hiiii, here are a bunch of fics I’ve enjoyed and loved reading throughout the month of february. I recommend that you read these great fics in march, if you haven’t already. there are SO many good and unique AUs this round, so please check them out!!
(all fics with a star are my favorites and if there are two stars then it was a favorite favorite)
Harry is the world’s most persistent seduction-baker, a questionable dog-sitter, and Louis’s biggest fan. Louis hasn’t written in years, is trying to pass loneliness off as cynicism, and absolutely hates his fans. It’s probably destiny.
With seven years of blissful marriage behind them and four wonderfully unique kids to brag about, Harry and Louis seem to finally have life all figured out and under control. How much more real could it get?
Very real it turns out, when Harry reluctantly leaves home for a 5 day business trip leaving Louis to manage their rambunctious, hyperactive household. Do they really have it all under control or are they just faking it?
Featuring all the usual suspects, inside jokes, embarrassing moments and of course, Harry and Louis’ wild antics + the addition of their four equally wild and outrageous kids.
“You… you still have the dress form I got you for your eighteenth birthday? You’ve kept it for ten years, Harry?” Louis’ eyes flick around Harry’s studio. It’s big and modern, with floor to ceiling windows that help flood the room in bright sunlight, just like the lobby. However, he can’t stop staring at the faded, but present, heart surrounding the “H + L” written delicately in Louis’ handwriting in the center of the mannequin.
Louis is a songwriter who is nominated for a Grammy and he needs a suit. Fast. He seeks out help from a very popular, very mysterious designer who just so happens to be his ex-boyfriend.
Note: Okay, so this came out cuter than intended? I have no regrets tho. I recommend you listen to the song while you read. :) Also, Happy Thanksgiving to all my fellow Americans.
Word Count: 1376
Pairing: Anthony Ramos x Reader
Warnings: So much fluff, like, it’s so fluffy you’re gonna die fluff
“C’mon, Y/N, please?” Anthony begged.
“Why?” You asked your boyfriend, your voice close to a whine. “It’s cold outside.”
“So? There are so many people out there waiting in the cold, the least you can do is come out. They’d all love to see you.” He reasoned. “Also, I’m gonna be singing, so that’s a plus.”
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but smile at him. Anthony was trying to convince you to come outside for Ham4Ham, but you didn’t want to because it was the middle of winter and freezing outside.
“It’ll only be for a few minutes, I promise.” He continued after you stayed silent. You caught his eyes and sighed, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to stand a chance against his pleading gaze.
“Fine.” You breathed, causing his eyes to light up as he grinned. Anthony wrapped you a warm embrace before gently pressing his lips to yours.
Things that must have happened at the dance in Vol.2
Because once you remember that all the student teams introduced in Vol.3 were there at the time it gets interesting.
The dance wasn’t actually at night; the combined shade that Scarlet David and Emerald Sustrai were throwing at Sun’s dancing was just blotting out the sun (I refuse to accept that Merc & Em didn’t integrate themselves into the Haven students).
Neon Katt wore heelies.
The Team JNPR dance number somehow turned into a competitive dance off between Jaune and Nora.
Penny was introduced to the concept of “The Bass Face”.
Mercury spiked the punch (His explanation to Cinder was “Drunk people talk, you want intel this’ll get it” honestly it was for shits and giggles)
Jaune drank an amount of said Punch that would have made Qrow Branwen blush (Seriously the kid can forge Beacon transcripts, you think he’s never snuck into a club before?)
Penny drank even more of said spiked punch and became the star of Atlas overnight.
Arslan became team Mum for pretty much all of the teams.
Yang and Arslan chilling for most of the night.
Flynt Coal arriving fashionably late and making an entrance that was 112% Extra
Ciel Soliel decided that she was “Off the clock” and decided to have fun.
She was found making out with Reese Chloris in a corner.
May Zedong nervously asking her crush to dance.
Neo getting I.D’d at the door (Says on the guestlist that there’s only one fifteen year old attending and she’s accounted for).
Someone making the mistake of sending pictures of the party to Team CFVY who were still on thier mission and Coco breaking her scroll and letting lose a fifteen minute long stream of curses
I wrote another Be More Chill fic. Plenty sad. Plenty angst. No death. This time. Woo. Anyway…
Michael Mell readjusted his backpack straps, as he made his way through the halls of his high school. The night before, Michael and Jeremy had finally gotten past level 8 of Apocalypse of the Damned, which had led to a celebration, which had led to five gallons of Mountain Dew: Code Red to be consumed between the pair, which had led to a sugar high of incomparable proportions, which had led to the crash of a lifetime, which had led to them both sleeping through the alarms on their phone. Jeremy had rushed home to grab some fresh clothes and see if he dad could take him to school late, leaving Michael to make his way to school on his own.
The halls were silent, as class was in session and Michael briefly contemplated just going back home and getting high. No one would notice. Except, last time he had ditched school, his mom had yelled at him and had commanded that Jeremy not come over for a week. It had been the first time in months that his mother had even bothered looking up from her computer to devote even a sliver of attention toward her son. For a moment, Michael considered whether it would be worth losing Jeremy for a week, just to have his mom remember his existence.
No, he’d just have to make it to his class, and stutter out some excuse about traffic in front of school, if the teacher ended up noticing his late entrance. Michael had nearly made it to his English classroom, when someone grabbed his backpack and slammed him into the row of lockers he had been passing. Michael groaned as his chin took the brunt of the impact, before turning to face his aggressor.
Guys! I don’t think any one of my posts as ever been as popular as my February-March fic rec, so thank you so much!! I hope you like this one :)
Validation (4k); Or the one where Harry worked in a parking garage and he totally didn’t mean for this, the whole validation of people as well as their parking tickets, to become a thing. It just kinda…did.
In This Light (4k): Harry gets a position on the school yearbook staff, which is fine until he falls in love with Louis Tomlinson through the lens of his camera.
Ain’t My Fault (7k): “Liam, M4M is for sex! You posted in a sex forum about your missing jacket.” Liam posts an ad on the wrong section of Craigslist, Louis is pretty sure they’re gonna get murdered as a result, and Harry’s missing an avocado.
Worlds Away (7k): astronaut au fic where Louis is staying on the international space station and Harry is on earth working ground control and he and Louis have really quiet late night chats after most of the workers are gone and get to know each other in the biggest long distance relationship u could ever have…then eventually Louis comes back to earth and they have a beautiful meeting
for a spell that can’t be broken (8k): A Harry Potter AU where Louis’ got a secret crush on Harry and won’t admit it until a late entrance into potions class outs him.
Nora (8k); Harry works at an adoption centre and lets Louis adopt his favourite cat.
Awe (8k, WIP, 2/?): Louis held his breath as he watched Harry squat, thick thighs flexing and straining under the thin fabric of his athletic shorts. He watched Harry bite down on his plump, kissable bottom lip and slip his large hand under the center of the sofa. He watched as Harry’s bicep bunched and bulged under the seeming effort and he watched, miraculously, as Harry exhaled and lifted the 600 pound sofa up and over his head.
Make Him Want to Sin (9k): Harry is a curatorial assistant at the London Museum of Natural History, on the day of the big annual gala he catches a glimpse of someone unexpected.
What’s Stopping You? (14k): Or, the one where Harry wants to get over his crush on Louis, so he makes a Grindr account to find someone new. Of course, Louis messages him, not realizing H’s real identity. It only takes a few days for them to figure it out.
The Love Hour (17k): Or the fic where Harry is a love Guru and Louis needs relationship advice. Lots of it.
She comes every night at 3am, and stays for ten minutes or so.
She’s never late, or absent. Her entrance is announced by a creak in the door and a shiver down my spine.
When she visits she murders all sound that isn’t her. Her footsteps echo in dead silence as she tip-toes around my room.
She doesn’t hurt me; quite the opposite, actually.
She tucks in the edges of my bed. She puts away my clothes. She blows out my candles. She acts like a mother and sounds like a friend, but I know better.
I don’t open my eyes when she visits. Not ever. Something tells me that would be very bad.
But in a way I do see her, or at least, a part of her; a lesser image burned into my mind by someone else. Her face is all wrong. I see rows of sharp teeth where her eyes should be, and two vertical slits ripped down her cheeks that flutter as she breathes. Her skin is slipping off under her aproned frock, but there’s no blood. Her body had been drained of it years ago.
I started leaving things untidy, because if there’s nothing to clean, she stands by my bedside.
And she watches me.
I can hear her irregular breathing; a sharp death rattle that makes me lose faith in religion. She’s never hurt me, but I can feel an ancient evil present when she’s around.
Ten minutes later, she’s gone again, and my bedroom is significantly more presentable. When daylight comes, I immediately dismantle her work.
Summary: You meet Kihyun in psychology class and can’t stand him. Outside of class is a different story.
Disclaimer: All of the things mentioned in this story are all works of fiction and have been made up by me, the author. I did not intend to make anything based on real life, and any coincidences to real life are purely coincidences.
Members: Kihyun x Reader
Rating:PG-13/R (mature content to come in future chapters)
Request// Hi! Can I request a Michael Shelby imagine(a smut so if you aren’t comfortable with smut I completely understand!) where he cares for the reader so much he is overprotective and to prove to him that she can handle herself she dominates Michael? - @wewillfindanewtomorrow
*Oh yeah, this was a fun one and a great way to start off the PB week. If you want me to tag you for the prompts made in this week, just let me know! xoxox*
“You don’t have to protect me, Michael,” you nearly screamed. “I can protect myself!”
This had been the one argument you and Michael could never seem to settle. Ever since you had begun your job at the betting shop, Michael had become more protective over some of the silliest things. He didn’t want you working without him present or in on anything having to do with illegal business. He would hardly even let you step inside the Garrison if it wasn’t for a party or event.
He seemed to have forgotten that you were raised by a police officer and war hero. You being the only daughter he had not only came with the backlash of being constantly smothered by your brothers, but it also included training to defend yourself against any man who stood in your way. You weren’t raised like the other girls around you, but in a way you were happy with how things turned out. You’re father had taught you to be strong and never depend on a man.
BTS Reactions To You Walking Out Of The Shower Naked
You had been so tired after coming home from work that you had failed to see Jin’s shoes in the doorway. You headed straight to the washroom determined to take a long and hot shower. When you had finished you realized that you had been so tired that you had forgotten to grab towels. You simply shrugged, far too tired to care. Jin wasn’t home you reasoned as you walked out of the washroom naked.
You let out a small yelp of surprise when you entered your bedroom.
Jin was lounging on the bed you shared, going through his phone. You could’ve sworn he had practice until late. At your loud entrance, he looked up and his eyes both darkened and widened at the sight of your fully bare body. You cursed as you remembered you had forgotten towels and attempted to cover yourself with you arms, “what the hell are you doing here?”
Jin chuckled at your lame attempt to cover yourself from him, “Jagiya, I’ve seen you naked before,” he reminded you.
“I-I know that but it still embarrassing. Turn around, pervert!”
He laughed louder and lifted himself from the bed.
“Jagiya, you’re shivering. Put some clothes on,” he suggested.
“I will once you turn around,” You narrowed your eyes, your cheeks flushed. It was true. Jin had seen your body countless of times but you were still shy every time he did.
Once again, Jin ignored you and stalked closer towards you instead. You walked backwards, away from him, until your back hit a wall and you were trapped. Jin smiled warmly as he ran his hand down your exposed side, “don’t hide yourself from me, Y/N. You’re beautiful.”
You let out a small yawn as you turned your body to the side, only to come face to face with Yoongi’s exposed chest. Your eyes slightly widened as you began to recall the sinful night you guys had. You could feel your body begin to grow hot again just by the mere thought of it. However, you had work today and you couldn’t afford to stay in bed, which is exactly what Yoongi would try to convince you of if you didn’t get up before him.
You were careful to not wake him as you turned your body around again and attempted to slip his hand away from your waist. You nearly jumped in celebration as you succeeded…or so you thought. The second you inched closer towards the edge of the bed Yoongi draped his arm around you again and snuggled his head against your neck, “mmm where are you going?” he murmured, still not fully awake.
“I have work,” you reminded him as you tried to escape his grasp but that only caused him tighten his hold on you.
“Yoongi, come on let go,” you giggled.
“5 more minutes,” he said.
“5 minutes for you means 5 hours. Come on let go, I can’t be late.”
“Fine,” he sighed as he reluctantly let go of you and dug his head into the pillow, ready to sleep again.
You just smiled as you walked into the washroom connected to your bedroom. When you had finished, you realized that you hadn’t brought any towels but you didn’t think too much of it. There really was no point of covering yourself with Yoongi anymore and besides, he probably fell back asleep.
You walked out, expecting to find a passed out Yoongi but were surprised to see him up. You just smiled at him before you moved to change, but just as you reached for a pair of underwear you felt Yoongi’s presence behind you.
“Uh, Yoongi?” You stammered as you turned your head around, only to find him staring at you with darkened eyes.
“Fuck Y/N, I think you’re going to have to be late to work…again.”
You let out a content sigh as your body relaxed from the heat of the water from the bath you had prepared as a treat to yourself. You let yourself soak in the strong but pleasant aroma of the bath bomb you had dropped.
You were in no way expecting Hoseok home until a few more weeks, so you didn’t even bother to bring towels into the washroom with you. Hoseok had intentionally failed to inform you though, of the few days he got off in between. He thought of no better way of letting you know than surprising you.
He had just gotten home when you finished washing up. The second he entered the apartment, he called out your name but because you were still in the washroom you did not hear. Instead, you walked out of the washroom and grabbed a towel to dry yourself with.
Hoseok, realized that you were probably in the bedroom you two shared, so as quietly as he could he made his way until he was just outside the door.
You had just found a pair of underwear when Hoseok suddenly burst through the door shouting, “surprise Jagiya!”
Before you could process what had happened, you let out a scream as your hand latched on to the body lotion sitting beside you and before either of you knew it, it was flying towards Hoseok.
Hoseok fell back as it hit him in the chest and he let out a slight groan as you made your way towards him, “Hoseok? Hoseok! What are you doing here? Are you okay?”
“I was until I got attacked by a bottle of lotion,” he joked as he looked up at you only to avert his gaze as he took note of your naked form.
You were confused until you realized your lack of clothing and you instantly began to profusely blush, “oh my god Hoseok don’t look. Close your eyes! Let me put on some clothes.”
You nearly tripped over yourself in your rush to grab some clothes.
“What time is it?” You asked Namjoon as you looked through possible outfits to wear today.
“11:03, why?” He asked as he looked up from the book he had been reading.
“I’m not too sure, I just feel like there was something I had to do today but I can’t remember,” your poor memory was going to be the end of you.
“Doctor’s appointment?” He asked in hopes of helping you to remember.
“No, that’s on Saturday,” you bit your lip trying to figure it out.
“Did you have to meet up with mom?”
“No that’s Thursday…”and then it suddenly hit you, “my friend! I’m supposed meet my friend at 12 to have lunch!”
You cursed as you realized you were late and quickly rushed to the washroom to get ready.
Just as you were finishing up you realized that you had forgotten to bring in towels with you.
You sighed before you turned off the water and called Namjoon to bring you some.
You waited behind the door until he knocked, “Y/N, I brought you some towels, although I don’t now why you couldn’t just get them yourself.”
“Because I’m naked Namjoon!”
You laughed as you inched the door open just enough to let your arm through. You extended your hand out expectantly but just as you felt the fabric of the towel, your hand was suddenly yanked and you were flying out the door straight into Namjoon’s body.
“N-namjoon,”you said, startled.
“God Y/N,” was all he said as his hands began to run down your sides. You could feel your body grow hot wherever he touched and in seconds he had you giving in.
“Namjoon…,”you breathed and he instantly understood.
“Shh baby girl,” he said huskily against your ear, “call your friend and tell them to meet you another time.”
You woke up to the loud sound of banging on the door. Groggily you glanced at the clock next to you. Six thirty. Who the hell was waking you at this unearthly hour? You moaned and rolled over, pulling your pillow onto your ears. “Shove off!” You mumbled, right before you realized where you were. Ballet School.
Crap! You shot up in bed to find the whole of dorm staring at you. They were already out of bed. You spotted Minjee further down. She was smirking at you, and then she turned her gaze to whoever was standing at the door. You flipped a round in bed.
Madam Hyejin stood there with her hands on her hips. “Good Morning to you too, Miss (Surname).” She said curtly.
“Oh crap – I mean, sorry.” You shut your mouth before anything else could get out.
“Am I a little early?” She chimed, then glanced at her watch. “Shall I come back at say, ten?” You heard Minjee snigger behind you. You threw off your duvet and stood up, trying to look dignified in your blue and white polka dot pyjama pants and singlet.
“Sorry, Madam…I’m just not used to this.” Yeah, it sounded seriously feeble.
She raised a perfect eyebrow at you, then turned her attention back to the dorm. She clapped her hands. “Hurry up!” She ordered, and left the room.
Minjee snorted and burst into laughter. “Good job (Name).”
You pulled a hand through your messy hair, rolling your eyes. “Shut it, snarky.” You muttered, and opened up your trunk to find some clothes. It was still dark outside. You didn’t do early mornings well, and grumpiness was part of the package for waking up early. But not to Madame Hyejin. You cringed mentally. God! You quickly yanked out a black v-necked camisole, leo, pale pink tights and a cardigan and knitted shorts for between classes. The academy’s dress code wasn’t too strict – so long as your leo was predominantly black and you had pink tights, everything else was alright. Then you headed for the showers, knowing people would almost certainly be laughing at you in the dorm.
The warm water was just the wakeup call you needed. You stretched and rolled shoulders as the water cascaded down your back. You were starting classes today…the thought sparked the first of many nervous pangs in your belly. Oh god, what would your teachers think of you? What would everyone else think of you? What if you were seriously bad? There was a reason why you had been put with the first years.
You shut off the shower and got changed, just praying that you weren’t going to make an utter fool of yourself today, though of course, you reminded yourself, you already had achieved that. Then you pushed your hair back and twisted it into a simple bun. The girls around you were doing intricate plaits down their scalps and weaving in ribbons which matched their leos. You sighed, looking at your plainness, then you coated your head in hairspray and left.
As soon as you got back to the dorm, Jiwoo came up to you, grinning. “If I say Good Morning, will you bite my head off?” She tried saying it with a straight face.
You rolled your eyes but grudgingly smiled back. “I’m really not used to this whole waking up early thing. My old school started at quarter to nine.”
“Well, you better, because Minjee’s going to wet herself laughing like she was.”
You sighed. “So what do we do now? Run ten laps?”
She laughed. “Dorm inspection. Make your bed, tidy up your area, make sure you look tidy.”
“I never saw the point in making beds.” You muttered.
“Try telling that to Madame Hyejin, she’s a perfectionist.”
“Like every ballet teacher.”
She nodded. “Indeed.”
You began straightening out your duvet. You were just tugging the last corner when she walked in. “Ready, ladies?” It was a rhetorical question. She marched right in, stopping in front of people and pointing out if their tights were laddered or if their hair was messy. It made you feel as if you were in the army. Perhaps a salute was in order.
When she reached your bed she nodded at you, in recognition of your screw up earlier. You knew the whole room was waiting for her to pour her sarcasm all over you, but she just gave you a once over and moved. Thank God.
When she’d finally finished, she walked back past the beds, her heels clicking on the floor. “Have a good day, girls!” She said happily, with a flounce of her arms the proceeded to walk out the door.
“Jeez, these teachers are so unpredictable.” You told Jiwoo as you walked down to breakfast. She’d dressed in the same black and green leo from yesterday, her hair done up in an elegant swirl.
“Oh I know.” She said. “But they’re very good – strict, but good.”
You took a deep breath, nerves thrumming again. “I hope they don’t murder me today.”
“Why should they have a reason to?”
“Ugh!” You moaned, putting a hand to your head. “I’m sure they’ll find one.”
“You don’t know that.” Jiwoo said.
You entered the dining hall, the sunlight was just beginning to come through the windows. You looked to the teacher’s table, where they sat sipping coffee and reading the papers like they were just sitting in a normal household. It was comical, really. Many people had already finished and were heading out. You watched them go as you collected your fruit salad and orange juice. “Is everyone an early riser here?” You asked.
“Yes, but don’t worry. You’ll learn fast, (Name).”
“Yeah, after today’s episode it probably won’t be a problem.” You muttered.
Jiwoo and you took seats at the same table as last night. At the moment, only Kwangsik was there, dressed in black tights and a tucked in white T-shirt.
“Hey Jiwoo.” He said, smiling at her.
“Hey.” She said back shyly. “…are you good for class today?”
“Yeah.” He said. “You? Mistress Zhang pushed you pretty far yesterday.”
She looked down at her bowl. “I thought no one had noticed.” They lapsed into to a silence. Not exactly awkward, but more like both of them were waiting for each other. You tried not to grin as you began eating your fruit salad. You were glad breakfast was light here. Dancing on a full stomach made you feel ill.
“Hey!” Came that over-enthusiastic voice you had been sub-consciously dreading. “It’s Ballet (Name)!” You turned and tried to smile as Kihyun took his seat right next to yours, putting a bowl of muesli on the table. Like Kwangsik, he wore black tights and a tucked in white T-shirt. “Ready for today?” He asked, turning to look at you.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You muttered.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be with you all the way.” He assured you.
“Kihyun.” Chastised Jiwoo. “I’m sure she’ll ask if she needs a faithful puppy trotting around after her. Come on (Name), let’s go.”
“Thanks.” You said as you walked up to the first floor.
“No problem.” She said. “Kihyun likes to take ‘nice’ just a little bit too far sometimes.”
“Agreed. So where are we going first?” The knot in you stomach was tightening. You pulled out your schedule. 8.30 – 11.00am: Technique, Studio Eight. “You are in my class, right?”
“Yeah, of course.” She said. “For most things. Are you music level one or two?”
“Two.” You replied. You had gotten to choose that yourself, when registration forms came through. You were alright at piano, and, more importantly, you got rhythms easily.
“Damn, I’m in one.” Said Jiwoo.
You walked down the same corridor you had gone down last night, where you had seen Jimin. Subconsciously you looked to that last door on the left, somehow thinking he might be there, but of course it was just a normal room now, with dancers pouring into it. Finally you reached the room marked 'Eight’ and went in. It was a pretty normal studio, complete with barres and an upright black piano. The floors were shiny and polished, the lace curtains of the large windows pinned back to the white walls. The front and right side wall were full mirrors. Above the mirrors on the front wall was the Academy Crest. The Crest of Kwon Seongmin. You later found out It was in every classroom.
The teacher wasn’t here yet as you pulled your ballet shoes out of their bag and sat down to put them on. Pointe shoes were always both a burden and a gift. A burden because they gave horrible blisters and when you were tired, they hung of your feet like bricks…but when you danced in them. The extra height, the grace of them, it was like you were something more than just yourself. It was also the fact that you could do something most people couldn’t. Of course, this weren’t the case here. Right now, all the other girls were lacing up their pointes as well, and they were just as proficient as you in it.
You glanced at your pointers; they were covered in the traditional pale pink satin, the ribbons winding delicately around the bottom of your legs. You have had them for a few of months now, and they were less than perfect. The fabric was wearing down to reveal the toe box, where your toes were supported. You knew you would have to get new ones. These were the same ones you had used for your audition three months ago. God, so much had happened since then.
The nerves in your stomach were coiled up tight as you stretched. It was the unknown that was frightening. You didn’t know if you would be able to keep up with everyone, if your late entrance into the world of ballet would show up clearly in this prestigious place. It was different when you were in Gwangju. In Gwangju you had been in the advanced class. But that was because there weren’t enough dancers to have a true advanced class, like the seniors here. But to be placed in the bottom class in the school was a hit to you, even when you knew you weren’t really that good.
You sighed and shook your head, trying to rid it of such thoughts. You started trying to play out a tune in your head. Of course it had to be Claire de Lune. Nothing else worked…but then after watching Park Jimin dance to it, it had taken on a whole new meaning, one which you weren’t entirely familiar with and to be honest. Right now you needed familiar.
“Good Morning Class!” Came a loud voice. A woman was walking in, dressed in a long sleeved prune coloured leotard and long black peasant skirt. Her dark brown hair was done up in a high, regal bun. She was followed by a thin man with studious black glasses. He took up his place at the piano without hesitation. The woman, however, stood at the front of the room, her lined face smiling darkly. Everyone stood up and you were quick to do the same.
“Good morning Madam Choi.” Everyone chorused, curtsying or bowing. You looked around surprised, but probably shouldn’t with the room inspections and 'Masters’ and 'Madames’. It was kind of cute…
“Alright, everyone to the Barres. Mister Ghim if you would please.” She indicated to the pianist. He started up a medium, plonky tune. Everyone hurried to the Barres. You felt your heart swell in anticipation. It was good to be back in the studio. “And a one two three four.” Madam counted. “And a Demi plie in first if you please. And down two three four and up two three four.”
You lowered down easily, you legs bending effortlessly, and then up again, feeling the happy pull of your leg muscles. “Grande plie and down two three four and up two three four. Now four more if you please.” She began to walk round the class. “Pick up your arm Miss Sung and now tendus in front in one two three four and side two three four and back two three four. And again. Keep those heads up!”
Everyone continued on and on, the simple exercises that every technique class begins with. The barre lesson went on for a good twenty minutes more before you got to Pointe. “Now ladies plie in two three four and up on the Pointe two three four and down to fourth two three four and up again two three four.” You were onto your platforms and back easily, relieved that you hadn’t failed to get up like you used to.
The lesson continued on the barre for almost the half of it. It was near the end of the barre exercises when Madame Choi drifted over to you, watching as you did arabesques to the best of your ability. It was supposedly simple – just one leg up behind you, but on Pointe things were a bit more challenging. “Keep that arm long.” She instructed, walking round you. “Chin up, very nice, very good. You’re the new one, (Name) (Surname)?”
“Yes, Madam.” You said as you came down from the arabesque.
“Hm, very nice.” She just repeated, and went to the next person.
Feeling your confidence rise slightly, you went onto the centre, where there was no barre to hold on to. Like before, the combinations were simple and then got harder. Much harder, but you seemed to be keeping up. You were tired, though. The longest lessons you had were an hour and a half. This was two and a half, and Madame Choi’s commands was unrelenting.
For the last few combinations, Madame Choi showed everyone the combinations and then called you up in sixes so that you had enough space. “None of you are getting this! It’s four steps then pique left and right then and step turn step turn and two steps grand jete and two steps grande pirouette, then end in an arabesque, left leg back.” She clapped her hands. “Come on, better this time!”
You somehow ended up in the front row with Minjee on your right and Seohyun on the left. “Alright and a one two…” You stepped up to point, then did those tiny steps across the floor, your arms rising and falling, then two quick steps out on either side. Then you launched into a leap, feeling the air whoosh past you. You felt so free! “Keep those legs strong Miss Ahn! Very nice Miss (Surname)! And now a step turn, step turn step turn, and into the pirouette. Good keep it going and arabesque!”
You let you leg out behind you, balancing on just the toes of your right foot. “Now hold it, hold it!” You heard Minjee drop away on your left. “Hold it! Hold it girls!” Your leg felt sore, but you toughened your resistance, reminding yourself to breathe. You heard the others break behind you, but you held on, breathing in and out, in and out.
“Ow!” You heard Seohyun cry. The piano stopped abruptly.
“Keep holding it, Miss (Surname).” Commanded Madame Choi quickly, taking no notice of Seohyun. You looked in the mirror, something you strangely didn’t do often, and saw that Seohyun was on the ground, holding her ankle.
Madame Choi gave you an analysing look, as if she was trying to figure you out. You just tried to stay standing, unnerved by her stare. Eventually, as if she’d decided something, she snapped her fingers.
“Mister Ghim continue playing.” The pianist started up again.
“Slower this time, if you please, adage, adage.” He slowed down into a flowing tune.
“Alright Miss (Surname), let me see you to turn, keep your posture, yes, that’s it, all the way round.” By now your leg were getting extremely sore.
“And now down into fourth.” You lowered, remembering to keep your composure, even though you wanted nothing more than to clunk it down and go have a break.
“Alright now into a front arabesque, raising your arms. And a back arabesque, same leg. Very nice. And now step to your left, let’s try a developpe.”
She took you through several more moves, some you hadn’t even done before, but managed to perform. When the music finally finished, your class clapped from behind and you blushed a bright red. “Well done, Miss (Surname).” Said Madame Choi with a short, probably rare smile.
“Alright!” She said, turning to everyone else. “Class dismissed.”
Instead of leaping up and charging out the door like a normal class would, everyone stood straight – aside from Seohyun, who was still on the floor.
“Thank you, Madame Choi.” They chorused again, with the same curtsies and bows. Realizing you were right in her line on sight, you quickly did the same, feeling like a idiot. Then everyone started packing up. You went over to Seohyun who was already being helped by Minjee and Kwangsik.
“Hey are you okay?” You asked.
Seohyun turned her snarky face to yours. “Don’t need you here, show off.” You rolled your eyes.
“It’s just a twisted ankle.” Supplied Kwangsik, with an apologetic smile for Seohyun’s bitterness.
“Right.” You said.
Jiwoo and you then finally sat down together to take off your Pointe shoes. “You were amazing, (Name).” She said, beaming at you. “No one else could get that combination right. And Madame Choi hardly ever takes an interest in someone like that.”
You couldn’t help but smile. After the morning’s stress, you realized you might not have as much to worry about. As Jiwoo and you walked out, Kihyun patted you on the back. “Really, that was great (Name). I wasn’t sure when you first got here, but now I see you’re a great dancer.”
“Uh…thanks?” Wow, that’s really a lovely thing to say… 'I thought you were going to be crap but you were actually okay.’ However Kihyun didn’t notice your slightly-pissed off expression, and kept talking until Jongsoo drew him away to go to their conditioning class.
You pulled your cardigan back on and together Jiwoo and you made your way down to the gymnastics centre. Minjee and Kwangsik were helping Seohyun down the stairs. “We have our own physiologist and doctor.” Jiwoo told you. “They’ll sort her out.”
Having never done gymnastics before, you were at loss to know what to do. Jiwoo had to help you through pretty much everything. The gymnastics teacher, Master Woo was just as unforgiving as Madame Choi, and made you do things again and again until you got them half way 'perfect’. After that class you came out half dead. Your arms were screaming from thousands of handstands and wobbly cartwheels.
After gymnastics, you had a short twenty minutes break to have a snack. You of course sat with Jiwoo and the rest of you classmates. But the time went far too quickly and soon it was time to classes again.
The day went on and on, with the only reprieve being a music class. Otherwise, you were on your feet the whole time. You had never in your life felt so worn out. After music, you went on to Character Dance – pretty much ballet, but focussed more on the attitude and character within the dance. They were in the middle of rehearsing a traditional Scottish dance, and you were far behind. After character, you went into another studio for contemporary. Having only taken strictly classical lessons, you weren’t used to the, waving arms and more modern music.
The teachers took no pity in you and you couldn’t ask them questions. There were in other words, no 'first day of school’ kindness or introductions. Some teachers didn’t even notice the new addition.
When you finally got a round to lunch, you were completely and absolutely drained. Kwangsik, Minjee, Jongsoo and Kihyun were already at the table when Jiwoo and you arrived, carrying your chicken salads and water. “So what have is next lesson?” You asked, stabbing a bit of salad with your fork.
“Ballet History.” She grumbled. “Highlight of the day.”
“It is.” Jongsoo assured.
Lunchtime passed quickly, with Kihyun’s enthusiastic blather and Minjee’s snarky looks. Every so often you would glance over at Jimin’s friends. You envied them. They were all your age, and yet here you were sitting with these guys. You could only have an interesting conversation with Jiwoo or Kwangsik, though he was really quiet. You hadn’t had many friends in Gwangju, as you were busy with ballet and homework and school.
Ballet history passed with excruciating slowness. Even the teacher wasn’t that enthusiastic about teaching it. You sat there next to Jiwoo, bored as hell. It was half way through when you glanced at your schedule.
3.45 – 5.30 Pas de Deux/partner class.
You shot up straight in your seat. “Jiwoo!” You whispered hurriedly. It took her a moment to get out of her bored doze.
“I’ve never done partners before!”
“Don’t worry, it’s fun.” She whispered back. “Lots of lifts and pirouettes and stuff. And it’s nice with a guy holding you.”
“Jiwoo, I haven’t even kissed a guy. Let alone let him do all those arabesque lifts and stuff.” Your heart rate was coming close to breaking point. “I mean, his hands are like…there.”
“(Name).” She put a hand on your shoulder. “You just have to be professional about it. Whoever it is, he’s just your partner. You’ll be fine. And we don’t do those sort of lifts all the time.”
“Oh God.” You put your head on the desk.
The history class suddenly sped up, and you found myself sitting in yet another studio, tying up your Pointe shoes.
“You’ll be fine, (Name).” Jiwoo was saying. “Don’t worry about it."But the nerves from this morning were coiled tight in your stomach once more. You didn’t know how to dance that close to someone else… You weren’t used to having the restrictions of someone else close to you…oh god, oh god, oh god!
(Name) breathe, you scolded yourself mentally.
But then Kihyun walked over to Jiwoo and you. "Hey (Name), I guess since Seohyun is not here we’ll have to go together.” He smiled at you, as if he expected you to be joyous. You just stared at him.
“I can’t – ”
“Good Afternoon Class!”
Your head snapped a round, recognizing that smooth, rich voice.
Okay so Jiang has just. The biggest crush on Declan. So big it’s stupid but not really, because K tried to flick shit at him for it and That my friends is the first but not last time Jiang punched him. Smol anger boy.
But. But… but consider:
Dec has a RIDICULOUS crush on Jiang. Does not tell a soul.
Jiang gets in a fight at Aglionby in between classes because he’s frustrated with having Feelings^tm.
Declan watches from around the corner, having the perfect view between two heads to make out the fierce lines of Jiang’s face and the scarlet on his knuckles. He’s late to class, entranced in the way Jiang is untouchable the whole time. Untouchable until he leans into it, until Declan doesn’t think anyone else can tell but he can. Can see Jiang wickedly brilliant Jiang who definitely doesn’t make mistakes this big, purposefully leave himself open, hesitate, and ends up with a nice bruise under his eye along his high, sharp cheekbone to show for it.
Declan watches Jiang and never catches Jiang watching him, never gets caught, and he likes it that way. Jiang isn’t supposed to be anything, he’s wild and sharp and part of a pack of monsters made of broken glass that are going in the opposite direction of Declan. He also hates it. He looks at Jiang too long sometimes (still just a second. Two.) waiting for Jiang to look up, to look around, to look at him, waiting for the moment when he can say “I see you.” Jiang doesn’t look up.
Declan watches Jiang take off with the pack and hates it, watches him come back a little bloody and definitely bruised the next time he comes to class and hates it. And wants to taste the copper of his split lip. Wants one of the bruises on his neck that look like fingers to have formed under Declan’s lips.
Declan watches Jiang walk with a limp and a smirk on legs that are very obviously undamaged and wants to know who had him, wants to ask how it felt to fuck a wildfire barely contained in a person, wants to know how it burned.
Declan watches. And watches. And sometimes someone asks him what he’s looking at, follows his gaze with eyes that slide easily over Jiang because why would they see him? They think he’s nothing, and when they want to know what it is he’s looking at that’s what he tells them.
Declan watches Jiang and when he gets caught he says, “nothing.”
Declan watches Jiang and when he doesn’t get caught he thinks ‘everything.’
Jiang watches Declan and when he wonders what Declan thinks of him he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and lets out a shaky sigh as he whispers, “nothing.”
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore— While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door— Only this and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore— For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door— Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;— This it is and nothing more.”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, “Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;— Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?” This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”— Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore— Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;— ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door— Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door— Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, “Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore— Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door— Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as “Nevermore.”
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered— Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before— On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.” Then the bird said “Nevermore.”
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, “Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore— Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore— What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er, But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er, She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore; Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!— Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted— On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore— Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore— Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting— “Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted—nevermore!