#((she's still gonna be a dancer main))

[starlooove]

I already said this but if u make Aisha the tallest in ur fanart i hate u a lil

[tenuuchlegch]

❃ "Well, I officially now know how to 'clap them cheeks', as they say." And by that, Odtsetseg means she dabbling in the melee arts now.

[hihomeghere]

Carousel Club | Five Hargreeves / Reader

Word Count : 3k Summary : After being dropped into 1963, you find work at the Carousel Club as a dancer. While following a tip where Luther could be, Five sees your routine. Overwhelmed by jealousy he sneaks into your dressing room. (I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters.) Warnings/Tags : Smut, cursing, piv, men being sexist (its the 1960s what do you expect?) dom!Five, Aged up!Five. A little bit of angst. Not requested.

You always trusted your husband. He was your constant in a very fucked up world. You knew he would never purposely harm you, or put you in harm's way. Sometimes that meant following him through time and space, other times it meant trusting him to not burn your dinner. So when he said he had a way out of the mess you and your in-laws had caused, of course you trusted him wholeheartedly. 

You grasped Five’s hand tightly in your own, feeling a sense of deja-vu from the last time you two tried to spacial jump. Diego gingerly held your other hand, you looked up at him giving him a curt nod. He returned the nod before looking around at the rest of his siblings. You raised your eyes to the gaping hole in the ceiling, the intricate details of the theater framing the crumbling moon. Five squeezed your hand, drawing your attention back to him. You gave him a reassuring smile, well as reassuring as you could.

Electricity crackled around the seven of you, wind whipping your hair in front of your face. Five’s grip on your hand was almost crushing, like you were his lifeline. A giant blue orb of energy appeared above your family, growing and glowing. Five strained under the pressure, his face contorting into a pained expression. The blue light enveloped you all, flickering and pulsing. 

“Hold on! It’s gonna get messy!” Five yelled as the ground shook beneath you, shutting your eyes tightly you felt yourself being pulled away from Five and Diego. You only had a moment of panic before you were thrown to the ground.

You groaned sitting up, the blue light of energy blinding you. You raised your hand shielding your eyes.

“Five!” You yelled as you got to your feet. As fleeting as the orb had appeared it disappeared, as though someone had turned an old tv off. Was that a flash, or just your imagination? You shook your head, taking in your surroundings. No Five, no siblings, no briefcase. Where the hell were you? 

You wandered down the alleyway to the main street. Your hip twinged in pain after taking the brunt of your fall. You looked around the street, the lampposts and storefront neon signs were your only light source. You sank down on a bench, letting out a deep sigh. Your eyes wandered to a newsrack, you quickly got to your feet. You ran to it, holding the sides of the glass case. 

August 1st, 1963. Dallas, Texas.

Your heart leapt into your throat. Damn it, Five. Shit, Alison. God, where were the rest of Five’s siblings?

“Honey, are you alright?” A soft voice asked, you turned your head sharply. You were met by a sweet woman’s face, big blond hair and bangs. She had a cardigan wrapped tightly around herself as she reached out to touch your shoulder. You shook your head, still coming to terms with the last five minutes. “Come on, I’m just about to go get something to eat, why don’t you join me?” She said, smiling sweetly.

“I-” You cleared your throat, “I don’t have any money.” You said, shaking your head. “Well then my treat.” She said helping you to your feet. You followed the woman down the streets of Dallas to a quaint diner. You sat down across from her, taking a look over the menu. People chattered mindlessly around you as you came to terms with your situation.

“I’ve seen that look before.” She said, setting her menu down on the table. 

“What look?” You said furrowing your eyebrows.

“That look. Every girl I work with has had that same look.” She huffed thanking the waiter as he set down a coffee cup in front of her. “Small girl in the big city, not knowing where you’re gonna stay or what you’re gonna eat. Believe me, I’ve seen that look before because I’ve felt that before.” She said reaching across the table, taking your hand in hers. “So what’s your story, sweetheart?” You took a breath, choosing your next words carefully.

“My husband and I got separated.” You whispered, “My parents didn’t agree with our marriage and so we ran away. He was supposed to meet me here in Dallas but he didn’t show.” You said, not technically a lie, Five was supposed to be here with you.

“Oh dear,” She tsked, “well you do not have to worry about that anymore. I’m so glad I found you! You can stay with me until you get back on your feet.” You smiled, hopefully Five wouldn’t make you wait much longer. 

“Thank you…” You trailed off, realizing you hadn’t caught her name.

“Autumn.” She answered, holding out her hand for you to shake.

“I’m Y/n.” You smiled, taking her hand.

“You know Y/n, I could put in a good word for you with my boss. He may seem a bit rough around the edges, but we’re always short staffed.” She shrugged. Whatever the job was you would only have it for hopefully a week tops before Five caught up with you, along with his siblings.

“I appreciate it Autumn.” You smiled, patting her hand.

-

When you arrived at Autumn's place of work you wondered if you were a little over your head. You followed Autumn into the back entrance of the nightclub. You passed by many half dressed women, putting on their makeup and outfits. 

“This way sweetheart!” Autumn called, you picked up your pace following her through the dressing room. Once on the main floor of the club you were greeted by the intense smell of cigars. Autumn had all but disappeared, you wandered through the tables. Trying to work your way to the front of the club, while also trying to avoid the men’s wandering hands at the tables. 

“Y/n!” She called from a table, you turned your head. The club was familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. You were face to face with Jack Ruby, the man who would put the hit out on Lee Harvey Oswald. You gulped, straightening your shoulders you walked over to them.

“Mr. Ruby, this is Y/n she’s looking for a job.” Autumn said, clasping her hands together. Jack looked you over, a cigar dangling from his lips. 

“Y/n who?” He said leaning back in his chair. You stuttered but only for a second.

“Y/n L/n,” You said with a smile, Hargreeves might get Five or your in-laws in trouble if anyone here caught wind of that name. He puffed his cigar, leaning over to whisper something to the man next to him. He chuckled before nodding, you bit your cheek. Feeling like a piece of meat in front of these men.

“Can you start tonight?” He said, lacing his fingers together. 

“Of course.” You replied, Autumn cheered quietly beside Mr. Ruby.

“Autumn, be a dear and show her the dressing rooms. Tell ‘em I want Miss Y/n to be on stage by tomorrow night.” He said motioning with his cigar in hand. On stage? You turned sharply looking toward the stage of the nightclub, scantily clad women fanning themselves with large feather fans. 

“Yes sir Mr. Ruby!” Autumn giggled, taking your arm and walking you towards the back.

-

You sat in front of your vanity, lined by bright golden bulbs. Brushing glitter onto your eyes before adding your long eyelashes. It had been three months since you had taken on your new job, along the way you had made many friends. You felt for all the girls alongside you, it was a rough profession but it paid well. You pulled your robe close around your body, walking over to the clothing rack. You rifled through the sheer jeweled fabric before your eyes landed on the black and white body suit. You threw your outfit over your arm heading back to your vanity. You were greeted by a beautiful bouquet of red roses, Autumn standing next to them with a coy smile.

“Autumn! Who are these from?”

“A secret admirer,” she cooed her bright red lips pulling back into a smile, “Just teasing! It’s from all of us girls here,” She said as she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. Her cheap perfume floods your senses along with her sweet sweat.

“Y’all didn’t have to do that!” You smiled as she pulled away, she only waved you off.

“You’re one of the best here! Don’t know where you learned all your little tricks.” She said bumping your elbow with her own. She looked down at your costume in your arms. “Need help?” Autumn asked, holding out her hand. 

“Yes please.” You said handing her your suit as you lowered your robe. You held onto her shoulders stepping into the suit, you adjusted your straps as Autumn tightened your corset. You admired yourself in the mirror, since taking on your new job you had become more toned. More than when you had worked at the commission, and these clothes were definitely more flattering than your blue suits you used to wear. You took in a sharp breath as Autumn pulled through the last loops, tying the ribbon with a neat bow.

“Alright sister, you’re ready.” She said squeezing your shoulders.

“Thanks Autumn, now go take your break!” You said waving her off. 

“Y/n! You’re on next!” Shannon called from the stage door. You nodded, quickly stopping to smell the sweet scent of your roses before grabbing your tulle skirt. You tied it around your waist as you walked backstage. You picked up your red feather fans, taking a deep breath. You walked up to the closed red curtains listening to the deafening cheers and whistles. You heard the clink of the ropes being pulled back before you were blinded by the spotlights. You closed your eyes, bowing your head, your body covered by the bright red fans. 

You started your routine, swaying your hips seductively as you pulled the fans back away from your body teasing the audience. You lost yourself in the music, thankfully it was difficult to decipher anyone’s face over the shadows cast by the spotlights. You unclipped the tulle skirt, throwing it off stage. You could make out a certain group of sailors, and a rather large man standing by the bar. 

You teased the audience, covering your body with the fans before flashing them a glimpse of your shimmering body suit. You pulled the fans over your head, rotating your hips in a circular motion as you lowered into a squat. You bounced on your heels before jumping back up to your feet. You smirked as the men whistled and cheered. 

The music slowed, and faded out as you walked behind the red curtain. You dropped off your fans before heading back to your dressing room. You opened the door, shutting it behind you. 

“Who sent the roses?” Five’s voice sent a shiver down your spine. You turned your head sharply, meeting Five’s predatory gaze.

“Five!” You gasped, your heart soaring in your chest. “When did you get here?” 

“I could ask you the same thing.” He said, crossing his arms. Your smile fell off your face, what was his problem? It’s not your fault that he dropped you off in the middle of 1963 with no resources. 

“Three months ago.” You said furrowing your brows, “I’ve been looking for you this whole time!” He scoffed, clicking his tongue.

“Oh really? It looks like you’ve been getting enough attention without me.” He huffed, glaring at the bouquet of roses.

“Excuse me for finding a way to survive here.” You spit pushing past him, knocking his shoulder against yours. You took a seat in front of your vanity, pulling out your makeup kit. He stalked up behind you, towering over you. He gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him through the mirror, effectively smearing your bright red lipstick.

“You’re mine.” He sneered, his lips pulling back over his teeth. You flushed, heat pooling in your core. You stared up at him through the mirror, his fingers squeezing your lips together. “Got it?” He asked. You glared at him, a devilish thought entering your mind. 

You kept quiet, smirking as you watched a shadow pass over his features. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he tilted your head to look him in the eye.

“You must need a lesson.” He smirked, pulling you to your feet, you stumbled slightly in your heels. He kicked the chair away, you jumped as it thudded against the carpeted floor. His arm moved behind you, sweeping everything off of your vanity along with the roses. They crashed to the floor, the vase shattering. He pushed you against the vanity, caging you in with his arms as he slammed his hands against the mirror. He stared down at you with a wolfish grin, you felt yourself flush. Your heart started to beat faster as you squirmed under him.

“Yes sir.” You said tilting your chin up, staring at him through your lashes. He growled spinning you around, your hands splayed out in front of you on the top of the vanity. His hand connected to your ass cheek, letting out a low chuckle as you gasped. He moved your hair off of your back, his cold fingers attacking the strings of your corset. 

“Stupid- fucking- ribbon-“ he said through gritted teeth, you caught the slightly crazed look in his eye through the reflection. Your body felt on fire, three months without him made every touch that more exhilarating. As soon as the corset was loose enough he was ripping it off of your body, along with your panties. You were entirely bare in front of your fully dressed husband. He stepped back, loosening his tie as he watched you squirm in the mirror. 

“Not so confident now, dearest.” He smirked, unbuttoning the top button of his dress shirt. You breathed hard, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Your nipples hardened against the cold air in the dressing room. You heard the familiar metal on metal as he took off his belt before unzipping his pants. He walked up behind you, nosing his dick against your folds. You clenched around nothing, pushing back against him. His hand came up to the back of your skull, wrapping his fist through your hair. He stared at you through his darkened gaze, you were breathless, your lips parting slightly.

“Please,” you whined, batting your eyelashes. He forcibly thrusted all the way in, knocking the breath out of your lungs. You let out a pornagraphic moan before you covered your mouth with your hand. He grabbed your hand, pulling it away from your mouth and holding it behind your back.

“Why don’t you let everyone here know who you belong to?” He huffed in your ear, thrusting erratically into you. You gripped the desk, the only thing holding you up as Five plowed into you. “Let them know that I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this.” You clenched around him as his words seemed to straight directly to your core. He let out a groan, loosening his grip on your hair. “Fuck you like this don’t you?” You nodded enthusiastically, your eyes rolling back into your head as his cock prodded against your g-spot.

“Yes, yes Five!” You babbled tears pricking your eyes, as he bent you over the desk. His hands flew to your hips, pulling them against his own thrusts. You could only lay there as your orgasm came crashing down. You were thankful you were on top of the vanity because there was no way your trembling legs would have been able to hold you up. 

Five’s eyebrows knit together as he arched his neck back, his hips stuttering as his orgasm quickly followed yours. Cumming with a loud shout he collapsed on top of you, your sweat causing his thin shirt to stick to your skin. He pulsed inside of you as he gingerly tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. He pulled away, peeling himself off of you. He kissed your shoulder as his softened cock slipped out of you. Your breathing was slowly coming back to normal as he tried to return your room to the state it was before he had destroyed it and you. He picked up your robe draping it over your shoulders. You sat up, feeling his cum start to drip down your thighs.

“What took you so long?” You asked, tying your robe close around your naked body.

“I just got here.” He sighed, tucking himself back into his pants. “I’m sorry I made you wait.” He turned to you, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“I’ll always wait for you.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around his waist. He held you against his chest, resting his cheek against yours.

“At least someone will, Luther and Diego weren’t too happy about me dumping them in the past.” Five sighed. Diego and Luther were here, too?

“Where are they?” You asked, turning to Five with wide eyes. Five looked at you inquisitively, a small smile pulling on the corner of his mouth.

“Luther works for Jack Ruby, y/n. I found him in this club before I knew you worked here.” Your stomach dropped. Luther worked for Jack Ruby? That means he must have seen your numbers.

“Oh god.” You said mortified, hanging your head against Five’s chest. He chuckled, shaking his head as he lightly rubbed your back.

“Believe me, he was just as mortified as you are.” He said, “Although I must say I thoroughly enjoyed your routine.” He lowered his voice, his hands trailing down your body to rest on your butt.

“I think I could give you a private showing.” You smirked, wrapping your hand around his tie. You pulled him forward by his tie, smashing your lips against his. His hands gripped your hips, the velvety fabric smooth against his palms. 

“God I’d love that,” He let out a sigh, “but maybe we should wait until after we save the world.” 

Again? It was happening again?

“Vanya?” You asked, pulling away.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” He shrugged, “All I know is on November 25th the world ends, again.” 

“Guess it’s time for a family reunion.”

[jihyoruri]

OBVIOUS bada lee x reader

warnings: yn is a member of twice, everybody is out here embarrassing yn, fluff

yn leaned into her seat as she watched the dancers, she was so focused that she didn’t even realize monika lean over to her.

“yn.” she whispers, the twice member hums in response her attention still ahead of her, “she was staring at you hard.”

that’s what gets yn’s attention, she snaps her head towards her fellow judge, “who?” she whispers back.

“you know who.” the girl whispers back as yn looks at her confused, she really didn’t know who monika was talking about. “you’ve been keeping your eyes on her the whole time as well.”

yn tenses finally realizing who monika was talking about, she turned her gaze back in front of her, “I’ve been keeping my eyes on everyone.” she replies, shrugging nonchalantly.

“oh, right..” monika trails off nonchalantly, “so you haven’t been taking quick glances at that tall one over there, what’s her name again?” she asks sarcastically.

“bada.” yn replies quickly before cursing at herself as monika’s smile grows big.

monika raises her brow teasingly as yn shakes her head, “shut up, leave me alone.”

“does the great yn have a crush?” monika whispers, laughing to herself as yn shakes her head, “or is it the other way around, cause she’s been staring a lot.”

it was true, of course yn didn’t notice much because she was focused on the other girls, well at least tried to, but monika noticed, she noticed how the dancer stared at yn when she was introduced as a judge and how she always took glances at yn when she wasn’t looking.

yn glared at her before letting out a deep sigh, “you’re talking out of your ass.” she said adjusting herself in her seat, “how about instead of being the person that causes me stress, focus on the dancers, and think about what you’re gonna say.”

“oh I definitely know why you wanna focus on the dancers.” monika teases as she looked ahead of her to see the main topic of the conversation come to the middle. “look at her all tall for you.”

yn looked down in her lap, trying her best not to burn into flames, she’s really regretting taking up momo’s suggestion for this,“how about you shut up and watch kirsten and bada dance for us, please and thank you.” yn says softly, she loves monika but gosh does she love to tease yn.

“one of them is definitely dancing for you.” she teases again before shutting up and putting her attention towards the two girls in front of them.

yn felt monika side eyeing her the whole time as they watched the girls dance but she kept a poker face, there was no way she was letting a tall attractive girl get in her way of her being the “intimidating judge.” that she wanted to be.

even though her face and demeanour didn’t fit the part, yn was always pretty serious when it came to dance, she never even held back when it came to correcting her members, she was always stern and straightforward and yn was proud to say a dancer has never made her flustered or tripped up.

well…

not until now.

when the two girls finished dancing, everyone clapped and cheered for them, the judges stood up, monika making sure to grab yn’s arm pulling her to stand up with her as they clapped, as she cheered she leaned over to yn muttering a “your face is red.”

yn forced a smile as she clapped but her eyes told it all when she side eyed monika as they proceeded to sit back down.

yn zooned out for a little, her gaze set on the dancer in the racer jacket, but was snapped out of her daze, when she hears bada’s name being called and cheers filling her ears.

she nodded and smiled as her fellow judges talked and praised bada completely forgetting that she’s gonna have to talk soon.

as soon monika finished what she said she turned her attention to yn with a neutral look but yn could see the mischief in her eyes, monika nodded towards yn as a way of saying your turn making everyone else turn and look at the twice member.

yn looked ahead of herself making direct eye contact with the dancer before clearing her throat and looking back down at her lap and picking up her microphone, “hold on wait one sec.” she says making everyone laughs at her flustered state.

“you look a little red yn.” mike says pointing to yn’s face making everyone laugh even more, including the person who caused this whole thing.

yn shakes her head in embarrassment before bringing the mic to her lips, “bada..” she starts, “you stood out to me very fast.”

“I was like oh my gosh who’s this girl.” yn continues, finally having the confidence to keep her eye contact with the girl, “but now I definitely know who this girl is wow.” yn says brightly gesturing up and down with her hands at the dancer as bada bows at her.

“you’re already killing the game and showing people how much of a good dancer you are and I can’t wait to see more of you.” yn finishes smiling at bada who thanks her as everyone claps.

“wow! I’ve never seen you praise someone so much yn.” monika says shaking one of yn’s shoulders, it was both true and wrong, yn will praise anyone for doing the bare minimum when it comes to rapping and singing but with dance it takes the person a lot for her to be so praiseful.

“do you have a favourite already?” she jokes, laughing when yn rests her head on her mic as everyone once again laughs at her, she shakes her head when she feels mike pat her shoulder as a sense of comfort as he joins in on the laughs.

this is gonna be a long season.

yn walks through the hall her face deep in her phone as she texts nayeon ranting about how all her fellow judges embarrassed her today.

yn was to into her phone to realize the tall figure walking in front of her, but she’s hit with the harsh reality when she slams right into the dancers back.

yn tenses as she looks up from her phone, turning it off quickly before putting it away, “I’m so sorry”

the girl looked down at her brushing her apology off, “nah it’s okay.”

yn feels multiple buzzes from her phone and takes it out, “well, I’ll see you around.” she says quickly before walking past bada.

“whoa wait.” the taller girl said as she pulled yn back, “you seemed pretty flustered earlier.” she says to yn pulling the girl closer to her.

“I wouldn’t say flustered…” yn trails off looking into the side.

“umm” bada hums in faux understanding tone, “I’m a pretty big fan of twice you know?”

“oh, thank you.” yn says awkwardly.

“and I think it would be cool to hang out with my bias sometime.”

yn nods before shrugging her shoulders, “I don’t think I’m aloud to hang out with contestants, you never know what they’re really hanging out with you for.”

“nobody has to know.” bada says as she leans against the wall.

“sorry, I’m not the type to get in trouble.” yn says before turning around and proceeding to walk away.

she feels a presence walking behind and an arm thrown around her shoulder, “you know, I don’t appreciate my girlfriend rejecting me and acting like she doesn’t know me.” bada says teasingly as she looks down at yn and pulls her into her side.

yn laughs feeling her face heat up as she leans into the taller girls side, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“you’re not my girlfriend anymore? is this how you break up with me?” bada jokes as she takes arm from around yn and pretends to walk away.

yn laughs as she grabs the taller girls arm and pulls her back to her, “okay okay, im joking.” she says wrapping her arms around bada’s mid, “you did good today.”

“thank you.” bada replies putting her chin on top of yn’s head, “you coming to my place.”

“I’m meeting up with nayeon unnie.”

“then come over to night.”

“that’s what I was planning on.”

“good.”

[eternalsams]

Call My Name ⇴ J.Seresin

pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader

warning/content: 18+, sexualization of women, cursing, stripper!reader, nudity, allusions to sex, innuendos to porn, reader's stage name is Bambi, reader is described to have beautiful legs

summary: the Daggers met Bambi that night, but you met Hangman Hungman

word count: 1.1k

a/n: English isn't my first language so please take that into consideration.

masterlist

Jake knew coming to this club with his friends wasn't the best idea of the year but he also knew they'd have a good laugh in a few years when they'll remind themselves of their youth. The bright pink neon lights are inviting and calling Jake's name like he belonged to this place. "Gentlemen, welcome to paradise on Earth!" He exclaimed as he pushed the doors to reveal two stages with two exotic dancers. Two beautiful young women were dancing, never leaving the patrons' eyes as they swayed their hips sensually and smiling like Hollywood actresses whenever a dollar bill was throw onto the stage. The loud music was blasting through the speakers but you could still hear the men shouting for more and whistling.

Jake could see Mickey's ears and cheeks turn red as he realized how much skin he was gonna see tonight. The blond laughed and wrapped his arm around the younger man's shoulders. Javy was already on his way to get a good table for the four of them. There was only Jake, Javy, Mickey and Bradley on this boys night. Reuben had some plans with his wife and Bob immediately declined when Jake started talking about a strip club. Bradley was just following the group, discovering the place but not shocked a second. Javy waved them over and Jake thanked his best friend when he saw how close to the main stage they were. A young woman came over to them and asked what they wanted to drink. Mickey froze like a seventh grader discovering boobs for the first time on his dad's computer when he made eye contact with the barely dressed woman. He asked for a shot of tequila and Jake's eyes widened. "We'll take eight of them! My treat." He gave the woman his credit card with a charming smile and she thanked him with an even more charming one, making his heart swoon with pride. Oh, how he loved women.

"Gentlemen! Make now a round of applause for our beautiful and sweet Bambi!" A man's voice announced and there you were, pushing the curtains of the main stage open with your leg. Whistles started even before you could show your face of at least your upper body. The defined curve of your calf was enough to make those men go crazy for you. Your high heels were only accentuating your long legs. Jake was as mesmerized as the other men in the room, carefully watching you appear from behind the curtains. Then he saw your fingers curl around the hem of the curtains and your face appeared. And then he can't remember hearing or seeing anything else. All the whistles faded away as your doe eyes scanned the patrons, stopping a single second on Jake's table. The clear dress you had on hid nothing you were wearing underneath, the baby blue lingerie matching perfectly with the darkness of your eyes. But if you were to ask Jake, he couldn't even tell if your eyes were brown or blue because all he saw was the reflection of the neon lights of the club in your irises.

One step after another, you got closer to the center of the stage and a small smile stretched your lips as you saw the first dollars throw onto the stage. You knelt down on one knee, then on both and Jake could've sworn he felt his heart pick up when he noticed the arch of your back as you leaned on your hands. "Give me my wallet." He waved his hand in front of Javy, not even looking at him. "It's in your fucking pocket." The man huffed as he pushed Jake's hand back. The blond man cursed under his breath and took out his wallet, not even able to tell what time it was anymore, his only thoughts going to you in that perfect outfit. He blindly took out two dollar bills and slid them onto the stage, never looking away from you.

You noticed the delicacy of the man and grinned at him as you stood up and walked over to the side of the stage where his table was. You crouched down and picked up the bills. Your eyes widened slightly when you saw the two fifty dollar bills and quickly got yourself together for your act before blowing a kiss to the man who couldn't take his eyes off of you. You stood back on your feet and untied the ribbon keeping your dress closed before slipping the sleeves off. You let the dress fall onto the stage and directed your signature doe eyes to the howling crowd. From the corner of your eyes, you could see his friends teasing him and clapping his shoulders but the man's focus was on you and you only.

"I'm gonna marry that girl." Jake finally said when you finished your act and left the stage. The others looked at him as if he just grew another head before bursting out laughing. "Oh, fuck off!" He snapped before grabbing a tequila shot and downing it with a grimace. "Hello, gentlemen." A feminine voice called the pilots and jake almost spit back out the alcohol as he made eye contact with you, standing right next to him. He hardly swallowed his shot and smiled at you. "Hi! You were... very pretty on stage." He could only say, all his flirting and charming lines leaving his body. You slightly giggled and looked at his friends who were trying hard not to laugh at his lovesick look. "I'm Bambi." You offered your hand for him and he looked at it like it was made of diamonds. "Hungman." Was the first thing that came out of his mouth before he placed a kiss on your knuckles.

You chuckled and looked down at his crotch after hearing his name. "Oh, a fellow dancer I see!" You smiled and looked over at his friends once more. They didn't really look like the part, except for the tall colored man who was trying his hardest not to laugh at Hungman. This one had the shoulders of a stripper. And the one with the mustache definitely belonged behind a camera with two pretty ladies asking for more. You quickly glanced over your shoulder and saw two colleagues waving you near the backstage. You nodded at them and turn back to Hungman with a flirting smile. "Well, I hope I'll be able to see one of your acts these days." You winked at him and left the table, trotting back to your colleagues. Jake watched you leave with a sigh, already planning on what diamond cut would fit your finger.

"Hungman?" He then heard Javy's voice, popping his fantasy bubble. "Shut the fuck up, I'm a stripper from now on." He hissed and took his second tequila shot and looking back to the door where you just disappeared, his friends already planning on telling everyone at work he might switch careers because he fell in love with a stripper.

taglist:

@hardballoonlove @blue-aconite @callsign-hummingbird @roosterforme @jessicab1991 @atarmychick007 @callsigns-haze @els-marvelvsp @djs8891 @senawashere

[sorchathered]

Strip that down

Pairing- Club Owner!Jake Seresin x Dancer!Reader (Nightclub AU)

Warnings- mentions of stripping, language, light smut

Summary-I’m gonna be so serious y’all I blacked out writing this, might make it a series of drabbles in the future bc I went feral for the concept.

“I swear you have got to be the most pig headed, arrogant son of a bitch I’ve ever met” you say as you storm down the hall, a very disgruntled Jake Seresin hot on your heels. He hadn’t intended to start a fight but goddamnit it seemed like no matter what he said lately caused an argument.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? It’s not like I was asking for that girl’s number or anything, she was all over me! What did you want me to do? hit her? Come on Cherry just stop and look at me please?” He said as he jogged in front of you to stall you. You two weren’t even dating, you’d been very adamant that this was just hooking up, so why were you so pissed? Unless…

“Cherry look at me. I can’t keep fighting with you like this, it’s driving me insane. If you want to break things off we can, I can’t say I won’t miss you but I’ll get it. We work together and it’s hard to be professional when shit like this happens. But…if you want more, all you have to do is ask baby girl, you know good and damn well you’ve got me totally wrapped.”

He had you crowded up against the sticky nightclub wall, bass thrumming through the room straight into your chest as he skimmed his hands up and down your sides. You’d been in the middle of your set when you watched some fresh faced new hire throw her arms around his neck and get way too close for your liking, but of course you had to be professional and continue on, trying to school your features as you danced on stage. The second you’d finished and gotten your tips you’d slammed his portion on the bar, stomping off to the dressing rooms, the fire in your eyes enough to burn the whole room down. He wasn’t yours, he was your boss and you should’ve known better than to let him get under your skin like this.

You were trying to get your bearings but your head was spinning, had he really just said he wanted more? You opened your mouth but promptly shut it, how were you supposed to respond to that? Of course that’s what you wanted but you never would’ve suggested it, you’d been in love with him since the two of you had started this whole arrangement, how could you not be? He was charming and charismatic, and don’t even ask about his looks; the man knew he looked good. He was making it harder and harder to focus now, those damn hands of his couldn’t seem to stop grazing over whatever exposed flesh he could get to and it was making you dizzy.

He cocked his head and smirked that smart ass smile at you, leaning in to whisper against your lips, “Gotta use your words baby, you want us to keep going like we are? Or do you want me to make you mine? You say the word and I’ll make sure every girl in a 100 mile radius knows you own me, but I need to hear you say it.”

“You know I do, I love you, you’re such an asshole but fuck I do, I love you Jake.”

He groaned as he pressed himself to you, kissing you hard as he continued to run his hands all over your body. “Goddamnit Cherry, you can’t just drop a bomb like that on me, making me fucking crazy, I ought to take you right here where everyone can see.” His words sent fire through your veins, you cried out and bucked into him at the thought of him fucking you right outside of the main stage, anyone could walk by and you weren’t sure you’d even care. He chuckled against the shell of your ear as he continued to press his palm against your core, he could feel you soaking through the thin fabric of your costume, again he briefly considered following through with his taunting and fucking you right here, but thought better of it because after all you were still at work. He kissed you again and removed his hand from your shorts, watching your pretty doe eyes blink at him in shock, you really had thought he’d do it.

“Oh come on now don’t look at me like that, go change and grab your stuff, first I’m gonna take you out for dinner and then you can be my dessert, whadd’ya say Cherry Pie?” You rolled your eyes but let him scoot you down the hall, and when you walked out with his hand on your ass you made sure the new waitress caught a glimpse of your tongue down his throat. Jake could definitely get used to this side of you, and the private dances just for him every night didn’t hurt either.

🏷️ Tagging- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @sailor-aviator @attapullman @bobgasm @sebsxphia @goldenseresinretriever @bradshawssugarbaby @roosterforme @mynameismckenziemae @sarahsmi13s @hangmansgbaby

[urlovebot]

masterlist

dude finally i'm getting to this. hopefully this helps you guys navigate a little bit better!

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Headcannons

bada + reader at the club

✮⋆˙ bada and reader go to the club, bada almost gets into a fight over her girlfriend

bada as your tall sexy dancer gf

✮⋆˙ here are some hcs of bada as your tall sexy dancer gf

bada + corruption kink!

✮⋆˙ gf! bada lee got a corruption kink fr and let me let yall ponder on this with me

experienced!bada + innocent reader

✮⋆˙ experienced bada tests the waters with you

˙whipped bada + oblivious reader

✮⋆˙ bada is your gf and you dont even know it

bada + idol reader

✮⋆˙ bada and her golden retriever, high energy, secret idol gf

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Text Series

texts with gf!bada

✮⋆ cw: really suggestive. bada just wants you to be a stay at home gf so please just quit your job for her

texts with gf!bada 2

✮⋆cw: its always gonna be suggestive idk what to tell yall tbh

˙texts with gf!bada part 3

✮⋆cw: mentions of baby making. drunk y/n...

texts with gf!bada part 4

✮⋆cw: not suggestive... actually theres some angst ☹️ but very very fluffy at the end :D

texts with gf!bada part 5

✮⋆cw: ....suggestive u know the deal. just crack texts idk really no like theme here. enjoy!

text pranks with gf!bada

✮⋆cw: slightly (and very slightly) suggestive i cant help it i want her to **** ** ***** * *** me so bad. enjoy

jealous bada lee texts!

✮⋆cw: jealous, possessive bada lee. she is so fine. i won't her 😍

reader reacts to bada's wkorea photoshoot

✮⋆ i cannot believe our tall sexy gf showed that much of herself to the world. i'm with reader on this one

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Full fics

Too close

✮⋆˙ c/w: angst. angry howl, homophobia, minor and very, very minor physical harm done to bada. closeted bada, out and proud reader. its alooooot of angst. some comfort at the end though so don't worry!

Luxurious

✮⋆˙ c/w: spoiled ass reader. down bad bada. suggestive. a little more than suggestive? not full on smut though. what does bada like more than checks? money!

My love is mine, all mine

✮⋆˙ c/w: severe anxiety/panic attack. bada comforts reader through an anxiety attack. bada best girl.

Attention

✮⋆˙ cw: bada accompanies you to your high school reunion. nothing too bad. actually, not suggestive! bada lee being fine as hell... y/n acting up per usual. really fluffy at the end. enjoy!

tell your friends

✮⋆˙ cw: requested! smut. full on. cunnilingus. strap/harness. possessive bada hitting it from the back 🧎‍♀️

takeout (on me)

✮⋆˙cw: pussy whipped bada lee taking you in several different positions. cannot get enough of the noises you make and how good she makes you feel. good god.

kissin' and hope they caught us

✮⋆˙ c/w: reader gets into their head alot, but bada is always there to reassure you.

water

✮⋆˙c/w: bath time with bada. aftercare bur bada is still h word on main. fingering, praise, and soft!dom bada.

Garden Kisses

✮⋆˙ cw: friends to lovers. a bit of angst in the beginning. cunnilingus. jealous bada. bada is bad at communicating feelings. some texts thrown in there. possessive bada. pussy drunk bada.

who jerks off the most in zb1

Haobin x reader series

night routine with haobin waking up with haobin randon haobin + reader hc's zb1 being done with haobin + reader grossly domestic haobin + reader

Seok Matthew

matthew + doggy style soft dom matthew

Shen Ricky

eating you out after dinner what he's like during baby making

Zhang Hao

idol!reader accidentally turns him on riding hao's face

Sung Hanbin

angry hanbin

enha as employees at my old coffee shop

Yang Jungwon

brat tamer jungwon

Lee Heeseung

8:16am

Park Jongseong

empty

Sim Jaeyun

quickie with jake certified munch makeup sex with jake 11:32pm certified munch #2

Park Sunghoon

making brownies with sunghoon sunghoon thinks you're pretty

Kim Sunoo

empty

[leighsartworks216]

The Mission

Sylus x gn!Reader

The ending feels a little meh BUT I'm gonna use it to lead into the next fic in the series. You'll see. Also there are kids screaming outside????? I'm so confused rn

This is a sequel primarily to Fallen Angel, but it also references things in Love Me, That's All I Ask Of You

Warnings: strip clubs, violence, blood, injury, stalking, forehead kisses, shapeshifting, MC and Sylus acting like siblings

Word Count: 2,625

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The mission is deceptively simple: Little Miss Hunter will pose as a waitress in one of Sylus’s clubs, working undercover to uncover the ex-boyfriend of one of the dancers. As soon as the club’s manager heard about the dancer’s ex stalking her, trying to get her alone, Sylus did, too. As scary and unapproachable as he comes across, he does care about the people who work for him.

You could have taken the role from her easily, or even gotten a job as a dancer to have a more advantageous position, but Sylus refused. It was only a couple months ago that you’d relived that hell. There was no way he would put you into a similar situation so soon.

It’s not that you aren’t capable, you know that. You’d only fully recovered a few weeks ago, the scars on your back mementos to the end of a nightmare. Still, the time it took to heal meant no working - not even to sit in Sylus’s lap as he goes over contracts. You were antsy, you were restless. And you were helping Little Miss Hunter get in her uniform.

You adjust the collar, a little rougher than necessary. Sylus catches it from where he stands leaning against the wall, but says nothing. Miss Hunter tries to swat you away. “You don’t need to be so intense!” You ignore her in favor of fixing her name tag and checking her earpiece. She was stiff under your fingers, uncomfortable with being so close to someone who clearly didn’t like her - even more in this moment, it seems, than usual.

“He’s in his mid-20s, short curly hair, blonde, with square glasses,” Sylus reminds her. “You’ll be serving drinks in the area around Tanya’s stage, where he’s most likely to be lurking.”

“Don’t you have bouncers for this sort of thing?” she huffs.

You step behind her. She tries to turn her head to see what you’re doing, but you push her chin to face forward again. Her hair is too long, presenting a clear hazard in the bustle of the crowds and the difficult job of waitressing. You gather it up and tie it into a secure bun at the back of her head.

He tilts his head, unimpressed. “Of course, sweetie. I run a legitimate operation here, despite what you may think of me.” He crosses his arms, finger tapping against his bicep. “His Evol allows him to change his appearance, meaning with a few easy steps, he can forge his ID to be anyone he wants and slip inside unnoticed. You’re good at reading people. I’m sure you’ll find him in no time.”

You carefully insert a hairpin into the bun. She reaches back to feel it, the design on the decorative tip indecipherable to her fingers alone.

“If he figures you out or you get cornered, use that,” Sylus says seriously, nodding to the pin. “In the right hands, it can do some damage. Even if you can only manage to scratch your attacker, it’s coated in a fast-acting toxin.” Before she can protest, he adds, “Just enough to make them sleepy, sweetie. You won’t be killing anyone tonight.”

With the finishing touches of her outfit complete, you step back toward Sylus. Little Miss Hunter can’t help feeling intimidated by the Onychinus boss and his guard dog, allies or no.

“Ready?”

She nods with steadfast determination. “Ready.”

-

Sylus studies the shifting crowds through the surveillance cameras hidden around the club. Luke and Kieran watch the monitors, as well. From here, he can keep an eye on Miss Hunter’s movements. Deciphering faces in the crowd is another issue; he can make out some features here and there as the lights pass over them, but anything specific is impossible to make out.

You lounge on a sofa overlooking the entire club. It’s a private area, closed off from the general public, and shrouded in plenty of shadow to obscure your presence from anyone who isn’t looking for you. You idly swirl a martini glass of water, decorated with an olive, to give the impression of someone drinking. You act as an eye in the sky, watching for anything suspicious from a distance that isn’t caught on camera.

Miss Hunter picks up a tray of drinks from the bartender and begins making rounds to long couches and small tables to drop them off with a smile. They’re further from the stage, but she has to pass by the crowd every time she returns to the bar. It’s the perfect place to be to spot someone acting oddly.

The lights focus as Tanya comes on stage. She’s objectively beautiful, it can’t be argued otherwise. The skimpy costume draws attention to her curves and the plush of her stomach. She smiles seductively as she dances for the guests, tan skin glowing under the lights like she’s meant to be there.

You know she’s being treated like a queen here - Sylus would never settle for less - yet you’re reminded of the other girls you knew once, who were starved and worked to the bone for money they wouldn’t see a dime of. You still remember the feeling of cold metal from the pole against your palms.

The Second Circle doesn’t exist anymore. After that night, after everything the police uncovered, it was stripped out and sits empty, waiting to be bought by some upstart business. All that remains is the imprint of the logo on the wall. You still see those neon lights in your nightmares.

“Raven, I’ve lost sight of the Dove. Do you see her?”

Fuck. You got so caught up in your head-

You scan the crowd by the stage, the couches, the tables. There’s no sign of a waitress anywhere in that section, and especially not Little Miss Hunter. You get up from the private couch and slip into the shadows of the exit, already calculating everywhere she could have gone off to.

-

The woman she kept seeing wasn’t ordering drinks the entire time she was there, which wasn’t unusual in of itself, except that all she did was stare at the stage, waiting for something to happen. Once Tanya finally went on, she seemed to become antsy and entranced. Miss Hunter was just going to slip into the employee backroom to let Sylus know what she saw. She didn’t realize the woman had followed her.

The thumping music in the main room covers up her shout as hands grab her and shove her into the wall. There’s no one else in the room. 

She punches at the woman, falling back on her Hunter training and the sparring she did with Sylus. Her hand connects with a square jaw. The woman that followed her in was now a man, fitting the description of the suspect to a T. A fist in return crashes against her cheek. Before she can call for help, a hand covers her mouth, shoving her head back into the hard wall. He grabs her hair, dislodging the hairpin and loosening the tight bun. She claws at his arms. She tries to reach for his face. The hand in her hair pulls her off the wall and to the ground. She stares up at her assaulter, trying to figure a way out of this mess when the door is behind him and she’s being backed into a corner.

She doesn’t have to think for long.

You grab the man by his hair and kick in the back of his knee. He falls like dead weight, and you direct that momentum into slamming him against the wall she’d just been pressed up against. His face impacts with a harsh crack. His glasses are skewed on his face, and blood drips freely from his nose.

You turn sharply toward Miss Hunter. You approach so fast, she’s scared you’re going to attack her next. She holds up her arms in defense on pure instinct. You just huff and grab her arms, hauling her back up to her feet. Her back is against the wall again, but as a support this time. You push her arms down from her face.

She gasps when you grab her chin, tilting her head this way and that, studying her. You frown at the early bruises beginning to form around her mouth and the cut along her cheekbone. The distinct shape of fingertips slowly start to darken where the man had silenced her. You let her go in favor of checking the rest of her over, searching for any more injuries. Thankfully, you find none. You finally meet her eyes.

She has no idea what to make of you anymore. You’ve hated her guts ever since she was dragged into the N109 Zone. You tease and taunt her through your actions, glare at her when she talks with Sylus. You even climbed into his lap once when she was connected to him by that red energy, curling up to him like a damn cat. And now here you are, checking her for injuries when you could be worried about securing the target.

You reach past her head and pull out the hairpin. You hold it pointedly in front of her face and raise a brow at her, silently questioning why she didn’t use it. She sheepishly takes it from your fingers, flushing with embarrassment.

“I forgot,” she mutters.

You step away. Sylus’s voice comes in over the earpiece. “I’m glad you two are finally getting along,” he teases. You catch the truth in his words, honing in on the nearby security camera to glare at him. He chuckles richly. “I’m on my way.”

A quiet click alerts you before anything else. You slam your shoulder against the wall beside Miss Hunter, covering her with your body just as a loud bang and a sharp burn skids across your neck. The door slams open. She peers around you to watch Sylus’s Evol disintegrate the gun in the target’s hand. It’s small, easily concealable. Sylus lifts the man up by his scruff and shoves him at the twins.

“Deal with him,” he orders gruffly. It’s a far cry from how he sounded just seconds ago, but the blood at your neck hadn’t escaped his notice. Just a little to the side and you would be dead. The thought alone terrified him.

Miss Hunter watches him quickly cross the distance, turning you to fully face him so he can assess the damage. It’s not too bad, thankfully. Deep enough to bleed for a bit, but shallow enough it didn’t hit anything major. He grabs a few napkins from the table at the center of the room and presses them down on the wound. You replace his hands to keep the pressure yourself, nodding your head toward her. She feels just as under scrutiny under his stare as she did under yours. He sighs.

“I’ll have the medic look you over when we get back. You might want to hide those bruises from your boss for a few days, sweetie. People will start to wonder just what you get up to in your spare time.”

She flushes with the implications and hits his arm. He doesn’t so much as flinch. “I’m not the one who lost me on the cameras.”

He scoffs. “Blame the twins, sweetie. It’s their oversight that led to this.” He gestures to the hairpin still clutched in her hands. “You had the means to defend yourself. Use them next time.”

Before their bickering can go on, you step between them to grab more napkins from the table. The old ones stick to your bloody skin when you pull them away. You quickly replace them. Seeing your injury was enough to shut them both up, no matter how minor it really was. You turn to leave.

“Thank you,” Little Miss says quickly, trying to get it out before you step out the door. You look at her, expression neutral if not a bit exasperated. She offers a smile. It looks jarring against the purpling bruises, but you nod anyway. You glance at Sylus, then exit the backroom to go wait in the car.

“They must like you,” Sylus comments with a smirk.

She rolls her eyes and smacks him again on her way out. “Shut up or I’ll stab you with the hairpin.”

“Oh, I’m terrified.”

-

You sit still, eyes closed and head tilted to the side, as Sylus tends to the bullet-made cut on your neck. He has you up on the bathroom counter, standing between your legs as he gently disinfects and bandages the area. Once it is securely protected from outside elements, he brushes a kiss over it.

“Thank you for protecting her,” he whispers. You open your eyes and tilt your head back up to look at him. His expression is so open, genuine. He really means it; not that you needed to see it to know that. “I know you two didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.”

You give him a wry smile. You look away from his face to seek out his hand, resting on the counter beside you. He offers no resistance as you pick it up, your palm to the back of his hand as you intertwine your fingers together and draw him up to your lips. You close your eyes as you press a kiss to his palm, before nuzzling into it. “I know you’re mine,” you whisper back. You look back up at him, resting your cheek in his hand. “And… Mephisto is starting to like her.”

He chuckles softly. “Oh? Is that all?” He smiles at your little nod. Mischief flickers in your eyes before you shut them to press your face into his hand some more. It’s endearing. You’ve let yourself relax around him, allowed yourself to indulge in his touch like this. Which reminds him…

He brushes his thumb against your cheek, trailing his hand to your jaw to guide your attention back to him. There’s a slight furrow in his brow and something heavy in his eyes. “What happened on your end?”

Ah. Caught red handed. You avoid his eyes in favor of following the line of his nose, the dip of his cupid’s bow.

He leans forward to nudge his nose against yours, drawing you back into his gaze once more. “Tell me.”

“The dancer…” You sigh, closing your eyes and shaking your head. “I got distracted.”

He knows exactly what you mean. He cradles your face with purpose, fingers pressing lightly to the back of your neck, keeping you close as he rests his forehead against yours. “No more clubs for a while,” he promises. “Someone else can deal with them.”

You can’t disagree, not when you got someone else on the mission hurt because of the environment getting to you. For all your pouting about being relegated to watch, you know he always had good intentions for keeping you off the ground.

He pulls away, but not without leaving a kiss on your forehead. He flips the hold you have on his hand to be holding yours so he can help you off the counter. “The chef is making your favorite. It should be finished by now.”

He swears he falls a little more in love with the way your eyes light up in excitement. The little bounce in your step as you drag him down to the kitchen mirrors the skip of his heart. And when you see Miss Hunter there, thanking you again for saving her, you even offer her a slight smile.

Sitting at the dining table, the Twins bickering with Little Miss and you sneaking his robotic crow bits of food that he doesn’t need, he’s never felt more at home.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Closed Position: Week 1 (Introductions)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble. 

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on Dancing with the Stars to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 7.1K

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence, past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

Week 1 Quote: "Fuck. I might be in trouble."

Dieter’s POV

“Lenny, have you seen this fucking schedule? It’s seven days a week for twelve weeks. When do I get a break?” 

Lenny, my agent, sighed through the speaker phone, “D, I told you this was going to be a lot of work before you agreed to do it. You shouldn’t be surprised…and besides, that’s only if you make it to the finals.”

I scoffed, “Thanks for the vote of confidence…asshole.” Lenny chuckled on the other end of the line. We both went quiet for a moment as I continued to flip through the packet of paper that Lenny had sent over for review, “I don’t even get to have any say on the wardrobe or music. Such bullshit…sucking all the fun out of it. Did you at least drop a bug in their ear about who I’ll be partnered with? If I get stuck with someone I don’t want, I’m gonna be fucking miserable.” 

“I did, but the producers said they always do the partner matching themselves. They have a formula…or something. Maybe bring it up again at this morning's meeting and explain why. They may listen to you on it.” 

I huffed as my eyes continued skimming over the weekly schedule, “I have to get a fucking spray tan every week? You have GOT to be kidding me…Lenny, you know I don’t like using carcinogenic chemicals on my body.” 

“Uhhh, no comment on that…Look, I’ll put in a call and see if they can use something natural for that.” 

I relaxed some, “I would appreciate that. Thank you. Tell them I have an allergy or something…just make it happen.” 

I tossed the packet onto the table and picked up my phone, taking it off speaker and putting it to my ear - now pacing as I spoke, “Well, it looks like I’m gonna be pretty busy for a bit. That’ll be a nice distraction. It beats being locked inside the house at least.”  

Lenny hesitated, but still asked, “How are you doing with everything? Still managing ok?” 

I sighed, “Yeah, I mean I’m going to therapy and all the meetings still. I’ve been doing ok…just trying to keep the stress levels down. That’s what gets to me the most.” 

“How long has it been?”

I looked at the date on my watch, “Eight months today…actually. It’s the longest I’ve ever been clean, and I plan to stick to it this time. I’m feeling good and I want to keep it that way.” 

“Everyone is really proud of you, D. You know that, right? Keep at it and we'll have you back on top in no time.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing that it was an uphill battle, “I appreciate that, but good luck getting people to change their opinion of me. I’m not sure if my reputation is salvageable at this point. Everyone seems to think my sobriety is some sort of joke. No one is taking it seriously.”

I could hear Lenny inhale deeply on the other end of the phone, “It’s just going to take time, D. Don’t give up yet.” 

I pursed my lips in thought, “Yeah, I guess. Anyway, I need to get ready for this meeting. We’ll talk later, yeah?”

“Yeah, definitely let me know how it goes.”  

Once I hung up the phone with Lenny, I took a quick shower, then spent longer than I should have staring at the clothes hanging in my closet - trying to pick something that says I have my shit together. My therapist kept reminding me that if I dressed like a slob, people were going to treat me like one. So, I was putting more effort into making myself presentable before I left the house these days. Since it was a work meeting, I went for a business casual look, figuring I couldn’t go wrong with that. After styling my hair and getting dressed, I grabbed my keys, phone, wallet, and sunglasses and headed out the front door.

As I approached my car, which was parked in the driveway, I noticed there was a dead bird on the hood. The fluffy gray, brown, and white stray cat that had been hanging around my house was sitting next to it, looking rather proud of himself. I sighed, “Come on dude, really?” And this is why I need to get the garage cleaned out. I hit the clicker to open the garage door so I could get a broom to knock the bird off the hood. As I waded through the mountain of empty boxes from my move six months ago, I cursed myself for taking my sweet time getting that stuff out of the house. Finally finding the broom, I quickly moved to get the dead bird off of the car and shooed the cat away. He didn’t look happy about it as he moved to sit on the pathway in front of the house, watching me until I was finally on my way to Television City Studios to meet with the producers of Dancing with the Stars. 

When I arrived at the studio, I was met by the two executive producers, Stacia and Joe and led into a conference room. I let them do their spiel about what’s expected and the schedule. Nodding along in all the right places, being as polite as possible even though I hated how little say I had over anything. Once they moved on to the topic of how they choose partners, I spoke up for the first time, “I would really like to have input on my partner.” They both moved to speak before I held up my hand to signal that I wasn’t finished talking. 

“Look, I know you all have your formula or whatever, but I have a legitimate reason for asking. As I’m sure you’re aware, I’ve been trying to clean up my image. I’ve been sober for eight months and I would really like to be placed with someone that doesn’t have a reputation for partying…someone who isn’t gonna be a negative influence on me. It’s actually really important to me because I’m actively avoiding being around anyone who is into that kind of lifestyle.” Which is why I spend most of my time alone.  

Stacia and Joe looked at each other, obviously surprised at my reasoning for the request. They were actually stunned into silence. Since neither of them said anything, I continued, “I had my team check into the dancers, and based on their recommendation…I’m requesting that Katarina Stamos be my partner. She has a good reputation and I’m also told she’s very professional and isn’t judgmental…because that’s been an issue here lately that I’d really like to not have to deal with.”

Stacia’s brow furrowed, “Are you looking to actually win? Because Kat hasn’t won a single season that she’s been with us.”

I narrowed my eyes on her. What an asshole thing to say about someone. “Well, maybe that’s because you keep giving her shitty partners.” 

I gave Stacia a sarcastic smile. She had the audacity to look offended by that statement. I had watched the show and seen the people Katarina was partnered with. It was always the older guys that could hardly move. Stacia’s attitude made me more determined to have Katarina as a partner just to prove a fucking point on her behalf. 

Joe interrupted the silent standoff that Stacia and I now seemed to be having, “Alright, let’s think about this…” He turned to Stacia, “Physically, they work together. Their height and proportions are a good match…and Kat is very patient. She would work well with him. Also, if he wishes to be with someone who isn’t into partying, Anika is not the person he needs to be with.”

Stacia looked frustrated and unwilling to give in as she glared at her counterpart. Joe smirked, “If you're worried about the change in narrative, it’s possible there may be other options we haven’t considered.” 

What the fuck does that mean? I leaned forward on my elbows, “What narrative?” 

They both turned to look at me, Stacia now had a sly smile on her face. It was Joe who answered, “We always consider the possible narratives that could come up between partners. How they’ll interact and get along personality wise. It’s an important factor for the show.”

I felt a crease form between my brows, “So basically, you try to manufacture drama for TV.”  

Joe shook his head, “Not exactly, I mean ultimately, yes. We just take personalities and such into account when we pair the dancers with their celebrities. I mean, we do want everyone to get along with their partner, obviously.”   

So, you’re fucking meddlers. Got it. I arched my brows, giving them a tight smile as I nodded, going along with what they were telling me. I now realized I would have to keep an eye on these two. I didn’t feel like they had my best interest in mind. Especially if they were initially planning to put me with the known party girl. 

I cleared my throat before speaking again, “So what does that mean…do I get to work with Katarina or not?” 

Stacia looked at me, now smiling, “I think that may actually be a good match now that I think about it. So yeah, we’ll let you work with Kat. Hopefully you’ll both make it through to finals.” 

What is this woman’s deal? Geez Louise. I eyed them both suspiciously for a moment, “Ok, good. Now I’m finally a little excited about this.”   

They went over a few more details about the schedule before taking me out to meet with a production assistant, who was tasked with giving me a tour of the building and showing me where my dressing room would be. This part of my day couldn’t end soon enough…��

Katarina’s POV

As I was pulling into the Television City Studios parking lot for the first day of my last season on Dancing with the Stars, my phone pinged with a text from Alec, my fiancée.

Alec: I finished up my meeting with production. Are you here? Have you had yours yet?

I leaned my head back against the seat. What the hell has he been doing? I know his meeting was over an hour ago.

Me: Just parked, I have mine in 10 minutes. I’m on my way in…Meet you in the lobby. 

A few minutes later, I found Alec in the lobby. He seemed more excited than he normally was on the first day as he greeted me with a quick kiss on the cheek. 

I leaned away from him, “What’s got you so smiley this morning?” I could tell he was trying to temper it down and have a more neutral expression on his face as he shrugged, “I didn’t realize I was. Guess I’m just excited to see you.” 

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. What are you hiding now you asshole. He didn’t know how well I could read him at this point. 

I arched a brow instead of returning his smile, “So, I assume you found out who your partner is gonna be?”

He continued his attempts at a neutral expression, “Yeah, Lana Thompson…she’s an actress, I think. There was apparently a last minute change to the lineup this morning. You know her?” 

I gave him a tight smile, “Yeah…I know her. She has a bit of a reputation…”  

He feigned ignorance, “Oh? I don’t know anything about her. I’m sure she’ll turn out to be one of those stuck up, bitchy types like the rest of ‘em. Ya know, you’re lucky it’s your last season so you don’t have to deal with these people anymore.” 

And there it is. He doth protest too much. He was excited to be paired with her, I could tell. He saw it as an opportunity. As far as I knew, he hadn’t strayed to another woman in some time, but that didn’t mean he had changed. He still hadn’t earned my trust back and his current excitement only made me more suspicious of his commitment. 

Alec could sense the tension taking hold of my body as he rubbed at my lower back, “Everything ok, baby?”

I gave him a half-hearted smile, “Yeah, just peachy. I’ve gotta go or I’m gonna be late. I’ll catch up with you after.” 

As I was walking down the hallway toward the conference room, I saw Lana Thompson exiting the bathroom. I suspected Alec had already met his partner and liked her more than he let on. Which probably explains why it took him as long as it did to text me. 

When I entered the conference room, Stacia and Joe sat huddled together. They seemed to be engrossed in whatever they were whispering about, but abruptly stopped talking once they realized I was lingering in the entryway. They both smiled, almost over enthusiastically as they welcomed me and motioned for me to have a seat. They studied me for a moment before Stacia finally spoke, “How are things going with you?” 

That’s an odd question and an odd tone. I wasn’t sure what kind of answer she was looking for, “It’s going good, why?” 

She gave me a small smile, “I know it’s your last season because you have things going on…but do you think you’re feeling up to the possibility of making it to finals?” 

I gave her a confused look, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Joe leaned forward, “What Stacia is trying to say is…the person we have you partnered with this time is going to be a little more physically able than your usual partners. So, you may be in it for the full twelve weeks…if you can pull it off. Are you physically able to handle it?” 

Should I be offended by that? It’s not like I can’t function. It was just painful some days, especially when there were a lot of rehearsals. My joints couldn’t handle the Latin dances like they used to - the jerky movements exacerbating the inflammation and discomfort. That didn’t mean they had to treat me like a fragile porcelain doll though. 

I narrowed my eyes at them, “Of course I can handle it. I could handle it this entire time…which is why I’ve been asking for more capable partners.” 

Joe smiled, “Well, good. Maybe you can go out with a bang this season.” 

What the fuck was this about? I dug my teeth into my bottom lip as I tried to figure out their angle. There was always an angle with them, “Why do I feel like you’re trying to sell this to me?” 

Joe grimaced slightly. “We’re not trying to sell it, but we do worry you won’t be happy about it.” 

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back into the seat, “Who is it?” 

Stacia smirked, “It’s Dieter Bravo.”

I looked between the two of them, “You’re joking?” 

They shook their heads in unison. This didn’t make sense. Wouldn’t he be better suited with one of the girls that enjoyed a lifestyle similar to his? 

“What makes you think he and I will work well together? I know I have a lot of patience, but it does have its limits.” 

Joe chuckled, “His people requested you specifically. He’s actually eight months sober and they want him with someone who isn’t going to get him into trouble. He’s trying to clean up his image.” 

I scoffed, “I thought you didn’t let the celebrities have any say in who they’re partnered with?”

Joe leaned forward onto the table, “We don’t normally, but given his request and the reasons for it, we felt we should make an exception. We were thinking of putting him with you anyway.”

I shook my head, “You are aware of his reputation, right? Alec is gonna lose his shit over this.” 

Stacia smiled, “It’s not your or Alec’s choice. We run the show.”

It dawned on me then. Alec had said there was a last minute lineup change this morning and that’s why he was put with Lana. I had somehow managed to fly under the radar when it came to the producers' manufactured bullshit, but now I was right in the middle of it. They were making moves to create an underlying narrative for the show. 

“Who was he partnered with originally? I know it wasn’t me.” 

Stacia looked surprised by my question, “He was never partnered with anyone else before you.”

Stacia was lying. She couldn’t look at me directly when she answered my question - it was her tell. I knew how their minds worked. Dieter Bravo had a reputation for causing trouble and they were looking to exploit it. I’m sure his request caused a hiccup in their plans, so now they were making adjustments to cause drama surrounding him any way they could. 

My eyes shifted between the two of them, “I don’t know what your endgame is here, but I have no intention of playing, just so you know.”

Stacia and Joe sat expressionless, not giving anything away. I assumed they expected this sort of response from me. My tendency to push back at their plans was one of the reasons I wasn’t a favorite of theirs and most likely part of the reason they always worked to get me off the show as soon as possible, every season. Which sucked for my bank account. To add to their reasoning, I wasn’t interesting enough since I never had issues with my partners or whirlwind romances that made for good TV. However, this season they were taking a chance, throwing two bombs in the form of Lana and Dieter into my already tumultuous relationship with Alec. Hoping for an exciting outcome that would play out behind the scenes to stir up tabloid fodder and result in free promotion for the show.  

Joe sighed, finally speaking to break the tension in the room, “For what it’s worth, we met with Dieter earlier this morning…he was actually very pleasant and agreeable. I don’t think he’ll be an issue for you, so long as he continues to stay sober.”

My brows furrowed, “It sounds like you have a lot of faith in him. Good to know.” I moved to stand, “Well, if there isn’t anything else you need from me…”

Joe smiled weakly in my direction, “No, I think that’s it for now…just make sure you review the schedule and let us know if you have questions.” 

I gave them a sarcastic smile before moving to leave the conference room. As I rounded the corner in the hallway, looking down at the floor lost in my thoughts and frustration, I ran into someone. I started mumbling my apologies as I looked up at the stranger. I was met with a mess of curls, piercing dark eyes, and a dimpled lop-sided grin. It was Dieter fucking Bravo looking like he just stepped out of a GQ magazine. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said through a chuckle with his hands on my shoulders to catch me from running head first into him. We stared at each other in silence for a moment. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he can’t call me that.  

He had a slight smirk on his face now, “Katarina, right? Looks like we’re gonna be dance partners.” 

I shook my head, my lips set in a tight line, “Don’t call me that.” 

His brow furrowed, “What? Katarina?” 

I scoffed, “No, sweetheart. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. It’s inappropriate. You can call me Kat like everyone else.” 

He was obviously taken off guard by my cold demeanor as he gave me a confused look, “I didn’t…mean anything by it, I-I call everyone sweetheart.” 

I nodded, “Well, you're not gonna call me that.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a beat, “I guess I’ve earned that. Sorry, I won’t do it again.” 

I inhaled deeply, biting my bottom lip as I did so. It didn’t go unnoticed that his eyes shifted down to my mouth. “Look, this is my last season and I just wanna get through it without any drama, ok?”

A crease formed between his brows as his jaw ticked to the side, “What makes you think I’m gonna cause drama?”

I shook my head, now realizing how big of a jerk I was being, “Umm…I…”

He continued to stare at me with a burning intensity, “Just so you know, I’m sober…have been for eight months. Drama is not my thing these days…”

I gave him a tight smile, “Good…hopefully you can stick to it.”  Fuck. That did not come out how I meant for it to.

I could see his jaw muscles flex before he let out a small laugh. His eyes finally shifted downward. He almost looked hurt by that comment. 

I sighed, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” 

His brows arched as he peered at me through his lashes, “You know, I requested to be partnered with you because I was told that you're professional and wouldn’t be judgmental about my past…I guess I heard wrong. I suppose I should just expect it at this point, right? Maybe I shouldn’t have such high expectations of others.” 

My mouth fell open as I shook my head. I’m such a fucking asshole. He didn’t give me a chance to say anything before he spoke again, “I guess I’ll see you at rehearsals tomorrow. Have a good afternoon.” He gave me a sad smile as he brushed past me. I stood there with my mouth hanging open like an idiot watching him as he walked toward the exit. That was a great first impression. Good job, Kat. 

“Who was that?” Alec asked from behind me. 

I turned, running my fingers through the top of my hair out of frustration, “That was my new dance partner.” 

Alec squinted toward the figure standing near the exit, now stopping to look at his phone, “Is that Dieter Bravo?” 

I could feel my jaw tighten as I took in Alec’s expression, “Yes, it is.” Alec’s head snapped toward me, “I don’t want you working with him.” 

I smiled sarcastically, “Really? And you think I have a choice in that? They made it clear, there is no other option. I asked.”

Alec shook his head, “You could just not do this season. You're quitting anyway. Why not go ahead and drop out?” 

My eyes widened at his suggestion, “Because I need the fucking money, you know that.” 

He chuckled, “Right, for the dance studio.” 

I scoffed, “Yeah, for the dance studio. I don’t understand why you can’t support me on that.” 

Alec didn’t acknowledge my question, “This guy is a known womanizer. I’m not comfortable with this.” 

My head tilted to the side, “So you don’t trust me. That’s rich coming from you. You know…I’m not excited about your partner either, but I didn’t tell you to drop out. If anyone has a right to be concerned, it’s me.” 

Alec moved in closer, causing me to back up against the wall as he got in my face. His eyes were blazing with anger, “You’re never gonna let that shit go, are you? That was ten months ago, and I have been loyal to you ever since. Yet here you are…still throwing it in my fucking face.” 

I had a sudden defiant streak hit me, “You’re the one who brought it up by insinuating that you couldn’t trust me. I’m just reminding you who the problem is in this relationship.” 

Alec moved to put his hand on the wall next to my head as he leaned in further - his nose nearly touching mine as I turned my stoney face away from him, “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again,” he spat out.   

I could feel his eyes drift over my face for a moment before he pulled away and walked off. 

I huffed out a quiet “Fuck” as I exhaled a shaky breath and watched him walk toward the dressing rooms. When I glanced back toward the exit, Dieter was still standing there, frozen in place with his phone halfway to his ear. Once he realized I was looking his way, his head dropped downward, and he slowly turned to exit the building.   

 Dieter’s POV 

As I walked out into the scorching afternoon sun, I ended the call to check my voicemail, deciding I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. I was frustrated by my first interaction with Katarina. It didn’t go how I expected, and honestly, she had hurt my feelings. Based on everything I had heard about her, I didn’t think she would throw my past up in my face like that. At least not immediately, if at all. She did seem a little flustered, maybe she was just having a bad day? 

What followed after our exchange was even more bizarre. It looked like she was having a tense conversation with the man that I assumed was the one she was dating. Lenny had mentioned she was engaged to one of the other dancers. When the man first leaned in, I initially thought they were just having a private moment, but then I noticed the look on Kat’s face as she turned away from him. Something about it was unsettling and for a brief moment, I considered interrupting them. Luckily, I didn’t have to. However, I was left feeling that I had witnessed something I wasn’t supposed to.

Even though our conversation didn’t go as well as I hoped, I was still struck with how beautiful Katarina was in person. Pictures and TV didn’t do her justice. It was probably a good thing she was seeing someone, otherwise I would be in danger of making a fool of myself. Then again, I probably would anyway. My sober self didn’t seem to know how to act around a pretty lady. My confidence and self-assurance definitely weren’t on the same level these days. 

When I got home, I spent more time than I would like to admit staring at my reflection in the mirror - trying to remind myself that I was no longer the piece of shit that everyone still saw me as. It was still hard for me to accept that the old me and the new me were two very different people. Some days it really did seem like it was easier being the old Dieter Bravo, because he didn’t care about how he was perceived by others. I often longed for him to come back, just to quiet the thoughts of self-hate and inadequacy. Those thoughts really could be suffocating and hard to overcome. It was near impossible living with myself on those days.

The anticipation of how our first rehearsal would go was starting to get to me. So, I decided to spend the rest of the evening trying to relax and take my mind off things. With classical music blaring from the sound system, I moved through the house to check in on my plants - watering, misting leaves, and pruning. It was a new hobby I had picked up since rehab. It started with one succulent plant that had seen better days. My neighbor had left it sitting next to the trash bin on garbage collection day. For some reason, I had an urge to attempt to save the shriveled mass. After a few weeks, it was showing new life as the deep purple hues started to form on the leaves. My plant obsession bloomed from there. Now I wasn’t even sure how many I had. I was fairly certain my housekeeper was going to quit if I brought any more home. 

After I was finished with the plants, I spent some time painting until I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer. It was nearing midnight by the time I had showered and crawled into bed. Even though I was completely exhausted, I couldn’t shut my mind off. The anxiety was now building to problematic levels. It was always at this point that I thought about using the most. By now, the old Dieter would be a couple lines in and a few drinks deep to block out the thoughts. The new Dieter suffers through it as he lay in bed alone, staring into the darkness. I drug both hands down my face and huffed loudly before moving to switch on the lamp beside the bed. I reached for my latest self-help book and began reading.  

I was startled awake by my 7 AM alarm. I groaned as I felt around next to me on the bed for the shrilling phone to shut it off. I sat up, still half out of it, causing the book that had been lying on my chest to fall to the floor with a loud thump. I got up from bed, wiping the sleep from my eyes as I walked toward the bathroom to splash some water on my face. I stood staring at my reflection again, “You look like shit, Bravo.” It was clear I hadn’t gotten much sleep from my dark circles and puffy eyelids. I threw a warm rag over my eyes for a few minutes in hopes that would help.

Standing in my closet staring at the pile of gym clothes my stylist had picked up, I selected a random pair of shorts and a t-shirt, then pulled the tags off. We weren’t allowed to wear anything with brands or logos on filming days, so I had to break down and buy more clothes. It was probably for the best, my old gym clothes were looking a little ratty anyway.    

Once I was dressed, I grabbed my backpack that had a few essentials in it and headed toward the front door. As I stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind me, I was greeted by my furry squatter who had left another gift near the steps - a dead mouse. I sighed, “Well, at least it’s not on top of the car this time…” The fluffy menace meowed at me as he rubbed against my legs, as if to say, “Look what I did!” 

I was determined to not give in to the furry intruder, so I disregarded his attempts for pets. “Don’t you have a family somewhere to annoy?” I muttered to him as I continued toward the car. He followed me halfway down the pathway before sitting down and flicking his tail around as he watched me get into the driver's side and shut the door. He didn’t look happy about being ignored. 

I gave myself a quick glance in the rearview mirror, reaching to comb down my hair with my fingers. I hadn’t bothered to fix it, knowing it was going to turn into a mess no matter what I did to it. Then, I started the car and drove in silence to the dance studio, not even really sure how I got there as I pulled into the parking lot. I found myself wondering if I had run any redlights as I walked through the main entrance. I felt like I was in a haze as the camera team talked to me in the lobby to fill me in on the plans for filming. 

They wanted to do a brief interview with me before I went into the studio with Katarina. They wanted me to give the whole spiel about how excited I was to be here and working with my dance partner. Truth is, I wasn’t excited. I was nervous as hell, and I was supposed to act like this was the first time I was meeting her. I was unsure of how to act toward her, so when the time came for me to walk through the door to greet her and act excited, I turned on the Dieter Bravo charm the best I could and pretended like yesterday’s conversation never happened.

I was surprised to find how well Katarina did the same thing as she came over to greet me with a smile and a hug and gushed about how excited she was to work with me. However, we were both avoiding looking at the other directly. Clearly there was still some lingering awkwardness between us. After they filmed the introduction, they wanted to get some quick shots of us rehearsing. 

These first few days of rehearsal were meant for learning the basics. We were not actually getting into the first routine yet. We started with some simple stretches and moved into learning the proper frame, the different types of positions, and spacing for the different types of dances. It was all very high level and fast, but Katarina had promised that we would go over it in more detail once the film crew left for the day. The quick pace was mostly for the benefit of the film crew so they could get what they needed and move on to the next couple. 

Once filming was done for the day, we took a seat on the floor for a water break as the crew gathered up all of their gear to leave. We mostly sat in awkward silence until we were finally alone. I could feel Katarina’s eyes on me as I stared at the water bottle in my hand. She spoke first. 

“I feel like I should apologize about yesterday…I was having a shit day and kind of took it out on you. I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t mean what I said.” 

I pursed my lips and shrugged, “It’s fine. I’m used to it at this point.” 

She reached out and grasped my wrist with her left hand, the heat of her touch raced through me as I looked at the glittering ring on that finger for a moment before meeting her eyes, “It doesn’t mean that it should keep happening though. It’s not right and it’s not fair to you. Everyone deserves a second chance.” 

I huffed out a small laugh, “Yeah, except I’m on like my tenth chance. I understand why no one takes me seriously. Really, it’s not that big of a deal.” 

Her face softened as she stared at me for a beat, like she was trying to decide what she wanted to say next. Then she shifted her body to face me as she crossed her legs, “It is a big deal. It’s a big deal to me because I know better. You know…” 

She paused, appearing to gather her thoughts. I moved to lean back on my hand and face her more fully with my legs stretched out to the side. My teeth bit into my bottom lip as I watched her face shift to a somewhat pained expression. It was brief, but I still caught it before she gained her composure. 

“My uhh…my dad was sober for about 14 years before he passed. I know how hard it was for him in the beginning…with everyone doubting him and not giving him a chance. It’s one of the reasons he relapsed the first few times. It can be hard when you don’t have any support from the people around you. I know that…and I don’t wanna be one of those people. You haven’t given me any reason to doubt you, so I wanna make sure I’m giving you a fair shot and support you as long as you’re actively trying to better yourself. I know first-hand that people do change.”

Is she fucking serious? I couldn’t move or speak. She had stunned me again for the second day in a row. I never would have guessed she would share something so personal, especially on our first day together. She seemed sincere in her apology.   

I finally managed a curt nod before I reached to rub at the crease between my brows, “Thanks…I uhh…I appreciate that.”  I let out a small laugh, “I appreciate it more than you probably realize, actually.” 

She gave me a tentative smile, “Does that mean I’m forgiven for being an asshole then?” 

I chuckled, “Of course…and I didn’t think you were an asshole. Not really. I had a feeling you were having a bad day.”

“Whew…ok. Good. I was worried I had already fucked this whole thing up before it started.” 

Ok, it’s kind of hot when she says fuck. I smirked, “Does this mean I get to call you sweetheart now?” 

She narrowed her eyes on me and shook her head, “No. No sweetheart.” She laughed quietly, “But, I might consider a different nickname if you come up with a good one.” 

My lips spread into a cheeky smile, “I think I can come up with something.” She laughed into the top of her water bottle as she took a sip with a slight flush creeping up her neck. Am I flirting right now? I don’t even know what I’m doing. Geez. I looked away in an attempt to reign myself in. I can’t be doing that.  

We were soon back at it, now with a more relaxed atmosphere. We again started with getting my frame right. I stood in place as she moved my arms to the proper position, pushing in between my shoulder blades to straighten my posture. After several minutes in the position, I couldn’t help the groan that slipped out, “This is gonna do a number on my back muscles, isn’t it?” 

She snickered, “You will definitely have better posture by the time I’m done with you. Now, elbows up, you should have a horizontal line from elbow to elbow…and hold it there.” 

She then stood in front of me, taking in my form for a moment before manipulating my hands into the proper position. 

Smiling, she nodded in satisfaction as she stepped closer, “Ok, now let’s go over the hold. The hold is important because it’s how we connect…how our bodies communicate movement to lead and follow.” 

As she spoke, she moved closer, placing her arm along the top of my right one and clasping my left hand in hers. She was very matter of fact with her words as her eyes bore into mine. It was almost distracting. 

“I need you to make sure there’s no space between our arms…here, so keep your elbow flush against mine.” She bounced her arm against the top of my right one to emphasize what she meant. “This is an important connection point because I can feel the pressure from your arm, which will tell me how to follow. As for your left hand, keep it at my eye level. We apply pressure here as well for another connection point.”    

All I could do was nod along with her words, completely mesmerized by her intensity. Once she felt we had the hold down, she began to explain the differences in spacing for standard ballroom versus Latin dances. 

“So…in Latin style dances, we’ll have more space between us…like we are now. It gives us more room to move. We’re gonna be slightly offset from each other while maintaining this closed position. Got it?”

I nodded again as I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I wanted to look at her directly, but I couldn’t. Between her eyes burning into me and the tingling from her touch, I felt like my skin was on fire. I didn’t know what to make of it and it was sort of fucking with my head.

Then she stepped even closer, the front of our bodies nearly flush as she slightly adjusted the position of our arms. I swallowed hard over her proximity and the tangy citrus scent that was now invading my senses. Fuck. I might be in trouble. 

“For standard dances, like the Waltz and Foxtrot, we’re gonna be closer…like this. Our frame will be a little wider and our arms will be positioned slightly lower. We’ll both be looking off to our left instead of directly at each other.”   

I cleared my throat, stepping back slightly, “Sooo…umm…do we look off to the left for Latin dances?” 

Her brows arched as her eyes widened, “Good question. I should have mentioned that. There’s typically more direct eye contact in the Latin dances. It’s actually another form of connection…another way for us to communicate without words.”

She moved back into the Latin dance hold, now making direct eye contact with me. I couldn’t help how my eyes roamed over her face, taking in the minor changes in her expression as she spoke. I wasn’t sure if the close proximity of the standard hold or direct eye contact with the Latin hold was worse. They were both a little overwhelming. 

“Alright, let’s try some steps. We can start with the Rumba.” 

She broke away for a moment to show me the foot movement, then had me give it a try. After a successful attempt, she positioned us back into the Latin hold and we began moving together. Once it seemed we had the footwork down, she backed away with a smirk on her face. 

“You’re actually really good at this, you know. We do need to work on eye contact though.”

I smiled nervously as I looked down at my feet and rubbed the back of my neck, “I’m sorry…I know. Direct eye contact is a little weird for me.” I glanced up at her through my lashes, slightly embarrassed by the admission. 

She smiled and arched a brow in my direction, “Really? I never would have guessed that based on your love scenes.”

My eyes widened. I do not need to think about her watching me dick someone down on screen. Focus, Bravo. I chuckled nervously, “Yeah, I’m not usually looking directly into their eyes during those. I tend to stare between their eyebrows.” 

She gave me a sly smile now, snickering, “Oh, is that why you usually look cross eyed then?” 

My brow furrowed as I gave her a mock look of offense, “I don’t look cross eyed. That’s rude.”

She cackled over my response, “I’m joking. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen one of your love scenes to know how your face looks.” 

I scrunched up my nose, “Ouch, ok…so you don’t watch my movies. Got it.” 

Her laugh had simmered to a quiet chuckle now as she lightly smacked my shoulder, “I’ve seen some…just not any with a love scene. So don’t be so offended. I’ve seen those TikTok videos though…they gave me a good idea of what I’m working with.”

I rolled my eyes, “Ugh…those fucking TikTok videos. They’re so bad.”  

I had to admit, it was nice to be joking around with her after all the tension that had built up from yesterday. I took it as a good sign that this might actually go ok. What I didn’t expect was the attraction that I was starting to feel as our day went on. However, the obnoxiously sized engagement ring she wore on her finger helped keep that in check every time I saw it sparkling in the light when she moved. As long as that shiny reminder was there, I would be ok... 

Right?

Next: Week 2

✨FUN FACTS: All cast members on Dancing with the Stars are in fact required to get a weekly spray tan. They also do not get to choose their partners, costumes, music, or themes. They can make recommendations obviously, but the producers do not have to honor the requests. When it comes to pairing partners, the producers do have a "formula".

A/N: I wanted to take a quick minute to welcome all of my new and old readers! So happy to have you all with me for my next adventure with Dieter Bravo. For the new folks, I'm a sucker for predictions and theories. If you have them, drop them in the comments so we can discuss. Now on to my normal nonsense...how are you guys feeling about the first chapter? How do you feel about Dieter and Kat's first couple of interactions? What about all the characters that were introduced? I'm curious to know who you want to throat punch more, Alec or Stacia? I'm already in love with these two and I can't wait to share more of them. This Dieter is...something else. I love sharing things from his point of view. He is going to be a good time, as expected. Kat is...kind of a mess, but also not? It's been interesting being in her head. How do you see things progressing with these two? Lastly, a quick thank you to @maggiemayhemnj for giving this first chapter a quick read through to make sure all these plot points were introduced in a way that made sense...because seriously, there is a lot going on here. She also found the perfect disco ball looking dividers for this...and I fucking love them. 😘 👉 I did a fun post about Dieter's plant hobby and his furry visitor. Check it out HERE. 👉 In case you missed it, I also did a character introduction post, which you can find HERE. Until next time, 💜 Mysty

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Credits: Support/MDNI Dividers: @cafekitsune Disco Divider: @deadbranch

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

SOMETIMES, you'd like to know who your mother was before she became your mother.

You want to know where the acidic and corrosive elements that precede each of her statements come from. Perhaps she acquired it from your father—someone even more poisonous than she was. However, from how it blended with her expression every time she said: “a man’s heart is truly a wretched, wretched thing!” you can't be convinced otherwise that before she met your father, she wasn't like that—that she was once a loving girl before he wrecked her and made her your vengeful mother.

Time heals all wounds, they say. And yet, as far as you know, your mother's is still dripping with blood. Rotten. Maggot infested.

You believed it was exactly what she wanted—so that it wouldn't heal, so that she wouldn't forget how much it burned and constricted her. Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it, and she will undoubtedly carry it with her until death. “A man's heart is truly a wretched, wretched thing,” she says, as if she's sure you'll forget what happened to her—to both of you. As if losing the love of her life was hereditary. “Don't you see, sweetheart? We are a paradox of contrasts and twins.”

You're still wondering whether it was a warning or a prayer. Good mothers ensure with all their body and soul that the past does not repeat itself, that their daughters do not embody everything they might become – their mothers. God forbid they dragged themselves across the floor, trembling fingers stretched stiffly clawing at doors that had been long since being slammed shut. However, your mother wasn’t always a good mother, and she often swore over her mother's grave that you would feel the same way she did.

And yet, despite her curses and how much you hate her as much as you hate your deadbeat father, apparently a sense of familiarity is what you're searching for.

Perhaps, that’s what made him catch your eye.

Soft footsteps were created when several pairs of ballerina pointe shoes came down the hallway after the performance ended. Smiles and laughter were among them—a familiar sight; the audience was satisfied with their performance, and they were sure that the ballet director had no more notes for them because, firstly, Marie, the main ballerina in the role of Giselle, had become the center of conversation thanks to her gifted movements, leaving no room for talking about little "building" errors for the other dancers. Second, this season has reached its end, which means they won't be showing "Giselle" again for at least the next few months.

“I saw you sneak chocolates before the show, El.” One ballerina teased.

“They're for energy!” Eloise insisted with a grin.

The ornaments on their heads moved as they both laughed. You flashed a smile but didn't dare enter into the conversation. Satin-clad feet kept moving in the direction of the corps de ballet dressing room door. More laughter and gossip ensued as you passed through the door to the small vanity you shared with another dancer.

"So where are you going after this?" someone at the next table asked, not at you.

You turned around, periodically glancing in the mirror to wipe away the last traces of makeup. "I don't know! Somewhere that can help me relieve stress, obviously. Soph?” Claudine directed her question at another, still not you.

“Sorry, girls, but I have to sit this one out. My mamma has been protesting about me coming home late lately ever since she saw some protests on TV. You two have fun without me.” Sophia declines—that leaves Jules and Claudine alone then. You were ready to return to your own thoughts when Sophia's hazel eyes fixed on you and called your name. "What about you?"

Claudine turned to you, her lips forming a teasing smirk. “Gonna go home and practice some more, no doubt,” she teased. “Live a little for once! Come out with us.”

You focused on untying your pointe shoes while the other two laughed. “No thanks, I'm tired. Think I'll just relax tonight.”

Rather than a teasing smirk, now Claudine's lips resembled a declaration that she was correct once more: "Look, I'm right, aren't I? She's still the same boring girl. No surprise that the best role she can get is dancing as a leaf in the background." It's no longer a myth. It is no longer a myth that other dancers—old and new—only see a robot prodigy, soulless in her single-minded pursuit of perfection. Your movements were full of precision, tempered by years of being under the training of a Russian coach your mother sought out for you. And yet your body is sharpened for nothing more than the purpose of being a vessel. Hushed jokes about you selling your soul to the devil for your skills.

“Aww, not even for one night? Loosen up that tight bun of yours?”

You shoved the last of your things hastily into your bag, not paying attention as someone else's hairbrush and chapstick were forced to sit on top of your toiletry bag—you can always return them tomorrow. The other girls are still laughing while you swing the overstuffed duffel over your shoulder.

“Goodnight,” you say tensely, clutching the strap of your bag so tightly your knuckles turn white. Without waiting for a reply, you turned on your shoes and hurried out of the dressing room, their taunts echoing in your ears.

London streets glistened wetly as you made your way down the sidewalk. The recent rain left dark spots on the pavement. You pull your coat tighter around you, shivering in the damp night air. As you passed a rowdy pub, loud voices and laughter spilled out onto the street. Warm light and the smell of beer beckoned from within, but you hurried on without glancing in, not wanting to face anyone's eyes.

The entrance to the subway glimmers under the streetlamps. You descend the stairs slowly, your shoes clicking on the concrete steps. The underground platform was nearly empty at this late hour. A lone figure dozed on one of the wooden benches, and a teenage couple whispered together further down the tiles. Your eyes roam over the tiled walls and ads for shows you'd never see—anything to avoid looking at other people and risking a confrontation.

The screech of brakes announces the arrival of your train, followed by beams of lights illuminating the dark tunnel. You boarded the mostly empty carriage and sat down, watching the dark tunnel walls pass by. On the opposite side, your weary reflection in the glass glances back at you.

Soulless.

Soulless ballerina.

TWENTY-THREE YEARS HAVE GONE BY: Thirteen times, you were part of the corps de ballet in Swan Lake. And now, the new director—whom they “imported” directly from somewhere in France to replace the old one—announces that the next season will be Swan Lake. You don't have anything against it—why should you? Thirteen times. Thirteen times in the corps de ballet, and this time will make no difference to you; just another faceless dancer in the flock, never the Swan Queen—they wouldn't risk a soulless ballerina in the spotlight. But wouldn't audiences grow bored of the same classic retold so often?

"Now now, I know you are all tired of this ballet," he said calmly. "But we will be doing something different - a new interpretation, with a fresh artistic vision. This will be Swan Lake as you have never seen it before. Rehearsals will focus on bringing new emotional depth and dimensionality to these iconic roles. Who knows – maybe some new faces will emerge for leading roles. I’m looking forward to seeing what you all can do. Now let us begin."

The familiar piano notes of our warm-up piece drifted through the studio as you took your place at the barre, fingers curling around the worn wood. You close your eyes and focus on steadying your breathing. Even when your muscles hurt from fatigue, you persist through well-known stretching exercises with a focused effort. Your eyelids flutter open, and out of the corner of your eye, you see the new director watching silently at the edge, his sharp eyes taking in each dancer.

“One.. and.. two.. and..”

As you move on to tendus and plies, you let the rhythm of the count wash over you – “.. three.. and.. four.. and..” Your burning thighs, your stretching calves, your flexing toes. "First position...and plié. Second position...and tendu. Third position...and rond de jambe." and the coach's familiar count. Your mind wanders as the dancers continue, thinking about the director's words about seeking new depths. Stealing a glance through the mirror, your eyes returned to the man—his ringed fingers in front of his lips as he pondered.

The music continues to play, swelling with a crescendo. You concentrate on your movements again, lifting your legs high according to standard and extending your lines through fingertips.

You found your eyes drifting to the director's reflection in the mirror more and more. The coach's voice faded into a blur as you studied his intense expression, watching for any sign of interest or approval. But time and again, his gaze passed over you without pause, lingering instead on Claire or Amelia as they executed perfect pirouettes or graceful penche poses. A familiar ache of longing and envy twisted in your stomach. No matter how hard you focused or how flawlessly you hit each position, you remained invisible to him.

Your breaths are shallow, and your head is whirling. Your eyes couldn't stop following him; he was walking around watching dancers who weren't you. He spoke to the coach, then stepped back with his hands linked behind his back. Still not you. As the music nears the end and the dancers have transitioned into combination movements, he still doesn't look at you.

You know the truth: this will be your fourteenth Swan Lake, and you will once again blend into the anonymous corps de ballet. The reflection of a woman in the mirror—your reflection, somber with lifeless eyes and dull hair pulled back in tight bun. The director stated that he wanted to bring forth new depths and emotional aspects to distinguish his Swan Lake from those of other opera houses, therefore it's fitting that he didn't choose you. As an empty ache expands in your chest, you accept the truth: this is your fourteenth Swan Lake, being another swan for the fourteenth time.

The director won’t choose you.

He won't choose you.

He won't choose...

You.

He chose you. You don't know why or how.

An hour later, you find yourself standing in Studio A, facing uncertainly across the hardwood floor. Five of the girls sat at the end of the room while the director watched Claire give her interpretation of Odette in her white swan act. You watch her movements critically, noting the slight wobble in her lower back and how her port de bras could be straighter. Her pirouettes needed more control and spotting—you counted two extra turns that threw off her balance. Then she launched into the black swan's sinister variations. Gone was the white swan, replaced by a vixenish temptress oozing sensuality from her pores. The director made a few thoughtful comments you didn't quite catch before dismissing her.

The director breathed out your name and you were quick on your feet. He crossed his arms over his chest as you took your place in the center. You looked at the girls behind you through the mirror reflection, then at the director, then signaled the pianist to begin.

The famous White Swan melody plays, and you start. Plie, tendu, glissade—your limbs moved through the steps as they had a thousand times, polished, technically perfect. Your movements rely on muscle memory, analyzing your every move through a critical lens. First pose: left arm extended, back straight, neck long. Check. The second one: right leg stretched to the sky, toes pointed to the max. But was your ankle tilted just now? You furrowed your brows while making a mental note to adjust. Entering another glissade, you land on the ball of my foot, keeping your plie low. One.. and.. two. You count the seconds, nitpicking any imperfections.

“Slow down, dear, find your breath.” The director's voice cuts through your thoughts. Find your breath? You were in complete control of your breathing, hitting every mark precisely as the music demanded. What more should you find?

You barreled ahead through the choreography, unwilling to let up on your own rigid standards even as he continued offering feedback. "Loosen your shoulders...savor each moment rather than rushing to the next...let us see you feel the music, not just hear it."

But you are feeling it. You feel every crescendo and decrescendo—you stay in rhythm with the music as the score enters the ritardando section. How could he say you didn't feel the music when you lived and breathed each score? You knew this piece inside and out. From the opening notes, you have remembered not just the choreography but every key change and tempo variation. By the time you sank into your final pose, you were a bundle of nerves.

“Your technique is superb, but so tightly wound,” the director said. “Try to loosen up your lines and embrace the artistry, not just the steps. Now, show me your Black Swan.”

As the dark notes of the Black Swan coda swirl, you pour all your focus into hitting each precise movement with flawless technique. You arch into an arabesque, extending your working leg to the maximum while maintaining perfect turnout. Your spot was fixed, and your balance was unwavering. You continue through the practiced motions, and you fly into your final fouetté combo. As the last note faded, you struck your ending pose.

Slowly, you straightened your body and lifted your gaze to meet his, pressing your sweaty palms together tightly. The director remained silent, hand in front of his mouth, and looked you up and down in a way that made you want to flee. But, you restrained yourself, waiting patiently for his consideration. The pressure in the room was so intense that it made you suffocate.

After what felt like eternity, he gave a small nod – neither acceptance nor rejection. “Thank you, Mademoiselle, that was… illuminating. Please check the cast list tomorrow morning – we will announce our decisions then.”

The compliment is ambiguous, with two implications that you know tend toward the negative. Your anxiety failed to calm down, and all you could muster was a hushed thank you before you left the studio in a daze, questions still swirling around unanswered like always.

Now here you are, unfortunate enough to be under the wailing sky of London with minimal cover from a shuttered cafe. The dense fog and wind impede your eyesight, making it difficult to see the towering structures. On the left side, several cafes and pubs radiate their orange lights from within, beckoning anyone in need of somewhere to go for a quick drink or two. Anyone but you, apparently.

The city streets felt hauntingly deserted through the deluge of falling water. Shivering even in your coat and tights, you knelt down and tightened your scarf. Puddles of water begin to form in the potholes, and you desperately hope that the rain will stop soon; you still have a long ride home on the subway to prepare for tomorrow.

Just then, a splash of heavy footsteps caught your attention.

Through the sheets of rainfall, you glimpsed a tall figure hurrying down the sidewalk, taking in what little details you could discern. His leather jacket and boots, yet the way he hunched his broad shoulders against the storm conveyed a certain roughness. You squinted to make out his face, only to find it covered by a mask and a hood pulled too low. It's unsettling, but disturbingly, it makes you enthusiastically guess what lies beneath it—was he handsome or scarred? Young or weathered by experience? It intrigued you so much that you didn't realize he was only three steps away from you.

As the stranger approaches, you take more details that should have set off alarms. His all-black leather jacket may have been fine material, but it was worn and faded. And although broad-shouldered, his build spoke more of hardened muscle than gentility. Everything about him screams danger. When he drew up beside you, you intended to duck past and continue on your way.

But something held you rooted to the spot.

Now, two strangers stood side by side, between them were raindrops dragged cruelly by the cold wind. His towering figure was as still as a statue; for a man his size, he was skilled enough to be almost invisible, almost. The scent of him washed over you then—alcohol, but not the refined wines and spirits of high society. This was something rougher, meant to burn away thought rather than enhance it. Beneath that, cigarette smoke and a musky men’s cologne, attempting to cover something.

The man is still silent, and you should've taken this as your second chance to leave. There are only two possibilities for a man like him: a perverted stalker or a serial killer—most likely the latter, because for what reason would he decide to take shelter under the awning of a dark bankrupt cafe with a woman when the surrounding pubs are still serving happy hour?

While the stranger settles against the wall, you notice his large hand drift casually into his pants pocket. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in panic wondering what weapon he might pull out – a knife, or worse. All instincts screamed to run away, but your feet remained rooted to the ground, frozen.

“Nasty night.”

Your body comes to a complete stop. The air is forgotten, and you wonder if you really heard him speak just now or if you were just hallucinating. He has a roughness to his voice, gravels, and a low range with a hint of timbre muffled by his dark mask. Unknowingly turning toward him, you stared at his side profile until he met your gaze, and you swiftly looked straight forward again.

“Uh, y-yes, quite a storm,” You stuttered in reply, cursing your trembling voice. Gripping your duffel bag tighter, you tried not to say anything that might offend him.

Minutes pass, the rain as the only noise. Finally, he spoke again, "Subway, yeah?" Between the sound of the rain and his muffled ones, you tried hard to make out what he was saying. After fully understanding it, you give it a nod.

“Yes, the subway. Though it may be closed by now with the weather.”

The man pulled out a pack of cigarettes. From the corner of your eye, you knew he was taking off his mask. Your heart beats fast as you resist the urge to turn your head, settling to look at the dark street in front of you instead. Smoke wafts between you both, creating faint, short-lived tendrils in the air.

The two of you were in silence. You wanted to talk to him again but didn't know what there was to say; it could be that he just wants to smoke with a company, a quiet company. He let out a puff of fresh cigarette smoke, and you inhaled it all. Toxins are bad for the skin and lungs, and yet you're better off suffocating than giving the impression that you're disturbed.

“Subway's closed, like you said. No sense waiting in the wet.” He took the last drag and threw the cigarette butt into the gutter. “Come on then. Pub's the best place for now.” His voice muffled again – he had put his mask back on.

You hesitated at his offer, biting your lip as you weighed the options rapidly in your mind. On one hand, the rain shows no signs of letting up, and this awning provides only a little protection at best. But to follow a strange man through the streets, alone, allowing him to take you to a spot where inebriation may be present—where his worst pals might be waiting. Girls your age being spiked is something you hear about a lot.

Shaking your head, you manage a small smile. “Thank you for the kind offer, but I'll be right here. Best not to trouble you further on such a night.”

He tilts his head, his eyes peering from the mask's shadows as if reading your unspoken fears. Does he see the consideration behind your polite refusal—how now you are a vulnerable woman, and this relative anonymity without further conversation is a safe option, despite the discomfort? Within his dark eyes, there was a stirring that you didn't understand. Pity? Or mockery? Under his towering height and massive body, you were nothing but a frightened rabbit.

Gusts of wind drive cold droplets under the awning. You suppressed a shiver, hugging yourself tighter. “Really, I'll be fine. The rain can't last forever." A forced laugh follows your words.

You seize the chance to stare back at him. It was impossible for you to know what calculations were going through his mind, or what emotion lay beneath that mask. It's pretty unfair, you think, that he can hide under a hood that nearly makes him invisible in the dark of night while he can see all of you—a greasy-haired woman hoping the man in front of her will respect her dumb decision. It's the least he can do.

Just when you think this staring game would go on for another minute, he turns his gaze. “Suit yourself, love.” His voice comes out gruff, and your heart drops thinking you've let him down (but, for what?). "But you'll catch your death waiting in the rain."

A pang of guilt crashes into you as he turns his shoe the other way. For safety's sake, you rejected him, thinking you're being sensible; but there's an authoritative voice in the back of your mind telling you, "He's the first nice guy in a long time, and look what you gave in exchange for his kind offer." Self-doubt is playing in your heart. His back was already turning, boots squelching away into the rain.

“Wait!” You called after him, hating how small and frightened you sounded. He paused and searched back, eyes questioning through the mask. Steeling your nerves, you step into the downpour. “I'm coming with you.”

If this guy thinks you're an indecisive woman who can't even commit to a decision for more than five seconds, thank goodness he didn't say anything other than give you another stare. He led the way as he went, holding the door of one of the busy London pubs. More liquor and tobacco smells. You both entered, bringing a burst of damp wind with you. The warmth and noise within are a shock after the storm outside.

He steers you towards the fireplace, shrugging out of his soaked jacket. “Get yourself by the hearth,” he said, nodding to an empty chair. “Dry off.”

You did as he said gratefully, holding your hands out to the flames. The colors returned to your cheeks; fear slowly evaporated away.

“What'll you have, love?” He asked, and you frowned before understanding. Oh, drinks.

“Something light,” is all you say, eyes lowered again. The man gave a nod and went to give the bartender the order.

He returned not long after, setting the drinks down and taking the chair opposite to yours, stretching out his long legs toward the fire. You took the gin with a murmured “thank you.” He settled with his own—whiskey in a glass, neat. You glanced at the remains of rainwater dripping heavily from his clothes in a growing puddle at his boots. The drinks were enjoyed in companionable silence, still trying to find calm after the storm's fury.

The fire crackles merrily as you sit. Finding your voice, you clear your throat gently.

“Thank you, for…” Your fingers tapped nervously on the glass. “Well, for everything, I suppose.”

His eyes lifted from the flames to meet yours, and you offered a small smile. “I’m (Y/N).”

As the name slips out, you berate yourself. How stupid, giving up something as personal as your name! This man was still a stranger, no matter his kindness so far. For all you know, bad intentions could be lurking behind that calm gaze even now. But in the cozy glow of the fire, your sense of awareness wavered, lulled to sleep in a false sense of security.

He merely nodded, moving his hand to the mask hook over his ear without expressing much emotion. Your eyes widened, and your heart was pounding. The breath in your lungs stilled in anticipation as the fabric peeled slowly back, inch by inch. Is he about to...?

The man removed his mask, appearing at ease and lacking in secrecy. He looks at you, and you quickly look aside, pretending to offer him a little privacy. You wait for him to finish, to put it on again, but he never does. Is it okay to look-

Deciding to no longer be the uneasy one (since the guy looks completely unconcerned as he takes a long sip of his drink), you follow suit and allow the liquid to cascade down your throat. There's a slight thump as your glass hits the aged wood. Your curiosity is piqued even more by the fact that he hasn't made any moves to wear it again. Slowly, you raised your gaze, meeting that unveiled gaze – a secret not meant for your eyes.

Blonde eyelashes – pretty. Faint shadows hung under the eyes. Light stubble. Scars dotted his jaw, thin white slashes earned from unknown origins. His nose sat slightly off-center, clearly broken more than once in past altercations—bar fights, perhaps? Though something about the precise thinness of the lines didn't seem right for brawling. Regardless of which one, he is clearly no stranger to violence, and being near him is enough for someone to sense the danger he was capable of.

But, there is something about that powerful jawline, the intensity found only in his hooded eyes, spokes of steel and intricate details that defy explanation. Fire in his eyes. Even after taking off the mask and grasping it between his lengthy fingers—just when you think all the curtains have been exposed—he still remains a mystery.

(And you're just another gullible woman who believes she knows how to solve the puzzle.)

You wait; surely he will offer his own name in return now that you've bared yours. But seconds ticked by in the silence, and still he said nothing.

A flush crept up your neck at the realization that he had no intention of reciprocating. Did you misread this entire meeting? Why did he bring you here if not to talk? You observe his stony profile, wishing you could see past him. Did he intend to remain a mystery—an enigma full of intrigue? Or is it actually a test to see how long your curiosity can last?

Your fingers fidget with the condensation on your glass. Under this new tension, the easy silence fell away. Seeking an escape from the awkwardness, you looked for something, anything. Your gaze landed on a group of regulars in the corner, laughing boisterously.

“Do you, um, come here often?” You ask lamely, cursing your inability to make small talk. But there was an amused glint in his eyes that put you back at ease.

“Aye, I'm 'ere often enough,” he replied, taking another sip. You assume he finds humor in your discomfort, rather than mocking it. The knot in your shoulders loosened, and you relaxed into a smile again.

For good or ill, this man stirred something deep inside you—and you're desperate to scavenge for light, safe conversation topics to continue the conversation.

“So, um, what kind of work do you—” You catch yourself, cheeks warming. Too personal to ask a stranger met by chance. You let out a dry laugh. “Sorry, I don't mean to pry. It’s just… making conversation.”

At the small thud of his glass meeting the scarred wood of the table, your eyes darted up in surprise. Already empty—have you been so lost in thought that you missed him finishing? A swell of questions rose inside you as you watched his movements for a clue. Would he signal the bartender for a refill, extending your time together? Or was this the end—the strange encounter came to a close because you somehow offended him for prying too much?

“Military.”

Unexpectedly, he gave a single-word reply. Military—that explains a lot, from his physique and bearing to the scars and the lingering scents that cling to his coat.

"Oh!" was all you could think of as a response. More questions swim to the surface, demanding to be asked, but you quash them, not wanting to risk being presumptuous a second time.

Feeling indebted, you then offer, "I do ballet, with the Metropolitan Opera." The words slip out before you can check them, and inwardly you curse yourself once again. 

Great. Name, job, and workplace. Why don't you give him your address next?

You bit your lip. Risking a glance up, you hope he won't take your openness as foolishness. His quiet acceptance has so far calmed your nerves, and now you find yourself craving that ease again.

“Must be rewarding,�� is all he offers—you grow accustomed to his terse responses. Plain, perhaps even half-hearted, but you smile as though he had read you a lovely poetry full of flattery.

“Yeah, it's really rewarding to dance and like, share that joy with others.”

Liar. What can a soulless ballerina have to share? So far, frustration is what you inflict on your director, and criticism is secretly a “reward” for your fellow dancers. You understand perfectly well, from the top of your head to the balls of your toes, that there is no joy that you can share. However, this man didn't know. He doesn't know who or how you are. Since the very beginning, you have spoken truth to him; allow this one deception to pass.

Your fingertips made a gentle squeak as they rubbed across the condensation on your glass. “If I may ask… what inspired you to serve?”

For a moment, he was quiet, considering with eyes turned to the flames.

"It was a calling, I suppose," came the gruff reply. “The world had its darkness even then. Felt a duty to stand against it.”

After providing an answer, the two of you returned to silence. You gazed thoughtfully into the flames, thinking of how you might spark another conversation that didn't rely solely on question and answer. The last thing you want is for him to view you as overbearing or pushy.

“What drew you to ballet, then?”

It was unexpected for him to pose a question, and you were taken aback when he did. Your lips curved into a smile as you thought about the answer, and your mother's role in starting it all.

"Well, I think it started because Mom thought ballet was 'cute'." A tone of amusement permeates your voice. “She had no idea about the art or discipline—she just wanted to see her little girl swirl and spin in frilly costumes. But I had fun dancing, dressing up, and listening to the music...”

Somewhere in your head, your mother's voice echoes again. Bitter and resentful, encased in an everlasting nightmare. Your mother stood in the audience, and you ran towards her, tutu skirt fluttering gently. She wiped her eyes and knelt down in front of you, whispering, "You were marvelous, sweetheart," as she drew you in. She smiles, but it stops short of her eyes. Then a string of apologies, saying that he’s gone—that she knew he had promised you to be here, but he's gone. Dad is gone. And he'll never see what you can do.

“My first real performance, in elementary school… I was so proud when the curtain fell.” You continue, remembering another face that has long been a ghost in the past.

("Why did you let that man walk away?")

You clear your throat softly. “After that, it just felt right, you know? Like I'd found where I belong.”

Liar.

Steering away from the bitter past, you change the direction of the conversation again. “Are you from around here?” It's a simple question, maybe even stupid. His accent alone makes it plain he grew up in this land, but, no matter how long you've lived in England, you have a small grasp of regional dialects within the country.

“I mean, I know you're obviously from here—your accent kind of gives it away.” You waved. “I just meant—is this area home for you? Or are you from elsewhere originally?”

The barest upturn of his lips catches your eye. Was that a smile? On this gruff, grumpy stranger who has only revealed so little so far? Your heart beats at the sight, rare as a summer snowflake. He reached into his pocket, took out a cigarette, and held it between his dry lips. The lighter ignited, and white smoke was blown out.

“Manchester, originally,” he said, intonation hanging. He took another drag of his cigarette before exhaling slowly and adding, “A different world now. You?”

“I've been in the city for years now, but I'm from San Francisco.” You said. “When the chance came up to transfer here from my old opera house back home, I leapt at it. Felt it was time for a fresh start, to spread my wings and live on my own. And maybe get out from under my mom's feet—love her to bits, but she can be a bit much sometimes.”

From your own remarks, you can't help but question if mothers are as harsh on their sons or if this is solely reserved for daughters. Girls are taught to keep close to home and their hearts, while boys are free to roam and explore. Is it any wonder, then, that spreading your wings felt like escaping? You wanted to ask him but ended up lacing your tongue tightly.

The fire's burned low, just embers burning gently in the fireplace. Time passed unnoticed as the two of you sat chatting quietly. But outside, the rain began to subside until it was a fine patter on the roof.

“Storm’s passed, seems.”

As he speaks, you glance up to find his guarded mask has fallen once more into place. The easy openness that had soothed tired nerves now closed again – strangely making you bereft. A feeling of melancholy welled up in your chest at the thought of parting, of kissing away the intimate bubble the two of you had crafted and going back out there into the cold reality where you would be strangers again. Your fingers fidgeted in your lap as you searched for words.

“I suppose you're right… it has eased off some.” Your voice came out small and awkward to your own ears. Licking your dry lips, you added, “thank you, for your company. It was…nice, not to feel alone.”

 He stood up, stretching his tall frame. After this, the spell of the evening will evaporate, and everything will return to the reality of loneliness once again.

“C'mon then, let's get you home,” he said gruffly, offering a hand to help you up. His strong hand envelops your smaller one—rough yet tender, sending warmth through your limbs that have little to do with the fire now dying.

Pushing through the heavy doors, the night air is a contrast to the warmth of the pub. Thick fog covered the streets, rain-slick stones glistening under the street lights. He waved at the first cab that passed—and you prayed it wouldn't stop so you could buy a little more time with him.

It stopped. The night was set to end.

He holds it while you slip inside. Through the open window, your eyes met his; he crouched beside the window, broad shoulders hunched. He's talking to the cab driver, but you can't hear it—not when your heart flutters madly in your breast over a single question. The ache of still not knowing his name. It seems wrong, unfair, that he knows you so well, yet you know nothing of him in return.

The cab lurches into motion, snapping the spell. Panic rises in your throat; you can't let him disappear into the night—to the back of your head like another passerby.

“Wait—please! I don't know your name."

Before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out in a desperate rush.

The second ticks by as you wait. He finds you foolish, for sure—just another desperate, nosy girl who wants to play detective the second she sees a puzzle. The clinginess in your request must have given the impression that you were a fool in love—gullible and name-obsessed.

Something shifts in his dark eyes, and you hope it's a wall crumbling away. Then, in his low rumble – “Simon.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, almost parting your lips in question before—

“Name's Simon,” he repeats.

(And the sun breaks through storm clouds.)

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION.

[bunnliix]

The Invisible Strings that Bind Us - Chapter Seven

We have a bunch of cute interactions between y/n and the boys this chapter, so buckle up my lovelies! Prepare for the fluffy moments!

a/n: I am writing this while I am almost 3k words in, and I haven't even finished off one bullet point of my outline for this chapter, this is gonna be a long one haha

a/n 2: 4.4k words in now, still have a bunch more to go, strap in everyone, this is a looong ride

masterlist

word count: 5.5k

warnings: Fluff, anxiety and worries from y/n, petnames galore, I think that's it honestly

Y/n was the first of the three to wake up, finding that she was trapped between the two men, two of her soulmates, she reminded herself. Their arms were wrapped tightly around her, and she slowly tried to worm her way out of their hold. It took her a few tries before she was successful, getting the two men to hold each other instead of holding her. As she softly stepped out of bed, she was unaware that one of them had woken up, eyes opening up to see that the woman in between them had disappeared. 

She slipped out of the dancer’s room, as a pair of eyes watched her do so, before focusing back on his sleeping soulmate, deciding to let her wander as there was no danger in doing so. They didn’t have to be awake for another couple of hours, since it was only a studio day, which usually meant that it would be a longer day, but not as strenuous on their body. It also meant that it would only really be themselves and a couple staff members in the studio with them, so they wouldn’t have to worry about any of their managers showing up. 

Y/n softly walked out into the living room, finding no one out there, and so she quietly sat down on the couch, pulling out her phone and scrolling tumblr, because yes, she’s a tumblr girlie. She got absorbed into her phone, not noticing how much time had passed until someone’s head found a spot in her lap. She flinched, not expecting it, and looked past her phone to find Felix’s face looking up at her, contentedness reflected in his eyes as he gazed up at her. 

“Good morning.” She spoke softly, smiling down at him.

“Good morning, baby.” He replied to her, smiling back at her, hand moving to squeeze her thigh.

His action made her whine, before she realized what she did and slapped a hand over her mouth, as if it would make the sounds stop coming out of her mouth. He chuckled looking up at her, his eyes darkening after hearing the sound caused by his actions. 

“You okay there cutie?” He teased her.

“I-I’m fine.” She said, trying to reassure herself more than him, a blush clear as day on her face.

“Are you sure about that?” He questioned.

Y/n moved to hide her face in her hands, unable to look at the freckled man anymore. Felix chuckled, but backed off, this wasn’t the time or place to tease his newest soulmate. Though he was glad to see how easily flustered she got, it’s adorable really.

Their alone time is interrupted by Seungmin creeping out into the main area, a grin on his face at finding the two of them. 

“Oh? Did I interrupt something?” He said, with a teasing lilt in his voice.

Y/n groaned, continuing to hide her face from both men. 

“Seungmin, please go away.” She told the younger man.

“Hmmm, nope.” He replied, smirking.

She sunk into the couch more, wanting to disappear at that moment. Thankfully Jeongin’s appearance in the living room diverted Seungmin’s attention away from her, saving her from his reign of terror. 

Felix looked up at her, a bit of concern shining in his eyes. “Did either of us go too far? I’m sorry if we did, I’ll make sure we don’t cross any more lines.” He said.

“It’s okay Felix, neither of you went too far. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.” She answered him.

He nodded, moving to sit up on the couch, moving her legs so he could sit, before pulling them back over his lap. He pulled out his own phone, starting to scroll TikTok by the sounds coming from his device. She went back to her Tumblr scrolling, the two of them happy to coexist in silence.

Meanwhile, the two youngest had stopped conversing, looking over at two of their soulmates, smiling at how comfortably y/n was getting around them. Jeongin snapped a photo of the two, that he planned to send later, once they weren’t the only ones awake. They took a seat at the table, softly conversing about their own upcoming schedules and about things they were looking forward to doing. 

This peace lasted for another 45 minutes, before Han came stumbling out into the main area, a more composed Minho following behind. Han moved to collapse on top of the two laying on the couch, groans being heard from their smallest soulmate.

“Han, you’re heavy. Get off of us.” Felix complained, a groan in agreement coming from y/n.

“Yah! I want to cuddle with my soulmates and all I get is complaints? Rude.” Han retorted.

“There’s ways to cuddle your soulmates, without crushing them.” Maura managed to get out, being crushed by the silver haired rapper.

“I see how it is.” Han pouted, getting off of them and the couch.

“Han, I like being cuddled, but not when it involves getting crushed beneath under person.” Y/n told him.

“Crushing is part of the fun.” The rapper whined.

“Babe, it’s really not.” She said, sighing but secretly giggling at how cute his whining was.

Han eeped at the pet name, not expecting it, turning around so his reaction couldn’t be seen. Minho chuckled at Han, thinking it was cute how much of an effect their newest soulmate had on him already. 

“We have a recording day today, in the studio.” Minho reminds everyone, but mostly it was for y/n’s benefit, so that she knew of the plans for today.

“Recording day? Are you recording a new album?” Y/n asked the lead dancer.

“We’re recording S-Class today. The title track for the upcoming comeback.” Han chimed in. He was excited to get in the studio, it was always fun on recording days, if not a tiny bit stressful.

“What Han said.” Minho answered her. 

“Ohhh, that’s cool!” She said, excitement in her voice.

“Yeah, and you’re coming with us today.” Felix informed her, the boys having talked about it last night while she slept.

“Oh? Is that okay?” She asked, unsure after the previous day’s activities.

“The staff doesn’t get an opinion on if it’s okay or not. We want you there, so you’re gonna be there with us.” Chan said, to the surprise of everyone as they didn’t hear the leader come in.

Felix moved her legs off of his lap so he could get up, and he bounced over to Chan, hugging the older Australian, who hugged him back right away. 

“Good morning Lix. Did you sleep well?” He asked, looking down at the man in his arms. 

“I did!” He said as he smiled.

“Well, we have about 45 minutes before we have to leave, in order to get to the company in time.” He reminded everyone. 

This made everyone jump into action, including y/n, though there wasn’t much for her to do. Chan came over to sit next to her, having been ready prior to coming over. 

“So you know that you’re going to be there with us today, and you can tell me right now if you’d rather be here instead. But I, and the others, would really like you to be there, to see more of what we do. We all want you to be a part of our lives, and we want to be a part of yours, if you’ll let us.” He said, looking her in the eyes, his sincerity clearly seen in his expression.

She looked at him with wonder and love in her eyes. Sure, she had loved Chan and the rest of Stray Kids prior to all of this, what Stay didn’t? But she was falling in love with him, and the rest of the boys, her boys, her soulmates. She wanted to go to work or school, and then come back home to them, to spend the rest of her life with them. She just wanted to be with them, no matter the circumstances. 

“I’d love to go with you all, but you’re sure I won’t get in the way?” She asked the Aussie.

“There’s no way you could get in the way, and honestly, I think all of the boys would focus better with you there. They have to impress you somehow, yeah?” He said, chuckling to himself.

“I don’t think I need to be impressed, but sure.” She said, giggling.

“They think differently, but you have to go get ready.” He told her, before calling out, “Felix! Babygirl’s gonna need to borrow more of your clothes for the day!” 

A muffled response from the other Aussie was heard, before Chan pulled her off of the couch and towards Felix’s bedroom. 

“You good for her to come in, mate?” He asked, and received a yes from behind the door.

Chan opened the door, pushing y/n inside, telling her he’d see her soon, before leaving her alone in the room with Felix for the second day in a row.

She barely had time to process everything, brain still trying to deal with Chris calling her babygirl, and that she’d get to see the boys in their element today as well.

“Okay, sunshine, I have two outfit options for you.” Felix said as he emerged from his closet, an outfit in each hand. One was more casual than the other, and that’s the option she picked, not knowing exactly how long they’d be at the company. 

Felix left her to change, and she quickly did so, not knowing how much time they had left. He returned when she had finished changing, whistling at her when he saw her in his clothes.

“You really do suit my clothing, don’t you?” He said, a grin plastered on his face. “I’ll have to get a couple pieces for you, or you can continue to steal mine, I don’t mind either way sunshine.” He said.

Y/n blushed, she was still not used to all the petnames, nor wearing other’s clothes. She nodded, not finding the words to answer Felix, who just chuckled at her, finding her increasingly cuter by the hour.

“Come on, if you’re done, then we should head out to the living room.” He told her, reaching out for her hand and leading her back into the main area of the dorm. 

They were the last two to arrive, and all eyes were on them, well really just her. They were of one mind, only thinking about how cute she looked in Felix’s clothes. They would have to give her some of their own, so that she didn’t only have to wear the freckled man’s clothing. That wasn’t jealousy speaking, definitely not, they denied, but really, that’s all it was. They didn’t want only Felix to dress her up, they wanted that chance too.

We’re all ready to leave?” Chan addressed them all.

“I think y/nnie just needs to get some stuff, right?” Minho spoke up, knowing that she hadn’t had time to gather anything she wanted to bring.

“Go on and get what you need then, okay?” Chan smiled at her, and she went down the hall to Minho’s room to grab the few things she had. 

Minho followed behind her, almost treating her as a tinier version of Han or Felix, which in his mind, she really was. He leaned against his door frame, watching her gather what she wanted to take, chuckling when she turned around and jumped at seeing him.

“Yah, you scared me!” She said as she pouted and glared at the older man. 

“I didn’t mean to.” He said, still slightly chuckling at her. 

She huffed, pushing past him and walking down the hall, though he quickly caught up to her. He grabbed her hand, taking the lead and pulling her to the entryway, seeing as everyone else had already headed down to the vans. He pulled out both pairs of their shoes, and once they both were ready to leave, he opened the door for her and they both quickly made their way downstairs and out of the building, where y/n was pulled into the maknae line’s van, as Lino was pulled into the other van by Changbin.

The journey between their building and JYP was short, which meant there wasn’t much time for the boys to cause chaos. The boys mostly chatted about how they were excited to show her the studio properly this time, but also that they’d be recording the song in a larger studio so that they all, plus a couple staff members, could be there comfortably. Han was simultaneously excited for and dreading the recording session. He was anxious about y/n seeing their work for the first time, and hoped that she’d like it. 

Plus, she’d have to sign an NDA before they could do anything. Han knew that their fearless leader had been on the phone for hours about it, and had made sure that the contract covered only what was needed. He’d be going with y/n to sign the NDA regardless, to make sure their staff hadn’t switched it out last minute.

The maknae van had arrived after the hyung line’s van, so Chan was there waiting for them as the van pulled up to the company. Y/n got out first, and Chan reached out to grab her, as the rest of the boys got out of the van as well, letting them go ahead into the building, while the two of them strolled behind. 

“Before you can go into the studio with us, you have to sign an NDA about our work and the group.” He informed her, to which she needed.

“That makes sense, and I assume you’re my guide to go sign it?” She asked him, tilting her head up at the man.

“Yes, but I’ll also be there to make sure that it only covers what I told them it should cover.” He said, not trusting the staff after yesterday’s incident.

“Oh, okay.” She said, not sure what else to say.

He quickly ushered her to the elevator, wanting to get her in to sign it, so they could head to the studio. Their journey upstairs was quick, for which Chan thanked the universe, and they entered the office where she was to sign the NDA. When a member of the staff and one of the legal team passed over the NDA, Chan quickly took a look through it, making sure it was the same one he negotiated with them last night. It was, to his relief, and he leaned close to his soulmate, whispering to her that she could sign it, but to read through it herself before she did so.

Y/n took his advice, reading through the entire contract, asking Chan or the legal team member for clarification on certain parts. In the end, she understood what it was saying, and she signed where she was required to, and then Chan wrapped his arm around her waist, leading her out of the room and towards the practice room.

She let him lead, she wasn’t sure where she was going, but she knew Chan wouldn’t take her anywhere but the studio. They went down a floor, heading down a long hallway before Chan opened the door to the studio, the others calling out to greet the last two they were waiting on. 

“You made it! Welcome to where magic happens!” Changbin welcomed y/n into the room, and roused a round of giggles from the younger boys.

“That sounded dirty, Binnie-hyung.” Felix told the older man, in between his laughs. 

The rapper blushed, before playfully tackling the boy on the couch, Hyunjin getting involved as well, as a casualty.

“Okay, enough playing around, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” Chan interrupted, not wanting the boys to get too off track before they even started recording. 

“You can go sit over there with Jinnie and Lix, okay?” He told her, pointing over at the two boys.

She nodded, heading over to them, as they made space in between themselves for her to slot into. She did, squirming around a bit until she was comfy. Han was up first, and her birthday twin popped himself into the recording booth, getting set up in there while Binnie and Chan got the tracks and guides all ready to go.

Felix and Hyunjin roped her into a conversation about fashion, though she didn’t have much to add to it. Though they were frequently interrupted by Han’s shouts at Changbin for his comments. The amount of times certain lines were repeated by her birthday twin, got some of them stuck in her own head, and by the end, she was mouthing along to his parts. 

The best part for y/n, was seeing how in the zone Changbin and Chan got when it came to recording and getting the best possible results for their song. It really amazed her, even if she’s seen videos of their recordings, nothing could beat seeing it with her own eyes. It was amazing, really, they were so talented, her soulmates had so much talent. It made her fall even harder, seeing just how hard they worked to perfect things for their fans, for people who were like her. 

Soon enough, Han had finished recording, and Hyunjin was called up, but not before he grabbed her hand and laid a kiss on the back of it, causing y/n to blush hard, tipping her head down so her blush was hidden from view. Hyunjin laughed gently, remarking that she was cute. He finally let go, heading into the recording booth, warming up once he was in there. She looked up at the sound of his voice, always in awe of how pretty it was. 

“You’re both so cute, my soulmates are so pretty and cute.” Felix said as he rested his head on her shoulder. She tried to keep herself relaxed, but she wasn’t used to this much touching after going so long without it. But fuck she loved it, and at some point during the next little bit, they end up tangled up in each other, and both of them are smiling and content.

Hyunjin had to repeat his lines in the chorus so many times that y/n caught onto it and started softly singing it, as Felix listened to both of their voices. He didn’t realize y/n could sing, though they hadn’t known her long nor was there ever a chance that allowed for her to sing, but he wanted a song from her, just so he could listen to it over and over again. It was almost a need, but he didn’t voice any of this, not wanting her to get embarrassed and stop singing. 

‘Hannie, come here.’ He texted his almost twin.

‘Whyyy?’ He got back.

‘Sunshine’s singing, and it’s beautiful.’ He replied.

That got the man moving, though he tried to be casual and just wanted to come over and spend time with y/n and Felix. He sat down in the spot Hyunjin had occupied, and due to that, their soulmate stopped singing temporarily. Felix slightly pouted in disappointment, but hoped that she might start up again, once Han’s presence next to her became normal, and she focused back in on the singing coming from the booth.

To the disappointment of Felix once again, he was called up next to record after Hyunjinnie. He groaned and moaned as he got up, as Han shifted y/n’s weight onto himself and Hyunjin gleefully took Felix’s place next to their tiny soulmate. However, the freckled man also knew that he could take the time to impress his soulmate while he was recording his lines. It was a shame that he might not get to hear her if she sang along.

And sang along she did, Hyunjin and Hannie being in awe of her voice. She hadn’t trained like any of them, so there were things that could be improved upon, but that was really if she was actively pursuing being a singer, which they didn’t think she was. But her natural voice was so so pretty, and it honestly would fit well into their songs, in some way or another. Han wanted her voice in their tracks in some manner, now that he’s heard it, he needs more of it. He was greedy, and now that she was here and she was his,well theirs, he wanted to have all of her. His thoughts started to descend downwards, thinking about how her voice would sound in other ways. However the burst of laughter coming from the others snapped him out of it. He looked to see that Felix’s voice had cracked in the middle of him singing, and it started a round of laughter in the studio.

Y/n giggled quietly, just enjoying the chaotic vibes of the boys around her, and watched as they went through the process of recording the song. It sounded much different than Case 143, but to be fully honest, it was still them and she enjoyed the song. Though, it was different hearing the song in separate parts as each member recorded their lines, instead of a whole song from start to finish. Her favorite part so far might have been the part that Felix recorded first, which seemed to be the pre-chorus. 

Minho and Innie’s sessions finished without much fanfare, both determined to get it done, though she, as did the boys, laughed when Bin and Chan fought over how Minho should end the second chorus. She secretly agreed with Chan’s opinion, but she feared the wrath of Changbin, so kept her mouth shut.

Once it got to Seungmin’s turn, most of the boys were kinda bored, but that’s not because the second youngest was boring, not at all. It was because they were stuck here until everyone had recorded, as per Chan’s orders, but no one seemed to know what the leader wanted. So everyone stayed, besides watching the others mess up, or hearing their voices crack mid-line never got old. She found herself laughing along with the others, not at all feeling like this was her first time in the studio with them. She couldn’t get over how she felt so at home with all of them. Like she had known them since she was young, it felt like meeting old friends after years apart and just continuing where you left off. 

Changbin’s part was very entertaining, though it was hard to keep him focused on just his lines, and not have him sing the others lines as well. Y/n was laughing so hard the entire time, that her stomach was hurting, and Hyunjin and Han kept supplying her with other times he’s been like this, keeping her laughter going. It seemed that her laughter made the others perk up even more, despite everyone being ready to leave the studio to do other things. 

“And now it’s my turn, Han, Bin, come take your seats please.” Chan announced as he headed into the booth as the last one who needed to record. 

The other two-thirds of 3racha settle into the chairs at the desk, pulling up what they needed for Chan’s parts of the song. The leader was nothing if not efficient, quickly acing his lines and the two others only offering slight changes to improve it. She was in awe as she watched him sing, she wished he had larger parts in their title tracks because his voice was amazing and she’d never get sick of it. When he finished, finally satisfied with his work, she was saddened, not wanting him to stop, but maybe she’d get Binnie or Han to give her audio copies of his lines so she could listen to them on repeat. 

Since the recording had finished, the few staff members that had sat in on the session, packed up and left, leaving just the nine of them in the room. The silence in the room almost became deafening, before Hyunjin piped up from next to y/n.

“It seems like we’re a group that can sing. Our littlest soulmate has a very pretty voice, Felix and Han can confirm.” He said, smiling widely.

Hyunjin’s words caused the girl to look down, she had been so much in her own world that she hadn’t realized she was singing out loud. She was a bit flustered and scared of their judgment now, having sung in front of people whose livelihood is singing professionally, despite the fact that Hyunjin had complimented her voice.

“Her voice really is pretty, and it honestly fits well with parts of the song.” Han complimented her further. Felix hummed in agreement.

“Do you wanna hop into the booth and give it a try?” Chan asked, looking at her.

“I’m more worried that I’d embarrass myself if I did that.” She replied.

“Can’t embarrass yourself. Just try, for us?” Minho encouraged her.

She nodded quietly, Han and Changbin pulling her into the booth, and helping set it up for her, pointing out everything she needed to know. She kept fidgeting with her hair, and Felix popped in quickly to tie it back for her, so it was out of the way.

“There you go, sunshine. You’ll do great, I promise.” He told her, before leaving her by herself in the booth.

She put the headphones on her head, taking a deep breath in to try and quiet her anxieties. 

She heard Chan’s voice come through the speakers, “Okay, so you have the lyrics sheet in front of you there, and if you can find Felix’s lines from the first pre-chorus, that’s where I wanted to start you off.”

She nodded, finding it and telling him that she was as ready as she could be. She hadn’t known how to warm up her voice or anything, and she wasn’t going to attempt it with all of them there. But she knew that they knew that she wasn’t on their level, and they just wanted to hear her sing, no pressure at all. Hearing the music start and Chan counted her in, she picked up singing where she was meant to, singing the younger Aussie’s lines.

She didn’t have the courage to look anywhere but at the paper with the lyrics on it, and once she finished her lines, she closed her eyes, worried about what the boys would think. Singing under her breath was different than singing there in the booth, in front of her idol soulmates.

Suddenly, the studio was filled with applause from the boys, as Chan played back what she had recorded for her to listen to. He blush grew as the boys continued cheering and as she listened to her voice. Wow, she didn’t think she could sound that good, especially singing a line meant for Felix. His lines were always iconic, and she didn’t think she could match up to his level, but she still had trouble believing the voice she was hearing was hers. 

“Wow, babygirl, you’re fucking amazing. We might be able to make a singer out of you yet. But only if that’s what you actually wanted. No pressure at all.” Chan complimented her, and she looked through the glass at him, where she could see a smile on his face. 

“Do you wanna sing some more, or are you finished?” Changbin asked, stuttering slightly at the end of his sentence. 

“I think I’m done, this was enough of an adventure today.” She told them, ready to be done already.

Seungmin and Jeongin wished she had wanted to sing more, the vocalracha pairing wanting to hear more of her voice. Her range seemed to be somewhere between all of theirs, but that made her more of a perfect match, she just seemed to fit in with them in every way possible. They quietly discussed this with each other, both of them determined to get her to sing with them some time, maybe take her out to karaoke, and just let her fool around and they can all just enjoy singing when it’s not a work thing. 

All of the boys really just wanted time by themselves with her, but they knew right now it wasn’t as feasible, not with their increasingly busy schedule, and how it wouldn’t be long until they were flying out for concerts again, in between the last legs of their world tour. Plus, y/n needed to head home and pack up her life. Which meant a round of goodbyes when she had to go, which none of them wanted to dwell on at the moment.

When y/n walked back into the studio, she was bombarded with a Channie hug from the man himself, swaying the two of them back and forth, until he was yelled at by his members for hogging her.

“Yah!! Let us have a turn with our soulmate too!” Changbin yelled, jokingly throwing a tantrum. 

“Fine, fine, my god.” Chan sighed and let her go, but not before kissing her dangerously close to her lips.

That caused an uproar from the boys, who, depending on the angle, thought Chris had actually kissed her. Once it was clarified that the two hadn’t locked lips, the yelling quieted down.

“Do any of you have other things to do today?” Y/n asked, looking around.

“Chan-hyung, Bin-hyung and I have to do some more work in the studio today. I know jagiya has some choreography to go over for the upcoming comeback plus making sure the concert choreo is still good to go.” Han chimed in.

“Jeongin and I have vocal lessons today.” Seungmin informed her.

“Hyunjin and I are planning to go out later with some friends.” Felix said. 

“Oh, okay.” She said, after processing all of that information.

“Why? Did you wanna do something? Go somewhere?” Han asked her.

“I kinda wanted to head back home to the dorms, actually. I need some more sleep.” She confessed, a yawn coming out of her mouth only seconds later.

At her mention of the dorms as her home, the boys’ hearts soared, exhilarated to hear her refer to their place like that. They wanted her to feel at home, and it seems despite the setbacks, they’ve managed to do so.

And they had, in y/n’s mind. She wanted to snuggle up in one of their beds, didn’t matter whose, and just take in the care and love they’ve shown her in the last couple days. She was falling hard for them already, though that wasn’t hard. She was lucky to have them as soulmates, and she knew once she was back here to stay, she wanted to get to know each of them. She had eight soulmates, and she wanted eight first dates. But before all of that, she really needed to pack up her life halfway across the globe first. She had eternity with her soulmates, she didn’t need to rush everything right now.

“Hyunjin and I can take you home.” Felix told her, moving to grab her hand. She smiled at him and thanked the two of them. 

“We’ll let you go home now, and we’ll see you later.” Minho told her, smoothing down her hair before pulling her into a hug. 

She was passed between each of the boys, minus the two who’d be going home with her. Everyone had their own individual way of saying goodbye, and there were more than a couple kisses involved, to which she giggled. By the time they left the studio, her hair was a bit messed up, and she was as red as a tomato, but she was smiling from ear to ear. She was in a state of bliss, feeling insanely happy and content. The two boys noticed and smiled to themselves before they each grabbed a hand and walked her out of the building to a waiting van. 

Hyunjin climbed in first, followed by y/n and then finally Felix, all three sitting together in a row. Hyunjin told the driver where to drop them off, as well as to wait for them since the two would be leaving after dropping her home. Thankfully, for y/n since she was exhausted, the ride was quick, and it wasn’t long before they were in the elevator heading up to the 3racha dorm, since Hyunjin offered his bed for her to nap in. 

This was her first time in that dorm, always being in the maknae + lino dorm since she’s been with them. It was definitely messier than the other apartment, but it seemed just as lived in, and she still felt at home here. Once shoes were taken off, Hyunjin led her to his room, and then searched his closet for some comfier clothes in case she wanted to change. Felix waited by the entrance to the other dancer’s room, not wanting to intrude, however y/n had no intentions of ignoring him. 

“Why are you hanging out over here, come on in.” She told him, grabbing his arm and dragging the taller man over to the bed, pulling him down next to her. She latched onto him, leaning her head on his shoulder and sighing happily. “Much better.” She commented.

Hyunjin came back out of his closet to find the two of them on his bed, cooing at them, causing both of them to blush. 

“Look at you two. So cute.” He said, chuckling as he laid the change of clothes over a chair in his room. 

“You come here.” She ordered him, and he crossed the short distance over to them, sitting down on the other side of y/n.

“Yes princess?” He asked her, curious why she wanted him here.

“Now I’m happy. Two of my wonderful soulmates and I get time alone with you both.” She stated, smiling once again.

“That was all you wanted, both of us here?” Felix questioned.

“Yup!” She said simply, not needing to elaborate.

The two men chuckled, looking at each other before leaning in to kiss her cheeks, leaving the girl a bit shocked.

“You can’t just do that to a girl!” She half-shouted, before burying her face in her hands.

“But we can do that to our soulmate, which you are.” Hyunjin said, before leaving another kiss on her cheek, just to be extra cheeky.

Y/n let go of both of them, falling back on the bed, grumbling about soulmates who need to stop making her so flustered.

“But we like making you flustered, sunshine. It’s part of the fun.” Felix chuckled at her reaction, before his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

“We have to go now baby, but remember if you need us, text one of us or the group chat, okay?” The Aussie reminded her, Hyunjin echoing his words.

“Okay, I will if I need to. Have fun with your friends, okay?” She said, looking up at them with sleep-filled eyes, already starting to doze off.

“We will. Sleep well my darling.” Hyunjin said, leaning down to leave a final kiss on her forehead, before he grabbed Felix and the two of them left.

Y/n managed to stay awake for a couple more minutes, hearing the two leave the apartment, before she succumbed to the lure of sleep.

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Taglist: @queen-thiccness@k-k-kn1v3s @ihrtlix @calisnewworld @lailac13 @thegingerthatwaited @hyunmikim @marie-is-seein-stars

if your name is in pink, I am unable to tag you

[heartsforkento]

my jjk x kpop dr!!

i hope you all will give fucks about this post umm soo let's go

i haven't shifted here YET but once i will 🙏

soo i have the hidden inventory arc characters here + choso (pookie) + sukuna (still pookie ig?)

we're called PARA (i thought of that in two seconds) because it comes from the word 'paranormal' and our concept is themed around paranormal and absurdity and shit like that 🔥 so think dreamcatcher or redvelvet. idk what to call our fans but we'll figure it out soon.

we debuted in 2013 and we're almost like bts/nct/svt type popularity. and we work like xg, like we're japan-based but promote in south korea.

our genres are rnb, psychedelic rock and pop and city pop. so that's like tame impala, pink floyd and various rap and city pop artists. sometimes we do nct/aespa style music as well.

like i mentioned before, we have a weird concept and that changes all the time. we debuted like loona but instead of solo songs, we debuted with group songs, like the vocal team, rap team and dance team. our debut song is "the 7th sense" from nct !

we used to be in some company later bought by hybe. and the jjk manga exists, but it's kinda like how enhypen has dark moon? i'm gonna script our manga is delivered slightly better than it is here and no one fucking dies. and that it wins multiple awards asw hehe.

i forgot to mention we're a 9 member group, 3 people each for vocals, rap and dance. and we're a co-ed group: 6 boys and 3 girls. the girls have our own sub-unit as well.

we kinda have lore? we have made some songs for our manga but our discography isn't entirely based on that.

and here are our positions: (this isn't in age order btw, idk about our ages i'm gonna let the universe decide that)

sukuna. leader and main rapper. he gives off leader vibes and he's totally the main rapper like i don't think any other position fits him 🙏

gojo. main dancer, visual and face of the group. i kinda see him as an all rounder but mainly focused on dancing

geto. lead/main vocal and visual. also plays the guitar, but only for some of our songs because we're a group not a band

nanami. main vocal. he is main vocal coded idc. i was stuck between choosing the rapper position for him or the vocal and i went with vocal. oh also he's my husband just putting that out there

shoko. she's main pookie. also the lead dancer. i was going to give her vocal but then i remember she smokes a lot so ... which is perfectly fine ofc

choso. lead rapper. there is no arguing against this 😡 my pookie will rap like a pro, fight me on this. also he could be the face of the group asw no harm

haibara. he's also main pookie. (😁) and he's lead vocal btww. and maknae *yayyy*

utahime. she's a dancer. confirmed by me. (she gives off yuna vibes)

me. lead rapper. also an all rounder and face of the group. i'm also good at vocals so maybe like a sub-vocalist, like i'm not part of the vocal team but my notes always hit 😘 i'm also uhh very well known for both singing and rap and i'm also the it girl and i think that's enough 🙏 (you can almost tell i shifted to this reality)

we have sasaeng fans and they aren't all that harmful, they're just there ... sometimes annoying but not too much

our fandom is kinda like carats/atiny/nctzens but backed with the streaming power of blinks and armies (ooh we won). also scripted we have a lot of chinese fans (they are so powerful)

as for scandals, i haven't scripted anything i'll give that also to the universe (nothing too serious tho)

and ofc i scripted i have the mental capacity to deal with scandals like i'm such a baddie 💔

and ofc we win a lot of awards and go on talk shows and shit 😍

ooh and i scripted a variety show but like it's a reality tv show, pretty cool and we call it paranormal, once again took two seconds to think of that lmao

in that we basically run around doing shit and try not to kill each other (me vs. everyone except nanami, hai and choso they're too cool to be trying to kill me)

oh and fancalls, i'm scripting our fans are funny so fancalls will definitely be an experience and hopefully not like those vernon fancalls (poor guy)

oooh i almost forgot. i scripted that we start w a survival show and from there all 9 of us gets selected (can't wait to see all my emotional edits)

ooh and also it's like 2012-ish soo all the guys will 100% have the justin beiber ahh hairstyle

examples below: (thank you seventeen)

(these pictures are us predebut core 😍😍😍)

kento alr had that side bangs hairstyle i just wanna see the other guys also looking like justin beiber sooo .... (except geto he'll have long hair like jeonghan)

wait imagine a paranormal x going seventeen episode where geto and jeonghan battle each other with their long hair

anywayyy

that's all i have scripted (i think)

this was so unorganized but thank you for reading ❤️❤️❤️

lmk if there's anything else you guys wanna know

also nanami will definitely dance to newjeans songs watch out ‼️

[padfootscoldleathers]

ladies, gents, bents, non-conformants!

welcome welcome one and all to me posting about my fic and welcome to my mailbox if you want to send me stuff you'd like to see in the fic (i will consider them even if they dont make it to the fic)

this is a band au for the marauders era BUT the original marauders are not the band. let me explain.

Band: Sirius, Peter, Marlene, Dorcas (no band name yet so shoot your shot if you want to)

the marauders era characters have a LOT of different roles here. Regulus and Pandora are dancers, Mary and Peter grew up together & met Remus in highschool in America and did music but now Mary and Remus are somewhat duo singers. (i made Remus southern you'll get why in the fic) Alice is kind of an enigma but we'll get to know her. I'll show you all her colours i promise. Evan manages Mary and Remus and has such a goofy big brother personality. MINERVA the queen that she is, is basically the band's mother/manager. fluffy black brothers!! oh, and andromeda is dead.

i know what you're thinking "where the fuck is james?? lily?? barty??" hehe WELL you're not gonna like this. lily is the villain here and not in a good way. it was a VERY toxic marylily and lily is the Casual girl (chappell roan) ANYWAAAY you're gonna see a LOT of that BUT she does have her redemption arc. i think. maybe.

barty broke up with sirius 2 months before the beginning of the fic (which starts on their american tour at the last couple concerts) they grew up together, its very bittersweet, might give you heartburn. AGAIN redemption arc, they do have a heart-to-heart.

and uhh james is a very happy very sudden very scandalous surprise

ch. 1

this fic in short is the band through their last leg of the american tour when mary flies out early and sirius asks her to join them for the rest of the tour and the european tour in a couple months. mary and sirius hold each other up through harsh breakups and slowly find new love. the marauders era do a lot of dumb shit make a lot of memories. exes come back and get dragged out, maybe-soulmates enter their lives and life happens all at once. but theyre still just kids and they have a lot of laughs

don't worry guys, every couple shall get their minute of fame

basically the journey (and reflective of a couple of characters) of their life together. they find love, they find FRIENDSHIP, they find beauty in the little things, they find laughter and peace and passion. this entire fic for me was to discover all the little things, the day to day things that makes life what it is: beautiful. it's filled with jokes and family and bittersweet memories. its those moments you want to remember when you're old in your rocking chair or young on a porch swing. its all the little bright places.

ships & sexualities (let me cook)

alice - aroace bi

peter - aroace bi

mary - bisexual

pandora - pansexual

remus - bisexual

sirius - the gayest man to ever gay

regulus - transmasc gay

james - demispec pansexual

dorcas - lesbian

marlene - demisexual lesbian

lily - "not a lesbian"

barty - aroallo, gay

evan - transmasc aceallo

mary x pandora = bitterhope/pandamary/ rosemary (my roman empire)

peter x alice = palice (most beautiful qpr to ever qpr in the marauders era)

sirius x remus = wolfstar

regulus x james = sunseeker

dorcas x marlene = dorlene (they need something cooler)

evan x barty = rosekiller (gonna happen eventually though i kinda just dunno how)

i'm going to post in snips on this blog until i figure out the ao3 tags etc. main blog: @morallyundefined

@moonyswarmsweaters @sspadfoot @thingthatoncewastruee @babygirlsteddie @probs-reading

@labyrinthhofmymind @percabeth-trash @drunktayloratthevmas @cheekyboybeth

@starving-marauder-lover @yourlocalbadgerscales @taleofapart-timepoet @mirrs-ball

@tea-blankets-andstars @where-is-vivian @amberlink @wastingawayinmyroom @ashes-to-ashesxx

@equippedtolove @moon-girl88 @starregulus @siriusly-insane @jamespotterbbg

[hexidous]

Silk and Sweat

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Summary: Your apartment in the city is getting too expensive, so you pick up a side job as a stripper. When a customer gets handsy with you, the club manager Joel comes to your rescue.

Warnings: No use of Y/N but you do have a stage name. No depictions of reader’s physical appearance. Reader late 20s, Joel early 50s. Adult themes, depictions of stripping, sexual assault (not Joel), fingering, general horniness

Word count: 4.2k

Part II: Pretty As You Feel

Series Masterlist

-

Deep in the recesses of your closet hid a large box, collecting dust over the years. You had danced throughout college and kept some of your favorite work wears, just in case you ever returned.

You can totally still do this, you assure yourself as you sift through the long neglected contents.

With a huff of determination you put a bag together, setting your bagged heels at the bottom, followed by a few pairs of panties, a couple of dresses and your cosmetic bag.

There were plenty of strip clubs in the area, but you wanted to be sure to choose the right one. You never liked the younger crowds or nightclub-like scenes, the higher end clubs with older clientele suited your needs much better. Sure, they weren’t throwing handfuls of cash or making bills rain down with money guns to impress their friends, but you couldn’t stand dealing with a never ending sea of frat boys and batchelor parties.

You pull into the parking lot of the first club on your list, reading the simple red script illuminated by LED.

Silk Cabaret

You tried to quell your nervousness. It had been so long and you’re terrified they might turn you away in favor of teens and early twenties dancers.

A few words came to mind as you pushed through the doors. Lavish. Ostentatious, perhaps. The red walls were decorated with matching silk, meeting warm stained wood furnishings and accents.

“Hello!” A cute young woman greets you enthusiastically. “How can I help you?”

“Are you hiring dancers?” You ask, trying to project your voice and sound as confident as possible.

“I think so, let me grab a manager,” she chirps before standing up from her spot behind the counter.

You watch her disappear behind the wall dividing the entry room from the main section of the club. She emerges a moment later with a bright smile and cheery, “Follow me!”

You survey the rest of the club as you trail behind her. The bar was a large and L-shaped and tables covered in red cloth. The stage was displayed at the back of the room, a wide oval shape at the base with a short runway jutting out toward the center of the club.

The host leaves you to wait beside a bottle service section for a manager to come speak with you. After another minute or two of looking around, you noticed a figure emerge from behind a closed door.

Your eyes widen without your permission as you take in the man striding to toward you.

“Joel,” he says in a deep voice, jutting his large hand forward.

You try to maintain your composure as he envelopes your hand in his own and introduce yourself with a small smile, waiting for him to continue.

“You been fired from any clubs around here recently?” He asks, cutting right to the chase.

“No,” you reply with a small laugh. “I haven’t even danced in years. But I’ve never been fired, I’m not on drugs, no crazy boyfriend or baby daddy drama. Nothing that’s gonna give you a headache, I promise.”

You notice his lip curl upward in a slight smirk. “Haven’t danced in years, huh? What’s got you back?”

“I take it by that question you don’t pay rent in this city,” you tell him in a slightly amused tone.

“Ok you got me there. So you wanna start tonight?”

“Got my bag in my car,” you respond with a grin.

“We won’t pick up for a while, I can send you off with some paperwork if you want to come back around 7.”

“I don’t mind, it’ll give me some time to get acquainted,” you tell him as you head to retrieve your bag.

You return inside to find Joel now gone and you make your way toward the dressing room nestled behind the stage.

“One last thing,” Joel calls as you pass the now open door of his office.

Mildly startled, you turn to him and tilt your head, silently questioning.

“What’s your stage name?”

You bring your lip between your teeth, briefly wondering if you should assume a new moniker. Deciding against it, a name rolls off your tongue like an old friend. “Starla.”

-

You feel your anxiety laugh at you for thinking you were nervous before. Knowing one of the most gorgeous men you had seen in a long time would inevitably be watching you dance mostly naked would have excited you years ago. Now you feel almost sick as your heart races and and a knot forms at the base of your throat.

You shake your head, trying to force your unbelievably handsome new boss from your head.

You apply your makeup in a section of the bright, mirrored dressing room that’s unoccupied. You paint your eyes and lips darker and more exaggerated than you would normally and blush that looks ridiculous in the glaring light but perfect for both the dim club and flashy stage lighting. After running a brush through your hair, you stand to undress.

Your favorite dress was beautiful, but didn’t provide the easiest on and off access with the lace up back. Deciding to save it for the end of the night, if at all, you don a set made of a long skirt with a slit up the side and a tight matching top that pushes your breasts together enticingly.

You strap your heels on and shove your bag in an empty locker. With a steadying breath, you push through the thick, velvet curtain that shrouded the dressing room from prying eyes.

There was one customer now, chatting with the only other dancer you’ve seen so far. She looks to be a bit older than you, with spray tanned skin and gravity defying breasts.

You stand awkwardly beside the bar, unwilling to sit just yet.

“Hey there,” you hear in a soft, high pitched voice. You hadn’t noticed the bartender make her way toward you until she stood two feet away. “I’m Kenzie.”

“I’m-“ You begin, but catch yourself with a laugh. “I’m Starla. Gonna take some getting used to that again.”

“It won’t take long,” she responds with a knowing smile. “Want anything to drink?”

“I’m alright,” you tell her. Frankly, you’d love a drink to settle your nerves, but you weren’t about to pay strip club drink prices when you know soon enough there will be a room full of men willing to pay them for you.

“It’s on Phil,” she says with a nod in the direction of the man you noticed earlier.

He and the woman talking to him meet your gaze and give you a smile and wave.

“Thank you!” You call over, waving back. You turn your attention back to Kenzie. “Titos and clubs soda it is then.”

Kenzie returns with your drink and you sip slowly, waiting for the action to pick up.

By the time you reach the end, the only other people to walk in were two more girls, chatting casually as they made their way to the back.

“He said he’ll get you another if you’d like,” Kenzie says, grabbing your empty glass.

“I should probably take it slow,” you respond.

“Smart girl. I like you.”

You smile at her compliment and see Joel emerging from his office again, taking a stance beside the vip section. He catches your gaze and gives you a smile.

With nothing else going on you decide to approach him, the confidence of your former persona coming through.

“You look beautiful,” he tells you sincerely. Your stomach flutters and you feel a blush rise to your cheeks. You were used to lecherous compliments at the club, given with a lustful look over your body. But Joel kept his eyes on yours.

“Thanks. I guess I’m glad I didn’t the heart to give away everything when I stopped dancing.”

“What did you do before deciding to come back to this?” He asks, his eyes scanning the nonexistent crowd.

“I’m a graphic designer,” you tell him. “With outsourcing and AI it’s been a nightmare to find reasonable pay.”

He nods empathetically. “I bet.”

“How long have you worked here?” You ask.

“About ten years. I took work as a bouncer after serving in the military. Came here, got promoted after two and… Well, here I am.” He runs a hand through his tousled salt and brown sugar hair.

Before you can say anything else, another pair of girls come strolling by.

“Hi, Joel,” one says, slowly dragging the vowels out before giggling with her friend.

“Ladies,” Joel says curtly with a nod.

“What time does the DJ get in?” You ask Joel nervously.

“About an hour.”

Your stomach drops a bit. You haven’t been on a stage in years. “Do you mind if I maybe do a practice song or two before rotation starts? It’s been so long and I’m a bit antsy to get it over with.”

“Of course,” he answers.

“Thanks,” you turn to make your way over. “Sure hope it’s like riding a bike!” you call over your shoulder as you walk away. You think you hear a chuckle but you don’t dare turn around to check.

The preset playlist cycles through typical 80s hair metal and pop songs. Good to know some things don’t change.

You step through the curtain, thankful the room is nearly empty. Your eyes dart to where Joel was standing and you breathe a sigh of relief to see it empty.

You slowly sway your hips to the beat, grasping the cold metal pole in your hands. You spin around it, rotating your body with quick ease. Feeling more confident, you grasp higher and begin to climb.

The friction is painful between your legs, your thighs no longer desensitized to the intense grip. But you’re doing it. You carefully wrap your body around the pole, losing yourself to the beat as you transition into some basic moves.

You breathe a sigh of relief that your stage time maybe won’t be as painfully awkward as you feared.

You push through the curtain back into the dressing room.

“You’re wasting your time you know,” a girl sitting down to get ready tells you as she smiles at herself in the mirror, applying dark red lipstick.

Your brow furrows as you wait for her to continue.

“Joel Miller doesn’t fuck with the dancers. Trust me, we’ve all tried,” she says with a laugh. “I’m just giving you a heads up before you lose out on money trying to get in his chastity belt.”

“Thanks, but I wasn’t…”

“Mmhmm,” she says with an unbelieving raised brow and knowing smirk before returning to her routine.

-

The night begins to pick up, patrons and more dancers slowly filling the modest space. The DJ arrives and you introduce yourself.

“I’m Tommy,” he tells you with a warm smile. “Anything you like to dance to?” He asks.

“I’m not too picky,” you reply. “But I may have slight PTSD from the song Girls, Girls, Girls so please avoid that one.”

“That’s our promo song,” he says with a frown.

“Oh god,” you grumble. The thought of hearing that song every hour on the hour nearly giving you a headache.

“I kid, couldn’t help myself,” he reveals with a proud smile.

“Thank Christ. I almost quit.”

-

It’s not long before you hear Tommy call you to the stage for the next song. Your nerves are set alight as you make your way through the dressing room and enter the DJ booth.

“Hope you got a good set for me,” you tell him.

“I got you, superstar,” he replies with a wide grin.

You throw your shoulders back and emerge onto the large, glossy wooden stage, heels clicking with each step.

You freeze, hearing the familiar beginning notes of Girls, Girls, Girls and shoot Tommy a death stare. The song smoothly transitions into Alice Cooper’s Poison and you fight a smile as you watch Tommy shake with silent laughter.

You’ve danced to the song plenty of times and didn’t have to think much about your movements, your muscle memory doing all the work. You slowly shed your clothing and give attention to the men at the stage tipping you.

Sitting before a group of transfixed men, you arch your back and spread your legs. Your head comes forward and you lock eyes with Joel, who you hadn’t realized was staring intently at you. As soon as he notices your gaze, he scans the room, looking everywhere but the stage.

You finish your set and grab your money and dress.

“You’re an ass for that, you know,” you tell Tommy with a smile as you head to the dressing room.

-

You slip back into your former routine easily. Approach a man, laugh at his lame jokes, hand out light touches to his arm or knee, seem interested in his boring life.

“I’ve got someone coming in to see me soon, but I’d really love to dance for you,” you deliver your go to line with a purr.

“Can’t be havin’ that,” the man you’re talking to growls, a slight slur to his words. “Want ya all to m’self.”.

“Let’s go then,” you say, forcing out a giggle.

He hands you a few hundreds. “Half hour.”

You approach Joel and hand over the dance fee for the private room.

He nods and marks down the time. You lead the moderately intoxicated man by his hand and he uses his free one to slap your ass.

You turn around and see Joel puffing his broad chest out, ready to make a move. You shake your head subtly, indicating you could handle it.

“You’ll want to behave, baby, I don’t give refunds,” you tell him sternly.

You begin dancing for him in the tiny private space. His suit is rumpled and his drunkenness seems to increase as he sits before you.

Clammy fingers grab at your skirt, trying to pull it off. You bat his hands away, annoyed. “It’s called a strip tease for a reason, have a little patience.”

“You sure are a fuckin’ tease,” he spits.

You turn to face away from him, bending slightly and slowly shaking your ass to hide the look of rage you don’t care to conceal. He smacks your ass again.

“Touch me one more time and see what the fuck happens,” you seethe in his face, unable to contain your anger at the drunken bastard.

“Better make it count then,” he growls through clenched teeth.

More nimbly than you’d expect, he stands up and presses you to the wall, using one hand to cover your mouth and shoving the other down the front of your panties.

You thrash against him but before you can make a move, you hear the curtain rip open. Joel storms in, dominating the small space with his imposing frame. He grabs the man off of you swiftly.

“She asked me to!” He lies in his defense.

You watch as Joel’s nostrils flare, his large muscles twitching. Before you can register it, he’s delivering blow after blow to the man’s face.

“And I’m pretty fuckin’ sure I heard you ask me to do that,” he says in a frighteningly low, steady voice.

He drags the man out and you stay frozen, trying to collect yourself.

Of course this would fucking happen, you think bitterly. You feel a dull throb between your thighs as you think about the way Joel defended you. And of course it would turn me on.

You’re not sure how long you stand there before Joel tentatively renters the room.

“Are you ok?” He asks, his voice soft and low, warming you from the inside like a cup of tea on a cold night.

“Yeah,” you say flatly. “Been through worse. It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he says firmly. “I am so sorry that happened in my club. I should have stepped in when I saw him smack your ass.”

“It’s not your fault. Thank you for coming so quickly,” you reply honestly. “How did you know to get here so fast?”

He clears his throat almost bashfully and looks away. “I was standing close by and heard you yell at him. Heard too much commotion so I came in.”

“So much for not causing you a headache,” you joke, trying to lighten the air.

“You didn’t cause a headache for me, darlin’” he assures. “You wanna press charges?”

“So the law can favor the rich guy over the stripper and he sues you for hitting him? Nah, I’m good.”

He studies your face for a moment. “You ok to go back out?”

“Yeah. I think I could go for another drink now.”

-

The rest of your night goes by with relative ease. You notice Joel’s eyes on you a few times, but when you catch him he doesn’t look away. Silently assuring you that you’re safe under his watch.

What I'd give to be safe under his body, you think to yourself.

"As much as I've loved talking to you," you lie to whoever you're sitting beside now, "I gotta get a move on."

"One more drink," he pleads.

"My boss is kind of a hard ass," you lie again. "He’ll really lay into me if I stay in one place for too long.”

God I wish he’d lay into me, your filthy brain whispers again.

“Alright,” the man relents. “A dance then?”

“That I can do,” you respond, leaving your chair. You see Joel’s eyes fixed on you in your peripheral vision. It drives you wild.

You wait for a new song to come on before you begin to shake your hips between the man’s legs. He’s not terrible looking. Probably around the same age as Joel, but lacking the sex appeal that exudes from the man dominating your thoughts.

You straddle one of his thighs, arching your back and resting your forearms well above his shoulder. You pop your pussy, making your ass jiggle rhythmically. Your center just barely grazes his thigh and you close your eyes, imagining Joel beneath you. You shudder out a breath and change your position. You rub your thighs together, your thoughts of Joel cumulating to a dull ache between them.

The song ends and the man below you seems to notice your desire, mistaking it to be for him. He requests to keep going and you oblige, continuing to picture Joel with every tormented move.

Tommy announces that he’s about to play the last three songs of the evening.

“Might as well see it through to the end,” you whisper.

“Might as well,” he grunts back, adjusting himself in his pants.

You dance for the remainder of the night, collecting the cash from your final customer.

“Will I see you again?” He asks as you redress.

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly. “But if I keep dancing it’ll be here.”

“Here’s hoping you do,” he tells you as he stands. “It was great to meet you.”

“Thanks, you too. Goodnight.” You give him a small smile before heading to the dressing room.

-

Most of the girls have left by the time you change back into the dress you wore in. Your face feels heavy with sweat and makeup, so you decide to remove it all before making your way up to the DJ booth. You catch Tommy just as he’s about to head out.

“You know, I debated stiffing you for that stunt you pulled earlier,” you say, handing him a few twenties, tipping more than necessary because you know the value of having the DJ on your side. “But you did pretty good otherwise so I guess I’ll hock it over.”

“Why thank you, darlin’,” he tells you with a little bow of his head. “See you tomorrow?”

“With how sore I’m gonna be? You’ll see me in a week. Maybe.”

“Don’t wait till it hits ya, take an epsom soak tonight,” he advises.

“I think that is exactly what I’ll do.”

You find Joel in his office, sorting through stacks of bills and paperwork, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his strong nose. You thought he couldn’t get any sexier, but here you were, slowly melting from the inside out.

“Hi,” you say softly to get his attention. He looks up at you as hand your house fee his way.

“I don’t want that after what you dealt with tonight,” he says with a shake of his head.

“Like I said, been through worse. Just take it.”

He obliges, setting it alongside the other stacks.

“You can still help me feel better about it though,” you say, drunk off all the attention given to you that night. And the drinks.

“How’s that?” He asks, genuinely curious.

“I don’t like when control is taken from me,” you state. “I hate that his clammy little hands were the last ones to touch me.”

He stares up at you silently. It’s almost imperceivable but you take note of the way his brow furrows and chest rises and falls a little harder.

He doesn’t get up from his chair, but swivels it to face you fully. He takes one hand and places it on the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. He slides it upward at an excruciating pace, causing a shiver to run through your body. “This is what you want? What you’re asking of me?”

“Yes,” you whimper and nod your head. “Please.”

He continues up your thigh until reaching your cotton panties, a much more comfortable switch from the ones you wore while working. He drags a finger around the hem teasingly before brushing his thumb over your clit.

He looks up at you, waiting for your eyes to return to his. There’s a fire in them as he yanks your panties down roughly, causing you to yelp in surprise.

“Shut the door,” he commands. You quickly do as you’re told.

He returns his hand to your center, hissing as he feels the extent of how turned on you are.

“What’s got you so wet, baby?” He asks with a smirk, lightly running his fingers up and down your slit.

“Been thinking about you,” you admit breathlessly. “Couldn’t stop myself.”

He pushes two digits fully into you, eliciting a partly stifled moan. He sets a quick pace, causing your knees to almost buckle.

Joel takes off his reading glasses with his free hand. “Lift your dress,” he commands. “I want to see.”

You lift your dress and watch as he stares at his fingers brutally fucking into your pussy, his other hand returning to roughly grasp your hip. His breaths are more labored and his lips are curled into a slight snarl. The sight sends you closer to the edge.

He feels your walls start to constrict around his fingers and brings the hand on your hip to settle flat against your stomach, his thumb finding your clit and pressing quick circles into it.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, your greedy cunt tightening further, wanting more.

“Shut that pretty mouth if you want me to make you cum,” he warns.

“Yes sir,” you whisper, biting your lip to stop from crying out.

“Good girl,” he praises in a softer tone.

That’s all it takes for the knot in your center to pull itself free, a wave of intense pleasure rushing through you. You bite your lip harder and place a hand on Joel’s firm, muscled shoulder to keep from screaming or collapsing.

You let your hand run down his strong bicep as he removes his fingers.

“On your knees,” he demands.

You readily sink between his legs and eye the massive bulge he has there. You want to reach out and touch it, free it from the strict confines of his pants and take him in your mouth. Wordlessly thank him. You want to fucking worship him.

But you know that you’re not the one in charge, you handed those reigns over to Joel with pleasure.

He brings his wet fingers to your lips and you eagerly take them in your mouth, twirling your tongue around his digits as you suck them clean. He groans, sending another twinge of desire to your spent pussy. You were insatiable.

He slowly pumps his fingers in and out of your hot mouth a few times, transfixed by your soft lips.

He takes his hand away and wipes his saliva on his shirt.

Standing up, his throbbing cock just inches from your face. You look up at him, silently begging for permission to take it out.

“Come on,” he says instead, offering a hand down to you. “I’ll walk you out.”

You take his hand and rise, disappointed.

He’s quiet as he walks you to your car and you worry that you fucked up by asking him to touch you. You were already warned that he didn’t mess around with the dancers. It was a good policy to stick to but you had met very few men working in clubs who had the willpower to follow through with it. Now he probably didn’t want you coming back.

“Thank you,” you tell him as you reach your car. “For walking me out, for saving me from that creep and for helping me feel better about it. I know that’s all it was, I won’t be weird about it. But I understand if you don’t want me to come back.”

He shoots you an offended look. “Jesus, no. You are more than welcome back here.”

He pauses for a moment before opening his arms to you. You shyly sink into them, reveling in how firm yet soft his warm body felt against yours. He pats your upper back, like a dad would to a kid. “I’m sorry again about tonight. Drive safe.”

“Will do,” you tell him before slipping into your car. You watch as he turns to head back into the club, taking in his broad frame with admiration. You were fucked.

[mybeautifulwifegojo]

I've put this idea on my main blog but I can't find it anymore so rewriting it here: modern AU where Satoru, Shoko, Suguru, and Utahime are in a small indie band and one day they explode in popularity and are very confused until they trace it all to one viral TikTok dance with their latest song

Utahime is the vocalist, Suguru is on drums, Shoko is bass guitar (the sexiest of rock instruments imho), and Satoru is lead guitar/backup vocals

Satoru is perfectly happy to let Utahime be the star because she genuinely likes performing. unfortunately, he is the bandmate that most people drool over, both because he's hot and because he really hates being famous (bad experiences in his youth) which means people think he's "mysterious"

Shoko and Suguru just like to make music and get paid

anyway, the viral dance TT is this incredibly buff dude with pink hair and intricate tattoos/body paint, who does a lot of really, uh... sensual dances, and never shows his face. the username is simply "Sukuna"

Satoru immediately wants to fuck him. his bandmates are so tired.

MEANWHILE, "Sukuna" is just Yuji's online persona because he's worried that if any of his fellow firefighters learn that he does dances on TikTok, they'll laugh at him

he just really likes dancing!! not enough to go professional, and certainly not enough to quit helping people, but he likes it, it's fun, and the dopamine hit of people liking his videos is nice. also he had a bad time in school with his body image so he's grateful for all the horny comments

Utahime, Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru don't know any of this, of course. they just see a hot guy with no shirt dancing to their music and all of them go "Hmmm, I am going to be thinking about this for many moons"

they get signed with a major record label shortly after, because their sales have exploded, and for their very first music video the director reaches out to Yuji to come be the star dancer.

he is VERY alarmed but also. he likes dancing. and he has a tiny baby-crush on the hot guitarist guy. so he agrees.

the director is annoyed when Yuji asks that he be allowed to cover his face, because if he's gonna be shirtless and have his tattoos painted on he might as well go full Sukuna persona so no one has a chance to connect Sukuna the dancer with Yuji the firefighter, but the whole band backs him up, especially Satoru.

the music video is a hit and the song hits #1 on multiple charts internationally. feral teen girls start shipping Satoru and 'Sukuna'. normal people are annoyed that Utahime, the lead singer and founder of the band, is shown the least in the video. it's the most money Utahime, Shoko, Suguru, and Yuji have ever made in their lives. Satoru's past starts coming to light in embarrassing ways.

Satoru and Yuji start hanging out when possible and become very good friends (who also still want to bang each other but now there's more to it than simply physical attraction)

[silantryoo]

huh yunjin x nmixx!reader (fluff)

WARNINGS ; mentions of iz*one disbandment

yunjin wasn't exactly looking forward to the mama awards, not as much as the others.

being a kpop fan herself, she knew that the awards would always be rigged against them, and it didn't help that they were doing a collab stage with people she didn't know.

her introverted self could not handle that.

she walked arm in arm with eunchae, the two chattering away as sakura was on her phone. chaewon and kazuha lagged behind the three of them, both trying to stay awake and barely managing.

"it's too early for this," chaewon complained, just wanting to be back in her dorm.

sakura shrugged. "at least it's only a couple hours. usually, practice lasts up to ten, right?"

chaewon grumbled, hating that the older girl was right.

the group entered the practice room, all overwhelmed at the extreme amount of idols that were there. there had to be at least three groups in the room already.

sakura and chaewon smiled as IVE made their way to the girls.

"chaewon-unnie! kkura-unnie!" wonyoung grinned at them, engulfing the shorter girls into a hug.

"don't hog them. their as much mine as they are yours." yujin joked, sending a playful look to her older ex-members.

both groups bowed. the two have been familiar with each other, with five of the eleven girls competing in the same show. even the maknaes, eunchae and leeseo, occasionally talked to each other.

"there's a lot of people here," sakura observed. "it's already making me tired."

gaeul chuckled. she sighed, looking at the idols huddled into their own groups. "it looks like people are still warming up."

sakura nodded. "we must all be introverts."

the two groups made their way to their own corner. both stretching and warming up for their practice for the award show.

it was fairly quiet, the girls far too tired or far too introverted to say anything. no one during four in the morning was energetic this early.

"gaeul!" a voice shouted from the entrance of the room as it slammed open.

yunjin watched with wide eyes as you raced towards IVE, slamming straight into the main dancer and picking her up. behind you, the rest of nmixx bowed in apology to everyone in the room.

"unnie, put me down!" gaeul struggled as you spun her around more.

many of the idols stared at you with a smile. aside from your visuals, you were known in the industry to be extremely bubbly and extroverted. it had become an inside joke in your company that you and yoona were the love children of your seniors, tzuyu and sana. both you and yoona looked similar to the two of them, but yoona had gotten tzuyu's personality, while you had gotten one similar to sana's.

you put the shorter girl down before bowing to the other IVE members. "sorry for the disruption. when i heard i was gonna see gaeul-ie again i got excited."

"it's okay, unnie," yujin smiled. "you know we don't mind."

you grinned at her, patting her arm gently. "you and wonyoung grew up so well."

yujin blushed. she, wonyoung and gaeul trained with you at starship until you had gotten an offer to jyp earlier that year. it was only natural that you guys had become close.

"unnie!" you heard kyujin call behind you. "get dressed! haewon-unnie said practice is starting soon!"

you waved them goodbye, not realizing that a certain idol had their gaze trained on you this entire time.

yunjin furrowed her eyebrows, frustrated with the fact that she couldn't remember which group you were in, or what your name was. all she could remember is that you smiled at her the entire time while she was dancing to fearless (her own song), causing her to mess up multiple times.

yunjin groaned, slamming her head onto the car's headrest. "unnie?"

chaewon and sakura hummed.

"who was that earlier?" yunjin played with her phone case as she closed her eyes. "the girl who jumped gaeul-ssi?"

sakura bit back a smile, knowing where this was going. all the girls from le sserafim already knew about yunjin's preferences, it was just funny to them when it happened since it was so rare.

"y/l/n y/n from nmixx?" chaewon raised an eyebrow. "why?"

"nothing," yunjin made a face, moving her eyes away from chaewon. "just curious."

"i saw unnie watching her the entire time from far away." kazuha stated, earning a look of betrayal from the american.

the japanese girl shrugged.

"i saw that too!" eunchae laughed, pointing at yunjin's face. "she looked like this the entire time."

the other members watched as eunchae recreated a face that was somewhere in between 'wow, she's pretty' to 'i think i want to get married today'."

"what? no!" yunjin protested. the other girls looked at her, causing her to make a face of guilt. chaewon, kazuha and eunchae laughed, the youngest turning her head away. sakura looked at her in disbelief. "okay, maybe. can't i stare at pretty girls?"

sakura rolled her eyes playfully at yunjin's explanation.

"you wanna kiss her!" eunchae teased, making kissing motions towards yunjin.

chaewon covered the youngest's face in disgust, only for eunchae's affection to be redirected toward her.

"she's your age, y'know?" sakura mentioned as chaewon screamed behind them.

yunjin looked curiously. "how do you know?"

a louder, much more kazuha-like screech was heard behind the two.

"her and yuri are friends." sakura said, glancing over at the three as they play fought. "she used to visit us from time to time."

yunjin nodded, ignoring a scream that sounded more like the youngest. "do you know if she's, like... y'know?"

sakura shrugged, reaching for her noise-canceling headphones.

yunjin sighed, decidedly giving up no matter how pretty she thought you were. she couldn't just go up to you and ask, it wasn't like america here.

it had been the second week, the last until the mama awards. even though her body was sore from all the dancing, yunjin found herself looking forward to the early practices. you had been selected to dance for IVE's eleven, and watching you dance was enough for her, even if she wasn't talking to you.

the entire studio was on break, and many of the idols had gone out, except a couple who stayed to practice more.

yunjin danced in the mirror, not realizing a figure showed up beside her.

"huh yunjin-ssi, right?"

she jumped slightly, turning around to the shorter girl.

"yeah." yunjin cleared her throat, extremely caught off guard. "um, that's me."

you smiled at her, fiddling nervously with the marker in your pocket. "lily said you were my age. you're born 2001?"

"i am." yunjin nodded.

"i know this is sudden," you could feel your throat bubble up with nervousness, but you tried your best to shake it off without the blonde girl noticing. "but could i get your number? no one else here is born the same year as us."

"s-sure! yeah!" she screamed internally ('jennifer, calm down'). "let me just, let me just get my phone."

"i have a marker." you interjected, pulling a black sharpie out of your pocket. you offered it to her. "just write it on my arm."

she felt herself blush in embarrassment. "i didn't memorize my number."

you nodded, accidentally linking eyes with a smirking jiwoo in the mirror. you looked back at yunjin. "then can i write my number on your arm?"

"huh?" she blinked for a second, trying to process what was happening as fast as she could. "yeah. yeah, of course."

"cool." you smiled brightly, part of her melting inside. you grabbed her arm, a spark suddenly running through her veins as you wrote your number. "i'm y/l/n y/n from nmixx by the way."

"i know." yunjin said, a bit too quick for her liking. her eyes widened, watching you giggle as you put the marker away. "i mean, who doesn't, y'know?"

you watched her as she blushed lightly. it was obvious to anyone watching the scene (i.e. your group mates) that yunjin was flustered based on the face she was making. you bit your tongue in between your teeth.

"you're so cute!" you giggled, your eyes turning into creases from joy. yunjin sighed shakily, not realizing that the rest of her team had already come back with food and was watching the entire interaction (which she would be teased heavily for once she got back to the dorms). "you're such a good dancer, by the way. very western-eques."

yunjin scratched her shoulder, "well, i am from the states."

"really?" your eyes shined brightly, realizing you met another english speaker. you cleared your throat as you spoke english, "i'm from the UK, actually."

yunjin felt her breath get taken away. not only were you cute, pretty, talented and her type, you were also british. that was double her type.

"you're british?" she asked with wide eyes.

"yeah, i am. born and raised there. until i moved here, of course." you smiled. you looked over her shoulder, finding that the members of le sserafim were watching you intently. "looks like your members are waiting for you."

yunjin turned around, meeting eyes with chaewon who gave her a knowing look.

"you better text me later, huh yunjin!" you teased the taller girl as you walked back to your group. "i'm looking forward to it!"

she nodded, looking at the number on her arm as her members rushed towards her, eunchae shaking her back in forth in excitement.

yunjin bit back a smile.

> main masterlist.