked at you with such joy in his eyes you knew he was for you. You didn’t care what anyone else though, and you only wanted him. 

You were falling for him, at a fast speed but you certainly would never complain. 

“Be mine?” 

“What?” You question, your eyebrows furrowing. 

“Be my girlfriend?” He asked, “Be mine?” 

You ponder the thought for a couple of seconds, leaving him waiting before your lips curl up into a smile, “Okay.” 

“Okay.” You kiss him again, “I’ll be your girlfriend.” 

“My swan.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you once again. 

You laugh, “I feel like that’s going to be my forever nickname.” 

“It’s how we met.” He smiles, “I never want to forget it.” 

You never do. 

[thatbangtanbloom]

petals | bts [1]

petals | bts

teaser | [1] (could be read without the teaser)

characters: kim namjoon, kim seokjin, min yoongi, jung hoseok, park jimin, kim taehyung, jeon jungkook, reader

pairings: ot7 x reader

categories: angst, fluff, (light???) smut

genre: idol!bts, idol!reader (fem!reader)

warnings: reader is a bit sensitive but comes out of her shell slowly,, uhh,,, grinding???, making out ;) , sad kissing????, hoseok is lowkey whipped for reader, so is jimin,,, taehyung is a little mean for like 2 sentences

a/n: this first chapter introduces the reader, j-hope, and jimin! more members will be introduced with reader next chapter :]]

❀

The seven of them may not have been bound by blood, but they were in every other way. Their interests often aligned and common actions were shared where sometimes they did not know where one began and one ended. They began their days together as they made their way to the practice room and ended it when they loaded into vans to make their way back to their shared dorm.

It wasn’t as though they had never noticed the fundamental difference between the seven of them and you. They were keenly aware of it whenever the stylist squeezes you and your other girl group members into shorts opposite to their pants or the added slits to accentuate your figure when suits were the dominant style. Yet, your performance was the tipping point.

Each of them had drawn silent as they watched you move like a siren across the stage. The male dancers seemingly falling at your feet while your white chiffon hugged your every curve, floating like water with each move to the beat. Never mind that you were in a group with seven other girls, all of their eyes could only be glued to you.

They would like to think that it were the performances that had them glued to your every move - that it wasn’t the remnants of false dreams that led them to watch you like a hawk. Almost like wolves, they would be eager to pounce at you if there was one misstep. Yet, you made none.

Hoseok was the proudest of them all. He purposely would stay up to watch you practice, giving helpful tips to evoking further emotion.. but this? Seeing you move this sexily as an enchantress almost made him feel weak in the knees.

They had attempted a lot to make you feel welcomed into their tiny home of seven. When BigHit informed them that the top trainee from Produce 101 would be joining their company left a sour taste in their mouths, but after learning it had been you who captivated millions, their worry lessened. BigHit had provided themselves on growing from the ground up - working organically to cultivate each trainee with precision, sincerity, and perseverance. Their own premonitions of how you functioned as an artist did make them question your credibility. It was only a matter of time before their watchful eyes looked after you since your pre debut days. The trainee girl division of BigHit had been long gone, but BigHit could not let go of you, not after so many monthly evaluations, tearful performances, and years going down the drain.

It was not as though you were coming into the group empty-handed. You had your own fan base from the show and project group who swore to stay by your side no matter what. Admittedly, your fan dynamic was a bit more mixed - guys eagerly flicking to see you and the other girls in school uniforms while you belted your heart out. The latest addition was the reassurance that BigHit needed to their girl group that they intended to put together.

“She doesn’t belong here.” were the first words you heard when your bags finally were placed down. It had been Taehyung who had uttered such words. You instantly find your blood run cold from the words. You could not quite understand why Taehyung was so against you. The two of you had never spoken more than three words to one another outside of promotional shoots where you were slated as an MC for the few shows variety was on.

Nevertheless, you tucked your head down and followed your other group members to the practice studio where you would dance for hours on in. You would practice until your limbs ached, taking every moment of a break as one step closer to the solace of your bed when comeback preparations were soon approaching. But every time you rested for just a moment, you could remember the echo of Kim Taehyung’s words. She doesn’t belong here.

Unbeknownst to you, not every member of BTS was antagonistic towards you. In particular, Jung Hoseok admired your tenacity more than anything. The two of you spoke in quick words, him congratulating you on your variety show appearances and complimented the way your freestyle had improved over the years. He was in complete awe of you.

“You’re here again?” His soft voice greets you at seven in the morning on the fifth-floor practice room of BigHit Entertainment. You would be embarrassed that you are currently laying on the floor looking utterly disheveled with your gray sweatpants loosely hugging your hips and the way your shirt is drenched with sweat if this were the first time.. but it had not been. He has two iced Americanos in hand and his lovely heart-shaped smile to match. “I swear.. you’re one of the hardest working people I know.”

His words lift your heart and you scramble to stand up and bow deeply to him, “Thank you, senior.” You say before bending a full ninety-degrees to show your respect.

“There’s no need for formalities… aish… are we not close?” Hoseok teases playfully as he places his keys onto the television monitor’s counter and shrugs off his jacket. He has always been one of the more friendly members of your senior group. Most likely because he catches you in the practice room four days out of the week when your leader, Roa, has not realized you snuck out of the dorms in exchange of the four walls. “You can just call me Hoseok. Or j-hope if it makes you feel better.”

You shyly rub the back of your neck, “I.. I suppose we are.” You admit sheepishly as you watch him pass you the iced americano into your hands. His hands are soft and gentle as they overlap over yours. “Congratulations on Billboard and the Grammy’s…. It must be very exciting,”

“Yah, yah, you said that yesterday.” Hoseok has always teased you as his hand raises to your head and pats it gently. In particular, Hoseok has always found your shyness cute. He thought it was sweet that despite years of being an idol, you still never lose the softer parts of yourself. “Let’s talk about you. And Reverie, huh?”

Your girl group, Reverie, had ultimately been a successful feat despite Korean netizens eager to question the validity of putting former IOI members and BigHit trainees as the first girl group the company would produce as opposed to using ‘fresh’ talent. Reading article after the article had made you insecure when they commented on your rather ‘boring’ facade compared to the other members that had charms that seemed to overflow. Were you that bad?

As though reading your thoughts, Hoseok gently clears his throat. “You should show me your dance.” He contends with a warm smile.

Despite only having these secret times in the practice room, Hoseok felt as though he could read you. He noticed your demure way of approaching things that were unfamiliar to you - the sharp contrast for when you performed on stage. If anything, he wanted to help you find the same confidence you felt on stage. He wanted you to find it with him.

“I can do that,” You say as you take another sip of your iced Americano and rush to place it in front of the mirror. You steal a peek from the corner of your eye as the older man settles into the chair and shrugs off his jacket. The other members (most likely Jimin since he tended to be as much of a practice fiend as he was) would not join for another half an hour, so Hoseok was eager to spend this time with you.

His eyes follow your every moment as he leans forward like a man entranced. He’s always admired the fluidity in your movement; the way that you texture changes without warning and how sharp each move is when it needs to be. Like water, you move as one with no disconnecting movements until you want it to be. Quite literally, he thinks your poetry in motion.

The latest comeback is equally as alluring as it is power-based. BigHit quantifying that girl groups should not be held to a double standard meant the choreography being just as difficult as your male counterparts. More than satisfactory for you, it let you feel a greater sense of accomplishment when you hear Hoseok’s claps of approval.

“You’ve improved a lot.” Hoseok remarks with a bright grin as he stands to his feet before walking over. “Though… I would say that this one move could be drawn out more. You’re focusing more on the timing rather than the execution.” He watches as your features contort at his words as you try to piece together what move in particular was he talking about. Could it had been the pas de bourrée? “Here,”

He moves closer to you with a reassuring look in his eyes as his hand rests on your shoulder and slightly presses down, “You’re supposed to have your shoulder go slack, right? You shouldn’t be so tense. Relax.” He says as his fingers trap down your arm to graze over your elbow and tuck it in more. “Your arm was taking away from the focus on your legs. You know the choreography, so why do you dance like you don’t?”

“Ouch,” You say with a forced laugh. You knew he meant well, but from to time, Hoseok did tend to critique you more like you were a member of his own group rather than a junior. Regardless, you were still thankful for his key eye for detail. You never would have deduced it was because he was looking out for you far more than just as a senior, but as something more. “You said last time you wouldn’t be so harsh,” You joke after mustering the courage after fixing your posture and your eyes reclaiming Hoseok’s.

Hoseok chuckles softly, “If I knew you couldn’t take it, I wouldn’t say it,” He remarks gently before turning on his heels beside you. “You’re practicing for the partner stage within the comeback, right? Then you should do it properly.” His voice lowers ever so slightly when he speaks, “With me.”

This hadn’t been the first time you had practiced with Hoseok. Early morning practices often consisted of him arriving at roughly the same time each day, if not earlier, with his small critique prior to him opting for a more hands-on approach. You saw it as nothing more of a senior looking after his junior, but Hoseok saw it as far more than that. How could he not when you were this cute without realizing it?

He wanted to ruin you.

Your thoughts melt away when you feel Hoseok’s hands settle onto your waist, pulling you closer to him as the two of you make eye contact. The way that he looks at you, his pupils slightly dilated with an intensity you can not quite discern, makes you let go of the breath you had not realized you were holding. How come it never felt like this when you were dancing with the actual backup dancers?

“Your leg should rest on my hip, like this,” Hoseok says as he purposely tucks his hand in the dip of your waist to press your waist against him. He’s warm to the touch, much like the sun itself and you have to bit back the blush that threatens to paint on your cheeks. “There, you’re doing good. You’ve always been good at listening.” He praises you as he guides you through the next move. Each moment you spend closer to him has you nearly buckling in the knees when his voice tickles your ear. Did he have any clue what the hell he was doing to you?

You may not have realized it, but Jimin ultimately did. The shorter man has grown familiar with the scene as he tucks his bag under his arm and lingers by the door to watch. He’s not surprised that Hoseok had shown up an hour early for practice in the wrong practice room when he leads you across the room. Jimin has to wonder if being attracted to you is infectious when it seems he is equally infatuated with you. Perhaps even more than Hoseok.

Jimin chuckles to himself as he pauses the music and leans against the door frame with an amused grin. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two were star-crossed lovers.” It’s almost biting the way your face changes of recognition when your eyes meet Jimin.

You immediately pull away from Hoseok to bow deeply to Jimin out of respect, “It’s not like that. He was helping me-“

“You should let me help you too,” Jimin almost pouts as he repeats the familiar action of discarding his jacket and strolling over. “I can dance too, you know?” He teases as he notices the chuckle that Hoseok had been holding back. Both of them found you being flustered adorable, especially when this normally wasn’t like you. What happened to the alluring siren on stage? They practically craved to have you put them in their place.

Unlike Hoseok, your history with Jimin runs deeper than your ties to BigHit Entertainment. The younger man had known you at your lowest point, kissed away your tears on the night that your first group, I.O.I, had disbanded after the project’s deadline came and went.

You had never mentioned it, but you remembers the last night in the IOI dorms like it was yesterday. You had never wanted to know the pain of your group disbanding again. You had called Jimin that night because you didn’t know who else to call. Somi had been crying in the bathroom for hours, saying how it felt like SIXTEEN all over again, and you could only console your dongsaeng for so long. Kyulkyung and Nayoung already were going to be debuting in PRISTIN with eight other girls as though IOI never existed and was another project group. The time zone left you unavailable to call you parents and Jimin was all you had…

“I’m always going to be here, you know that, don’t you?” Jimin had whispered into your ears as his fingers gingerly stroked your cheek. He looks into your eyes, hoping that your words give some semblance of comfort when your heart ached to no return. How many times would it be that you had to build yourself up to be strong just for everything to fall apart outside of your control?

You sniffle when Jimin makes you look into his eyes, “I-I-I know,” You stammer out as you try to regain your control over your emotions, but it hurt. It hurt so bad that your head was pounding and it felt like you could hear the blood rushing to your ears. “It just.. I just want it to stop hurting, Jimin..” You grip the fabric of his shirt as though he were the one person in this world that piece you back to gather.

“It will take time.. but I will be here until the very end.. you hear me?” He whispers as he stares into your eyes. His soft monolids drip honey when they meet yours. “YN-ah… look at me.”

With a sniffle, you nod, “I am.. I am…” You whisper as your eyes scan his own. You never quite realized how long his eyelashes are or the way he holds the entire galaxy in his eyes up so close. You never have clung to him this much either, so it leaves you a bit breathless when Jimin says nothing for a while, just admiring you. “Jimin?”

“Mmm?” He asks as he does his best to wipe away your tears and not think about how pretty you look right now. He was here just to comfort you, but why can he not stop himself from looking at your lips? From thinking about how badly he wants to help you forget and kiss you?

“You’re pretty,” You say simply as you sniffle slightly and wipe away a stray tear with your sleeve.

“You’re prettier,” He tells you with a soft laugh as his thumb brushes against her chin. He wonders how close it would be for him to close the distance between the two of you with just a kiss.

Jimin has always complimented you, reassuring you of your every perfection, but this time he seems to mean it a little bit more as he presses you tighter against his chest to hold you close.

“Jimin…” You whimper as you hug him closer to you. “Please.. please help me forget,” you whisper softly for just the two of you to hear.

So without thinking, you cup both of his cheeks to close the distance between the two of you. Your arms snake around his shoulders to pull him closer as his arms instantly wrap around your own waist. He is warm to the touch, but fits like a perfect puzzle piece.

Jimin can not say how many times he had thought of this moment - the way you would fit around him like missing puzzle piece. The way he would kiss away every worry from your pretty little head as his hands bunch up the sweatshirt at your waist as he would kiss up your stomach before peppering kisses along your thighs. He’s dreamed of what it would feel like to finally hear your soft moans for him and him alone, but he still holds back as he lets you take the lead. Especially when you are this sensitive.

His lips are soft and pouty; they feel like the inside of a rose as his jaw slacks to let your tongue brush against his own. The taste is sweet with a bit of a tangy flavor: much like that of strawberry lemonade when each finger that presses against your side feels like keys being paid against a piano. For the first time in a while, things feel stable, sure, certain.

You’ve never wanted anything more in your life. You have no doubts as your hips grind against his own on the floor of your dormitory. His moans are soft each time your hips rhymically brush against the hardening tent within his pants. You like this reaction from him, the way his hips buckle into your own as your own teeth begin to nibble along his plump ones to elicit another mewl of pleasure from him. He feels like a dream, the way his hold on you tightens to bring you closer to him ; a sneaky hand that brushes along your hip to graze against the strap of your bra and tug it down in anticipation. You’re thankful that your door is locked in case one of your fellow members were to walk in on you grinding against your best friend after a fit of tears. God, you want him. You want him. You want him.

“YN-ah….” He groans as you begin to paper kisses along his neck. “I.. I want this… you have no idea how badly I want this… but I don’t want this if you’re just trying to forget,” He whispers as he forces you back to look at him. “Do you understand that?”

You grow silent as you watch his chest pant up and down in excitement. You know he wants it as badly as you do. You would be a fool to not see the way that he looks at you like you are the only one in the room. But you feel ashamed from how quick you are to close the gap between friends and lovers in the blink of an eye. Would crossing this boundary ruin things for you?

Jimin wonders if you remember those memories as vividly as he does. Sure, it had been a couple of years since that time, but he could not forget the way you fit perfectly around his lips. The memorable roll of your hips that nearly had him crying for him to be inside of you. He could remember all of this when you stared at your figure years later no longer as just friends, but with you as his junior and him as his senior.

Was it incomprehensible that he would wish to cross those paths again?

- - -

Don't be a silent reader! Let me know what your thoughts are! How do you feel about Taehyung not liking the reader very much? What do you think about the reader with Hoseok and Jimin? Let me know your thoughts :)

[yourlocalfictionalenthusiast]

IN LIFE, IN DEATH...

PART SIX

:Masterlist:

Warnings: Swearing, fighting, angst (sorry <3)

A/N: this was definitely meant to be posted like a week ago but here it is! <3

---

August 1994

The florescent lights of the hospital waiting room were starting to give you a headache. 

They were way too bright and flickered every so often that it made you dizzy to look at them. But you needed something to focus on to stave off boredom, so you focused your attention on the clock on the wall.

It read just after midnight and you silently cursed yourself, quickly pulling out your flip phone and dialing your mom’s number.

She was probably asleep by now, but thinking about her possibly waiting up and worrying made your stomach turn. The line rang for a moment, but then the ending tone chirped and you were left with her answering machine.

“Hey, Mom. Uh, we had a little accident at practice. Luke was practicing his guitar throw and he kind of threw out his shoulder. I’m gonna drop him off at home and then I’ll probably just stay at the studio so I’m not biking home so late. Okay, love you. Bye.”

You hung up the phone and shoved it in your pocket just as Luke appeared from behind the door. The nurse said something to him that made his eyebrows furrow but he nodded. As you got closer, you realized that his right arm was wrapped in a sling.

“So, you’re not dying?” You joked.

“I might as well be.” Luke pouted, lacing his other arm through yours as you start to walk out of the building and into the parking lot. “They said I can’t play guitar for two weeks.”

You hummed sympathetically, knowing more than anyone how much that was going to drive him crazy. “This is what you get for trying to be all ‘Rockstar’”

“Excuse you.” Luke said. “I am a rockstar.”

“Uh-huh.” You sarcastically nodded.

“You’re a jerk.” Luke grumbled petulantly, resting his head on your shoulder. “Here I am, in unimaginable pain and you have no sympathy.”

“Here’s a tip for the future, if you want sympathy then don’t make me drive through Hollywood past midnight.” You teased, lightly shaking him to show that you weren’t actually serious.

“I’m still surprised that Bobby let you drive ‘Amber’.” He gestured to the car you were walking towards.

‘Amber’ was a present that Bobby had gotten for his birthday a few years earlier and it was his most prized possession. Normally, he never would’ve let you take it, but he didn’t feel like driving and taking Luke to the hospital in the basket on your bike seemed a little impractical. So he had handed over the keys reluctantly.

“You got something to say about my driving skills, Patterson?” You asked as you unlocked the car and settled into the driver's seat. Luke got comfortable in the passenger seat, and winced as he looked over at you.

“Don’t get me wrong, (Y/n). You are many things,” He said. “But a good driver isn’t one of them.”

You flipped him off as you started the car and started pulling out of the parking lot. It was quiet for a minute, but just as you turned back on the street, Luke turned on the radio and a familiar song filled your ears.

“Mmm, yeah!

Tonight, I want to give it all to you,”

“Oh no.” You laughed, knowing exactly what you were in for from the way that Luke’s eyes lit up. He grinned as he cranked up the volume and shifted in his seat as much as he could, ready to give you the performance of a lifetime.

‘In the darkness, there's so much I want to do

And tonight, I want to lay it at your feet

'Cause girl, I was made for you

And girl, you were made for me,’

You were trying your best to keep your eyes on the road, but it was hard when Luke was being so frustratingly cute.

His hair was still messy from rehearsal so it stuck up in different directions and he had a dorky smile on his face as he drummed his fingers against the center console. You pulled up to a red light and Luke looked at you expectantly.

You rolled your eyes, but gave in, taking one hand off the wheel to make a makeshift microphone. Luke grinned as you both began to sing.

‘I was made for lovin' you, baby

You were made for lovin' me

And I can't get enough of you, baby

Can you get enough of me?’

One song turned into two, then three, then before you knew it, you had pulled onto Luke's street.

Unlike the rest of the neighborhood, every light in the Patterson household was glowing bright yellow into the night and Luke let out a heavy sigh.

"Thanks for driving me." He said, his voice suddenly a little quiet. You looked up to the window to see the shadows of Luke's worried parents as they passed the curtains and suddenly the levity in the air was gone.

"Of course." You said.

You both knew what was about to happen.

Luke had told you all about the famous Emily Patterson meltdowns, and how they had been getting more and more frequent since he formed the band. Luke spraining his shoulder was only going to give his mom more reason to push Luke away from music.

From your music.

"Hey," You reached over and interlocked his pinky with yours, making Luke raise his eyes from his feet. "Don't let her get in your head, okay? Our music is important, and I know she'll realize that someday."

Luke’s eyes held yours for what seemed like an eternity before lightly squeezing his pinky around yours. “How do you always know what to say?”

You laughed. “’Cause I’m the greatest best friend ever.”

Luke smiled, his eyes slowly drifting from your still connected hands back up to your face. “Yeah, you are.”

The softness in his voice made your heart skip a beat. “I’m serious though. We’ll get into the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame someday and you’ll prove her wrong.”

Luke learned a little closer, his voice practically a whisper, "Is this your way of admitting that I actually am a rockstar?"

"Oh, shut up." You groaned as you threw your head back. "You're the worst, you know that?"

"You love me." Luke retorted.

"Unfortunately." You deadpanned. "Now get out of the car, dork."

Luke fake pouted as he wiggled out of his seat and started walking towards the door, he gave you a quick grin and a wave before disappearing into his house.

Once he was out of sight, you let out a sigh and leaned back against the seats, trying to remember the way his hand felt in yours.

---

2020

"(Y/n)! Where have you been?"

Alex demanded the second you stepped into the studio, a worried expression on his face. As soon as you left the diner so late, you knew that a lecture from Alex was coming.

"I’m sorry, Al." You said. "I just lost track of time."

"Were you with that guy from the diner?" He asked, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrow.

"Someone's in trouble." Reggie loudly whispered to Luke who was next to him on the couch. Just like usual, Luke barely spared you a glance before he glued his eyes back to his songbook.

"I don’t think you have any room to be teasing anyone about cute ghost boys.” You said, mirroring his position. “How was your afternoon with Willie?”

Across the room, you could’ve sworn Luke’s writing got heavier against the page. But when you looked over at him, he gave no other indication he was paying attention. 

“Don’t change the subject,” Alex's cheeks turned a little pink but he stood his ground. “You’ve been gone for hours.”

“Hey,” You walked up and rested your hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry I made you worry. But you don’t have to. I’m good.”

“Of course I’m gonna worry.” Alex said, finally dropping his grumpy face and nudging you. “What else are best friends for?”

This time it wasn’t your imagination, Luke’s writing was definitely getting harder, enough to where it was going to rip a hole in the paper. Reggie and Alex noticed this time too and you all exchanged confused looks but before anyone could say anything, Luke jumped up from the couch.

“So! We should get working on this song.” He puts the page on the piano for you all to read. “I could use your help on the bridge, (Y/n).”

Alex shot you one last confused look and you shrugged before shifting your focus to the song. It was mostly finished, and with Julie’s poem as a guide for the lyrics, you were confident that it would be one your best songs yet.

Next to you, Luke scanned the page with the edge of his pencil, pointing at things he wanted your opinion on. Even with all the tension surrounding the two of you lately, it was nice to know that you were still a great team when it came to music.

---

For someone who learned that ghosts exist, that four of them from the 90′s were living in her best friends garage, and that they were all in a band together in one afternoon,

Flynn took the news surprisingly well.

Which meant that once Julie agreed to join the band, Flynn immediately started coming up with T-shirt ideas and new band names. You weren’t surprised at all when Julie announced that Flynn had booked a gig at the school dance a few days later.

You had all decided on the setlist that morning and had been practicing all day. Which meant by mid-afternoon, you had everything memorized. Since it was the first performance with Julie as a part of the band, you figured that letting her take the lead with vocals would be a good idea.

During the second break of the day, Luke and Reggie were messing around up in the loft, leaving you and Julie with nothing to do. So she offered to teach you a little about piano. It was a slow-going process but you were slowly getting the hang of it. "Okay, so, like this?"

Julie watched carefully as your hand flew across the keys. You miraculously played all the right notes to the song that Julie had taught you over the past half-hour and she beamed.

“Yeah! That’s perfect!” She said, “Play it again.”

Your finger was about to press down on the key, but then Alex phased through the doors. Ever since yesterday, you had been waiting for a moment to tease him about Willie. It was only fair since he just grilled you about being out all day.

“Hey, Al.” You greeted as you stepped away from the keyboard and wiggled your eyebrows at him. “And just where have you been?”

“Yeah, man, we gotta start practicing.” Luke said.

“For what?” Alex asked just as Flynn came strutting into the room. You noticed the colorful paper in her hand and nodded your head toward it with a grin. 

“For that.” 

Flynn set the paper down on the keyboard to Julie to see.

Alex whined as he looked it over. “Aw, man. We’re playing a dance?”

“Yeah, it’s how you build a following these days.” Luke said as he plopped down into a chair.

“Yeah, get with the program, Alex.” Julie said and Luke laughed.

The sound drew your eyes to his face and you can’t help but stare at him as you tried to remember the last time you and Luke had joked around like that. It used to come so naturally, but now even just being around Luke felt like a ticking time bomb of awkwardness. 

Luke’s eyes flitted up to yours for just a second and for the next few moments you couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing.

Flynn shouted, breaking you out of your thoughts. “The band is here?”

She then proceeds to wave to the wrong side of the room and you laughed as Julie gestured towards where you all were actually sitting. You all still waved back despite knowing she couldn’t see you.

“Okay, so now that Alex has graced us with his presence, we should get back to rehearsing.” Luke said and everyone nodded in agreement.

But before any of you could move, Carlos strolled in. “Hey, Julie, remember those orbs from dad’s pictures? I think they’re ghosts.”

Julie’s eyes went wide as she looked at the photos Carlos set on the keyboard right in front of her. She looked back and forth between all of you as Carlos rambled on.

“But don’t worry.” He said as he spun in a circle. “This room is clean, I’m not getting any ghost vibes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Carlos was exactly what you always pictured a little brother would be like. You had always wanted a sibling, but the closest you ever got was Reggie.

“If they come back, I’ll protect you.” Carlos puffed out his chest a little. “Because I’m the man of the house.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t dad supposed to be the man of the house?”

“There can be two.” He said as he pulled a salt shaker out of his pocket. “According to the internet, salt burns out their souls.” 

Your eyes all got wide and you backed up until you were almost against the wall. Reggie and Luke both yelped and jumped up as Carlos spun in another circle. Alex screamed as salt went right through his torso, but he straightened a second later with a sheepish smile.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re such a drama queen.” You snort as Alex flipped you off. Julie nodded at Flynn to distract Carlos and she led him out through the doors and back up to the house.

Once they had left, you turned to Julie with an excited smile. "Wait, before we start, I wanted to show you some old Sunset Curve songs."

"Ooh, okay!”

Luke opened his songbook and a page quickly fell out. You instantly recognized the cramped but neat handwriting and laughed at Reggie. "'Home Is Where My Horse Is'? Again, Reg?"

Reggie beamed. "It's a gift."

"Thanks, Buddy." Luke patted his shoulder before opening his songbook to a page in the middle and laying it across the piano for Julie to see. 'I think you’d kill this one."

Julie’s eyes scanned the page for a moment before flipping through the book. "Who's Emily?"

The color drained out of Luke's face as he scrambled for the journal. But Julie kept it just out of his reach. "And this another one, 'She Is Love’? Who knew you were such a romantic?"

You shared confused looks with Alex and Reggie. Of course, you all knew about ‘Unsaid Emily’. Luke always eagerly shared every part of his music with the band, even if it was just a few scribbled lines or a riff he thought of off the top of his head.

But it was clear from the guy’s faces that none of you had ever heard this song. Luke writing a love song was weird in itself, but him not telling anyone about it was even weirder.

"It's just something I tried." Luke said, a faint blush on his cheeks. "But you should flip to the next one. It's got a killer beat."

He played one of the first songs you had ever written for Sunset Curve 'Last Place' and Julie nodded along with a confused look. "So you wanna use a sample?"

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"Sample someone else's music." She explained. "I've heard that riff a million times. It's a classic Trevor Wilson song."

"Who?"

With a couple of clicks on her computer, Julie pulled up a picture of a middle aged guy leaning up against a guitar and your head started spinning.

"Guys, is that...?" You trailed off, hoping that you were wrong.

"It's Bobby." Luke finished.

"Seriously? I just told you his name is Trevor." Julie said.

Alex ran his hands through his hair, a slight scowl settling on his face. "Okay well then he changed it. That's definitely Bobby, he was our rhythm guitarist."

"He looks so old." You said, resisting the urge to reach out and poke the screen.

"He looks like a substitute teacher." Alex added, producing a slight chuckle from Reggie. 

"Julie, what were his other songs?" You asked. You had a feeling the bad news was only beginning. 

"'Get Lost'." She said and your heart sank even further.

"I wrote that." Luke said as he tugged his strap over his head. You could tell he was getting angry beneath his calm exterior, and the same feelings were rising up inside you as Julie went on. 

"’Long Weekend'?' She continued. 

"That one too." Reggie said. "It took (Y/n) and Luke like a month to finish."

"This is freaking me out!" Julie rubbed her temples. "This whole time I thought you were connected to my mom. But you're actually connected to Carrie's dad?"

"Add it to our list of questions." Alex sighed, his leg bouncing as he sat in front of his drum set.

“We used to talk about music all the time.” Julie said sadly. “He never mentioned you guys.”

"Of course not." You scoffed and Luke walked across the room and threw a dart at the board with enough force to put a hole in the wall. “He takes all the credit and doesn’t even mention us.”

“And he’s rich.” Julie flipped her computer screen around to show a photo of a huge mansion. “He has his own helicopter.”

Luke abandons the darts and makes his way over to the screen as Alex jumps up. “Man, we live in a garage!”

“It’s not about the money.” Luke huffed. “It’s about the music!”

Reggie whined. “It’s a little bit about the money.”

“A little about the money.” Alex emphasized.

“He could have at least shared it with our families.” You said, thinking about your mom and how she used to work extra shifts to take care of the both of you. 

Reggie nodded in agreement. “Then maybe my parent’s house wouldn’t have gotten turned into a bike shack.”

Luke took a deep breath. ”What he did was steal our legacy.”

There was a moment of tense silence before he spoke up again.

“Where does he live?”

Julie hesitated. It was clear that all of you were angry, but Luke was on another level. His music was everything to him and being betrayed by Bobby was clearly getting under his skin. You gave her a pleading look and she sighed.

“Above the beach in Malibu.”

Luke glanced at the three of you, asking a silent question. You all nodded and Luke threw on his jacket, a look of determination on his face. “Let’s go teach him a lesson.”

Julie got up from the bench and tried to protest, but you all phased away.

-

As you walked into the front door of the mansion, a million memories raced through your head.

Of days when the five of you would go down to the pier or the park and play for hours, or take a drive around the city in Bobby’s car and talk about being famous one day. You used to joke about someone breaking off and starting a solo career, never actually thinking it would happen.

But clearly Bobby took it a little too seriously.

You and Alex walked to one side of the house while Luke and Reggie searched the other side. Every wall you could see was covered in awards and photos of his performances along with a giant portrait of his face right above the living room. From a little further down the hall, Alex shouted your name and you walked over to see him pointing at a display of shiny silver records.

“Have you seen these records? They’re Platinum.” He said.

“Platinum?” You repeated in disbelief. You ran your hands along the frame and were shocked that you could actually touch it. Across the room, Luke grumbled.

“He recorded ‘My Name Is Luke’.” He said. “My name is Luke!”

Suddenly, you heard the front door open and Bobby walked in.

“There he is!” Reggie called and you all turned to face him as he walked up the stairs. You snorted at his outfit choice and Reggie scoffed, clearly thinking the same thing. “He wears sunglasses indoors.”

Luke and Reggie started bouncing up the stairs after him but you and Alex hung back. 

“Wait!” Alex called. “You know, It’s my first time haunting someone. I want it to be special.”

You stifled a laugh as Luke and Reggie exchanged confused looks before continuing up the stairs.

“I made that weird, didn’t I?” Alex cringed and you patted his shoulder.

“Definitely.” You laughed as you nudged him forward. “Come on.”

You reached the top of the stairs just as Reggie and Luke phased through a door at the end of the hall. Alex was quick to follow but you found yourself stopped in front of what you assumed was Bobby’s office. 

It was a huge room with expensive guitars and fancy furniture. It looked like every other room in the house, but for some reason, you felt like you needed to look in there.

Alex noticed your hesitation and frowned. “You coming?”

“I think I’m gonna look around a little more.” You said.

“You sure?” He raised an eyebrow and you nodded.

Once he was gone, you walked into the room and spun around, taking in the sight of even more awards lining the walls. Your blood boiled thinking about all the hours you had spent writing them only for Bobby to take the credit.

You crossed to the desk to find the bottom drawer cracked open. You tried not to open it, but your curiosity won out. It slid open and you saw that it was completely empty except for an old shoebox that was pushed all the way to the back.

The lid was covered with a thin layer of dust like it hadn’t been opened for ages. It took a minute of pulling, but you finally got the lid off and peered inside.

The first thing you saw was a guitar strap. It was black with white skulls and flowers lining the sides. You recognized it instantly as the one Alex got Bobby for his 17th birthday.

The second was a picture of Sunset Curve playing at the winter formal freshman year. You cringed while looking back at your questionable fashion choices, but the memory still brought a smile to your face.

Finally, there were a few picks spread out across the bottom of the box, and a faded napkin from the diner. 

A wave of confusion and regret washed over you.

So Bobby hadn’t forgotten about all of you.

Maybe he was a music-stealing weasel that you wished you could deck in the nose. But why would he keep all of this stuff if he still didn’t care deep down? If that seemingly always grumpy but secretly dorky boy you had known wasn’t still in there somewhere?

Suddenly, you heard screaming down the hall and you quickly closed the drawer before following the noise. It led to the bathroom door, where Luke and Reggie leaned up against the wall as Alex held the door shut. Then he backed up and the door swung open.

Bobby stumbled out with a terrified look on his face, running down the stairs while he mumbled to himself. The boys laughed and high-fived, grinning at you before phasing out again. You groaned and started walking downstairs where Flynn was sitting on the couch rambling to Carrie as Julie snuck into the backyard.

You followed Julie cautiously, knowing that she would probably be mad at you for leaving earlier. When you walked through the screen door and heard her start to lecture the boys, you knew you were right.

“So, did you guys have fun?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“You would do the same if he stole your music.” Luke said defensively.

“But you guys have new music with me.” Julie added. “And the best way to get back at him is for this band to do great. First we have to play dances, then clubs.”

“Then tours. I know.” Luke said and Julie sighed.

“I’ll see you guys at the school. We go on at 9:00.” She frowned. “Please don’t be late.”

“We’ll be there.” Alex said reassuringly. “Don’t worry.”

Julie turned and walked back through the screen door, giving you a tight-lipped smile as she passed. 

“I don’t care what Julie says. I’m glad we scared Bobby.” Reggie said as he glared up at the mansion.

“I mean, maybe it was a little harsh.” You said and all of them stared at you in disbelief.

“Harsh?” Luke sputtered, like he couldn’t believe that just came out of your mouth.

“I found some stuff upstairs.” You tried to explain.

“What kind of stuff?” Reggie asked.

“The picture of us playing back in freshman year, some of our old picks, his old guitar strap.” You said, but the boys didn’t look convinced. “Guys, Bobby was our friend. We shouldn’t forget that.”

Alex and Reggie looked a little conflicted, but Luke didn’t budge. “How are you so cool with this?”

“I’m not!” You sighed, talking a little louder than you meant to. “God, of course I’m not okay with it, Luke. I put just as much of myself in those songs as you did. But I think we’ve done enough. Besides, it's not like we can even confront him anyway.”

“Maybe we can.” Alex said and you all turned to look at him. “I mean, Willie knows a lot about ghost stuff. Maybe he knows a way we could talk to him.”

“Let’s go find out.” Luke smiled mischievously.

You frowned but nodded. “You guys go. I’ll meet you at the dance.”

“(Y/n)-” Luke started but you had already disappeared in a flash of bright white.

-

If there was anything you didn’t miss about being alive, it was school dances.

You were always wrapped up in work or band stuff to be able to go, let alone ask anyone to be your date. Playing at the freshman winter formal was the first and only time you had ever set foot in a dance until tonight.

Your eyes scanned the gym in awe as you followed Julie through the dancing crowd. There were bright lights and balloons everywhere. There were a few kids dancing but it wasn’t very crowded, but it was still early and you hoped more people would be there to see you perform.

Once you and Julie reached the stage, Flynn grinned from behind her DJ booth and gestured to the backstage area. Julie fiddled with the bottom of her shirt nervously as you both walked behind the curtain.

Flynn gave Julie a hug and you laughed as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Are they here?”

“(Y/n) is.” Julie explained and Flynn waved in your general direction in response. “The boys will be here later. At least I hope.”

“I’m sure they will be.” You tried to reassure her. “They know how important this is.”

Flynn nudged Julie’s shoulder with a grin. “Well, let’s get your stuff set up then.”

-

By the time 11:00 rolled around, you were ready to track the boys down and kill them again.

The dance floor was twice as crowded as it was when you got there, and everyone was impatiently waiting for the main performance. You knew that wherever the boys were, they must’ve just lost track of time and didn’t know they were late. But that didn’t stop you from being angry. Especially when you saw the look on Julie’s face.

“Hey,” You sat on the floor next to her while she stared sadly at the projector. “I’m sorry they’re not here.”

Julie just shrugged. “I was really looking forward to playing tonight.”

Your eyes drifted to the crowd, then to the projector, then to Flynn and you got an idea. “Maybe we still can.”

She furrowed her eyebrows but there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“We can perform the songs. Just the two of us.” You started. “Flynn can play some backing tracks and we can still rock this place!”

Julie looked nervous and a little hesitant but she called for Flynn and the girl raced over immediately. She explained the plan quickly and Flynn grinned in approval and assured you that she would take care of the backup music.

A pit of butterflies opened in your stomach. You hadn’t performed without the boys for years, but with Julie to lean on, you were fairly confident that you could get through it without throwing up.

You went on with Julie as planned, pushing thoughts about what the boys must be doing off to the side so you could focus on the performance at hand. It wasn’t quite the same, but it didn’t seem like the audience could tell. You belted your hearts out as they danced along, and both yours and Julie’s nerves disappeared as you got lost in the music.

It ended with a thunderous round of applause and you and Julie taking a bow at center stage. You took your cue to phase away and there was another wave of cheering as Julie waved and joined you in the backstage area.

-

As the crowd of students began making their way home and the stage was being torn down, you sat on the gym floor beneath a colorful balloon arch with Julie. Flynn had made her way to the cafeteria, taking advantage of the fact that there were no adults to stop her. 

You watched the last few students leave, including the blonde boy you’d noticed staring at Julie all night. You turned to her with a playful smile. 

"So? When were you going to tell me about the cute boy who obviously likes you?" You teased and Julie sighed.

"Nick is Carrie's boyfriend." She said as her eyes drifted across the empty room and you smiled sympathetically. She elbowed the air next to your ribs, "When were you going to tell me about Luke?"

"What about Luke?" You asked, trying not to blush.

"Don't play dumb, (Y/n)." Julie smirked. "It's obvious."

You groaned, falling onto your back against the floor and Julie laughed. "How obvious?"

"(Y/n), you wear his jacket like everyday, and that song in his journal was one hundred percent about you." Julie laid down beside you.

You snapped your head sideways and Julie laughed again at your shocked expression. "What?"

"Come on." She said. "Who else could that be about?"

You thought back to earlier, when Luke looked like a deer in headlights as Julie read the title out loud.. But you knew there was no way that it was about you. I mean,  Luke never exactly had a shortage of girls that wanted his attention. 

Just as you were about to point this out to Julie, there was a series of bright lights and Alex, Luke and Reggie appeared in front of you. You and Julie stood up, wearing identical glares, the anger you both felt earlier returning in full force. But before you could say a word, Luke launched into an apology.

“We are so sorry that we bailed on you guys.”

“The night just got away from us.” Alex added, looking everywhere but your face.

“It was about Carrie’s dad, wasn’t it?” Julie asked and when none of the boys answered, she scoffed. “You know what? Save it. Bands don’t do this to each other, friends don’t do this to each other. This whole thing was a mistake.”

“You mean the dance, right?” Luke asked hopefully and Julie shook her head.

“I meant joining a band with you guys.” She said, trying to keep a straight face. You could tell she was holding back tears as she ran out of the gym.

Once she was gone, you took a deep breath and faced them.

Alex immediately stepped forward, guilt etched on his face.”(Y/n), We’re so sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should worry about apologizing to.” You said, looking towards the doors where Julie left just a second ago. Alex followed your eyes and sighed, grabbing onto Reggie’s shoulder and steering him towards the door.

There was a moment of heaviness as you took another deep breath. You realized with a start that this was the first time you and Luke had been alone in months. Talking used to come so easily between the two of you, but now you found yourself struggling to find your words. 

“We really are sorry, (Y/n).” Luke said quietly. “We didn’t mean to hurt Julie. Or you.”

You scoffed, kicking your foot against the linoleum of the gym floor, “But you did, and for what? A chance for revenge?”

“No! Well, yeah. But there was something else that happened. You won’t believe-”

“What could’ve been more important than being here?” You asked, cutting him off. You forced yourself to look up and found him looking back at you intently. 

“If you just let me explain, I promise I would never purposely leave you hanging.” 

“But you have been leaving me hanging, Luke!” You fired back, your voice nearly echoing in the empty room. The second the words left your mouth, you felt nauseous. After months of keeping those words on the tip of your tongue, you had expected saying them to feel better.

Luke winced at your words, but kept your gaze, “Hey, I know I’ve been..” He paused, knitting his eyebrows together, “distracted”. 

“That’s one word for it.” You said and Luke took a cautious step closer.

“It’s just that everything has changed so much.” He said, and for the first time tonight, he looked away, “Even before we died.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off, seemingly unable to stop rambling.

“It’s like there’s so many things I’ve been trying to say, but I can’t make the words come out. And it all gets so tangled up in my head and I just end up saying nothing.”

You could see him getting more frustrated as he continued on. “I’m sorry for everything. For being late, for being such a shitty friend and being so far away lately. I just-”

He took another step forward, eyes never leaving your face. “I’m just afraid of losing everything.”

There was an edge to his voice, like it was hard for him to get the words out. As he inched a little closer, you reached out your hand, fingers inches away from his when suddenly he jumped back. A purple shock flashing in the middle of his chest.

Luke fell to the ground, groaning as he clutched his side. You crouched next to him and his eyes fluttered open slowly. “Ow.”

“What the hell was that?” You asked and Luke sat up.

“I don’t know.” He said, rolling his shoulders, “That’s never happened to me before.” 

Suddenly, Alex and Reggie phased back into the gym, both of them looking just as shocked. 

“Guys, something so weird just happened.” Reggie exclaimed. Alex took in the sight of you and Luke sitting so close to each other and cleared his throat.

“Should we come back later?”

You glared at him. “Let me guess, you guys also got shocked with creepy purple magic?”

“How’d you know?” Reggie asked, wide-eyed.

Alex sighed at him before he turned back to you. “We definitely need to figure out what the hell just happened.”

“Yeah, let’s go home.” You said and Luke cleared his throat, staring at Alex and Reggie.

“Uh, you guys go. We’ll be there in a minute.”

Alex gave you a questioning look and you nodded, and with another flash, they phased out.

It was quiet for a minute as you both processed everything that just happened. You and Luke hadn’t had a fight like that since you were kids, and that was the most he had said to you in over half a year. Your head was spinning with all the change.

Luke rubbed the back of his neck and you could almost feel how nervous he was. “So..”

“So…” You repeated.

Luke turned a little more towards you and quickly wrapped his pinky around yours. He gave it a gentle squeeze as he smiled.

“Truce?” Luke asked.

You nodded, smiling as you squeezed back. “Truce.”

-

In Life, In Death Taglist:

@ifilwtmfc @instabull @wanniiieeee @tenaciousperfectionunknown @charliegillespiewife @merceret @itismeasmolpotato @lilostif16 @dangerouslyclose @iainttakingshitfromnobody @givemebooksorgivemedeath @sunsetcurvedotmp3 @askgeoff @mayleenicole5676 @puppy11148 

JATP Taglist:

@caitsymichelle13​

Let me know if you want to be added!

[mrs-miya]

truth or drink → friends with benefits edition

warning: not proofread; alcohol/drinking; mentions of sex and threesome.

genre: angst if u rly squint; fluff; slight suggestive

a/n: reblogs and feedback are appreciated! i had this idea yesterday when was about to sleep lol. i kinda rushed into this as well..? i wanted to post something writing related here hhh

atsumu: i’m atsumu

y/n: and i'm (y/n)

together: we’re friends with benefits!

the two of you laughed before looking at the director to ask if you can drink before the game starts.

y/n: can we? i feel terribly nervous about this.

“go ahead.”

you raised your shot glass as atsumu raised his, clanking it together before drinking the whiskey.

“how did you two meet each other?”

y/n: college. it was our first year and we both had the same class. we never really... conversed that much before unless it’s school-related.

atsumu: she was always present at my club mate’s parties, i’m gonna be honest here, i never really took her as a partygoer until i saw her dancing shamelessly with her friends. nothing indecent, it was actually funny because she doesn’t have any moves.

y/n: hey-!

seeing your reaction, atsumu let out a laugh causing you to pout at him.

“how long have you been friends with benefits?”

atsumu: almost 2 years now. started when we were in our last year of college.

atsumu: you ready for the first question?

he glanced at you for your approval before grabbing a card from a container.

atsumu: what should we call our relationship?

y/n: like i- we said, we’re friends with benefits!

atsumu only laughed at your answer.

y/n: rate my- oh wow, this early in the game?

you looked at the stage crew then to atsumu who seems to be clueless at the current situation

atsumu: go on, rate your what?

you shook your head, trying not to cringe at the question that you’re going to ask out loud.

y/n: rate my performance in bed...

atsumu stared at you for a millisecond, processing the question in his mind. then, with a smirk on his face, he folded his arms and looked at the camera.

atsumu: oh that’s easy. she’s an 11— 11/10. i wanna say a bigger number but it might sound cheesy.

y/n: when was the last time you’ve slept with a person that’s not me?

atsumu: 3 years ago, at suna’s party.

y/n: that was before we had... this relationship. You’ve never really slept with anyone else recently? or last year?

atsumu shook his head, smiling at you.

atsumu: you?

y/n: well i don't think i did. unless i was too drunk to remember – hopefully that didn’t happen.

atsumu: as far as i know, it didn’t.

y/n: oh, well, thank God.

atsumu grabs a card and his eyebrows perked up at the question he’s now going to ask

atsumu: oh~ this is an interesting question.

y/n: you’re making me nervous, tsum.

he looks at you, a smirk formed on his face as he read the question outloud.

atsumu: have you ever thought about having a threesome with me and a friend?

now it was your turn to get flustered, you held up your palms and covered your face to it, contemplating if you’re going to drink to it or not.

y/n: well, i’d be lying if i said i haven’t.

atsumu: really? with who?

y/n: yeah. but to answer your second question, i’m going to drink to that.

atsumu leaned back on his chair, groaning at your answer. he makes a mental note to pester you about it later.

y/n: now it's my turn to ask a spicy question.

atsumu: ask it away, ’m not afraid to answer ‘em.

y/n: yeah you never drank to a question.

y/n: anyway, name your favorite and least favorite place we had sex in.

atsumu: hmm, my favorite would be the kitchen counter. but my least favorite...

he dragged out the last word, shaking his head at the same time.

atsumu: i can’t believe i’m going to do this...

atsumu takes the shot glass beside him, drinking the whiskey in one go.

y/n: hey, if it makes you feel better i wouldn’t answer that too!

when atsumu picked the top card, he let out a sigh as he mentally read the question.

atsumu: are you afraid of commitment?

y/n: you know full well i’m not.

you gave him a soft smile.

“how about you atsumu?”

atsumu: ... before, yes. i was afraid of commitment, like really afraid of it. but now... i’ve been thinking about it and maybe it doesn’t sound so bad.

atsumu let out a quiet chuckle, avoiding your eyes.

y/n: this is why 2 of his exes left him.

atsumu: hey now, those are all in the past!

y/n: after a few months of being friends with benefits with him, i asked him a question - only out of curiosity. i asked him if we could be... something more and he said that he doesn’t see us being ‘something more.’ it’s understandable, honestly, considering the relationship we’re in.

you smiled at the card in front of you before looking at atsumu.

y/n: do you think i love you?

atsumu: i do. in fact, i’ve known for a while, not to sound too cheesy but i can see it through your eyes. it shines differently than when we started.

a small gasp came out of you before mumbling a “how?” to yourself.

“what about you (y/n)? do you think atsumu loves you?”

the way you’re playing with your fingers as a sign of nervousness didn’t go unnoticed by atsumu.

y/n: i’m not sure, to be honest. sometimes, i feel like he loves me and wants us to be ‘something more.’ but when i think about that, i also think about what he said a year ago. i don’t know..! he makes me confused.

you covered yourself with a laugh, hoping you weren’t assuming the wrong things.

a woman from backstage handed you two cards, one for each of you.

y/n: this is the last question right?

the woman nodded at you before leaving the set. you gestured atsumu to go first, his mind preparing for what’s about to be asked and answered. he took a short breath before flipping the card to read the question

atsumu: do you love me?

y/n: now that the cat’s out of the bag... yes, i love you.

atsumu: okay... your turn.

the set was still, the two of you talking to each other almost in whispers. as you flipped your card, you suddenly felt like your stomach was filled with butterflies.

you bit your lip in agitation before looking at atsumu.

y/n: it’s— it’s the same question.

atsumu positioned himself properly, both arms on the table. he exhaled as he gazed at you longingly.

atsumu: if you think i don’t... then you’re wrong. i love you too. probably more than how i think i do.

extra:

y/n: did you just ask me out? in a video?

atsumu: i guess so. i can ask you out again later if you want.

you both let out a hearty laugh causing the stage crew to laugh with you.

y/n: i’m gonna come over later and we’re gonna talk about this properly.

atsumu: come over? just live with me, most of your clothes are there anyway.

y/n: are you now asking me to move in with you..?!

[kanene-yaaay]

Sentence Starter - Part 2

I decided to gather all my Sentence Starters in a post. This is the second round!

I know I already said thankys before but, really, thank you so much for your support, it means the world for me. <3

[~.~]

[Gee these covers are lumpy, better fix the covers up!]

"Gee, these covers are lumpy, better fix the covers up!" Mina wormed her hands under the giggly boy, fishing a loud shriek as she vibrated her thumb between his shoulder blades and her other hand squeezed his sides, resulting in a more desperate wiggling from her victim. "Squish, squish, squish the squirmy Ojiro to fix all the lumps!"

"I AHAHAM NOT A COHOHOVER!"

"Hmmm, I don't know if I am convinced," her eyes glinted when the blond arched his back and her hands immediately dashed to scratch his incredibly, horribly ticklish lower back. "I mean, why else would I find such a cute squeaky toy, oops, I mean, cover in my bed?" Bubbly squeals painted Ojiro's laughter almost as strong as the red that painted his cheeks as he shook his head, protesting.

"I ahaham not s-squeheheaky!" Mina's nails scribbled and grazed on his ribs, the quick, high pitched sounds that flied from his lips contradicting his own words. "That doesn't prove anything!" The tailed teenager managed to breath out before descending in belly laughter again.

His pink friend matched his laughter in response, slowing her silly tickly attack as tears began to form on the other's eyes, pinching and poking his tummy in order to keep the adorable giggles filling the air. The cute wiggles from him and his tail were a bonus, as well.

"Hard day?"

Ojiro nodded, a smile still plastered on his face.

"It was. Your behed is fluffyhihihi. Sorry fohohor intrudihihing."

She waved his worries off, "it's no problem! Just give me a warn next time so I won't lay on you again, okay?"

Ojiro snickered, remembering the scared screams from they both when a few minutes ago Mina decided to jump on her bed and didn't even realize the strange lump that was Ojiro sleeping under all the comforters and plushies.

"I will."

"Good." The pink haired girl then cracked her fingers, a dangerous smirk spreading on her face, probably an effect of being Bakugou's friend, and making goosebumps ran freely on Ojiro's spine.

"No no nohoho!" He shot his hands up in an a placating gesture, excited giggles already falling from his mouth. "I already agreed with you! Please!"

Mina pouted in faux empathy. "Sorry, friendo, but your squeaky squeaks and wiggly wiggley wiggles are just too much cute for me to not tickle you again!"

"Ihihi don't," a snort cut his sentence, "I don't dohoho any of that!" He says, in between his wiggles and squeaks.

"Well," She attacked his armpits, a blinding smile taking over her features as the other began to giggle and snicker non stop. "I am sure we can compromise, eventually."

[~.~]

[I wouldn’t say that with the position you’re in, star student]

"I wouldn't say that with the position you're in, star student." Sero grinned, the non said threat falling heavily between them.

Todoroki blinked, stopping his struggles to lay limply on the floor, still staring the black haired friend on top of him, the fake dagger pressed on his neck.

"It doesn't make sense." Sero threw his hands up, exasperated. Shoto turned to look at Momo, who signalized at Jirou to stop the filmation. "If he's just got into my house in the middle of the night to kill me how does he know about my grades?"

"Well, maybe you just look like a super genius or something!" The other actor retorted, shoving his face on his hands and then on the floor as Todoroki stared at him with an unconvinced expression.

"Or," Kaminari jumped in, ignoring his friends dramatics "he can be his archenemy, building his hate and revenge plan since Todoroki did.... Something bad at him in the school."

Todoroki piked up at the opportunity to put another conspiracy in the movies' plot. "That could make sense."

"Don't encourage him." Jirou smirked at the protesting 'hey!' shouted by the other, preparing another snarky remark before being cut by Momo's voice.

"We're not making any more changes on the plot. We will just remake this scene and then everyone can go home, okay?"

"I think Izuku would lose it if we asked for him to rewrite another part." Nods and mumbles of agreement to Sero's words filled the room as all the occupants remembered the boy's determined rant of why the dagger's blade shouldn't be completely straight nor silver. "Anyway, I still need to buy that new Fatgum's game that came out. Let's move on."

"I can't," the dual haired actor claimed, a blank face "you're sitting on top of me."

And, for a moment, as the pun sank on his friends' brain, only silence met him.

Then Jirou and Kaminari immediately broke in loud laughter, Momo hiding her own chuckles behind her hand.

"Oh my god," Sero bit his own laughter in order to try to look at least a bit serious as he attempted to glare at Shoto. "You think you are so funny, don't you?"

Smugly, Todoroki let the corner of his lips twitch.

"Let me help you to show what is funny, then!"

"Wait-" but he was too late, before the words even came out from his mouth Sero was already dancing his fingers on his sides, switching between squeezing them quickly to scribbling and prodding at his ribs, yelps and guffaws already spinning in the air. "Dohohon't! Wait, wahahahait!!"

The black haired friend laughed with him, his blinding smile and uncontrollable giggles being too much adorable to resist. "I think you actually meant 'I am very sorry for ever complaining about your great performance, my amazing friend Sero.', right?"

Todoroki shook his head, gasping and squirming harder when Sero experimented clawed at his stomach, a series of quiet nononono's and pleaseplease's spilling freely from his lips.

"Tsk. Not even close, man. But don't worry, we have aaaaall the afternoon." A snort escaped from Todoroki and he hid his face on his hands, making Jirou 'aww' and Kaminari shout a 'wait wait make he do it again!' "So take your time, OK?" And then, in a quieter voice "If I go too much far just hold my wrists and I will stop."

A barely there nod showed that the other had heard him, however, as his hands continued to hid his face, bright laughter and shy giggles still filled the studio for much more time.

[~.~]

[Oh yeah! I told you’d they’d win! Ha! Pay up, Midoriya!]

"Oh yeah! I told you they'd win! Ha! Pay up, Midoriya!"

"B-but this is not fair! Tokoyami bought the victory by offering to do Shoji's dishes! That is not a-!

"There is nothing against this in the rules." Tokoyami shrugged, still panting from the sparring. "And I just remembered there is Midnight-sensei's paper for tomorrow that I didn't even start."

"Sorry, Midoriya. But we will have much more training in the future, still, and your analysis really helped me! You're right, maybe starting to use some weapon, since a hand to hand combat can give my quirk some damage, will be a good advantage." The taller teenager waved at them, Dark Shadow mirroring him enthusiastically as they followed Tokoyami back at the dorms. "I should search for options before choosing. Thank you for the cheering."

Kaminari waved back before turning to Izuku, his smile getting bigger as he saw his protesting pout. "Aww, is someone angy?" He hugged him from behind, snickering when he saw a glimpse of a smile on the other's expression before an exaggerated frown took over, green eyes deviating from his teasing grin.

"I know you want to smile. ~" Denki delivered a couple of pokes on his stomach, an evil idea full of wiggly fingers and giggly squeals blossoming on his mind. "Maybe the 1-A sunshine need some cheering up after being such sore loser? ~"

Midoriya turned on his embrace, now being face to face at him, determination burning on his features.

"Maybe I do!"

And then he blew a raspberry right on that spot where his neck and collarbone met. A loud, surprised squeak answered him and he was quick to dig on Kaminari's hips, being so careful and so mindful to give plenty of attention and tickles to every sensitive inch of flesh, don't forgetting to still deliver smaller raspberries at random spots on the blond's neck, successfully ending with all his coordination to get revenge.

"Whahahahat!! That is nOT-" A snort, more bubbly giggles. "That is not fahahhair!!!"

"But you're helping me to cheer up. See, I have no more pouts and no more frowns thanks to you!"

"Then stop!"

Kaminari tried to squirm his way out of the ticklish embrace, finding that maybe bringing Midoriya to his lap when he decided to tickle-hug him wasn't his best idea.

"I don't know. I think I am still a bit grumpy..." He stopped his attack in order to gently trace that spot right on the blond's right third rib, drawing circles around it and trying to not giggle together when Denki's bubbly snickers filled the air. "Maybe you amazing laughter can help me with that!"

[~.~]

[You know, this fluffy duster feels a lot like your tail...]

"You know, this fluffy duster feels a lot like your tail..." Izuku said, thoughtfully, a particular idea shining on his mind that may or may not was inspired by yesterday's Great Tickle Fight.

"Really?" Ojiro, (un)fortunately, didn't notice the danger hidden on the smaller's words, petting the duster and the fluff on his tail for a bit in comparison. "It really is. But it's not stronger like mine tail!" He made a show of flexing the aforementioned, both chickling at his silliness. "Oh, are you going to clean the curtains? I can help!"

A plan formed on Izuku's mind. He controlled his features to not show the playful grin that threatened to take over his face.

"Yes. Could you hold that part right there?" He pointed to a high spot on the fabric. "I can't research it."

"No problem!" The blond smiled and did as asked, not realizing the way Midoriya stepped closer nor how his shirt exposed a small patch on his stomach with his new position. "Like this?"

"Yes!" Izuku, then, shoved the fluffly, soft, tickly duster under his shirt, instigating a loud squeak to escape from the other.

"Midoriya!!"

But he didn't let go of the curtain, a smile spreading on his face.

"Yes?"

"Dohon't"

The green haired boy slightly moved the duster, quick enough to make the bristles of the feathers to barely tease the skin, but only that. Another yelp and a few giggles leading Ojiro to try to hide his red face on his shoulder.

"Don't what?" He beamed.

A small shook of head, a shy giggle. "Ihim not falling for thahat."

"Aw. But I am going to tickle you anyway!" Ojiro yelped, trying to curl on himself, however immediately regretting his decision as the movement shot light shocks across his torso, every feather following his squirms. "Yes! I am going to tickle, tickle, tickle you until all those cutes squeals and nice laughter trapped inside are free. As a future hero, it's my job to help them!"

"Dohohon't say that word." His words were in vain, especially because now Midoriya carried that determined look, thoughts racing on his mind as his hands continued to keep the duster on the same place.

"Maybe I should try to tickle his stomach first? I could start wiggling the duster there and then change to his sides and ribs or maybe I could start on his sides and ribs going up and down a few times and then tickle his stomach as I change from a side to another. The element of surprise is always a powerful tool so I should always change from going extremely soft and low to more quick attacks! I wonder if I can try it on his tail too? I could-"

"Ihihizuku, please!" The one being called snapped out of his rambling by a very flustered, giggly Ojiro, who still held the curtains as if his life depended on it. "J-juhust do it already, plehease."

And Izuku was happy to oblige.

[~.~]

[As nice as this is, we really should get up]

"As nice as this is, we really should get up." Tokoyami said softly, patting the green hair of the head which rested on his shoulder, - it was really as fluffy as it looked! - almost snorting when Midoriya squinted his eyes at the credit's playing on the screen. "Everyone else already went to their room."

Izuku looked around, as if he just realized all his friends decided to call it a night when President Mic - who has been called both due his good taste in movies and to keep an eye on them and their ability to cause chaos - woke up half of the class as he fell asleep in a bad position and started snoring, accidentally activating his quirk.

"It's not-" A yawn cut Izuku's words and pulled Tokoyami away from his thoughts. "It's not a movie night if we can't watch at least five movies."

"Oh no, the horrible punishments that the Universe will bought upon us after such terrible offense. What we shall do in the face of that helpless fate?"

Midoriya lightly shoved him away, a sleepy smile taking all the seriousness from his frown. "N't f'nny."

Tokoyami started to softly scribble his fingers on the other's neck, following him as he tiredly wiggled away, no real fight on his movements.

"Then why are you laughing?"

"Tohohokoyami! Naha!"

"What? Wait... Is this the punishment from the Universe?" Maybe it was because it was so rare for his friend being this playful, or because the drops of faked seriousness painting his words, but Midoriya found himself giggling harder, a bubbly tittering escaping as the tickling traveled to behind his ears. "Giggling and wiggling until we inevitably give up and decide to watch movies until the end of our brief mortal existence, oh, the pain."

"You're so sihihihilly!"

"Me, the embodiment of darkness ‘silly’? Oh, Midoriya, what have they done to you?" His tune was bathed in faux pity.

"Plehehehease!" Tokoyami decided to travel to the smaller boy's sides, scratching and poking them lightly enough to keep the flow of airy laughter and rare squeaks as a reward for the sudden, quick pinches. "It tickles! It tickles so much!"

"The Universe is tickling you? Will the cruelness ever end? Ah, the struggles someone as ticklish, so, so ticklish as you must be going through... Do not give up, Midoriya!" He did his best to not huff in amusement as the aforementioned hugged him, hiding his face oh his chest and muffling his louder laughter due the teases. "Don't let its darkness to dim your light."

His fingertips grazed the back of his ribs, Izuku only giggled harder, "Okahahay, Okay! We- no, not there! - we can go slehehehep!"

Tokoyami stopped the light tickling, waiting for the moment green eyes locked on his before proceeding, a deadly serious gaze on his face.

"Don't." Izuku warned.

"But the Universe's punishment-"

"O-oh my GOD!"

[~.~]

[i did not say that!]

"I did not said that!" But the giggles were already spilling out.

"Yes!!" Izuku, the traitor, couldn't be any more happy, basically sparkling as the feathers of his wings fluffed up in amusement. "You did! You did! You did! I am totally going to do that, now!"

Kirishima was quick to retrieve a pillow and prepare it to a fight, pointing it at his guardian angel with a half groan, half giggle. "That is not fair, man!! You can't ask questions when I am about to sleep, I always say the first thing that pops in my mind!"

"It wasn't really my original intention," the angel smiled sheepishly. "Humans' need to sleep are still confusing to me... But!!" He crept closer, fingers wiggling. "That only means that when you said yesterday..."

"No."

"That you likes when I-"

"No!" Big smiles, small giggles. "Come on. Shut up!"

"-that you like when I tickle you-" The rest of the sentence was a squeak as the red haired boy jumped at him, his soft weapon firm on his hands, and both dashed across the room in a chase. "I knew it!" Izuku laughed, - laughed. Not shyly giggled or awkwardly grinned, - pleased that one of his theories about his protected human (and friend) was right.

Damn, Kirishima wanted to at least fake a pout and put on a real fight, but how could he when the magical being was acting so happily? When he was so full of joy?

That didn't stop him from tackling his friend on the floor, both rolling in a playful roughhousing and playing fair until Kirishima felt something incredibly, impossibly soft on his neck, wide eyes as he realized only now how Midoriya's wings were stretched around him, almost engulfing both beings on its length.

The soft feeling came back, now scribbling all over his neck, sending tickly shocks through his body and weaking his strength, something which allowed the other launch his arms around his waist, hugging Eijirou from behind and leaving him to freely stare at some free feathers that slowly swung on his direction, aiming for his tickle spots.

Izuku felt a bit worried when the human stopped squirming.

"If I last 30 seconds without laughing you will let me go to that Parkour classes on Monday."

"But they're dangerous," Eijirou interrupted him, "you can use your magic feathers."

He could almost feel the angel thinking, analysing his options.

"Forty-five seconds."

"I will get you back and ask Shinsou to help me."

Pout. "You're mean."

A feather wriggled on his bellybutton, cutting any snark answer that the human had to that.

More feathers appeared in front of him. Adrenaline ran on Kirishima's veins at the idea of his new challenge.

"Deal."

[...]

Sidenote: Shinsou is Kirishima's cat. He loves to randomly lay and nap on the angel, but for some reason his purring tickles Izuku. He likes to purr a lot. Izuku is almost sure the feline knows what he is doing. Kirishima think the whole situation is hilarious.

[twstarchives]

Scary Dress・Voice Lines

● Event: Scary Monsters (October 14 - November 26, 2020) ● Exclusive Cards: Deuce, Kalim, Epel, Idia, Malleus, Lilia, Azul, Jack, Jade, Vil, Cater

Deuce Spade - R

Unlock Card “This school event is meant for everyone to have fun. I’m going to make sure this Halloween’s a success!”

Groovy “You’re not getting away from me... I’ll scare you till you're trembling to the bone!”

Home Setting “I’m a skeleton ghost that’s risen from the grave! BOO!”

Home Transitions “These are our special costumes, so make sure you’re careful with them. Grim, that means don’t claw on the lace.”

“When I was a kid, there were times when I used to start sobbing because I thought there was a monster outside. But it was actually just the laundry drying out there... Oi, stop laughing!”

“I got some treats from Epel. There’s a lot of them, so I thought I’d share with you. You know the secret code, right?”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Happy Halloween! You just can’t help but get excited around this time of year.”

Home Taps “I saw Draconia a while ago. Seeing him walk around in that serpentine dragon costume so valiantly made him look cooler than ever.”

“I got a text from my mom—she said she wants to see my costume. I don’t mind sending her one, but I don’t know how I feel about taking a selfie... Prefect, could you take one of me?”

“I’m used to seeing the ghosts on campus, so they’re not that scary. Our terrifying dorm leader Rosehearts, on the other hand...”

“Viper fixed the lace on my hat for me. I feel like the vice leaders in every dorm are really caring.”

“Hey, you! You want me to bury you!? S-Sorry. I was practicing my scares; I didn’t mean to say that to you, Prefect.”

Kalim Al-Asim - R

Unlock Card “Are you all ready to have some fun? Alright! Come on and follow my lead! One, two—Happy Halloween!”

Groovy “Grr... Pain shoots through my body whenever I look at the full moon. You better watch your back if you start to hear some howling.”

Home Setting “Growl! I’m a werewolf now.”

Home Transitions “Rook knows a lot about wildlife, and he told me all kinds of things about wolves. It was really useful.”

“I always carry around candies this time of year. This way anyone can tell me ‘Trick or treat’ anytime!”

“My magic carpet seems pretty excited for Halloween too. I’m competing with it to see who’s the scariest!”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “A party that everyone’s stoked about—that’s what Halloween is! Let’s have fun together! Growl! Growl!”

Home Taps Whine! Grrrrr! Bark! *cough!* “It’s hard trying to sound like a wolf...”

“I feel like it’d be so much more exciting if Cater, Lilia, and I dressed up for our band performances. Don’t you think so?”

“Jade said his costume is a mummy. If you wore clothes like that in the Scalding Sands, you’d get so hot that you might actually turn into one.”

“I like this costume; its design is really reminiscent of the Scalding Sands. Plus it’s easy to move in. It fits for dressing up as a werewolf.”

“Hm? You want to try scaring me? Spare me from any tricks, though. Ahaha!”

Epel Felmier - R

Unlock Card “Boo! Did I spook you? Hehe. I’ll come scare you again if you let down your guard.”

Groovy “Struggling against me is useless... I think. You won’t get away from me.”

Home Setting “Now, Halloween has begun!”

Home Transitions “Wah! Oh, crap!¹ I stepped all over my cloak. If Vil saw me, he’d get mad and say ‘It’s not proper to run around like that.’”

“I carved some of the pumpkins that are decorating the school. Mine have ghosts and our dorm’s emblem on them. Try to find them, okay?”

“Hey, have you seen the decorations on Main Street? They’re all so pretty, and really marvy².”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “I think this is the first time I’ve celebrated such a festive Halloween. In my town, the festivals feel a lot more scaled down.”

Home Taps “Halloween celebrations in my hometown are never this big, but I can promise you the food’s always delicious. I want you all to come see it someday.”

“Riddle got really passionate when we were talking about the treats for Halloween earlier. Sweets are just amazing, aren’t they?”

“I’m a first-year just like Deuce and Jack, but I wish I could scare as well as they do. But only practice makes perfect!”

“Tremble in fear! ...No. That’s not menacing enough... Ah! What if I put ketchup around my mouth?”

“Huh!? A treat? Sorry. I finished handing all mine out. But I’ll peel an apple for you later, so don’t give me a trick or anything... Okay?”

Idia Shroud - R

Unlock Card “E-E-Even I get excited for events sometimes... Is that bad!?”

Groovy “Anyone who sees what’s beneath my helmet won’t be leaving here unharmed... Hehehe!”

Home Setting “Wahaha! The Pumpkin Knight has arrived!”

Home Transitions “Every time Ortho tells me ‘Trick or treat,’ I give him some candy, but earlier he got mad and said ‘Let me have a trick too.’”

“You need to know your etiquette to have fun with events. That’s true no matter what world you’re in.”

“This time of year, they’re always having tons of huge events in gacha games. I’ve got an overwhelming lack of free time.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Weheehee~... Happy Halloween. Huh? Why are you making that face? Is it that weird to see me pumped up?”

Home Taps “Hiding my face under a helmet really lets me relax. The downside is it’s a little hard to breathe, though.”

“Wh-What are you dressing up as? Don’t tell me you’re just going to throw on something basic like a headband or a hat and call it a day?”

“They say lions are members of the cat family, but... Sir Leona is not soothing in the slightest. Hah~ I wanna nuzzle a cat...”

“You can say it. There’s no such thing as a nerd that hates Halloween!”

“Weheehee! I made this using a 3D printer, so it’s got really nice durability. ‘How much did it all cost’? Well, if you want to know, it was on sale.”

Malleus Draconia - SR

Unlock Card “Halloween is a festival observed by both the living and the dead, regardless of one’s race. You, too, should enjoy yourself as much as you can.”

Groovy “I’d make anyone tremble in fear with a single breath of fire. Watch me.”

Home Setting “I’m not dressed up as a dragon. It’s a serpentine dragon.”

Home Transitions “The students in our dorm seem very pleased with our costumes. They were all cheering with joy. This was well-worth the trouble.”

“Lilia knows a lot about many nations’ versions of Halloween. He told me stories about them instead of his usual lullabies. That was a long time ago, though.”

“I saw two pumpkin knights around campus. The smaller one was floating, so I’m assuming they were the Shroud brothers.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “I’ve experienced many Halloweens, but this year seems especially chaotic.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Trick or treat!... wasn’t it? If you don’t give me a treat, I’ll have to trick you. What will you do?”

Home Taps “The red serpentine dragons from the Far East, which our costumes were based on, could even play folk instruments. Hm... How very interesting.”

“I caught Asim practicing his wolf howls. He’s lacking on the impact, but it does have a charm to it. Heheh.”

“Halloween in the Valley of Thorns is especially grand. It’s a different take on it than other countries have, but you should come see it someday. It’s beautiful.”

“If you hear a strange noise, don’t automatically assume it’s the work of a ghost. Faeries love playing tricks all year round.”

“This tail? Mine is not an accessory; it’s real. As curious as you might be, don’t get too close. You’d be easily flicked aside if you got hit by it.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “I’ll set fire to anyone that harms your dorm, just like a serpentine dragon would. I’m fond of that place.”

Lilia Vanrouge - SR

Unlock Card “Halloween is my home ground ♪ I can’t wait to see the surprise on everyone’s faces.”

Groovy “Do not underestimate me. You might end up finding yourself trembling and unable to sleep all night long.”

Home Setting “Growl! How was that? Did I sound like a dragon?”

Home Transitions “On Halloween Night, the goblins who served the Fairy of Thorns would gather around a fire and dance all night long. You probably wouldn’t expect them to be party animals!”

“I remember the day I met a real-life serpentine dragon in the East like it was yesterday. Its crimson scales were truly a sight to behold.”

“I like eating most sweets, but marshmallows are the only ones I can’t do. It doesn’t feel like I’m eating anything; they aren’t satisfying.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Trick or treat... What? You’re already used to my tricks? Then I’ll have to bring out my trump card.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “If I were a real dragon, I could give you a ride on my back. But instead, why don’t I give you a piggy back ride?”

Home Taps “Hnn... The decorative horns on my cap are so heavy. Malleus really has these on his head at all times?”

“Aren’t my red nails cute? Vil painted them for me. He told me these were called gel nails—long-lasting nail polish.”

“Silver and Sebek used to be such crybabies. The mornings after Halloween, I’d have to spend the whole day doing laundry.”

“Have you seen Ace anywhere? He’s always eating Trey’s sweets like he really likes them, so I made some for him as well.”

“Oh, oh! It’s dangerous for someone of my stature to have a tail almost touching the ground. Try not to step on it either.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Achoo! Sorry, sorry. This peacock feather tickled my nose.”

Azul Ashengrotto - SR

Unlock Card “The Mostro Lounge is currently offering a special Halloween menu. You must come and see!”

Groovy “Let’s have all the fun we want tonight. Now, let me hear you scream all the way up to the moon!”

Home Setting “How do I look? It’s very stylish with the way it revisits the old-fashioned sort of mummy, isn’t it?”

Home Transitions “If these were my own tentacles, I could move them freely at will, but that’s not true with these bandage wraps. I have to pay close attention to my movements.”

“Of course we have Halloween celebrations under the sea. Although, unlike on land, merpeople don’t exactly wear costumes.”

“I ran into Silver with this costume on, and he yelled ‘The enemy!’ before pulling out a baton. ...He must’ve been half-asleep.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Halloween only happens once a year. Let’s have the time of our lives together.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Did I hear you say ‘Trick or treat’ just now? Offering me of all people a deal is quite bold of you.”

Home Taps “I have an affinity for the costumes Jack and the other Savanaclaw students are wearing. They look like ghosts you’d find at sea, don’t they?”

“I referenced dishes that my family serves for the Lounge’s limited edition menu... Oh, my family runs a ristorante.”

“I’ll hold back on the treats, thank you. Accepting more and more of them will only increase my calorie intake for the day.”

“The reason we chose mummies for our costumes? I’m very unfamiliar with them, which made me all the more curious. After all, you can’t have anything dry under the sea.”

“What are you in such a rush for? I understand feeling excited, but you must be discreet when getting ready to scare someone.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “You must come see Halloween under the sea sometime! It’s just as fun as the academy’s.”

Jack Howl - SR

Unlock Card “Dressing up as pirates fits for Savanaclaw, since the guys here are all brutes. When you want something, you take it!”

Groovy “On Halloween, it’s ghost territory. Make sure you be careful when walking around at night. Grr...”

Home Setting “My scares aren’t just for show.”

Home Transitions “Scarabia dressed up as werewolf ghosts. They really nailed the ears and tails.”

“When we were making jack o’ lanterns, Ruggie kept eating the pumpkin seeds. Do those taste good...?”

“The pirate costume fits Leona really well. He’s lazy and vulgar—ahem! He comes off as strong and powerful.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Happy Halloween! It’s nice with all these decorations and festive energy. Wanna walk around together later?”

Home Transition (Groovy) “I was getting tired of all these sweets, so I got some jerky. Want any?”

Home Taps “Ace and the others swear that anything Trey bakes is to die for. I wonder how his pear compote would... N-No, nevermind.”

“I used to want to be a pirate when I was little. I remember making treasure chests by myself and filling them with coins and sparkling jewels. Those were the days.”

“Pirates have to aim their cannons and do a lot of heavy lifting while onboard. They’ve got to train hard.”

“I almost never wear rings, so I’m scared these might fly off at any moment. Plus it’s hard to move my fingers.”

“Oi! Stop prodding at my costume! What’re you going to do if one of the seashells breaks off?”

Home Tap (Groovy) “You haven’t put on your costume yet? The ghosts will come to kidnap you if you don’t hurry and change.”

Jade Leech - SSR

Unlock Card “I’ve been expecting you. Today I have a most wonderful scare prepared for you.”

“We’ve been working hard to ensure that everyone can spend a wonderful Halloween.”

Groovy “The sight of you screaming as you try to hurry away... It’s irresistible. I cannot hold myself back from chasing after you!”

Home Setting “Who would like to be tied up in fear?”

Home Transitions “You want to see me when I’m frightened? Heheh. I wouldn’t mind you scaring me anytime you’d like.”

“There is no such thing as using pumpkins as lanterns under the sea. I was very shocked learning about culture on land when I was a freshman.”

“Have you had a chance to try out the Mostro Lounge’s limited edition Halloween menu? I contributed a recipe to it.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Trick or treat! Heheh. There’s no need to look so frightened; I won’t bite.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Oh, my. Were you hoping to play a trick on me? I have a treat on hand, so please spare me today.”

Home Taps “I helped Ruggie with making jack o’ lanterns. They’re very quick, cheap, and beautiful. How fitting.”

“Dryness is fatal for merpeople. If we were dried up like a mummy... Just the thought is horrifying.”

“Floyd, don’t eat too many sweets. It’s different while we’re in the water, but here we have a high risk of tooth decay.”

“The draping wraps on our costumes resemble jellyfish tentacles. They’re pretty, aren’t they? I like their asymmetrical design.”

“You seem to have a wish to join the world of mummies. First, I will wrap your whole body in bandages, and then dry you out... I’m only joking.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Halloween under the sea? If you’re interested, I will show you around one day.”

Duo Magic Jade: Azul, we cannot waste any more time. Azul: Let’s be efficient about this, Jade.

Vil Schoenheit - SSR

Unlock Card “Are you prepared to pledge yourself to me? It’s a great honor to be the sustenance of my beauty.”

“If I’m participating in this, then I’m going to aim for quality that transcends all previous Halloweens. Please keep up with me.”

Groovy “How unfortunate; there’s nowhere left for you to run. Yield yourself to me and become my slave.”

Home Setting “You will be a victim to my fangs.”

Home Transitions “Vampires, who possess eternal beauty... This is a perfect theme for me, isn’t it?”

“It would be difficult to check my appearance if I couldn’t see my reflection in the mirror. Perhaps I’d have to check with Rook between every class.”

“The other day, I was drinking tomato juice in the evening, and Epel screamed at me. How rude.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Trick or treat. Although, I don’t need any sweet treats. I’m sure you can guess what a vampire would want... Heheh.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Have you flipped your sleep schedule like a vampire’s because it’s Halloween? Make sure you don’t stay up too late.”

Home Taps “I don’t usually carry around treats with me, so last year I fell victim to Lilia’s tricks. That was honestly unpleasant.”

“You should carefully deliberate over your parasol and choose one that has strong protection from the sun. Don’t forget sunblock either.”

“Floyd’s skin is very beautiful. Makeup sits exceptionally well on moisturized skin, too. Always remember to moisturize.”

“My father is an actor, and for every Halloween he would come home in a costume with special effects makeup. I wonder if perfectionism runs in the family.”

“Even a single strand of hair out of place is something to pay mind to. Could you fix my hair for me?”

Home Tap (Groovy) “My cloak has enough cloth to wrap around a person. Should I hide you inside it if any scary ghosts come by?”

Duo Magic Vil: Let’s end this nonsense right here, Lilia. Lilia: Leave it to me to guard you from behind, Vil.

Cater Diamond - SSR

Unlock Card “I’ll fill you all the way to the bone... with fear, of course ♪”

“Aha! Are you surprised with how off things feel now? Let me show you Cay’s charm, now that I’m a touch different for Halloween~”

Groovy “You’re not thinking you’ll be able to get home safely now that you’ve dug me up, are you?”

Home Setting “Don’t you think my costume’s super aesthetic!?”

Home Transitions “The pumpkin pie Trey always makes this time of year... Mm, it’s not too sweet, and it’s sooo good~!”

“Did you see Lucius today!? He was wearing a super adorable pumpkin hat... I can’t believe Professor Trein~!”

“Sebek-kins really loves Malleus~ He’s got a reputation among the third-years for being the passionate Draconian.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Happy Halloween! How about we take a picture to commemorate?”

Home Transition (Groovy) “I have a feeling this year’s going to be the funnest Halloween we’ve ever had. You should be excited too, Prefect!”

Home Taps “I really like how our skeleton-looking laces are so elegant. Our dorm uniforms give off more cutesy vibes; it’s super different.”

“A black veil holds many mysteries... Heheh. You’re always free to lift it up anytime you want, Prefect! Just kidding.”

“Heartslabyul’s costumes last year? We were pirates! Wish you could see Cay as a pirate~?”

“The whole campus gets super festive and exciting around Halloween! And all the decorations are so photogenic.”

“Black makeup smudges easily, so you kind of need to have advanced skills to use it. Does it look okay right now? It’s not smudged?”

Home Tap (Groovy) “What are you dressing up as, Prefect? Come let me know when you have it ready. I wanna take a pic~”

Duo Magic Cater: “Jack, lend me some of your aesthetic support!” Jack: “This’ll be a breeze, Cater!”