#THIS IS A BIG PART OF HER PERSONALITY???? BEING SHAPED BY GROWING UP IN THE VILLAGE AND IN A TIGHT KNIT COMMUNITY AND LOVING HOUSEHOLD | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dark-dawn · 1 month ago

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rites for a dying planet // caleb | xia yizhou

you wake up in a body that isn’t yours, in a world that shouldn’t exist. you’re not sure if it’s a dream, a punishment, or some cosmic joke—but you’re definitely alive, and unfortunately, very aware of it.

✭ pairing: caleb x mc | reader

✭ contains: isekai and transmigration, worldbuilding, politics, dubious science, handwaving: the fanfic, unreliable narrator, mental health issues, exploring the horrifying logistics of canon, angst, canon-typical violence, slow burn, found family, caleb is his own warning, eventual romance, moral ambiguity, only canon-compliant if you squint and lie, read too many naruto self-insert fics in 2013 and it shows.

✭ word count: 5.5k | part one ✭ a/n: listen. I barely understand this game. I went down one (1) reddit rabbit hole hoping for answers and emerged with more questions, three contradictory timelines, and a headache. So—like any reasonable person—I wrote fanfiction. [ read on ao3 ]

You always thought death would be cruel. A tearing, or a rending—something final. You imagined pain, or perhaps light, or the sudden silence of being extinguished like a flame, and you thought there would be meaning in it, some last, flickering clarity before the dark. But it wasn’t like that. It was quiet. Not kind, but not unkind either. Just indifferent, the way the sea is indifferent to the drowning, the way fire never pauses to consider what it consumes.

And then—smallness. Small hands, small feet, the shape of the world too big to hold. A room washed in yellow light. Your mother’s voice—new and warm and unfamiliar in a way that felt right anyway. Your father’s hands lifting you too easily, like you weighed nothing at all. None of it should have made sense, but it did. Not in the way memory is supposed to make sense, neat and linear, but the way dreams do: loose, flickering, stitched together by feeling more than fact.

Some would call it a blessing, to be born twice. To start again. But you’ve learned it’s not a clean slate, not really. It’s more like a palimpsest. Something overwritten, but never entirely erased.

Your childhood was happy, all things considered. There were warm meals and scraped knees, paper kites and sunburnt shoulders, the easy rhythm of routine, of growing older without noticing. You learned to read with your back pressed against your mother’s arm, mouthing words out loud while her fingers traced letters in the air; you learned to run across fields that smelled of dry grass and river clay, to fall and laugh and cry and keep going. You had friends, or something close to them, and the kind of endless summer days that blur together into one long, golden memory. You were loved, and it was enough.

The dissonance came slowly. At first, it was only a feeling, like stepping into a room where the furniture has been rearranged: everything familiar, and yet not. You looked for signs without knowing you were searching—hoped someone would mention a name you used to know, or a song, or a brand of cereal, something small and anchoring—but no one ever did. You started noticing the strangeness of the machines, how they didn’t hum or buzz the way they should, how the screens were too clean, too thin, too quiet. The interfaces responded before you touched them. The trains never broke down. Everything worked too well, moved too quickly, skipped past the imperfections you’d learned to live with before.

You knew what was happening before you really let yourself believe it. It crept in at the corners—quiet, certain—the unfamiliar holidays marked on the calendar, the children’s books with their strange alphabets and kingdoms you’d never heard of, names of countries that didn’t exist.

And yet, they did.

You lived in Linkon City. It said so on your school ID, your library card, the crumpled paper wrappers from the bakery on the corner. You could draw its subway map from memory. You knew which districts smelled like engine oil and which ones flooded in the spring.

Where else would you live?

(Your mother had never heard of London.)

But it was the sky that solidified things, in the end. The stars were all wrong. No North Star. No Orion’s Belt. Just a sweep of unfamiliar constellations, bright and sharp and wholly indifferent. A completely different sky, a new part of the universe, one where the rules had shifted in ways you couldn’t quite name. And standing beneath it, you felt something loosen in you—some last thread to the world you’d once known pulling taut, then snapping clean through.

This was a new world. This was a new life.

Maybe you were supposed to do something with it—this second chance. Maybe there was some grand purpose you missed, some fate you were meant to fulfil, some cosmic checklist you failed to tick off before the universe got bored and filed you under miscellaneous. You were reborn, weren’t you? Isn’t that supposed to mean something? You should have come out special. Glowing, chosen, blessed. A prodigy with ancient wisdom tucked behind your teeth. A voice in your head whispering secrets. Powers. Insight. Anything.

Instead, you got mild seasonal allergies and a lopsided birthmark on your hip.

In your worst moments, you wonder if this life is some sort of punishment. Not a dramatic punishment, of course. Not fire and brimstone. Something quieter. Smaller. A life that just goes on, day after day, full of minor joys and minor failures. No grand battles. No tragic fate. Just the constant, lingering what if?

Because if it were awful, you could rage. If it were perfect, you could surrender. But this—this not-quite, this maybe, this waiting-for-a-sign-that-never-comes—is unbearable in a way that’s hard to name.

And still. You wake up. You brush your teeth. You go to school. You come home. You eat dinner. You laugh when people expect you to. You go to sleep. And some nights, you dream of vending machines and broken streetlights and a world that was uglier, slower, louder—and yours.

And then things go to hell. Because of course they do.

Your parents die when you turn seven, and for a moment, you think—this is it. This is the turning point, the part where the strangeness cracks wide open, where your destiny finally limps onto the stage, late but dramatic. You wait for the letter with the wax seal. The sudden inheritance. The shadowy stranger who knows your true name.

But no. There’s just grief.

Not the cinematic kind, either. No thunderstorm, no funeral in the rain. Just soft voices and drawn curtains. Empty rooms and a suitcase you didn’t pack. Their shoes still by the door because no one’s been brave enough to move them. People say they’re sorry and mean it, but that doesn’t help when the silence is so loud you start talking to yourself just to fill it.

And still—still—some part of you watches from a distance, thinking, Is this it? Is this the moment I transform?

But you don’t transform. You just survive. Messily, gracelessly. You go back to school with red-rimmed eyes. You forget homework. You stare too long at strangers, hoping one of them will look back and say, Ah. There you are. We’ve been looking for you.

They don’t.

And after a while, you stop expecting them to.

The memories of this time are a little hazy. You chalk it up to grief, at first—the way your brain fogs over to protect you, how people say trauma softens the edges of things. You tell yourself that’s normal. That forgetting whole days is just part of the process. That it’s nothing to worry about when you wake up with bruises you don’t remember earning, or when you find notebooks with pages torn out, or when someone from school says, “We talked about this yesterday,” and you nod like you remember.

Sometimes, you do. Probably.

Sometimes you dream about white light and metal walls and voices just out of reach. You wake with your heart racing, certain something was done to you—is being done to you—but then the thought slips away, too smooth to hold. It’s always just out of focus. Like trying to stare straight at a shadow.

You’ve always had an overactive imagination, your teachers say. You read too many books. Spent too much time alone. You once tried to keep a journal, to track the days that slipped when you weren’t looking—but whole weeks were missing, and the entries stopped making sense. Dates out of order. Gaps you couldn’t explain.

Still, you survive. Or you pretend well enough that it passes for the same thing.

And most of the time, that’s enough. Most of the time, you can almost forget there’s something missing. That you’re walking around the hollow shape of a person with gaps in the middle. That sometimes you catch your reflection and for a split second, you swear it moves wrong.

Caleb makes things easier, but Caleb always makes things easier.

He was there in the early years, the scraped-knee summers and playground bruises, when everything felt half-formed and full of promise. He knew how to fill in the silences, how to make you laugh when your chest felt too tight, how to say “You’re fine,” in a way that almost made it true.

He doesn’t ask questions you can’t answer. Doesn’t press when your memory skips or when you forget entire conversations. When you say, “I think I lost some time,” he just shrugs and says, “Happens to the best of us.” Like it’s normal. Like it’s fine. Maybe it is, when he says it.

Sometimes you wonder if he knows more than he lets on. If he’s ever noticed the blank spaces and decided not to speak. If maybe he remembers the things you’ve forgotten.

But you don’t ask, and he doesn’t say, and the silence between you has always been a comfortable one.

And anyway, Caleb is steady. Caleb is real. When the world feels too sharp at the edges, too bright, too fast—he’s the one thing that doesn’t blur.

It makes living with Grandma easier, having him with you.

She’s a kind lady, the sort who smells like lavender and keeps biscuits in a tin shaped like a cat. Her knees crack when she walks, and she sings old songs to herself while folding laundry, soft and tuneless. She doesn’t ask too many questions, which helps. You get the sense she’s known loss too, though she never talks about it—not directly. Sometimes you catch her looking at you like she’s trying to remember someone else’s child in your face, but then she smiles and pats your head and tells you there’s more soup on the stove.

Your room is small, but it’s yours. Slanted ceiling, pale yellow walls, a window that fogs up in winter and lets in birdsong in spring. There’s a bookshelf with mismatched titles, a desk that creaks when you lean on it, and a bed pushed up against the wall with too many pillows and a blanket that smells faintly of mothballs and safety. You’ve tacked up drawings and pressed flowers and book pages, little things that make the space feel more like home. It helps.

Caleb’s room is next door. You can hear him through the wall sometimes—shuffling around, tapping out rhythms on the floor, singing under his breath when he thinks no one’s listening. Some nights, when everything feels too loud inside your head, you knock once on the shared wall and wait. There’s always an answer: three knocks back. Then a pause. Then the soft creak of his door opening. He doesn’t say much when he sits at the edge of your bed—just offers you a hug or a joke or a leftover biscuit from the tin. Sometimes that’s all you need.

Other times, you just fall asleep knowing he’s close, and that’s enough to keep the shadows from rearranging themselves while you dream.

You’re ten years old when you see a Wanderer for the first time.

It happens in the middle of an ordinary afternoon—clouds low, air heavy with the threat of rain, the street humming with delivery drones and kids on bikes and vending carts rolling over cobblestone. You’re walking home from the market with Caleb, arms full of groceries and stupidly arguing about which of you could win in a sword fight, when the world tilts.

The sky doesn’t split—not exactly—but it fractures. Like something huge and hidden behind it finally pressed too hard.

You don’t know the name for it then—don’t know it’s part of something bigger, something called the Chronorift Catastrophe, don’t know this is only the beginning. That somewhere, deep in the government’s hands, they opened something called the Deepspace Tunnel. A corridor through time, they said. Or space. Or both. A marvel of science. A new frontier.

Instead, it became a wound.

The first one you see is enormous. Bone-white and many-limbed, with a head shaped like a ram’s skull and eyes like dying stars. It moves like something remembering how to move, awkward and predatory and far too real. People scream. The sky dims. Caleb grabs your hand so hard it hurts, and still, you can’t look away.

It feels mythological. Beasts from storybooks made monstrous, folklore made flesh and invited in through a door no one should’ve opened. You don’t even know how long you stand there—how long you stare—before the soldiers arrive. Sirens. Gunfire. A blur of motion and commands you don’t understand.

And for the first time in your life, you feel very small, and very real, and very awake.

This changes things.

The world doesn’t end, but it forgets how to be ordinary. There are checkpoints now. Curfews. Emergency drills at school. The news cycles between denial and panic. The grown-ups talk about “rebuilding efforts” and “containment zones” like that means anything, like anyone understands what’s really happening. The military presence increases. The sky hums differently.

And you—well.

You used to lie awake imagining some ancient power would call your name from the dark and everything would click—your past life would make sense, your strange instincts would sharpen into something useful, and you’d finally, finally become what you were meant to be: great, magical, extraordinary.

But that was before you saw a Wanderer tear through a street like paper. Before you saw what “chosen” looks like when it’s screaming for help and no one comes. Before the sky split open and something vast and ancient and wrong looked back at you.

The Wanderers cured you of destiny.

You realise you don’t want to be brave. You don’t want to be the one who runs toward the monster. You just want to stay alive. You want to go home. You want Caleb to keep singing in the room next door, and your window to keep fogging up in winter, and the universe to completely forget you exist.

(It doesn’t.)

So you start running laps in the school gym, even when no one tells you to. You time yourself when no one’s watching. You start noticing exits in every room, counting steps between doors, between windows. You learn which alleys to avoid after curfew and how to move without being seen. You don’t tell Caleb. You don’t tell anyone.

They haven’t started recruiting yet, and maybe they won’t. You’re a civilian, technically. A child, legally. But rules bend in a crisis. Expectations shift. And you suspect this world will ask more of you than you want to give.

You get faster. Quieter. Meaner, when you have to be. You learn to say the right things so the teachers stop looking at you with too much concern. You learn how to pass unnoticed in a crowd. You learn what fear looks like in other people’s eyes, and how to keep yours steady.

Then you turn eleven.

And suddenly, you’re not strange anymore—you’re gifted. The adults stop whispering about trauma and start talking about potential. They say you’re quick. Observant. Strategically minded. Someone prints your name on a school leaderboard you didn’t know existed. You don’t ask what it’s for.

At first, it unsettles you. You weren’t doing anything special, just surviving. But then you realise: no one cares why you’re quick, just that you are. No one asks why your test scores jump from average to perfect, why you watch the news with too much intensity and flinch when the sirens start before they reach your street. They think you’re bright. Promising. The kind of child the city can be proud of. Something salvageable from the wreckage.

You let them believe it. You nod when praised. You smile when necessary. You answer questions with just enough personality to be liked, but not enough to be known.

They see discipline. They see talent.

They don’t see the Wanderer in your dreams. Or the bruises you don’t remember getting. Or the fact that some days, you still don’t recognise the handwriting in your own notebook.

But Caleb notices.

Of course he does. He always has.

He doesn’t say it outright—he never does—but you catch the way his eyes linger on you a little too long when you’re quiet. The way he notices when you skip a meal or disappear into your room before sunset. He starts sitting a little closer at the dinner table. Walks you to school even when he doesn’t have to.

One evening, after you get back a perfect score on an exam you barely remember taking, he knocks on your door and asks if you want help studying.

You blink at him, surprised. “I don’t need help.”

He shrugs, casually, like it doesn’t matter. “I do.”

And maybe that’s true. Maybe he’s really just trying to keep up—he’s a few years ahead of you, but lately you’ve caught up in ways neither of you expected. He’s still taller, still stronger, still better at most things, but it’s starting to narrow. The difference between age and ability. The space between you, closing inch by inch.

And maybe that’s why he starts pushing himself, too.

He studies harder. Trains longer. You catch him at the park running sprints alone, long after everyone else has gone home. He starts carrying extra textbooks and scribbling formulas on his arms in ballpoint pen. He says he’s just trying to set a good example, but you know better. Caleb’s always been the calm in the storm, the one who grounds instead of rises—but now, there’s something sharper in him. Like he’s decided that if the world is going to fall apart, then the least he can do is not let you face it alone.

It’s around this time that you first meet Zayne.

He’s older—by three years, maybe four—and already something of a legend in the upper school halls. Top of every class. Reads textbooks for fun. The kind of student teachers smile at like he’s their personal success story. You hear his name before you ever see him, always in the same breath as ranking reports and advanced placement. The kind of name that makes other students grit their teeth.

You meet because someone decides you belong in the same orbit.

A teacher pulls you aside after class, gently enthusiastic. “We’ve arranged for you to sit in on the upper-level track for now,” they say, like it’s a reward and not further proof that the universe hates you.

Grandma is thrilled. You’re just tired.

They bundle the exceptional students together now—streamlined education, post-Rift efficiency, all that—and suddenly you’re sitting in a small seminar room that smells like old whiteboard markers and overconfidence. You’re the youngest by far, and Zayne is at the front of it all, spine straight, handwriting neat, correcting instructors without a hint of arrogance. Just certainty.

You sit in silence through most of the session, only half-listening. The room is full of numbers and diagrams that should feel complicated, but your brain catches onto them too easily. It’s not that you’re smarter than the others. It’s that the answers are already half-formed in your head, just waiting to be remembered.

You don’t feel brilliant. You feel like a fraud with a head full of loose wires and secondhand thoughts.

Zayne answers every question without hesitation. The kind of sharp, assured intelligence that feels clean and earned. He doesn’t stumble or second-guess. You catch yourself watching him more than the lesson.

And then you realise he’s noticed you, too. He sees the way you finish your work too quickly, the way your fingers twitch when the material is too easy, the way you seem at once too young and too knowing. You can feel his gaze like a pressure behind your ear.

He approaches you after the second week.

“You missed the extrapolation in problem seven,” he says, flipping your worksheet around without asking. “It’s subtle, but it throws off your entire hypothesis.”

You glance at the page. He’s right, obviously. You were sloppy.

(You were thinking about white light and metal walls and the wrongness humming beneath your ribs.)

“Oh,” you say, because you don’t trust yourself to say anything smarter. “Right.”

Zayne doesn’t smile. He just nods, like he’s confirming a hypothesis.

“Are you autodidactic?” he asks.

You blink. “Am I what?”

“Taught yourself,” he says, still watching. “You learn unusually fast.”

You shrug. “I guess.”

It’s not a lie. But it’s not the truth, either.

Zayne doesn’t press, which somehow makes it worse.

After that, it’s like you’ve been filed under Interesting. He starts sitting closer. Starts asking you questions in that quiet, clinical way of his. Why you skipped a step in the solution but still landed on the right answer. How you saw the pattern in the data set before it was introduced. Whether you reverse-engineered the formula or intuited it.

“You don’t think like the others,” he says once, matter-of-fact. “You solve backwards. That’s interesting.”

It’s not meant to be flattering, but it lands that way.

You tell yourself not to let it matter. That he’s just another student. But something about the way he speaks to you—measured, never condescending—makes your brain light up in places most people don’t reach. Zayne doesn’t talk down. He talks across. As if you’re already fluent in whatever strange mental language he’s operating in.

Caleb hates him immediately.

Caleb, who has always been good at most things but never the best, who has worked hard and stayed steady and smiled through every project where Zayne outscored him without trying. Caleb, who mutters “robot” under his breath when Zayne walks past, and loudly announces that “real people don’t talk like that” after one too many overheard comments about theoretical models.

(You’ve never seen him act so petty. You almost find it endearing.)

“He thinks he’s better than everyone,” Caleb says one day, slumped beside you at lunch. “Bet he doesn’t even have friends. Just facts and spreadsheets and whatever’s shoved up his—”

“Caleb,” you interrupt, without looking up. “He’s not that bad.”

That’s the first time you realise you’ve started defending Zayne. You’re not sure you like that. But it’s true. He’s not kind, exactly, but he’s precise, and there’s something in that precision that feels familiar. Comforting.

Caleb doesn’t say anything after that. Just peels the label off his water bottle and refuses to meet your eye.

And you get it.

It takes a moment—longer than it should—but you do. Because this isn’t about Zayne. Not really. It’s about you. It’s about the way your world has always had two people in it: you and Caleb. The way he’s always been there—beside you, ahead of you, behind you, whatever the moment needed. And now you’re in rooms he doesn’t enter. Speaking in shorthand he doesn’t know. Drifting.

And for the first time, you think: he’s afraid.

Not of Zayne. Not of being outscored or overlooked. He’s afraid of being left behind.

It’s not an easy thing to spot—Caleb doesn’t do open vulnerability. He isn’t the sort of person who makes a scene. He just folds into himself, grows sharper at the edges. Throws out a few more barbed jokes than usual. Hovers over your shoulder and bears his teeth.

He’s always been a protector. That’s how he exists in the world: guarding things. Guarding you. Even when you didn’t ask for it. Especially when you didn’t ask for it. He walks on the street side of the pavement. He memorises your schedule without meaning to. He’s the one who knocks back when you tap the wall at night.

Even now, with Zayne in the picture and things shifting underfoot, he doesn’t push you away or accuse you of changing. He just circles a little tighter, stands a little closer, like he’s trying to remind the world you’re already spoken for.

And maybe that’s what makes it worse—the way he never demands anything. Never asks you to choose.

He just braces himself to be left behind and pretends he isn’t afraid.

It pisses you off.

Because Caleb is home. Caleb is the first face you learned to trust. Your first friend. You don’t know where he ends and you begin. That if the universe cracked open tomorrow and you had to choose someone to stand beside you in the ruins, it would be him.

But he’s a stupid teenage boy, and completely oblivious to any of your emotions. So he just sulks a little more than usual. He takes longer to respond to your texts. He avoids eye contact when you catch him looking. He kicks pebbles into storm drains, and gets into fights at school.

You think maybe he wants you to ask what’s wrong—just so he can say nothing in the most unconvincing tone humanly possible. But you don’t ask. You don’t push. You just walk beside him like always, your backpacks bumping slightly as you fall into step, the silence stretching long and uneven between you.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, head ducked like the pavement’s suddenly fascinating. Every so often, he mutters half-hearted complaints—about school, the weather, how Zayne probably practices blinking in a mirror and still hasn’t nailed it.

You let him talk. You let him not talk. You let him exist in that strange space between anger and sadness where Caleb lives when things get too complicated to name.

At the corner near your street, he finally says, “You don’t even like him that much, right?” Not looking at you. Not quite managing to make it sound like a joke.

You glance over. He’s staring straight ahead, jaw tight, like he’s already bracing for an answer he won’t like.

“I don’t not like him,” you say, and immediately regret it. Because it’s not the kind of answer that softens things. It just makes him shrug too hard, like he’s trying to shake something off.

“Right,” he says. “Cool. Yeah.”

He kicks another pebble, harder this time. It hits the curb and skitters into the gutter with a sound that feels unnecessarily final.

You sigh. “Caleb. I’m not going anywhere.”

He doesn’t answer. But he walks a little slower after that.

And when you reach your street, he hooks his pinky around yours, like he used to when you were smaller and scared of thunderstorms and neither of you knew what to say.

No deal is spoken. No vow is made. But it feels like one anyway.

You’re fourteen when you start realising that the feeling of wrongness you’ve been carrying around with you might mean something.

It’s not just dreams anymore. Not just phantom bruises and flickering gaps in your memory. It’s more insistent. Closer. A low-frequency hum beneath your ribs that no one else seems to hear. Sometimes it feels like your heart is stuttering—like something inside you is trying to move in a rhythm that doesn’t match the rest of you.

You try to ignore it. You try to pretend it’s nothing, just growing pains, just too much caffeine, just you being dramatic. But the world is changing, and pretending is starting to feel harder.

Because around this time, you start hearing more about Evolvers.

They’re no longer background noise on the news or a quiet topic for academic panels. They’re everywhere now—featured in public service announcements and splashed across front-page headlines, on billboards with stylised codenames and blurred-out faces. Hunters being praised, feared, marketed. Children in your year whisper about Evol Classes like they’re houses in a fantasy novel—Psychic, Elemental, Simulation. Everyone wants to know which one they’ll be. If they’ll be anything at all.

The school nurse starts carrying Evol detection kits. Guidance counsellors begin holding “talent assessments.” There’s a quiet kind of hysteria underneath it all, dressed up like opportunity. Like evolution is the next academic stream. Just another test to pass.

You try to play along. You listen. You nod. But none of it feels real.

(Because this world is still strange. Deeply, fundamentally strange. You doubt you’ll ever fully acclimatise.)

Zayne starts talking about it more. He has theories, of course. About Class distributions and gene expression, about combat bias in Hunter selection and the ethics of private-sector augmentation. His Evol is public knowledge now—ice, sharp and efficient, just like him. Elemental Class. A perfect fit.

Caleb pretends not to care, but he always has a way of being exactly what people want to see. Top marks, captain of the basketball team, the kind of smile that makes teachers trust him and classmates fall a little bit in love with him.

But you know him better than that. You’ve seen the way he stiffens, just barely, when the subject of Evols comes up. The way he makes a joke and changes the subject whenever someone mentions Class registration. The way he keeps his hands in his pockets when he’s angry.

He’s not careless. He’s careful.

You haven’t seen anything float. Nothing dramatic. But sometimes you feel the air going still around him, the weight of a moment stretching thin, like the world holds its breath when he’s near.

He hasn’t told you. You’re not sure why he hasn’t, but you trust him.

Caleb doesn’t lie—not to you, anyway—but he withholds. He gives you everything and nothing in the same breath, and you’ve long since stopped expecting clean answers from him.

Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned, it’s that he guards what matters most. And if this is something he’s keeping quiet, then it must matter.

So you trust him. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.

And you—well, you have nothing.

No classification. No listed Level. No registered Evol.

Just that feeling. That quiet, insistent hum.

You start reading late into the night. Medical journals, declassified reports, scraps of data buried deep online. You learn about Levelless Evolvers. About fluctuations. About undocumented Classes. You learn the word Anhausen—a strange, archaic thing buried in a footnote, a misrecorded Class, maybe even a mistranslation.

But something about it sticks.

To raise. To heighten. To make someone better.

You don’t feel better. You don’t feel anything good at all. Just the weight of something you can’t name curled around your heart like a second pulse.

No one else seems concerned.

Grandma pats your shoulder and says you’re probably just a late bloomer. The school nurse shrugs at your clean scan results. The guidance counsellor smiles too much. No one questions the blankness in your file.

And so the silence settles in. Official, approved, unremarkable.

Caleb is pleased. He says as much, that first evening after school when the topic comes up and you shrug, trying to look unbothered.

“Good.” he says, without hesitation. “That’s what I was hoping for.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-expecting the usual teasing—but no. He means it. He’s genuinely relieved.

“No limelight,” he adds, tossing a chip into his mouth. “No agencies tracking you. No recruiters with pamphlets. No creepy uncle-types offering you custom weapons in alleyways.”

You snort. “No one is offering me things in alleyways, you dork.”

He leans back on your bed, arms crossed behind his head like this is the best news he’s heard all week. “You’re safe. You get to be normal. That’s a win.”

You nod. You say, yeah, sure, because it’s easier than explaining the thrum under your skin. The way your hands sometimes shake for no reason, or how your vision flickers when you stand too close to certain people.

You don’t want to worry him. You’re not even sure if your research is right, or if what you’re feeling is just some leftover residue from the Rift—something your body never learned to process.

It could be anything, really. Aftershocks. Nerve damage. Ghost data from a life you’re not supposed to remember. You’ve tried to explain it to yourself a dozen different ways—hormones, trauma, something metaphysical that hasn’t been named yet. Maybe all of it. Maybe none of it. There are so many things wrong with you that trying to name just one feels almost pointless. Like picking one crack in the glass and pretending it caused the whole shatter.

So you nod. You smile. You let Caleb be relieved.

And you keep digging.

That night, you fall down another research hole and stumble across a name: Lumiere. No Class, no Level, no face. Just grainy footage buried in a decade-old crisis report.

You swear you recognise him.

This changes things.

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sayyestoheav3nn · 7 months ago

Text

Nights Like This: Part One

Roman x black!oc

Warnings: language, fluff, smut

Word count: 2.2k

a/n: this was originally planned as a one shot, but i’m indecisive as hell, so i guess we’ll see 👀. also, tiny reminder but this is my first time writing fan fiction/ smut, so please go easy on me guys 😭

Zoe acan’t fathom a better way of spending her birthday, this is truly all she could ever ask for. While she’ll never understand how she got so lucky to have Roman in her life in the first place, words can’t even begin to describe what this man means to her. Zoe in no shape or form is a materialistic person, yet somehow every year Roman manages to go all out and spoil her with shit she doesn’t need, but is still extremely grateful for.

And while this amazing day of shopping and sightseeing in Colorado is coming to an end, she’s exhausted and more than excited to get back to the hotel and gain some energy back before going out to dinner. She try’s her absolute best to ignore the fact that her feet feel worn out and in immense pain, her pride won’t allow her to show it, so she decides to keep it to herself. Especially, since Roman’s know-it-all ass told her not to wear boots with heels in the first place, but, she hates being wrong and would rather die than give him that satisfaction.

The walk to the car felt fucking eternal, Zoe couldn’t help but to sigh in relief once she was finally able to sit down. After Roman cut on the engine, he took a minute to study her, letting out a small chuckle, “I know you’re in pain baby, you don’t gotta hide it.” She immediately shot a glare at him, and rolled her eyes, “I’m not in pain, just tired.”

“You sure about that?, because when you came out of the bathroom earlier, I could’ve sworn it looked like you were limping…”, he teased. Zoe’s mouth dropped, and she playfully slapped his shoulder.

“First of all, I wasn’t limping. I was just very inspired by that Katt Williams show we watched, and decided to practice my own pimp walk…”

He couldn’t help but to let out a loud chuckle and defeatedly threw his hands in the air, “Oh so that’s what we’re doing huh?” One of the many things that Roman loves about Zoe, is her sense of humor. No matter what mood he was in, or what he was going through, she never failed to make him laugh. Roman knew her stubborn ass was lying through her teeth, but it was her birthday after all, so he decided to let it go and let her have this win.

The drive back was over an hour long, and while the beginning of the car ride was full of conversation and laughter between the two, the heater made Zoe feel extremely warm and cozy, which ended in her falling asleep.

When they finally arrived to the hotel, Roman gently ran his fingers through her hair, swiping some behind her ear, hoping he would wake her up without startling her, “We’re here, baby.”

“Shit, I don’t even remember dozing off,” she muttered. Roman smiled at her and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “I’m tired too, let’s go take a nap.” Damn this man knows the key to her heart, she will never deny herself an opportunity of taking a good ass nap.

They eventually make it back to their hotel room, and as they are about to unlock their door, the fucking hotel key card starts glitching again. After multiple failed attempts, and seeing red blinks over and over again, they eventually were able to get in.

The first thing Zoe does when she makes it in the suite, is kick her stupid ass boots off. There is nothing she wants more in this moment than getting out of this outfit. As she’s digging through the drawer trying to find some comfortable clothes to change into, she suddenly feels his warm chest press against her back. He slowly wraps his big arms around her waist, his tall frame now towering over her. She couldn’t help but to let out a soft moan when she felt his breath on her neck, his prickly beard making his was down her collarbone, his soft lips showering her with gentle kisses. Her knees were growing weaker by the second, but as good as this felt, she wanted to talk to him first.

“Thank you, Roman,” she says, and before he starts to tell her she doesn’t need to thank him, like he always does she rushes and cuts him off. “Even though you never listen to me when I say I don’t need anything, the effort you make truly means to the world to me. I just wish you’d let me do the same for you.”

Roman turns her around to face him, he uses his thumb and index finger to gently guide her face to look at him. “Zo, I don’t need anything , I just need you. I need you to understand that there is no me without you. As long as I have you, there ain’t shit else I’ll ever want, or need.”

Zoe knows how Roman feels about her, but it’s something about hearing him express it, that makes her tear up. She grabs his face, pulling him in by his beard and kisses him. “I love you, baby.” He puts his hand on the small of her back and presses her towards him. “I love you more, but we should go take this nap before your ass gets cranky.”

…………..

Zoe was the first to wake up, seeing he was still in a deep sleep, she decided to quietly step away and take off her makeup that she shouldn’t have slept with in the first place.

As soon as she stepped out the bathroom and glanced towards the bed, she saw he was awake. Roman looked at her and gave that mischievous ass grin he gives when he's about to be on demon time. “Come here,” he motioned her over with his fingers, his hair was now resting on his shoulders fully out of his bun. His voice was groggy as hell from just waking up, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit how extremely turned on she was.

She wasted no time and climbed on top of his hulking body, straddling him and almost immediately feeling his erection through the thin fabric of her pants. “Looks like someone is excited to me,” she chuckled. “Baby, i’m always excited to see you,” he whispered, while lightly squeezing her ass. She began to kiss his jaw and slowly made her way down to his neck, making a trail down his chest and abs. As she started to reach for the hemline of his boxers, he flipped her over so that he was now on top of her.

“Nah baby, let me take care of you,” he growled. Before she could protest, Roman got up, took off his shirt and walked towards the foot of the bed. This had her slightly confused, but before she could ask why he got up, he grabbed her by the thighs and slid her down to the edge of the bed. His fingers gripped the top of her pants and underwear, she watched him as he eagerly pulled them down. Propping herself on her elbows, she was now staring at his hair draped over his tan broad shoulders.

Roman’s warm breath over her exposed pussy, made her more soaked than she already was. He teased his finger up and down her wet lips, causing her to instantly moan. “Mmm, daddy please.” She started to grip the back of his head when he stuck two fingers in, her hips subconsciously bucking forward once he started to curl them towards her g spot.

“Please what, baby?,” he groaned and started to pick up the pace, her pussy already dripping and squelching for him. “mmm p-please eat my pussy,” she whimpered.

“Anything you want baby, doesn’t daddy always make you feel good?” Roman flattened his tongue on her needy clit, and started licking and sucking on her essence. “You taste so fucking good baby.” Her panting becomes heavier and heavier as he feasted on her, almost as if he was starving. The combination of him eating her out and fingering her while hitting that spot, had her on the edge of coming.

“f-fuck baby i’m gonna come.” Her pussy was clenching around his fingers, he could feel it. “Come for me, right on my tongue baby,” he used his free hand to grip her thigh and bring her even closer.

Zoe, felt like she was on another fucking planet. As he brung her even closer, she used her grip on his head and started to grind her pussy against his face. “Just like that baby, give it to me,” he moaned. She let out a loud scream as her orgasm took over, her body jerked as Roman kept devouring her pussy while she rode her orgasm out.

“Such a good girl, baby.” He made his way back on top of her, and gave her a sloppy sensual kiss. Tasting herself on his tongue, made her want to come all over again.

While Zoe was catching her breath, still recovering from her earth shattering orgasm, Roman got up and brung her a rag from the bathroom and helped her clean herself. She watched him, eyeing his God like physique that she’s convinced she’ll never get used to.

Roman stood up and kissed her temple, “I’m gonna be on the balcony for an hour or so baby, I’m behind some meetings, so I gotta go make some calls.”

“That’s okay, I have some emails I gotta catch up on too.” As Roman heads out the back door, Zoe goes to sit at the desk in the corner of the suite and starts to catch up on some work emails that she’s been ignoring. Not even 15 minutes in, and she’s already bored out of her mind. She closes her laptop and decides to do something productive. Other than actual work of course, because that’s obviously boring as hell.

Boom. An idea hits her. Zoe decides that she is going downstairs to talk to the hotel receptionist, and ask if they can do something about their annoying ass key card that barely fucking works. She starts by tearing the room apart looking everywhere she can think of. Roman was the last person that had it, and as much as she’d like to ask him, she knows she can’t bother him during his important meetings.

The first place she thinks to check is his wallet, when she sees it’s not there she moves on to the next spot, which was the drawers next to his side of the bed. Fail. Shits not there either, and after scrummaging around the whole suite for damn near twenty minutes, she was thinking of giving up. And that’s when her memory hits. His fucking duffle bag. Roman tends to work out twice a day, and lately he’s been making sure to put the key card in his duffle bag before he leaves, simply because his over dramatic self can’t seem to let go of that one time he forgot it, and Zoe had slept through his phone calls and loud ass knocks.

Zoe goes to grab the duffle bag from the closet and opens it, she unzips the small pouch in the inside and immediately spotted the key card, she couldn’t help but to let out a small sigh of relief. As she goes to pull it out, something falls out and she hears a small thud. Looking down, shiny gold wrappers immediately catch her eye. She bends down and examines what turns out to be, two magnum condoms that are now on the floor.

Her mind starts racing, and she immediately begins to go through his bag. As she starts to pull his clothes out, she stumbles across an empty condom wrapper that had clearly been used. What the fuck. In this exact moment Zoe felt her heart drop in her fucking stomach, her eyes instantly becoming watery. She has been with Roman for over two years, and not once have they ever used a fucking condom. And it’s in remembering this specific fact, that sends her into full panic. She starts crying uncontrollably not knowing what to do, as much as she would like to go outside and confront his lying ass, the thought of having to look at him makes her sick to her fucking stomach. Who the fuck is he using these on?

Her chest starts to feel tight, and she knows she needs to leave before he comes back inside. Zoe puts on her coat and grabs her purse, throwing her phone inside it. She runs out of the room and gets on the nearest elevator as fast as she can. Once she makes it to the main lobby, she beelines outside and manages to get a taxi within five minutes. She quickly put her phone on silent, knowing Roman would call and text her nonstop once he realized she was gone.

Zoe doesn’t even have a sliver of an idea on what the hell she was going to do. The only thing she knew in this exact moment, was the fact that she had to get the fuck out of here, and fast.

#roman reigns #the tribal chief #otc #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns fanfiction

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incorrect-threehouses · 2 months ago

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Flower symbolism in the FE3H Valentine's Alts

I am a big fan of any kind of flower symbolism, so when the valentine's alts in heroes came out this year I was instantly curious as to what the significance of the flowers chosen in each character's art was, so I'd like to share what I've found!

Edelgard - Violets/Crocuses

I actually found it pretty difficult to figure out what flowers Edelgard was holding, as they're not what you'd expect her to have, namely her favourite flowers, carnations. So I did a bit of research and the two most likely flowers I think they could be are either crocuses or violets.

I think both of these have the right kind of colouring and petal shape to be the flowers shown in Edie's art (although if you know of another flower that it could potentially be lmk!). In terms of the symbolism, crocuses (left) represent cheerfulness, youth, glee and the return of spring, and purple ones in particular represent dignity, pride and success.

Violets (right), on the other hand, represent modesty, faithfulness, humility, and romantic love between women, as Sappho used violet imagery to describe her lost love multiple times in her poems (a win for the lesbians and bisexual women). According to Christianity, St. Valentine used crushed up violets as ink to send letters while he was imprisoned, so they're closely related to Valentine's Day too. They're also associated with grief and mourning as in ancient rome they were used for funerals, and I believe they're also used for mourning in countries like Thailand. An interesting link I found (which could just be me overthinking lol) is that they bloom in February, which is the month in-game when Edelgard launches her attack against the church. Personally, I think the violet symbolism works better for Edie.

Dimitri - Lily of the Valley

Lily of the valley represent sweetness, purity, luck, and in flower language mean the return of happiness. While being beautiful though, pretty much every part of the plant is very poisonous. These are also associated with Mary in Christianity, with folklore saying that the flowers grew from where her tears fell on the earth when Jesus was being hanged on the cross. They're the flower of May, which has another potential connection as that's the month Dimitri starts on his path to redemption and retakes Fhirdiad. Also they're Marianne's favourite flowers which makes me very happy 🥺 Dimamari my beloved (fun fact: they're also one of my favourites!)

Claude - Daisies

Claude's are another easy one, they're pretty obviously daisies, although I think they could be two specific types: oxeye or camomile

Daisies as a whole represent innocence, loyal love, new beginnings, and signalled that a secret was kept safe in victorian flower language. White ones also symbolise purity and yellow joy & friendship. While these flowers usually have happy connotations, there's also a celtic folktale that when a child dies young, god will make daisies grow to comfort the parents. They're also the flower of April, which is both the month the lords and Byleth meet, and the month of the war at Gronder. Not sure if there's any strong link to Claude there, but interesting nonetheless.

For the specific daisies I mentioned, as well as looking like the correct size and shape, the symbolism of both work very well for Claude. Oxeye daisies (left) are dedicated to Artemis, greek goddess of the moon, and of course Claude's crest is related to the moon arcana, while camomile (right) symbolises patience in adversity, calmness and resilience. It's also one of Claude's favourite teas!

Rhea & Sothis- Lillies

The symbolism of lillies is pretty straightforward: affection for loved ones, purity, fertility and majesty. White lillies are closely associated with the divine, rebirth and rejuvenation of the soul, which is why they're often chosen for both weddings and funerals. In another win for the lesbians, a few sources I found said they can also symbolise sapphic love! Nice to see the bisexual women being represented

Hubert- Carnations

(I still can't get over how goofy he looks knsbdkdhf)

Carnations represent fascination, devotion and distinction, but can also represent contempt. Red ones in particular symbolise a deep love, and mean "alas my poor heart" or "my heart aches" in flower language. They're also a symbol of socialism and the labour movement. They are the flower of January, but I couldn't find any relevant links to Hubert or Edelgard in the equivalent month in game. Carnations are, as previously mentioned, Edelgard's favourites, which the fact that he's got them for her just makes me 🥺🥺🥺

So, that's my little ramble for the evening, I hope you enjoyed!

#fe three houses #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #fe heroes #feh #black eagles #blue lions #golden deer #church of seiros #edelgard von hresvelg #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #claude von riegan #fe rhea #fe sothis #hubert von vestra #i love looking at these kinds of details #even if im pretty sure the artists weren't intending for this amount of detail in the first place lol #not a quote

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liketheinferno2 · 11 months ago

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These aren't full ref sheets but I was trying to take some clear pictures of Hephaistos for later art reasons and then got side tracked doing all of the Pandaemonium bosses so here they are in order. Also for anyone following who doesn't play FFXIV and knows it as the catgirl game, enjoy this instead? VISUAL SPOILERS obviously.

Asphodelos

Warder of the Condemned: Erichthonios

Mythic Creation: The Hippokampos

Mythic Creation: The Phoinix

(+ familiars)

Hemitheos: Hesperos

(+ sexy fanfic redesign by Nemjiji)

To be brutally honest I never really liked either of these designs compared to every other Hemitheos we get, I think the really brutal black and red of the Phoinix is weakened by gold accents, but I still am always down for gay vampire surf rock. The Savage version kind of looks like Ultimalius as well if you've played XVI.

Abyssos

Mythic Creation: Proto-Carbuncle

Hrgrhhgrhrgrh

Hemitheos: Hegemone

^ My favourite detail on this is you can see the parasite's outlines in her robes and in her legs, then right through the eye holes on the mask to wrap around the torso. I'm convinced this version of Hegemone is functionally an ant being piloted by a cordyceps infection.

Hemitheos: Agdistis

She's very big

Perfect Imperfection: Hephaistos

I'm probably biased by Abyssos being the first raid I was there for day of release but these really are all fantastic. It's also when the story abandons all pretense of not being (at least partly) about family abuse and is loudly using the body horror and shackle motifs to talk about that. It's great. Hephaistos specifically is constantly bulging and twisting in and out of different forms like a highly unstable chimera and the more I look at these the more I notice parts that just should not be there. He's giving everything.

As for the Savage design It's a hard thing to rate as such but my favourite part is the veins that grow down from the eyeholes in his mask like bloody tears.

Thanks Abyssos I love you

Anabaseios

Mythic Creation: Kokytos

Dæmoniac Dungeon: Pandæmonium

It's really hard to communicate how huge this nasty tumor crab I zoomed out as far as physically possible in the game engine and subsequently ended up at a goofy angle staring up his nose.

Ephemeral Justice: Themis

Best boy. The double ended lance and second pair of arms are fantastic for this character.

Theos: Athena

In.. almost every final fantasy adventure you're fighting the real villain not at the very end but a little beforehand, the big iconic end boss is often more a metaphorical figure representing everything wrong with that first person's ideals. Athena cut out the middle man and became her own JENOVA.

I do like the moth angel, especially the hollow body full of dubious orbs, but with her eyes closed all the time it gives off the impression of this not even being the true body but some kind of anglerfish lure in the shape of a fairy... which might be true because this exists:

I really really love her twitchy anemone feelers and how the moth body ends up grafted to the rest of it waist down.

Anyway there's the gang I did not specifically intend for this to be design reviews I just wanted to have clear photos because when you actually see them in game there's other things to focus on. In hindsight I can appreciate more the theming of each tier and then the series as a whole, but my only (extremely obvious) observation for now is that every character Athena had a personal hold over is decorated in chains somehow and so I should have seen the Hegemone thing coming lmao. Heph and Aggy are still my favourites I don't think that's changing any time soon. I'm also noticing that Anabaseios is now just old enough for random DF parties to fuck up severely and I find that fun so I'm going to go fight the crab mansion now.

#ffxiv #endwalker spoilers #pandaemonium #ff14 #let him speak #dante plays catboy simulator #Erich's transformation is unlike everyone else here he can just do that normally #none of the body horror is present that's just what he looks like when he's not a little guy in a robe #but I do find it really fascinating that you get with these Ancient characters a second symbolic body #and his is completely wrapped up in chains there's a hole in his heart #and the little plinth on his head where his dad's mask sits #Heph's designs are all very unnatural though and I think the reason I love it so much is just how much all of it screams pain and misery #Not an outwardly depressive character but just look at this dude #fun in comparison to athena who has made herself into a glowing white angel with three different halos and one has a crown #it's such an egotistical design lmao

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secret0codename · 5 months ago

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MY HEADCANONS TICCI TOBY 🪓

Kid Toby Rogers 🧇

• Toby was a very quiet child, with very few or no friends. His best friend was Lyra. The girl was the one who kept him company the most, by far the only one. Confiante worked a lot and was hardly ever at home, when he was he tried to give the boy his attention.

• Lyra was the one who took care of him the most. When he was little, he had no idea of pain when he fell or noticed the bruises. At school, the children didn't understand why he kept squirming in his chair. In fact, he never knew how to deal with his tics. Tourett's was actually one of the disorders that caused Toby to suffer the most bullying. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to proofread.

• Toby once got a teddy bear that he wouldn't let go of. It was on his 4th birthday and he got attached to the teddy bear. Unfortunately, it burned in the fire, but he keeps some of the remains of it with him.

• His parents started having problems when he was 10 or 11 years old, it really affected his family a lot, he always blamed his father for abusing alcohol (We all hate that man)

Teen Toby Rogers🧤

• Toby grew up in a horrible environment, this didn't really shape his personality but it shaped his point of view about his parents, when he helped Lyra the girl got angry because he got hurt but he didn't feel it and didn't care. She always took care of him, he was always grateful for her.

• Toby didn't have any friends, but he can't deny that few people were kind to him. He studied at home when he was little. He only attended school to complete the second year, then he continued studying at home. Lyra helped him and later showed him her ideas. I think she wanted to study fashion, and she was very good at what she did.

• Toby has learned to deal with his tics, and his disorders in general. He understands that no one would ever be in his shoes, so he stopped paying attention to the comments, he never let anyone talk about Lyra or his mother... She may have been a little mean, but she helped him, enough for him to understand why she was late getting home.

• Toby liked to spend his time listening to music, and doodling on random sheets of paper. He never minded being alone, he actually preferred it. Unfortunately, the Slender figure in his window started paying attention to him, which changed his path.

• Toby killed his father 2 days after his sister's death. He was in shock, angry, and couldn't help but feel more hatred for his father. The sad thing was having to leave his mother with no one to live with. His daughter died, her husband was murdered, and his body was burned along with the house. His only son disappeared and never visited her (at least she never saw him).

ADULT TOBY ROGERS 🪓

• He actually became a wanted killer, but that never stopped him from being a "normal adult"; he did his "missions" mostly at night, leaving the day to be more free.

• Toby wasn't getting into relationships, but he has good friends. I can say that Jack and Nina are his best friends now. But there's always room for Lyra, he still hallucinates about her sometimes.

• Toby Smokes not at Masky's level but Smokes enough, the big weed user. Getting high alone for him is therapy not to mention that no one says anything, his clothes smell of smoke and weed

• Toby doesn't shave his beard, it's long and gives him a certain charm. Nina says she likes his beard but hates his mustache. Jack says that Toby looks good either way, he let his hair grow and got more sun on his skin, making it more tanned.

• Toby lives in a small cabin, he and Jack share the house, they get along well even though Toby is disorganized. Jack understands since the refrigerator has food and human organs, they both do their part and that's it. Toby has a good relationship with everyone: Nina, Tim, Hoodie, Jeff. Maybe he's not 100% with Jeff but he puts up with him. He loves talking to Sally even though she's a Poltergeist. He likes to see her floating around.

I'VE WANTED TO DO THIS FOR A LONG TIME >○<

Honestly, I don't speak English well, so I'm sorry for the mistakes. I had a lot of references to do this, but I love writing about Toby! It's one of my favorite creepy's. Coming in first place is Nina, Sally, E.J. and so on..!! Well thanks for reading!!! I'm Morgane ⦻ ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta fanart #jeff the killer #creepypasta art #ticcy toby #nina hopkins #tim masky #toby rogers #lyra rogers #eyeless jack #ticci toby headcanons #creepypasta headcanon

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itsstarseason · 4 months ago

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╭┈──── ◌ೄ◌ྀ ˊˎ

╰┈➤ ❝ FOR OUR TEAM’S SAKE.

in which, Taeyong confronts Seyeon about her guarded behavior and she realizes she can’t ignore the elephant in the room anymore.

✰ STARRING. Seyeon & Taeyong feat. NCT 127

✰ TIMELINE. 2017, before Cherry Bomb era

✰ THEMES. angst, hurt comfort, lore drop

✰ WARNINGS. profanity, mentions of food and alcohol

✰ WORD COUNT. 2.3k

seyeon lore so complex idek where to start

✰ SEYEON'S MASTERLIST

It’s already midnight when Seyeon is hunched over a plate of grapes at a kitchen counter in the 5th-floor dorm. Doyoung bought grapes and refused to share that information with her and the other 10th-floor members, so Seyeon had to take matters into her own hands and eat them before Doyoung could even take a look at them.

Her elbows rest on the counter as she inspects each grape in her fingers before she pops them into her mouth. It’s dark. There’s one dim kitchen light, but it’s more of a shadow, and the city lights sparkle behind the window. The cold wooden floor sucks on her bare feet and it travels to her exposed legs, but Seyeon doesn’t mind. The faint ticking of the clock and water running from the shower in the bathroom fill the emptiness, but there is something else.

Behind her, Taeyong is sitting on the living room couch, drilling holes in the back of Seyeon’s head for a good few minutes.

“Gonna ask or keep staring?” Her voice resonates through the silence.

Taeyong licks his lips before he answers. “What did you do before you joined SM?”

“I lived in the US.”

He nods, although she can’t see it. “I know. New York, right? How was it?”

She lifts her gaze up for a moment, stares at the white ceiling, and angles her body toward him with a shrug. “Alright. Y’ know, it’s New York. It’s okay. I mean, there’s trash and rats everywhere, but hey! The Statue of Liberty is nice, if y-“

“Seyeon.” He looks straight at her and she stares back at his frown. Her hand, which was resting on the kitchen counter, is now holding onto it. “I’m not asking about New York. I’m asking about you. You never talk about yourself.”

She finally fully faces him. Her feet cross on the wooden tiles and hips rest against the counter. She hides her hands in the pockets of her hoodie and chuckles. “What’s there to talk about? Wanna hear about me chasing rats?” She laughs, but there’s a hint of mockery in her voice.

Taeyong’s stare is sealed on her face. His expression is stone-like.

“Some members feel like they don’t know you.”

Seyeon doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t move and doesn’t look away. She is as stoic as Taeyong.

“Who did you talk to?”

“That’s not important, but it’s not just me. It’s hard to ignore your behavior.”

She looks to the side. Her jaw relaxes as quickly as it tightens. “It’s not true. You guys know me.” Her voice is convincing, but not enough for Taeyong. He gets up from the couch.

“We know you, but we don’t know anything about you.”

He wipes his nose with his fingers. His shoulders drop and he’s staring at her with a mother-like worry. Even his voice sounds like that, despite being shaky.

Seyeon hates it.

“If you want to be coworkers, it’s fine, but you’re a part of our team and you need to be open with us.”

Seyeon shakes her head, but her eyes grow stern on Taeyong. “We’re not just coworkers.”

“Then talk to us. Seyeon, I asked you a simple question, and you ditched it.”

“I know.”

“Is everything okay?” Taeyong hides his hands in the pockets of his pants. His voice is laced with sincerity, and his big eyes stare at hers with concern.

“Yeah.”

Her response is light, but the longer Taeyong stares at her, the more confidence her eyes lose. They wander around the dark room. She can only see the shapes of furniture, but at the moment, she prefers that over Taeyong’s pity.

“Seyeon.” Taeyong’s voice cuts through the silence. Half of his body is gone behind the wall. Seyeon’s head turns to him with the same unreadable expression. “If it’s a personal matter, I can’t tell you anything. But, we’ve been a team for more than a year and we will be for a long while. So, as a leader,” his eyes flicker to her feet before he gives a final look at her face, “whatever it is, rip the bandaid off. Please. For our team’s sake.”

He lingers long enough for his words to settle into the dark room, then disappears in the hallway. Seyeon’s head hangs low and her fingers curl inside her pockets. She gulps.

For our team’s sake.

A few nights later, Seyeon returns to the 5th-floor dorm.

The conversation with Taeyong lingered in her mind like a rabbit jumping in and out of its underground tunnels. She had expected a confrontation—the members aren’t stupid and she could only go so long avoiding any not-work-related interaction—but she thought she could ride that wave longer.

That night, Taeyong left her no choice. She can’t risk hindering the group’s dynamics and she can’t keep lying to them. If she chose to live this life, she should man up and go in on it.

The dorm is pitch black until Seyeon’s eyes adjust to the darkness. It’s quiet, too; the floor is barely creaking under Seyeon’s bare feet. The cold from her damp hair makes her exposed legs shiver. She walks to the kitchen first. Her eyebrows raise at the sight of clean counters. She has grown used to the mess on the 10th floor, it’s strange to see the sink not filled with dirty dishes. She opens the fridge. The light casts a shadow on her face, making her eyes squint before she inspects each shelf. A bottle of beer is hidden behind some leftovers, so she takes it, opens it with her teeth, and closes the fridge. It’s probably Taeyong’s.

With the beer in hand, Seyeon walks toward his room. A “Come in!” reaches her ears as soon as she knocks on the door.

Taeyong is seated at his desk across the door. The blue light from the computer screen is illuminating his face and a lamp in the corner of his room is lighting the place. He is staring at her, a little confused. He still has makeup on from the day, but the dark circles under his eyes are now peaking through the layers of concealer.

“Hi.”

Seyeon shuts the door behind her and sits cross-legged on his bed, placing the beer in her legs. She catches the quick side eye Taeyong gives her and looks at him. “What?”

He licks his lips and shakes his head. “Just… don’t spill the beer, please.”

She stares at him for a second before a smirk appears on her lips. “Got it. No wet bed tonight.”

Taeyong chuckles, but then his expression turns unreadable. He watches water drip from her hair onto his sheets and takes a deep breath. She’s making a mess. Taeyong looks back at Seyeon’s face, but she is already staring ahead, eyes unfocused, and sips on the drink he bought yesterday. Taeyong takes another deep breath. The words linger on the tip of his tongue. He looks at her face and opens his mouth to say something and that’s when he stops himself.

Seyeon’s lips are pressed into a thin line. Her gaze isn’t just unfocused, it’s distant. Her back is hunched and her slim fingers play with the bottle. Although she has just showered, she looks the opposite of refreshed.

Taeyong knows why Seyeon is here. He is starting to figure out how she works, so he turns back to his computer but leaves his body angled toward her.

Seyeon takes longer them either of them expected. She shifts restlessly on the bed, lying on her back, side, stomach, back to sitting. Her fingers fidget with her clothes, hair, even her toes, and Taeyong’s sheets, and the silence between them only stretches with her wandering eyes. By the time Seyeon speaks, most of her beer is gone and Taeyong’s eyes are red from rubbing them too many times.

“I never wanted to be an idol.”

Taeyong’s hand pauses over the keyboard. His head twitches toward her and his eyes immediately find her face. He slowly turns his chair toward his bed, facing her.

“Had no singing or dancing skills… never even thought of it,” she says with a half-smile. “Like a week after I came to Korea, though, this one woman basically stalked me,” she chuckles, making quick eye contact with Taeyong. “She was everywhere I was, I have no idea how. And she’d always come up to me and ask ‘Do you want to be famous?’, ‘You have potential’, ‘You should be a celebrity’, shit like that—I was 10 years old, it was fucking weird—she just kept telling me to audition. I’d just ignore her, but one time I thought she’d leave me alone if I go.”

A smile lingers on Seyeon’s flushed face, but it’s paired with a light frown like she’s judging her own words. She glances at Taeyong long enough to catch his reaction without eye contact. He is staring at her with a kind of pureness in his eyes. He stays silent. Seyeon takes a sip of the beer and continues.

“It was a random day in a week. I dunno, maybe Thursday? Doesn’t matter. But the moment I entered the building,” her eyes widen, “everyone was staring. Everyone knew who I was, I could tell. It was so fucking weird. And it was around the time ‘Tell Me’ by Wonder Girls was released, so I learned the choreography and sang it. It was terrible.” She pauses, shaking her head. “It was so bad.”

A soft smile graces Taeyong’s face and his head tilts to the side. “You were always the best trainee. I couldn’t be that bad.”

“Deadass.” She stares at him. “I mean, you know, I did my worst on purpose, but oh my fucking God…” Her palm lands on her lips to cover her open mouth. “I gave them the laziest performance ever. And—you know how they are—they were so silent. The air was so awkward, they were staring at me and I could barely see their faces because of the lights. The atmosphere was so weird, so I thought I tricked them and scared them away. They brought a contract instead.”

Taeyong’s mouth drops open.

“They signed you right away?”

Seyeon nods. “After ten years, that moment is still the fastest I’ve ever seen them work.”

Taeyong lets out an airy laugh. He shifts in his chair, resting his intertwined fingers on his lap and letting his spine melt into the leather. “When they cast me, I said I’ll audition if they buy me food. They agreed.” His smile falters a little. “It was a little weird, but,” his voice gets weaker, “I had no choice.”

All this time, Taeyong thought he and Seyeon were far from similar. But with the way Seyeon stares at him now, silent and free of any judgment with such deep understanding in her eyes, he thinks she knows exactly what he means. He doesn’t have to say anything more, because she knows what it means to be desperate. He feels seen—not as an idol or a leader—as a person with wounds and scars. He thinks he sees the same in her.

Still, it’s too much to handle. Taeyong clears his throat. “If you didn’t want to be an idol, why didn’t you leave?”

Seyeon’s jaw tightens. Her fingers intertwine around the bottle between her legs and her eyes jump to the computer screen behind Taeyong. She gulps and nods toward it. “Open YouTube. I wanna watch something.”

Taeyong stares at her blankly. “Now?”

“Yeah,” she says in a flat tone.

He can press on further and point out how she ignored his question. He can send her away and finally go to sleep. But after four years of knowing each other, this is the first time Seyeon has ever voluntarily spent time with him. For the first time since their debut, Seyeon initiated a conversation that was more than small talk or job-related. It’s not worth the risk, at least not tonight.

Taeyong does what she says. He scrolls for a minute until any video catches his eye. When it does, he looks at her for approval, and she nods. They watch the video in silence. Seyeon lies on his bed, and Taeyong slides down on his chair and puts his feet on the edge of the seat, wrapping his arms around his calves.

That night, Seyeon falls asleep before she can walk back to her dorm. She occupies most of Taeyong’s bed and still has the—now empty—beer bottle in her hand. He watches one or two more videos before he turns the computer off.

Taeyong’s gaze shifts to Seyeon with a sigh. He walks to her, takes the bottle from her grasp, and puts it on his desk. He gently shoves Seyeon’s limp body to the side of the bed and lies down on the empty side.

His cheek presses into the pillow and his body melts into the mattress. It’s a single-sized bed, but there’s just enough space for either of them. Their backs gently press into each other, and as Taeyong listens to Seyeon’s muffled breaths, he lets his eyes close. It’s a little strange to be this close to Seyeon. It’s the first time her guard is not up in front of Taeyong or any of the members, even more so now that she is asleep. It’s new, but oddly comfortable. For the first time, he doesn’t mind having wrinkled sheets.

Before he falls into slumber, Taeyong hopes that none of them will regret tonight.

itsstarseason 2025 ✰

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sglossmin · 10 days ago

Text

Muse | MYG pt. 6

Plot: What happens when the man you practically simp over in high school, is right now, sitting across you after almost 10 years of not seeing him? Worse? You’re here for an appointment for therapy and he’s your psychologist.

Pairing: SeniorStudent!Yoongi x JuniorStudent!Reader —> Psychologist! Yoongi x Artist!Reader

Genre: Fluff, slight age gap, slice of life, a bit of angst, schoolmates to lovers(?) SWITCH POV

Warnings: matured themes

Word count: it's many i think

A/N: I honestly dunno when this will end.. Also there's this JK FF I've been working on (for like a year lmaooo I think I edited every chapter for about 10 times but the thing is I only managed to write 4 chaps? yeah oh gosh...) I might post it here too (but originally on wattpad) after this or... this another FF (still dunno which member)... kinda fantasy? yeah, I just thought of the storyline a couple of days ago. GOSHHH I WANNA WRITE THEM AND FINISH THEM ALL SO BADDDD

Comment your @ if u wanna be added to the taglist^^

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

When I was a kid, I never dreamed. Growing up, I felt different from the others.

Adults would always ask "What is your dream? What do you wanna be?" and people in my age would say a doctor because they wanna help people with illness, a teacher because they want to help and teach the others or a lawyer to bring justice.

Everyone had their reasons. Reasons that I never find myself fond of.

I was always amused by these kids because they really find themselves helping people, meanwhile I—never thought of that.

I was a kid.

Growing up, every time I hear the phrase "What do you want to be?", my mind goes blank. To the point where I'll just say what most people want to hear. Any job at that point, really.

As long as it lives up to our name—Jeon.

High school were a different stage though. That's when you'll feel the rush, the pressure, the need of wanting to know what do you want to do with your life.

Be a government slave?

That's why most of the time, I would jokingly answer, "I wanna be a good person. That's what I aim to be."

Maturing is realizing that anyone can be great at their occupation, but not everyone can be a good person. Everyone has their own flaw—their own suffering that shapes them for who they are today. But there's no such thing as Be-A-Good-Person Course and people would definitely not pay me just because of my manners. So, I still have to find a job that would suit me.

One thing I always hear from the adults were "Follow your dreams." which obviously isn't possible because I don't have a dream in the first place and "Do what you are passionate about."

Passion?

Every time I hear those words, I felt helpless. My mind always wonder that how come people just randomly have and know their dreams and passions. I was never taught how to do that.

I was a smart and talented kid. Everyone envies my talent and sure, their words really boost my ego, but not enough to make my head big. Once, my teacher in English when I was in 8th grade, asked me about my dream and I said I was still thinking. She then told me that I should definitely be a lawyer.

It was my first time hearing that and it felt odd. She said it'll be a waste if I won't be, since I'm "smart." I never even ranked first in class that's why hearing that from her made it even more weird.

A lawyer? Really? What made her thought I'll be great in that field? Just because I'm "smart"?

She said that to me for like 3 times but never once I had the courage to ask why. What did she saw in me that I never see?

Being "smart" and "talented" as a kid had it's downside too. It only made me more confused on what field I would go. Sure—I can do anything, but what scared me are the "What if's".

What if I was being too bold on that decision? What if the payment is too low to pursue? What if I get sick of something that used to be my hobby? What if I never become happy with it?

Pursuing a dream is harder than I thought. It could shape my future. One failure and everything could crumble down before it even get to soar.

There was a time when Jungkook and I were kids, he would always whine on how I shouldn't be too good and that he can't keep up with my pace. Even though he said it more as a joke, it broke my heart. He must've been pressured too. The only good thing is that we never heard them compare us to each other.

Or at least they never compared Jungkook to others.

Whenever I get home with a certificate in my hand, a proof that I'm one of the top student in our class—is exhausting. Of course, I was happy too that I managed to be on the top but it didn't feel like a reward. I was just relieved that it's done.

Their happy faces when they see that I did well, but what always crushed me was their question after congratulating me—"Who got the first? What did she do that you can't do to be on top? " Those were the lines I would always remember.

Right... It was never enough. No matter how high I achieved, if I'm not the first, it means nothing.

There was a lot of things my parents forced me to learn, and honestly, I was thankful for that. I am who I am now because of them.

One of the things that my parents forced me to learn was to play piano.

I hated it. Despised it even. Wishing how my hands would just snap or the piano would just break every time I practiced. I would always make a mistake and every time I do, I felt frustrated—wanting to break the keys.

Just to clarify, I didn't hate the piano itself, it was more like practicing it.

I was a child. The only things that I wanted to do was play and watch the goofy cartoons that were playing in our TV. Why am I suddenly stuck in a room playing a note over and over again?

It was a good thing my tutor was patient on me. He saw how uninterested and frustrated I am with the instrument but regardless of that, he did his job. Nevertheless, I only learned the basics because soon, I told them that I didn't wanna learn. Pleaded them to stop the lessons and after hours of convincing, they let me.

Surprisingly, they were gentle about it. Asking me if I'm sure I don't want it. But little did I know, soon, I would realize that it was a waste that I threw a tantrum and didn't learn the instrument.

Spring 2011

"Girl, have you heard the news?!" Chaeyoung squealed as she beamed me a grin when she walked in to the classroom.

It was early in the morning and I just arrived in the classroom as well. I wasn't supposed to attend the class today but I knew that even if I were to be excuse for a day, doesn't mean I won't have to do the things they did. I would only be more stressed on my missed activities and quizzes.

I'm practically a study maniac.

That is why even if I have a cold today, I still managed to convince my mother to let me attend the classes—after hours of nagging me, of course.

Sat on my chair with my head rested against my arms on the table, I looked up at her. "What is it that you're so thrilled early in the morning?" I grumbled and lazily rubbed my nose.

"Whoa, are you okay? You look sick." Chaeyoung eyed me as she took her seat in front of me.

"She got cold because she had been pulling all nighters to finish her painting. Her system couldn't take it so... yeah." Sana chimed in. She was a couple of tables away from us yet she still managed to be involved in our conversation.

I mustered to let out a chuckle as I nod—admitting all she said was right.

We had a week of school break and I impulsively wanted to paint some of my sketches using watercolor. It was my first time using it but it turned out fine.

But to be more specific, I wasn't just busy painting random stuffs. I was trying to learn how to draw him perfectly—accurately. Never have I ever thought his face will be the hardest to draw. Something wasn't just right. In my sight, he just looks like a boiled dumpling—must be easy, right? But by the time I draw him, something's always off.

Chaeyoung felt sorry for me but beams up again when she remembered what she was supposed to say in the first place. "Guys, have you seen the posters?? The seniors were having a little talent show and one of the performers is Neko!!" She giggled and Sana's face lit up too.

"Looks like Y/n's remedy is on his way," Sana teased.

I groaned, feeling the exhaustion creep up to me.

Does this people think my world revolves around him? It's just a silly crush, not like I would do stuffs for him.

"I won't go. He's not that special for me to go." I smugly said as I ignored the girls laugh and confusion.

After class, I rushed outside, telling them that I needed to go home early. On my way, I unintentionally saw the poster of the list of the participants on the show.

Class 11- A Min Yoongi.

"He would probably just dance... or sing. Like everybody. Not that interesting to waste my time on it." I muttered as I looked for the details more. "Tomorrow at 5:30 pm? What's with the late announcement..."

"Apologies about that. The council got too busy that we forgot to post it," Jin—the president of student council—chimed in beside me.

I was caught off guard when he spoke. It was my first time to see him up-close and seems like the rumors were true. His laid back attitude, looks and good courtesy made him win. He's way even prettier and taller up-close.

Jin smiled at me as I stared at him in fascination. "The show was mainly for seniors but juniors are welcome there too. It was actually a good thing that we showed it on such short notice, in this case students won't cram together."

I only nodded and shyly smiled. My head tilt up again when he spoke, "Are you going to watch? The audience that our auditorium can hold is limited, which is why there's only a few tickets left. So... here." Jin handed me a purple ticket.

"I-i don't... I'm not sure... Is this..erm..." I bit my lip after I stuttered so much. I wasn't even sure if I'm going in the first place—I mean, I literally told my friends that I'm not going. However, how can I say no when the cutie president handed me the ticket himself?

"You're the girl who gave Yoongi that drawing, right? He was practically bragging about it." He paused before leaning down—closer to me. "You think you can draw me too?"

My eyes widen and I felt my cheeks getting flushed. Lost in his eyes, by the way he tilts his head and the way the curve of his mouth lift in mischievousness.

He's such a charmer...

As much as I know from the information I gathered, he and Yoongi are friends. Jin is a year older than him—soon to graduate too. They get to know each other because Yoongi was a council member when he was still a junior.

Jin took my hand and I felt him placed the ticket on it. He shook his head and let out a soft chuckle before fixing his composure. "I was just kidding. Good drawing though. See you tomorrow, I hope." He smiled and waved a good bye to me before his figure disappears and blends with the other students.

I looked at the ticket in my hand. I'm not that sick to be unable to go for tomorrow but pretty sure that my parents won't allow me to go out that late.

"If it'll start at five then it'll end about seven or eight. They will sure beat us up if they find out that you sneaked out." Jungkook argued as he munched my chips on my bed. He knew I hate it when someone does that. He was literally testing how far I can go with this.

I huffed and took out the nice clothes and placed it on my bed. "Come on, Kook. Help me out for this one." I pleaded as I laid beside him and playfully squish his cheeks.

Jungkook grumbled something before he gave in. "Fine... And please, stopping doing that to my cheeks. It's not cool."

I rolled my eyes at him. I can't believe that he's starting to feel self conscious. Jungkook just used to be my slave, but now, he's getting older and still my slave.

"What am I even gonna get from helping you out this time?" Jungkook pouted as he munched like a pig.

"My PSP. All yours." I smirked as I took it out from the bedside table. "But only, if we won't get caught."

Jungkook sighed as he nodded. We pinky promised each other and went to discuss our foolproof plan.

I prepared my stuffs into my bag like my tissue, VapoRub, lip balm, camera, phone and wallet. I decided to take my old scooter that my parents never noticed that it was still there. It's way safer than taking a bus—less interaction with people whom my parents might know.

For tonight, I dressed up in my casual clothes— black camisole tank top, plaid flannel shirt—to cover me, and flared jeans that pairs my converse. Kind of a grunge style that I've been seeing on tumblr.

It wasn't really the ideal clothes but my parent can caught me if I'm wearing my usual cute clothes since it'll be easier for them to identify me, if we ever somehow cross paths.

I even put some hair extensions for highlights, just so I could look different. A gradient of black-to-red to match my look.

While I was getting ready, Jungkook informed me that everything is set. I smiled at him and nodded. It wasn't my first time to sneak out and asked Jungkook for help so I already knew this is going to work.

"Noona...take care, okay? Don't do drugs." Jungkook said in a rather more genuine tone.

Rolling my eyes, I playfully smacked his arm, "I'm just going to school, doofus."

"Well, who knows... You already look like you're using it..." he muttered.

Ignoring his words, I took another look at myself in the mirror, fixing a bit my hair, adjusting my makeup a little...and I'm all good.

Jungkook went downstairs first, checking if any of our parents were on the living room, if they are, I have to take the back door, but if they are on the kitchen, I will have to use the front door.

After checking, he went upstairs again to my room.

"So?"

"Eomma is on the kitchen and Appa still hasn't arrived from work." Jungkook confirmed.

It would be a big risk if I'm going to ride my scooter on the main road since we could cross paths, so I decided to take my secret route to go to the school.

The sun was still bright when I left the house. It wasn't really a surprise since it's Spring season. The days are longer and warmer than usual. The trees started to regrow and the flowers started to bloom too.

Most of the people symbolizes Spring as rebirth or a new beginning. I didn't really understand what they meant since I've never relate to that.

Fresh start to what? How do people even restarts their life?

On my way to school, my mind kept recalling the conversation I had with Jin. Aside from the way he looks and being a smooth talker, it made me wonder if what he said about Yoongi was true.

Did Neko really bragged about the drawing? I mean, that drawing was perfect. Out of all the drawings I made based on him, that one was the one...

I giggled like a moron while scooting in nowhere. Imagining the ways on how he bragged about it.

Despite of that, a doubt came over to me. "Or maybe Jin was just exaggerating..." I mumbled, still focused on my trail while riding my scooter.

It was just about time when I arrived at school. I went straight to the auditorium and so far, I haven't seen my friends—which is good. I already told them yesterday that I have no interest on going. They would laugh at me if they see me here.

What am I even doing here? I could've just ditch it...

I glanced at the ticket on my hand, looking for the seat number.

"Row G Seat 7?" I murmured as I searched for it.

While searching I felt a hand tap my shoulder, which made my attention turned to it. It was Jin. He was wearing a retro button-up—left unbuttoned—over his tee, loose jeans and sneakers.

"Need a help?" Jin smiled at me as he asked me if he could take a look at my ticket. "Oh, you're seat is on the middle row." He pointed where my seat is.

Great...middle seat. A perfect view for Neko to see me... pfft

"Oh... thank you." I smiled back and was about to go when he spoke again.

"Glad you came. Enjoy the show." Just as he was about to walk away, he glanced back, as if he had forgotten something. "Oh– Also, nice highlights." He snickered and went on his way.

After he said that, I just stand there—mind blank. Contemplating whether it was supposed to be a compliment or an insult.

Or it could be both.

Regardless, I felt my blood rush to my cheeks. After all, I'm still a teenager who likes to romanticize the life.

I sat on my seat and thankful that I knew none of the students near me. The show was about to start. Turns out that this is the program that was held every year for fundraising.

With that knowledge in mind, it made me wonder why the president gave the ticket to me for free.

He's not hitting on a kid, is he?

After a few more moments, the show started. The MCs were Jin—the president and Sandeul—his classmate. He wasn't member of the council but his skill being the MC and chemistry with Jin makes the show better than ever.

The performers really did great. Some danced meanwhile the others sang. It made me wonder what will Yoongi perform. There were some rumors that I've heard before that he likes to compose his own songs—mostly rap. With his quiet and calm demeanor, I've never thought he's the type to listen to hip-hop.

Maybe he'll rap one of the songs of Snoopy Dogg— whatever he's called.

After another set of performers, it was Yoongi's turn. Going up on stage, the other staffs helped him to lift and set his keyboard. My eyes widened at the sight, not fully expecting him to play a keyboard.

He was dressed in an oversize Nirvana shirt, black hoodie draped over his body, loose cargo jeans, and sneakers completed his whole look. His bangs falls on his brow making it look like it was newly trimmed.

Yoongi cleared his throat before speaking, "I made this song a couple of weeks ago so, it might still sound kinda bad." He chuckled and turned to look at his side. It seems like him and Jin were having a duet.

Yoongi started playing a few notes, his eyes were close—feeling every emotions as he played every keys. The way his fingers glides smoothly, hitting every note and the sound was so melancholic. He looks like a professional, his muscle memory working all throughout.

"It sucks when you don’t have anything you want to do

I know it’s pathetic to not have something as common as a dream, I know

You said to do as I’m told, that it would all be fine when I go to university

I’m the asshole for believing those words

I live because I can’t die"

He only rapped a few lines, yet I could feel it. The uncertainty, fear—the emotions I've been feeling every night before I fall asleep. It was just a few lines and I'm already relating to it.

"So far away if I have a dream, if I have a dream that flies away

Don’t fall away if I have a dream, if I have a dream that flies away," Jin sang his heart out with every lyric.

"The only thing everyone around me says is to come to my senses

I try to take out my anger but the only one here with me is me so what’s the point of venting" Yoongi rapped as he played the keyboard.

Every lyrics of his, stabbed me like a sharp knife. As the song goes on, I could feel my tears threatening me to fall.

"Dream, may all of creation be with you til the end of your life

Dream, wherever you are, will welcome you

Dream, may your trials end in full bloom

Dream, though your beginnings might be humble, may the end be prosperous," he sounded like he was whispering a thousand promises.

"So far away,

First love"

Yoongi's repetitive lyrics with Jin's melodic voice creates a harmonious sound that echoes across the auditorium. The sound was so melancholic, I could feel my heart ripping itself. While watching their performance and listening to his heart reckoning song, I couldn't help but to let my tears flow.

Our eye met.

His brow twitched—might've been confused on why I was crying.

I quickly looked away, looking everywhere but him. As I did, I saw everyone. They all somehow look... sad? To my surprise most of them could relate to the song. It seems like I wasn't the only one who is lost in this life. Everyone was going through it.

"I still can't believe I self-taught myself to learn one song to play on the piano just to impress him." I scoffed as I stared at the old piano on the corner of the house. "I didn't even get to show it off on him..."

I gently played the keys of the only song I know to play. Using my muscle memory so hard to remember every key of it.

A sudden tap from behind made me flinch a bit. I turned and was faced by my younger brother.

"Noona, let's eat," Jungkook smiled—a rather forced and bittersweet one. Every year, he's like this. Acting so awkward.

I nodded and followed him to the kitchen. As usual, my mom made my father's favorite food. A subtle reminder of what was this table used to be.

But all I see is poison.

A tight knot forms in my chest every time I'm in this house. I was the one who broke it, that's why I can't really blame my mom that she couldn't even spare me a glance.

It's already Spring. A new beginnings for the others—another season to continue this suffocating life for us. A constant reminder of what we lost. We never really had that "fresh start"—not even when I left for States.

Everyone told us to move on, but how can I when every time I close my eyes, I could see it—feel it. It was so vivid, it made my skin crawl.

I hate spring. Despise it even.

Why is everyone having the "restart" and "new life" while I'm still stuck on the past and it keeps dragging me back. Dragging me to its black hole until I feel nothing but agony.

We all gave our respect to the deceased before we ate in silence. The silence was so deafening, the tension was so thick—it could slice anything. Anyways, it was only normal. It happens every time in this day of the year. The only time when we all get to eat together is during our late father's death anniversary yet, none bothers to speak.

In the middle of our lunch, my phone rang. I peeked at my phone and saw Yoongi's number. I heard my mom sigh and turned it off immediately. We're already not on good terms and I don't want it to worsen.

I put it on mute for a while so we won't get disrupted. It might be just me but, I could still remember how my dad would always tell us to turn off our phones when we all eat.

Part of me wishes the he's still here to scold me... A big part.

After eating, I helped Jungkook on washing the dishes. We practically just spent the time on each other as our mom, as usual, too busy mourning.

The sun was about to set and I already planned to go home. I knocked on her door and went inside to bid a goodbye. After all, she's my mom.

"Eomma, I'll go now–"

"It's your father's anniversary and you can't even spend the rest of the day in your family's house?" She cut me off, still refusing to look at me.

Ignoring her words, I forced a smile and pecked her head. "Take care." With that, I just left.

There's no point of staying nor arguing. I'm already exhausted and pretty sure close on snapping. I have to breathe. Distract myself. I tried to recall what Yoongi told me to do whenever I feel frustrated.

Think of happy thoughts.

I tried to think—hard. But my mind was too occupied by the negative ones.

"Breathe... Inhale... Exhale... Just happy thoughts... Happy... Happy... HAPPY. FUCKING. THOUGHTS– UGH!" I groaned as I drove off with my radio blasting Happy by Pharrell Williams.

The song was on loop until I reached my house. It sure didn't help and only made me a thousand times more mad.

When I get inside, I went straightly to my room and threw myself on the bed. Too exhausted by today's event. After a long moment of silence and almost falling asleep, I remembered that Yoongi called.

I took out my phone from my pocket and mindlessly dialed his number. After a couple of rings, he answered.

"Hey." Yoongi greeted me in his oh so soft but deep voice.

"I just called back 'cause I didn't get to answer your call earlier. You okay?" I replied.

"I'm fine... What about you?"

"Just tired..." I mumbled in reply.

"I bought too many tangerines earlier and I knocked on your door to give it and I didn't know you left so... I'll just give it to you later."

I chuckled after hearing his reason. "Thanks. That's really thoughtful. You're being too good on this "good neighbor" stuff, huh?" I teased and I heard a soft chuckle on the other line.

"The sunset looks so beautiful right now." Yoongi randomly uttered which made me confused. "Go to your balcony. Promise, the view will help boost your endorphins"

I opened my window to the balcony and stepped outside. Across me, is a grinning Yoongi with his phone on his ear.

"Look at the sunset, not to me," he chuckled.

I rolled my eyes before replying, "You're house is literally right in front of mine. Not that I intended to look at you."

Another chuckle from the other side. His soft giggles are enough to boost my endorphins.

I then turned my head to look at the sunset. Yoongi was right, it's beautiful. The colors of the sky start to mix in beautiful hues of blue and red.

"If you were to choose, sunrise or sunset?" I asked Yoongi while my attention was still focused on the view.

There was a long silence before Yoongi spoke again, "I prefer sunsets. In contrast of sunrise being the symbol of new day, the sunset tend to symbolize that the day has come to an end. Everything's done already. Leaving nothing but serenity."

I hummed in agreement while appreciating the beauty in front of me. "You could be a poet."

Yoongi chuckled in response, "What about you? Sunrise or sunset?"

"Hmm... I dunno, both looks like an egg yolk..." I said in a rather genuine tone. And in my defense, it really does look like that. I turned to look at him and he was laughing—gummy smile beaming at me.

His laugh echoed through my phone. "Are you too hungry, Ms Jeon, to be unable to have a poetic conversation?" Yoongi teased.

"Ha ha, I'm no poet like you." Sarcasm filling my voice as I frowned at him.

On the other side, Yoongi raised his arms on surrender—in attempt to annoy me more. Then he composed himself first before speaking again, "Do you want to eat dinner together?"

I gave it a thought for a while. I'm not actually hungry and I don't think I have the appetite. However, Yoongi was looking at me—with hope? Hope that I would agree.

He must've been feeling lonely when he eats alone...

I was never really the type to eat every meal since I get too busy and not the type to eat while working. But with him—occasionally asking me if we want to eat together, I couldn't help but find myself enjoying those meals. I've always been a glutton ever since I was a kid, something that Jungkook and I have really in common. That's why in every meal, our parents would cook a lot. We eat at least five times a day in those times. But ever since it happened, every meal I had felt cold and sickening.

I smiled at him, "Sure, only if you'll cook."

Yoongi smiled back and nodded.

"You know what, we're like in that one music video of Taylor Swift, execpt that we're in the balcony and we use phones." I joked before hanging up my phone to change my clothes first before going to his house.

Once I changed into more comfortable clothes, I went straight and knocked on his door. Seconds after, Yoongi opened the door with a bowl in his hand.

"I was thinking whether to cook korean or western food. What do you think?" He said as he let me in.

We both went to the kitchen while still contemplating what to eat.

"I think I could use some western. I've been eating k-food since early in the morning. I just took a bite of every meal my mom made and it already made me full. That's how much she cooked." I groaned as I sat on the stool. "I think I've tasted every part of korea."

Slowly, I'm starting to open up on him more even if we don't have an appointment. But I still left out some parts that are just not meant to be told. Like for this one, I didn't tell him that it's my father's death anniversary and that is why I was at my parent's house.

Yoongi chuckled, "But I don't think you've tasted Daegu yet." He propped himself up on the table, leaning a bit before speaking in a teasing tone. "Do you know what's tasty in Daegu?"

Uh... You?... AHHHH FUCK FUCK FUCK WHY THE FUCK THAT WAS HOT AHHH FUCK FUCKKKK ME(?) KNOWING THE FACT THAT HE'S BORN THERE DOESN'T HELP AHHHH SHIT SHIT I'M GONNA SHIT AHHHHH

I kept a straight face in contrast of my mind that's going wild. "Enlighten me..?"

Yoongi shook his head and leaned back. Softly giggling, he took out some ingredients. "Maybe some other time. You want western then we'll eat western. You're my guest after all."

"Hmm... I'm surprised you still consider me as a guest."

He raised a brow and nodded—as if realizing something. "You know what? I should be actually charging you now."

I rolled my eye and pretended to attempt to leave. "I could always just go..."

Yoongi grabbed my shoulder and chuckled. "I was just kidding. You know you're my VIP"

I faced him and raised a brow.

"Very important problem," he shrugged and went back on finding ingredients.

For tonight, we planned to make a creamy pasta and steak. While making the meals, our laughs and giggles echoed through the kitchen. We tried so hard not to mess while cooking—refraining ourselves to start a food fight.

And for a moment, I felt at ease. The pain was still lingering but with him by my side, it's bearable.

The meal was served. We're sat on the stools beside each other, with wines on our hand, we cheered.

Yoongi raised his glass to clink his to mine, "To our..." he paused. "What should we dedicate this to?"

"Erm... future?" I shook my head, letting out a chuckle. "I dunno... anything's fine."

He nodded and raised his glass one more time, "To our friendship."

Before I could even react, he already clinked his glass to mine. Sipping the red wine, I only stared at him out of confusion. My mind was slowly processing his words. Too slow to my liking.

Friend? He's now considering me a friend??

A bright tint of pink creeps my face and when he noticed, I just blamed it to the alcohol. Yoongi was probably confused since the wine has a really low alcohol content.

"Uh... What's your thought about the taped banana on canvas?"

His question amused me. Pretending to think, I replied, "That it sucks. Honestly, I know that if I'll sell a blank canvas, some moron would buy it and the "experts" would interpret it as someone's life. Like how it reflects their mind—just blank. Your question is kinda interesting but also random," I chuckled and took a bite of the steak.

Yoongi rubbed his nape, "Sorry, I just don't know what topic we should talk about..."

It was still a wonder to me how this man is a psychologist, he could've thought of any subject yet, he wanted me to lead. Like he's playing safe.

Does he remember? Does he not want to say anything that could lead to that topic?

I placed my utensils down and thought for a bit on what we should talk about. "Well, uhm... What are you up these days? We haven't really talk that much ever since..."

My memory came back just a few hours after we came back from Mr Juanito's that day. Shame washed over me that I couldn't look at him for days—practically hiding from him at any cost.

"Just my usual stuff. Met some patients, spent my time on the clinic... Oh- That reminds me of something." Yoongi stopped eating as well for the meantime. "I didn't know you and Hobi were friends." He smiled cheekily.

"Sorry— who?" I tilt my head in confusion.

"Hobi. Uh... Hoseok."

Then it hits me. He was talking about the client I had a few weeks ago.

I clasped my hands and nodded, "Right... I remember him. Jung Hoseok, right?" I paused for a bit before asking again, "How did you know that we know each other?"

Yoongi gulped the food he took before speaking, "We were at our friend's party and he showed us a picture of you two."

"But we weren't really friends friends. He was more like a client of mine. I mean— he's a nice guy though," I explained. For some reason, I felt the need to explain.

He just made an "Oohh..." sound and didn't press the topic.

In the middle of our dinner, my phone vibrates through my pocket.

Why do people like to disturb me when I'm eating?

I took my phone out and saw the caller's ID. It made me frown upon seeing it.

"Jungkook?" I mumbled and answered the call.

"Noona, where are you? I'm at your house right now... and your car's here too." Jungkook said from the other line. He must've been confused since I always take my car wherever I go, unless I'm meeting a client with Jimin.

"You...Y-you're here??" I stuttered and it only made me sound more suspicious.

Yoongi glanced at me and I just gave him an apologetic look.

"Yeah... Eomma told me to give you the foods she have wrapped." Jungkook clicked his tongue before speaking again. "I can't believe you guys always make me the delivery guy."

"Just leave it there. I'm at my friend's house." I firmly said, wanting to end the call right away.

After a round of arguing with Jungkook since he's interrogating too much, Yoongi chimed in without even thinking, "You can just go to your house right now. It's just across here anyways and it seems like that's urgent." he softly chuckled and my heart fluttered at him being so thoughtful as always.

" "Across here??" Wait- Are you with your neighbor's house right now? Really, noona??" Jungkook laughed his ass out. He might've heard Yoongi's voice through the call.

Before I could even hang up the phone, he already did. It caught me off guard but relief washed over me soon after. Thankful that Jungkook's annoying ass stopped bothering me.

As I was about to take another bite of my food, the door bell rang.

"I'll take it." Yoongi stood up and went to the front door while I'm left in the kitchen—munching the food we made.

Not even a minute after, I heard him call out my name. I quickly rushed over him and immediately stopped my tracks once I saw the figure of the boy I've known ever since.

"Annyeong, noona!" Jungkook grinned. "You didn't tell me that Yoongi hyung is your neighbor." Walking inside and before he could even pass me, I grabbed his wrist.

"And where do you think you're going?" I raised my brow. If only those things in cartoon where characters let out flames through their nose and ears when they're mad are also visible in real life, the house would be burning right now.

"To the kitchen, where else? Hyung invited me over too." Jungkook tried remove my hand but my hold only tightens, "A-ah..!" he yelped.

Once I felt a hand on my shoulder, I released him right away.

"I uh... invited him. Yeah."

With Yoongi's soft response, I went back to the kitchen. Jungkook sat beside Yoongi—obviously avoiding me. Yoongi served him the meal and sat between us.

"So, how's the food?" he asked while slicing his steak.

"We cooked it together, of course I'd say it's great—the best even."

"Nah-uh, he's asking me, noona." Jungkook's remark made me glare even more at him. "But I gotta say, it's pretty good."

This kid is really testing the waters...

Yoongi tried to break the tension by clasping his hand in enthusiasm. "You're really grown now, Jungkook. It's been years since we met. I'm surprised that you still remember me."

"Hyung, how can I forget you when noona have her drawings pinned to her wall. That time when I saw you, I was surprised that the guy on her drawings actually exist." Jungkook snickered as he subtly eyed me.

He should be thankful that Yoongi is between us so there's only a little chance that I'll rip his hair. If there's one thing I hate so much about Jungkook, that's his big mouth.

The dinner went great. Filled with laughter, sassy remarks, and telling each others stories. It was a fun night, even if it wasn't supposed to be, knowing what day it is today.

After having dinner, we helped Yoongi clean the dishes, thanked him for the night, and went straight home—which is literally just across us.

"Did I ruined your date with him?" Jungkook teased as he plopped himself on the couch.

"Date? It wasn't a date—just a simple dinner." I clarified, plopping on the couch beside him.

Jungkook clicked his tongue—frowning at me. "You guys aren't..?" I shook my head which made him frown more, as if he was deep in his thoughts. "That's... weird. I mean—I saw it. The way he looks at you, the way he smiles-- I uh... Noona, did you know how many times I tried to get all of his attention to test him?"

"Yeah I saw you how you were such an attention seeker—but test him? Wha-"

Jungkook cut me off by exclaiming, "Exactly! Yet he always finds his way to look after you. Most guys wouldn't do that unless they're interested with the girl."

"He probably just didn't want me to feel left out since I was the first one he invited in the first place."

He groaned and grasped my shoulders, "Noona, he was giving you the looks!! I saw it!" Then he exasperatedly sigh. "Gosh how are you so oblivious?? I'm a man now and well, I uh.. sometimes, does that too."

I shook my head, not wanting to be deep in delusions. "Well, whatever you saw, you saw it wrong. Should I gift you some glasses?" I mocked, not playing with his games. Even I was surprised to hear these things from him.

Jungkook sighed and stood up, walking somewhere that leads to my room. "I'll sleep here for tonight. G' night."

"Stop right there, kid. You're leaving eomma alone tonight?"

He stopped his tracks. Turning back to face me, he pouted like a sulky child. It was one of his habits that he never realize he had. "As usual, eomma would just stay in their room. Besides, I already told her. If you're so worried, why don't you go to her?"

I threw a cushion at him, not expecting that he would say such thing. Especially that he knows my relation with my mother.

"Ouch-" Jungkook yelped when the cushion hit him. "It's been years, Noona. Don't tell me you still blame yourself. It wasn't your fault," he uttered and left to go to my room.

"I can't believe I still let this big guy share a bed with me..." I mumbled but my thoughts were still lingering on his words.

Is it really okay to accept that? Was I really not the one to blame?

part 7 read here^^

Taglist: @choijay-07 @sanarin @yooforeaa @this-most-assuredly-counts @minniejim @amarawayne @peacenpigeons @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @rottingbedpost @emirawht

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doiliedaze · 4 months ago

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Thin Ice: part one

Hockey! Vi x reader

Warnings: none in this part

Genre: fluff, angst

A/N: okay!! so this is my attempt in starting a series about hockey Vi based on this dream I had months and the Sailor Song by Gigi Perez and Moments by MOIO okay so wish me luck!! also none of my fics are truly edited I just re-read them till I can’t and pray my grammar is good. Reader is kinda naive/one track minded and very insecure in this. I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT HOCKEY SO BARE WITH ME!!

1, 2

───────┈ · ·

I’ve been skating since I was a little girl. It was the only place I could call home. Skating was the only place I was finally the smartest and brightest in the room since I was perceived otherwise academically…and I do lack a bit in the common sense area.

They say there’s a zone we enter when we’re aligning our energy with the activity we love. My alignment is when I soar through the air, or just don’t fall flat on my ass. I was heading to the rink when I was stopped.

“What are you doing here cupcake?”

When my eyes focus on her I was taken aback as I try to quickly study her. Why was my roommate here? “You know I practice here.” I state as I lace up.

She chuckled as she looks me up in down. I’m in a black bodysuit covered by a pink skirt and leg warmers over my matching pink skates, my coily hair put into a bun by a bow. “The practice is reserved for the hockey team. Did you not see the schedule posted outside?” She says with a small smile, I tilt my head “they changed the schedule?” Her smile flatters a bit and twitches as she points to the wall. I make an “o” shape with my mouth putting the pieces together. She pats my shoulders and skates away. In reparations of me fucking up I stay and watch.

Our college; Piltover university offers an array of extracurricular activities and in my three years of being here I’ve never known of this damn schedule changing!

Number 6, is an interesting player and my roommate. She brings an obvious aggression that the sport needs but she’s so swift and fast. I don’t know much about hockey but I do know she just scored so I might as well cheer for her right? Wrong! Getting stared at with the small but big enough snickers for me was enough to make me wanna to shrink and crawl into a hole and dissolve into a sunflower seed and sprout- well you get the point. This pushes me to attempt a swift exit.

When making my hurried exit she skates to the edge and whistles at me to get my attention. “Don’t leave, I appreciate having a personal cheerleader.” Her plump lips growing into a wolf-ish grin as she stares me down, always wanting a reaction. “Well I’m not a cheerleader I’m an ice skater! No disrespect to cheerleaders though I mean that takes a lot of courage, I know I could never-”

“It wasn’t a diss cupcake.” She stated before winking and skating away.

My face has never felt this hot before! Today is the day of utter shame and cruel unusual punishment. Now I have to figure out a new place to skate because I refuse to make the same mistake again…or read the time sheet next time who knows!

I make a routine out of avoiding the rink around 5-8 so I go during the wee hours of the morning. Kinda killing my sleeping schedule but hey pride am I right?

I don’t skate to be on a team, I prefer to be by myself and skate for me. It gets lonely sure but no one has ever supported me in doing this. All the slick comments of “oh why not be a majorette? On a step team? Why’d you stop stepping? You wanna be any race but black! Blah blah blah!” Don’t get me wrong those are beautiful activities in my culture but black girls can be everything and more at once. When I stepped it was fun and I could feel the unity but the feeling skating gave me made me feel like the most beautiful and the closest to my blackness. So when it came down to picking what I really wanted I chose skating, and been on my own since, because girls like me don’t belong here. Proving people wrong has been my biggest motivation, maybe I’m being a hard-ass but I don’t care; it feels good when I do it in the end.

This routine I was practicing was more than difficult…axels hate me and I hate axels but I’m trying to land a quadruple axel.

My mind relaxes as my chest thumps, today feels like the day…something I tell myself a lot. My momentum pushed as “Pearls” by Sade plays. I push off my left leg to project myself into the air. One…two…three…four-ish? My spin wasn’t complete and my landing was shaky, but I can try again. So I tried again and again! Frustrated I push myself, my skates cutting deep as I try to gain speed. Leaping into the air I spin one…two…three…four times! However I land flat on my ass. “Fuck!” I yell and I cover my face and I can’t control the wobble in my lip when I hear claps.

“And here I thought you were sneaking out to do something cool.” Vi states as she carefully glides over.

“I don’t need that right now.” I mutter, “company?” She lays on the ice with me.

Vi and I’s relationship is complicated. When we met in freshman year we hooked up then we ghosted each other. Sophomore year we both joined the literature club and gained a true friendship with a side of fucking whenever we’re both single. Now junior year I just feel distant with her.

She rubbed my cheek, “you don’t talk to me anymore.” I move from her touch…wishing I didn’t, I know reaching out is hard for her. “I’m sorry”

“Don’t be sorry do better” she stood up shoving her hands in her pockets. “C’mon we’re going out.” I know not to argue so I oblige.

“The library?” I scoff in a whisper, “we are English majors.” She nudges me with her shoulder and I nudge her back.

We find a cozy nook and read our respective books. The two of us haven’t hung out in so long. I didn’t realize how much I missed her. I take her book. “Hey!” She reaches over me. Her pale blue eyes stare into my dark brown eyes. A soft blush spreads over her freckled cheeks and her eyebrows soften. “I miss you” we both whisper then laugh. Vi moves from me and takes my hand.

I’ve never been the type of person to be comfortable around others, wanting to be apart of a team but with Vi…I want to try everything.

───────┈ · ·

A/N: im so excited to start this series!! I wanted to challenge myself and I hope you guys enjoy <3

(Dividers by @dollywons)

#vi x reader #scared femme writes #dazeduties #vi x black reader #hockey!au #hockey! vi #ice skater! reader #black! reader #black femme #college! vi #yes vi would be an English or engineer major she’s smart #dividers by dollywons #visdoilie #vi smau #vi arcane #butch vi #violet arcane

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icyg4l · 1 year ago

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PAC: May 2024 Predictions

Hello beautiful people! Later on this week, I will have a Five Dollar Friday Sale where any topic can be talked about. Please refer to my guidelines if you are interested in booking with me! Today, I will be giving you all some predictions about the upcoming month. I hope that those who resonate will continue to support me. For those of you who have been supporting me, I thank you. Without further ado, please select the quote that resonates with you.

Left-to-Right: (1-3)

Pile One: I am getting Taurus energy from this pile. I feel like you are going to be walking away from a situation that no longer serves you in May. It's going to hurt. But on the bright side, at least you are done with that chapter in your life. I feel like you are inviting new energy into your life though. It feels lively. I think that you need to be careful though if you go out to a hookah bar, or just go out into the nightlife in general. I am seeing that you will be going to a cookout. I am seeing the image of a thermometer's heat rising. I feel like you may have tension with someone that's super thick, lol. All in all, I feel that this month for you will determine the theme of this summer for you all. You got your wings, you've been promoted! It may be hard to focus on the positives because of your circumstances but you will survive. This month will feel weird because it’s like your on two ends of the spectrum. One part is good and the other is gone to shit, but all will work in your favor boo! See the good in life.

Cards Used: Page of Cups, Queen of Discs, Ace of Cups, 5 of Discs, The World, 10 of Swords, Justice.

extras: arrogance. cheap labor. pennyslvania. slabs. coney island. sweet! livelihood. perfume. body shapewear. antisocial club.

Pile Two: Idk why but your energy reminds me of Natalie Nunn lol. Not the messy parts but the part about her where she's unintentionally funny and fun to be around. Your energy feels very much party girl, I could easily get in this section if I wanted to type of vibe. Anyway, I think that you are going to be strengthening some platonic connections that you already have. But I also think that you're going to cut someone loose --- someone who has been around for a while. The name Harold comes to mind. Have you eaten Harold's Chicken as of recently, lol? I think that you're going to have sharper instincts as a result. You're going to see people for who they are. I am seeing the image of a butterfly flying on someone's nose. You will be growing up in the month of May. There is an emphasis on meditation. You're being called to devoting your time to staying in the present. You're being asked to go within and get more introspective. Also, cut back on the refined sugars. I think you'll be listening to Amaraae and Solange more often this month as well.

Cards Used: King of Cups, 3 of Cups, Strength, Death, King of Swords, The Hermit, Prince of Discs, 2 of Swords, The Lovers.

extras: big eyes. blonde hair. shapely. wiz khalifa. stunna shades. "i ain't going nowhere." "get comfy." gloomy. rainbow tips.

Pile Three: Someone in this pile is going to be reuniting with their family at a prom sendoff, at a graduation, a party. Either way, it will be a celebration. This pile will also be very grateful in the month of May. You are also going to have many opportunities to make quick money with the people that you love (not necessarily family but anyone that makes you feel safe). A love opportunity will be coming through for you as well. I don't see this as something you should take serious. I think you want to be independent right now, that person understands and they will give you your space for the time being. If you're trying to curate an event, don't worry too much about what people will think because it's going to be a big turnout regardless. I think some of you will be going to a wedding or will be getting married. So, congratulations to that! I also think that some of you will be meeting your future spouses in this pile (you won't know it yet though). Overall, I feel that this month is a great month for you to focus on community building.

Cards Used: The Emperor, The Hierophant, 9 of Swords, King of Wands, Justice, 3 of Discs, 8 of Wands, 4 of Wands, Ace of Cups.

extras: entrepreneurial spirit. aquamarine. blue butterflies. single father. "something cute, something for the summertime."

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janeyseymour · 1 year ago

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personal and professional 1-3 was soooooo good it gave me an idea!

a mel x work crush reader story in which cute shy fem reader has a sleeper build. usually wearing regular lose fit clothing until one day they have to wear a fancy skirt and heels bringing attention to readers muscular legs. abbott crew starts asking reader questions about her workout routine leading a jealous melissa to make a snarky comment about reader skipping arm day to which reader says something like don’t let the outfit fool you i could bench you right now heels and all. melissa keeps pushing readers buttons until reader grabs melissa and starts overhead pressing with absolutely no issue to prove their point leaving melissa stunned. idk maybe it ends with melissa asking reader on a date that day after school?

Press You (Up Against a Wall)

WC: 3.3k

You were hired as the long term substitute gym teacher at Willard R. Abbott Elementary School in January, but when the teacher who was out on maternity leave decided to leave the position permanently- that she can’t even believe she stayed there throughout her pregnancy in the first place- you were brought on for the full-time position. So, now you’re Abbott’s official gym teacher, and you couldn’t be more thrilled.

Really, any physical education teacher position is a score in your mind because showing up to school in sweatpants or joggers everyday is any teacher’s dream come true. But Abbott is so nice because you can pretty much do whatever you want with the kids- including dodgeball, which is banned at most schools.

Under all of your gym clothes, you have a nice body- you’ll be the first one to admit that. Working out six days a week along with having a well balanced diet doesn’t go to waste. None of the teachers, or Ava for that matter, know that you’re a bit of a gym rat- okay, a really big gym rat. Sure, they know you’re athletic and that you’re slim, but they haven’t seen your legs- probably the best part about your body. You’re thankful for that because up until now, you’ve evaded the principal’s flirtatious personality and comments.

The only person who knows how in shape you are is Mr. Johnson because you help him move things or fix things when necessary. He’s immensely grateful and has promised to keep your hidden figure a secret- he knows how you don’t want to be hit on like Gregory is.

But now, you’re being forced to go to PECSA, and you really don’t know why you have to go, but the school is paying for your hotel room, and you don’t have to attend any of the seminars based on curriculum because you don’t teach any of the core subjects (you had thoughts on that title… physical education was one of the most important for those kids to be participating in if they wanted to grow to be strong and healthy adults).

So while everyone else is supposed to be at their seminars, you sleep in before heading down to the gym to get your daily workout in.

After you’re finished, you head back up to your hotel room and shower before changing into an old band t-shirt, a light sweatshirt, and a pair of joggers. Deciding that you have enough time to explore and just soak everything in, you exit your hotel room.

As you go to back away from your door, so is Melissa Schemmenti- donned in a bathing suit as opposed to the clothes that she should be clad in to attend different seminars.

“Hey, Schemmenti,” you look her up and down.

“Y/N,” Melissa looks you up and down too. “Don’t tell anyone, but Barb ’n’ I haven’t gone to a single one of those dumb jawns. All for the newbies.”

You mime zipping your lips before letting out a chuckle. “You’ll be at the big party though, right?”

“Hell yeah I will be. I have a math-o-rita chugging champion title to maintain,” she smirks.

“Good. I don’t think I could survive the Abbott crew without you to keep me company,” you blush as you tell her that. “Not that I don’t like the others, but… you know what I mean.”

“I gotchu,” she smiles. “Just stick with me and Barb, and you’ll be fine.”

You nod. “You mind if I join you now?”

“If you can get changed in the next few-”

“Nah, I don’t wanna swim, I just wanna relax in the presence of others,” you lie a little. You really just want to be in her presence.

You and her meet the kindergarten teacher down by the pool, and Barb’s eyes widen just slightly when she sees that Melissa brought you.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she still greets you kindly. “Decided to ditch the seminars?”

“I don’t have to go to most of them,” you laugh softly as you tuck a hair behind your ear. “Just the ones that have to do with PBIS and all of that. Other than that, I’ve just been kind of wandering. Saw Melissa, and I tagged along.”

“And she didn’t tell you to beat it?” Barbara raises a brow.

Melissa shrugs. “She looked like a lost puppy dog, so I took her under my wing.”

Little do you or Barbara know, she has had quite the thing for you since you first walked into the building and greeted her while she was bringing her kids down to special. And then when you spoke to her so shyly, but then she could hear you command the gymnasium to gain control of her class- it really struck a chord with her, and she was taken with you. She would never tell you that, and actually was a bit tougher on you than she was with others, but you have her figured out. She seems to be a bit tougher on those she likes rather than just ignore the ones who she tolerates or just genuinely doesn’t enjoy the presence of.

“I can go if-”

“You’re with us now. Don’t be an idiot,” Melissa rolls her eyes.

You bite your bottom lip nervously. “Okay, okay.”

You relax in the lounge chair next to her, and you have to admit it’s a little warmer than you were anticipating it being in here (foolishly… it’s an indoor pool area, what we’re you expecting?). So you shrug off your jacket, tie your hair up, and hike your sweatpants up to your knees.

If Barbara and Melissa notice your calves, they don’t say anything.

You end up falling asleep with your arms protectively wrapped around yourself, and you don’t wake until you feel someone gently shaking you.

“Hun, it’s time to get up.” You jolt awake, clearly terrified as your eyes go wide and your breathing gets deeper for a second. But then you look up, and there’s… well, there’s Melissa’s cleavage in your face, and then a bit further up are her emerald eyes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s ‘kay,” you mumble as you yawn and stretch a bit. “Sorry I fell asleep on youse.”

“Aye, no problem at all,” she smiles down at you. “Just didn’t wanna leave you down here to think Barb and I abandoned ship, but we’re gonna start getting ready for the party.”

“I guess I should too,” you sigh softly as you stand.

You and the redhead head up to your rooms and start to get ready.

It doesn’t take you long to get ready. You really just throw on the dress you brought- one that accentuates your legs- before applying a light amount of makeup. You run your fingers through your hair as you glance in the mirror. You look good. Deciding that you would rather not kill your feet just yet though, you wait to put on your heels.

A bit later, you hear a knock on your door as you’re laying in bed and scrolling through Instagram. You stand and make your way to the door before looking out the peephole. It’s Melissa, and she looks… stunning. Her hair is in big curls, and she has a beautiful green dress on that only makes her eyes pop even more.

“Hey,” you breathe out softly. “You look… wow.”

She gives you a once over. “I could say the same things about you.”

Your cheeks turn red at her compliment and her lingering eyes on your body.

“You ready? I want a math-o-rita in my hand, and the lines will get ridiculous later on,” she tells you. “And this way we can save a table for our group.”

“Y-yeah,” you say softly as you continue to stare at her. “Just let me put on my shoes.”

She nods as she leans against the doorframe and watches. Then, you give her a nod, make sure you have your lipgloss and keycard, and head out.

When you get down there, she immediately heads towards the bar and quickly returns with two drinks in hand. She hands one to you, and the two of you clink your glasses together. You take a nice swig of it in hopes of relaxing. By the time the rest of your group joins you, both of you are on your second drink.

“You two are here early,” Barbara notes as she looks between the two of you. “Are we interrupting something?”

Melissa rolls her eyes. “We got here a little early to get a table.”

“You both look so nice!” Janine grins from next to her work mother.

You smile at her politely. “You as well.”

“I never really took you for a gym rat, although I suppose I should’ve,” Gregory chuckles. “Damn.”

“Seriously,” Jacob eyes you. “In the most gay way possible, I am looking respectfully.”

“What’s your workout routine?” Gregory asks you.

Happy to talk about anything other than work, you begin to list off the various leg exercises you do. Almost everyone is hanging onto your every word. At least that’s what it looks like. They’re all looking at you like you’re a star- all except the one you want to be looking at you: Melissa. She instead picking at her nails and sipping at her drink. The truth of it is, she is also listening to every word, and she’s beginning to get jealous of the way that everyone is ogling you and your legs. She doesn’t want that to show.

When you’re finished, she bites back a laugh. “Guess we skip arm days?”

“Don’t let the outfit fool you,” you chuckle. “My arms may look small, but they’re defined.”

“Compared to your legs,” she rolls her eyes.

“I could bench you,” you laugh back. “Heels and all.”

“Now that is something that I would love to see,” Barbara chuckles. She ignores the death glare your redheaded coworker sends her way.

“You will not,” Melissa states. “Not in this dress.”

“Maybe I’ll just do some bicep curls with you in my arms then,” you challenge her.

“I doubt you could,” she bites out. “Not with those chicken arms.”

You roll your eyes. “One of these days, you’ll see.”

“Sure I will.”

She continues to push your buttons throughout the night, and with the alcohol that you’ve taken in, she teases you.

“Couldn’t press me now, could you?”

“I could press you up against a wall,” you flirt shamelessly, liquid courage acting as your friend.

Her cheeks turn a violent shade of pink, and you grin.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” you smirk. “I meant that I could squat against the wall and lift you up over my head.”

“That is not what you meant, and you know it,” she scolds you.

You shrug your shoulders innocently. “You’ll never know what I meant, now will you?”

After another round of drinks, she’s still teasing you. You finally decide that you want to put her incessant comments to and end. So, you sweep her off of her feet, heels and all. You make sure that her dress is appropriate before doing a few bicep curls with her in your arms.

She’s stunned, to say the least.

And then, with one little jerk, she’s up over your head. You bring her back down to your arms and hold her there.

“You ready to shut up yet?” you tease her, looking down at her lips.

Her eyes are wide and clearly impressed. She can’t even find the words right now.

“You ready?” you ask again.

She just nods her head, and you set her back down on her feet. You keep an arm around her until she’s found her footing again.

“That was really hot,” Jacob states. You jump slightly, not realizing he was there. “In the least creepy way possible. I had no idea you were that strong.”

“Most people don’t,” you chuckle as you down the rest of your drink. You wink at Melissa as you make your way over to the bar. “I got the next round. Another math-o-rita?”

She nods again as she makes her way back to your table. Barbara is sitting there with a smirk. “She put on quite the show.”

The redhead’s eyes linger on you as you stand at the bar and try to get the attention of the bartender. “Yeah,” she hums noncommittally.

“Girl, when are you just going to ask her out?” the kindergarten teacher asks.

That pulls Melissa out of her trance. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve seen the way you stare at her and the pep in your step when your kids have gym,” Barbara snorts. “Even in just her joggers and Abbott sweatshirt. You like her.”

“I mean, yeah… she’s a nice woman,” the second grade teacher tries to brush off her friend’s assumption.

“No, you like her.”

“So what if I do?” Melissa asks as she folds her arms over her chest. “There ain’t no way she would ever like me back.”

“She’s been practically drooling over you since she saw you in your swimsuit earlier today, and she’s currently buying you a drink,” Barbara laughs.

“We’ve bought each other drinks before.”

“But I don’t drool over you in a bathing suit, and I know you don’t drool over me,” the kindergarten teacher snorts. “Just ask her out.”

“Maybe when I’m sober,” Melissa rolls her eyes.

You start to make your way back over, and the redhead can’t help the way that she watches your hips sway.

“You’re drooling,” Barbara nudges her friend.

“Shut up,” Melissa laughs. She takes the drink that you offer her with a grin. The two of you raise your glasses in a toast before you link arms and chug.

You wipe the liquid that had made its way around your mouth with a chuckle. “Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll still be able to lift ya, no problem.”

You wrap your arm around her waist and squeeze her hip gently, the liquid courage once again taking over.

She blushes, but she quickly gets swept away by Derek, challenging her to yet another math-o-rita chugging challenge.

That leaves you and Barbara sitting at the table together.

“So,” the kindergarten teacher nudges you. “When are you gonna make a move on that redhead you were curling earlier?”

You raise a brow. “What do you mean?”

“When are you gonna ask her out? I heard you tell her you could press her up against a wall, and you and I both know you didn’t mean that in an innocent way,” she chuckles.

You shrug. “Maybe when I’m positive she likes me. I ain’t about to make a fool out of myself and then have to work with her.”

“I think she made it pretty clear she likes you with the way she’s been practically undressing you with her eyes all night,” the kindergarten teacher tells you.

You laugh. “No she hasn’t.” When she raises a brow and hits you with the trademarked Barbara Howard look, you sigh. “Okay, maybe when we’re both sober… if I can ever work up the nerve.”

“Just give it some thought, sweetheart,” Barb tells you. “Melissa… she’s a tough cookie, but she’s got the biggest heart I know of, and as much as she tries not to, she wears it on her sleeve.”

You nod thoughtfully before smiling. “You think she’d say yes to a date with me?”

“No question,” your colleague tells you.

You think on it for a second, and you go to speak again- to tell Barbara that you might just ask her tonight- when you hear Melissa loudly calling your name.

“Hun! I need a cheerleader so I can absolutely kick Derek’s ass again!”

You look over in her direction and raise a brow, questionably.

“Please, babe!”

Oh, you know she’s so drunk. You can’t ask her out on a date, a serious one, when she’s as hammered as she is. You roll your eyes playfully but saunter over.

She slings an arm around your waist before she gets another drink. Without any hesitation, she chugs the entirety of it before Derek can finish even half of his. You’re impressed to say the least. After she slams down the empty glass to prove she’s finished, she kisses your cheek in celebration.

Not that either of you know it, but Barbara has a video of it.

It’s a bit longer before the two of you finally decide to retire to your rooms for the night… you’re both quite a bit intoxicated, and the redhead practically hangs off of you as you help her down the hall.

Of course, when you go to turn to your own room, she grabs your arm. “Come in?”

“Yeah, I can,” you tell her gently. “Just let me change, and I’ll be over.”

She gives you her best puppy dog eyes, but you insist. “Mel, I really don’t want to be in this dress longer than I have to be.”

“But you look… stunning.”

“While I appreciate the compliment, I would like to get comfortable.”

She relents and turns into her own room. When you knock on her door again, she’s still in her dress though, with the sweetest frown on her face.

“I can’t get out of this,” she tells you. “Stupid zipper.”

You enter her room before spinning her around gently. You unzip it with ease.

“Jeez, take me out on a date before you start undressing me,” she quips teasingly.

You see the opportunity in front of you, and you take it. “How about tomorrow at seven?”

“Only if you show up with those legs out again,” she flirts back.

“It’s a date.”

The two of you spend a few hours chatting and having a few more drinks in her room- beers she brought with her to pre-game before your really do head back to your room to get some much needed sleep.

As you pull the blankets around you, you smile to yourself. You know that she isn’t going to remember you asked her out tonight, but you think that you have the courage to do it again sober now.

The next morning comes, and Melissa comes out of her room with her hood up, sunglasses over her eyes, and she’s drinking Pedialyte through a straw as she wheels her luggage out.

You roll your eyes at her fondly. “Hey there,” you greet her, entirely too perky for her liking at this hour and in her state.

“How are you not dying?” she asks.

You smirk. “I didn’t have a chugging challenge with Derek last night.”

“Eh, worth it to keep my title,” she shrugs.

“You better rally for tonight. You have a date.”

“What?” she lowers her sunglasses so you can see the shock in her eyes.

You smirk. “You have a date… with me.”

The smiles that she breaks out into could light up all of Philly alone. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

With that, you leave her to continue to nurse the hangover for the car ride home with Barbara as you race off to check out of the hotel and head home. You have a date to plan.

Melissa waits down in the lobby for Barbara to finish packing up her weekend bags. When the kindergarten teacher comes over, the redhead, although clearly hungover, is deep in her own thoughts.

“What’s got you looking like smoke is about to come out of your head this early in the morning?”

“I have a date with Y/N tonight.”

“About damn time,” Barbara smiles. “Let’s get you home so you can nurse that hangover and be ready for her.”

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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pagelets · 3 months ago

Text

this what slow dancing feels like- K.T: part 1

Synopsis: Kang Taehyun had always dreamed of becoming a ballet dancer, but his conservative father never allowed him. On his 20th birthday, his mother gifts him with a flight ticket to Paris so he can pursue his dream of joining the Académie Internationale de Danse. Getting into the academy is already a challenge. Surviving in it is even harder. In an attempt to be cast in his favorite ballet production, Taehyun decides to bet all his chips on a rigid, and experienced ballerina— you. On a journey of self growth, not only as a dancer but also as a person, can Taehyun count on you? Or will his big chance slip through his fingers?

Disclaimer: sfw, toxic relationship (feat. Hwang Hyunjin), insecurities/ trauma, conservative way of thinking, i think that's all

Word count: 10.2k

Note: I was supposed to post it tomorrow but it's Tyun's bday in Korea already and I'm too excited to wait!

This fic is in celebration of Tyun's bday. I hope he is happy, healthy and enjoying his day cause he deserves it. I wanted to write in one shot but well, you know... college (cries in universitarian ㅠ_ㅠ). Anyway, part 2 will be coming till the end of the month (spoiler: will be nsfw 🤭). Also, if you're a ballet pro pls don't kill me I don't know anything about ballet, I just enjoy watching. And for those who don't know about ballet at all, I'm going to explain better the meaning of Giselle in the next part.

part II

If Taehyun closed his eyes, he could see the long legged ballerina spinning on the stage like a beautiful fairy covered in a white dress and brightening under the soft blue lights of the stage. He was 8 when his mother took him to a ballet performance for the first and only time in his life. His big eyes shined whenever the dancers moved as gracefully as a feather. The precision of their steps, jumps and pirouettes mesmerized the little Taehyun. He had made up his mind— he was going to be one of them when he grew up. His mother smiled at him when he told her, “If you become as talented as the dancers we saw today, I’ll be very proud of you”, she said as they headed home.

Since that day, Taehyun walked around the house on his tiptoes, spinning with his arm in an ‘o’ shape over his head. He could picture his old self flying on a big stage. The joy he felt during his daydreams disappeared the day his father came home from work earlier and caught him practicing ballet positions in the living room. “What are you doing?” “Practicing ballet, daddy” “Ballet?!” “Yes! I want to be a ballet dancer when I grow up”, Taehyun answered with all of his innocence, unaware of the impact his words would have on his old man. “You are a man! Dancing ballet is for girls. If I ever caught you even thinking about becoming a ballet dancer again I’ll put you in a military school! Was I clear?” “But daddy I…” “Was I clear!?”, little Taehyun looked inside of his dad’s eyes, all the sparkles he carried in his bright eyes were replaced by fear. He nodded, holding back the tears and ran to his room as his father told him to do with a rough voice.

“He’s just a kid”, his mother said to his father, “He’s a man! My son will not wear tights and pointy shoes! What do you think he's, Peter Pan!? I can even believe you approve it!”. As Taehyun overheard the voices muffled by the door, warm tears rolled down his face, the pain of his dreams being crushed felt almost excruciating. He never went to another ballet performance again.

It was 12 years ago. He’s 20 now and he’s not a ballet dancer. In fact, he works in his family bakery with his mother and his older cousin. It wasn’t the plan— he was supposed to go to Seoul University 2 springs ago to pursue a law degree, but his father passed away when he was 17 and he couldn’t let his mother take care of the family business by herself. So he put aside another dream and did what he had to do.

Not that he dislikes working at the bakery, he loves the smell of freshly baked goods rosing through his nostrils, bringing him nostalgia from the time his parents took him to the shop when he was just a kid. He also loves to put all of himself in the cakes, pies, and pastries. “Everything can be fixed with a little bit of love and joy”, is his motto.

Now, he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, lazily postponing the start of the day, with his bare feet getting colder on the cool tile. Hobak roams between his legs, making him chuckle, “Good morning, princess”, he says, leaning to stroke the cat’s fur gently. “Are you hungry? I’m too”. Finally, Taehyun stands up, and makes his way to the kitchen. He rubs his tired eyes, then spots a basket of blueberry muffins on the counter with a letter standing on its side. He grabs the paper, recognizing the handwriting of his mother. It’s clear who left the gift there:

‘To my Ray of Sunshine. Happy 20th birthday! I love you more than anything’.

He chuckles, ‘Ray of Sunshine’, that’s how Taehyun’s mother always called him. He opens the letter, feeling bad for ruining the beautiful envelope:

‘My dear, Taehyunnie

Hi, it’s mom. You’re such a good son, always helping everyone, and making places lighter with your presence.

But I also know that deep down, you carry sorrow in your heart. Yes, I’m talking about your dream, not your dream of becoming a lawyer, but the dream of becoming a ballet dancer. Your father didn’t approve the idea, but I want you to be happy too.

Under the basket you’ll find another envelope, your gift is in there. Take a look ;)

I love you

– Mom’

Taehyun tilts his head as he reads the letter, the feeling of butterflies growing slowly in his stomach, unaware of what to expect. Hesitantly, he lifts the basket of muffins and quickly opens the other envelope to find a large amount of money and a flight ticket inside of it. Tears fill his eyes as he reads the destination: Paris, France. He hears footsteps approaching from behind and turns to see his mother, “Mom…”, his voice falters, “W- what’s this about?”. The older woman walks toward her son, the tears also filling her eyes, “My Ray of Sunshine”, she cups his cheeks, drying the tears rolling down his face. “Go to Paris, pursue your own dreams” “But you need me here. The bakery, the house, I… can’t just abandon you, mom” “You’ll not abandon me, Taehyunnie. Your uncle will take your place at the bakery. Don’t worry about me” “But dad…” “It’s been 3 years already, son. He will always be alive in our hearts, but we must move on, don’t you think?”.

He nods, trying to control the tears, “You’re not taking no as an answer are you?” “No”, she chuckles, “I won’t let you waste your life working at this small bakery” “I like working at the bakery” “Oh, come on, we both know your place isn’t mixing dough, it’s standing on ballet shoes” “Pointe shoes, mom” “See? That’s what I’m talking about”. He chuckles, pulling his mother for a tight hug, “Thanks, mom. I love you”, he mumbles against her hair, “I love you too, Sunshine”. He can’t believe it— his dream is finally going to come true.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓂃⠀⠀˖

3 years later:

“5, 6, 7, 8!”, the teacher’s voice resonates over the classical music, her instructions making the piano sound seem distant, “Come on ladies, Arabesque! 1, keep your spine aligned. 2, shift your weight forward. 3, lift your leg. Good! 4, hold still. Like that!”. She walks around the room, scanning each student, catching every single mistake— a bent leg, a misaligned hip, an over lifted arm, she’d catch them all. “Don’t let the shoulders drop! That’s better!”, she tells one of the dancers. “Now, everyone, take your partners by the waist at 1. Keep them close to your torso at 2. Now move one hand to the right thigh at 3, and lift!”. She looks at the male dancers, their focus transparenting on their faces as all their strength channels into their arms holding their partner’s above their heads. “Hold at 4! Good, good”, she murmurs, satisfied with the execution.

Then, her eyes spot a sudden movement at the back of the room. Seo Soojin is stretched on the floor, while Kang Taehyun is trying to help her to get up. She sighs deeply, clearly frustrated, “Alright, alright! Let’s take a break”. The music stops and the other dancers disperse around the studio. The teacher approaches the pair, a frown growls on her forehead, “What happened here?”. “It was my fault”, Taehyun starts, finally helping Soojin to get up on her feet. “I knocked her down” “Are you alright, Soojin?” “Yes, I’m fine”, she tried to play it cool through the discomfort, “Go put some ice on that bruised knee of yours while I talk to Taehyun”. Soojin hesitates at first, but she does what the teacher says, “Sure”. Soojin whispers ‘Good luck’ to Taehyun before she leaves.“This isn’t the first time I've seen Soojin on the floor when she’s dancing with you. Can you explain what’s going on?”.

Taehyun lowers his head, too embarrassed to look at the teacher, “I’m just… struggling” “You are… struggling?” “Yes, with the…”, he cleans his throat, saying the following words as low as a whisper, “....with the Pas de Deux moves”. She raises an eyebrow, not completely convinced, “Hum, I see. I know you’re a beginner in duet dancing, but if you are not ready yet, we can always step back and work on your foundation first” “No!”, he says quickly, “I’m ready. I worked really hard to get here. I’m not going backward now”.

The teacher nods, “Then act accordingly, Taehyun” “Yes, madam” “Good!”. She turns back to the rest of the room, “Again! From the top, everyone”. The music starts again, so as the teachers instructions, “5, 6, 7, 8!”.

Taehyun returns to his position, he’s nervous. His stomach turns, his heart beats fast and the palms of his hands are sweaty as he prepares for the lift. Dancing at the “Academie Internationale de Danse”, one of the most prestigious ballet academies of Paris, was always his dream. Despite his father’s prohibition, he never stopped watching ballet videos on Youtube or searching about it. But now that he’s there, things seem to be even tougher than before. Every single thing he does wrong, is noticed—- not only by the teachers, but also from the other dancers, seniors or not. He’s always under pressure. And to make things even worse, he can’t dance with a partner.

After practice, he grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder. He’s walking out the door when Soojin joins him, “Soojin!”, he bows, “I’m so sorry to drop you. Again” “It’s fine, I’m okay. I also used to struggle a lot when I first started duets. I was a complete mess”. He nods at her, “Why don’t we just go and have a caramel macchiato to relax? My treat” “Can I also have a pain au chocolat?” “Sure” “Alright. Thank you”. They share a comfortable silence as they walk down the hall, till a familiar sound catches Taehyun's attention. The acute, melancholic sound of violins, in short and spaced notes, fills his ears. He could recognize this melody from miles away, “Soojin, you can go. I’ll catch up in a minute” “Alright, see you”.

After she leaves, he follows the melody, its melancholy building up more and more, until he finds the room from where the music’s coming. It’s a girl—- you— dancing a scene of his favorite ballet: Giselle. This’s the ballet performance he first saw when he was a child, it was Giselle which made him fall in love with ballet— where everything started. His eyes can’t leave you, you’re dancing The Mad Scene, in which Giselle dances frantically till she dies after finding out about her lover’s betrayal— such an intense scene. His eyes shine as he watches you move your body along the music, as if both the melody and you would soon reach the edge.

“She’s good, isn’t she?”, he turns back, completely caught off guard, “Shit! You startled me”. It’s Ni-ki, one of the best dancers of the academy, “Sorry”, he says laughing. “Who’s she?” “She? She’s Yn” “Yn”, your name fumbles on his tongue, “Why is she dancing Giselle?” “She’s practicing for an audition” “Will they be producing Giselle!?” “Yes, you didn’t know?” “No…”. Taehyun looks at you again, then back to Ni-ki, “Are you auditioning too?” “Nah. I’m not into Giselle” “Do you know, by any chance, if students from the intermediate level can audition too?” “Well, technically yes, everyone can. But I've been here for 7 years already and I only saw advanced dancers get the main roles” “Oh!”, his voice shows his disappointment. “But, hey, it’s nice to play dancing trees too”, Ni-ki tries to lighten the mood.

As if a light bulb popped on above his head, Taehyun looks at Ni-ki with hope flooding from his eyes, “I’ll be the first, then”. Ni-ki looks at him with a smirk on his lips, “You’re very optimistic aren't you?” “Somebody has to be” “I like that about you. Good luck, my man”, Ni-ki gives him a high five and goes away leaving him alone, daydreaming about the spectacle.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓂃⠀⠀˖

The next day, Taehyun approaches the teacher gently to ask for help preparing for the audition. He was going to practice alone, but Soojin yelled at him and called him crazy. And since Ni-ki doesn’t like Giselle, the teacher is his one and only option. “Excuse me, madam” “Oh! Hello, Taehyun. How’s everything going?” “Good, good, I… I’m interested in auditioning for Giselle” “Really?” “Yes. I’d like to know if you could tutor me, please” “Oh! I’m sorry, but my schedule doesn’t allow me to tutor students”. He hangs his head, “Oh! I understand” “But I can recommend an advanced level dancer to mentor you” “Really?” “Yes, of course. Do you know Yn?” “Yes! Yes, I do” “She’s the right person to tutor you. She’s one of our best dancers, and she’s been dancing ballet for 12 years now” “Wow!” “Yeah, impressive, right? Let’s go, I’ll introduce you to her”.

They walk together toward the advanced class studio. Taehyun is so excited— you danced with so much passion yesterday, it would be an honor to learn from you.“Yn! Can you please join us?” “Hi, madam” “Yn, this is Kang Taehyun”. You look at him, all the emotion he saw while you danced seems to have vanished from your eyes, “Nice to meet you, Taehyun”

“Nice to meet you too” “He’s looking forward to auditioning for Giselle. I think you are too, right?” “You’re right. I am” “Great. So, you can mentor Taehyun, right?” “Mentor him?”

“Teach him techniques, choreography, everything” “But madam, I…” “Is there any reason for you to say no?” “Well, no, I just…” “So, you can start tomorrow, right?”. You swallow your arguments, “I think so” “Good. See you in class, Taehyun”.

The teacher turns to leave, but you follow her, “Madam, wait! I don’t think I can take responsibility for him” “Why not?” “I should be focusing on my own performance”

“Don’t you think this is a bit selfish of you? I think ballet is also about teamwork, don’t you?”. Why do adults always like making young people feel guilty? You look at your feet, then nod, “I… I’ll do my best to help him” “That’s the spirit”. You turn to go back to the room when you bump into Taehyun, “Thanks for agreeing to…”. You cut him off, there are no emotions in your voice tone, “Stay here tomorrow after lunch. 2 PM, not before, not after” “But…”. But you had already left, leaving Taehyun alone. It doesn’t matter— now he has the chance to prove that he can perform in Giselle. Nothing could ruin this moment.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓂃⠀⠀˖

It’s tomorrow and Taehyun runs like his life depends on it. He’s late for the first practice with you and he heard rumors that you hate lateness. He opens the door and you’re there, hands on your hips, clearly in a bad mood, “It’s 2:06 PM” “I’m sorry” “I told you to not be late” “I’m 6 minutes late” “I don’t care. Be late again and I will not do this anymore” “Okay. Not being late anymore, I promise” “Keep your promises to yourself. Shall we begin?” “Sure” "First, which role do you want?”, you ask him, arms crossed. “Albrecht," Taehyun says, no hesitation, “You’ll need to do a lot of jumps, then. Show me what you can do”. Taehyun nods, taking a deep breath as he prepares to perform.

He positions himself in the center of the room and starts executing a few jumps. First, a Saut de Chat— his legs lift correctly, but he feels stiff, as if his movements are more forced than fluid. Then, he does a Changement, but his landing isn’t soft, he puts more pressure than necessary in it. His last jump is a Jete, but his legs are not open enough, ruining the majesty of the movement. As the music stops, he looks at you in silence, waiting for a reaction. But you give him nothing. Not a single applause or smile, you just watch him with a closed expression, “Look, your execution needs more control. Your Saut de Chat is not delicate enough, the Changement is too quick and the Jete, you didn’t open your legs like you should have. And I’m not even going to say anything about your feet” “What’s wrong with my feet?”, he asks you, wiping sweat from his furrowed forehead, the frustration completely transparent on his face. “Your landing is too rough, you need to land softer, you’re dancing ballet, not tap dance. The point is, if you want to dance as Albrecht, you must not only dominate and understand the technique of every single movement but also feel it. You’re too stiff, too mechanical”. Taehyun gulps, feeling every inch of his optimism melting in frustration, “I see we’ll have a lot of work to do here”, you add.

He bites his bottom lip, and clenches his jaw, “How can she be so cold and impassive?”, he thinks. “I thought I was good enough already…” “You’re going to get better, but you must work hard for it. Keeping this mentality that you’re already good enough will not take you anywhere”. Taehyun remains silent, trying to digest your rough, but truthful, words. “You’re right, it’s not good enough. I’m going to work harder”, he looks at you, the frustration flooding from his eyes, “Tell me how to get better”. You uncross your arms, “First, don’t think about just jumping. Albrecht is not defined by jumps and lifts— he’s in pain, he feels guilty, anxious. The jumps don’t show it, the movements and its suavity show it. Your jumps should reflect the emotions he carries, not his strength” “How do I do it?”. You sigh heavily, already impatient, “At first place, you need to correct your posture and feet position. Your feet are completely misaligned and your torso bends forward. Seems like you’re more focused on reaching high instead of maintaining your posture”.

Taehyun tries again, focusing on keeping his posture aligned and his landing softer, he feels the movement less forced as he places both feet on the wooden floor. “This was better”, you compliment him, “Now we’ll work on making your technique solid enough before we integrate the moves to the choreography”. You position yourself in the middle of the room, staring at Taehyun in the mirror, “Let’s start from the third position and build on the jumps from there”. He nods at you, relieved from your small compliment, and joins you. Maybe you’re difficult to satisfy, but he’s going to give everything he has to do that.

The next practices with you are even tougher. You make Taehyun do strengthening exercises, such as planks, squats and weight lifting. You also work on correcting his posture by putting him to stand against the wall, and walk around the studio holding a backpack with a 10 kg (22 lb) weight inside of it. It’s hard, he has to admit it, his whole body feels sore at the end of the day but he sees improvement, his jumps are now softer and precise— not too high and not too mechanical. He feels as if he had loosened up along the week.

You also loosen up too— your behavior, not your physical— you’re still exigent but the compliments become more recurrent. “Maybe you’re not that bad afterall”, you tell him when he did an almost perfect Jete, “Do you think so?” “Yes. But don't think that means you can relax from now on” “Under your guard, never”. He laughs and he could swear he sees a glimpse of a small smile on your lips. “I think it’s enough for today. Let’s wrap up and I'll see you tomorrow. Don’t be late” “I won’t be””.

As he heads home, a silly smile can’t leave his lips, he knows you’re a tough teacher but in each session you had together, he could see your love for ballet. The amount of knowledgement you have, your technique— you know everything, you notice every single detail. He respects you, even admires you. Even under the tough exterior you’ve built, he sees your delicacy, he sees you.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓂃⠀⠀˖

You're in the studio stretching, while waiting for Taehyun. You look at the clock, he still has time. After that first time, he has never been late again. Sometimes he even arrives earlier than you just to practice his jumps a little more. He’s still sloppy, but you see how dedicated he's been and you respect him for that.

The small smile that had formed on your lips, as you thought about Taehyun, fades away as you see a figure approaching. A familiar and very unwelcome figure— your ex-boyfriend Hwang Hyunjin. You stand from the floor and cross your arms, your body language making it clear he’s not welcomed there. But, as always, it has no effect on him. He smirks, reaching a hand out to touch your face. You step back, “What are you doing here?”. He grins at you, “When you talk like that, it almost feels like you’re not happy to see me”. This fucking idiot. “I’m not happy to see you”.

His smile disappears and his brows furrow, “Stop talking nonsense, babygirl” “I mean it” “How can you not be happy seeing your boyfriend?” “Ex-boyfriend. Did you forget? I broke up with you”. He steps closer until your back presses against the stretching bar, “Why do you keep bringing that up? You know I don’t like talking about it”. You swallow hard, “Again, what’re you doing here?” “I came here to see if you finally realized you can’t live without me”. You roll your eyes, “Get lost, man. I don’t miss you. Or your lies”. He places a hand on the wall behind you and leans closer.

At that moment, Taehyun arrives, stopping in the doorway, completely paralyzed by the scene— should he intervene? When Hyunjin starts to speak, he decides to hide, but never taking his eyes off you in case things get out of control. “Why act hard to get, huh? I want you, you want me, so why not stop these games and give in already?” “Hyunjin, wake up, dude. I don’t want you, and you never really wanted me. Now get out, I’m busy, alright?”. His gaze darkens, “You know you’ll never be good enough, so why keep trying, huh? Why not go out with me instead of staying here training to be something you’ll never be?”. His words hit you, they hurt, he knows this is a sensitive spot, but still, he pokes at your insecurities.

But you keep your voice and posture steady, refusing to let him see the power his spiteful words have over you, “Leave now, or I’ll scream. You don’t want a scene, do you?”.

He laughs, what a psychopath. “I’ll leave, but you won’t get rid of me so easily next time”.

He pulls away from the wall, giving you space to breathe, and walks to the door, “See you later, love” “Go fuck yourself”. He walks out with his head held high and a smirk on his lips, not even noticing Taehyun pressed against the wall beside him.

As soon as Hyunjin walks away, Taehyun enters the room. You’re with your back turned, your breath is heavy as you try with all your strength not to cry. You glance over your shoulder when you hear his footsteps, “You’re late again” “I didn’t want to interrupt the conversation… Are you okay? That guy seemed annoying” “I’m perfectly fine”.

You move to the center of the room, “Now let’s begin the practice, cause you obviously need to practice”. Taehyun clenches his jaw, you’re not the most amicable person ever but today you are even moodier. He places his bag on the floor, the best thing to do would just leave you alone and go on with the practice but the way that guy talked to you, makes his blood boil, “Who’s that guy?”. You just ignore him, positioning yourself, “It’s none of your business” “If he was annoying you, I think it is of my business”. You roll your eyes, and look at him in the mirror, “Did you come here to gossip or to dance?” “What is the matter with you?! You've been attacking me since I first stepped into the room!” “Look, you’re clearly wasting my time. You can’t even jump properly and still there you are, wasting both your and my precious time. So shut your mouth and get into first position!”. Taehyun's jaw clenches even tighter, “So that 's it, Yn? You’re really going to take it out on me?” “First position!”, you repeat, the irritation on your tone echoing through the room.

Taehyun takes a deep breath, then joins you, positioning by your side. You lift your leg and start to count as the music plays. Taehyun tries to keep up with your pace, but you're going too fast, making his body tense up and causing him to mess up, resulting in a sloppy and weak jump. “Put more strength into your push”, you start counting again, repeating the jump. Taehyun tries to follow along again but fails another time, “You have no control over your landing” “Of course I don't! You're acting like I was one of the dancers of your level!”. You stop the music and cross your arms, “Do you want to dance as Albrecht or not?” “I’m trying to” “It doesn't look like you are”. He closes his fist tight, the rest of his patience shatters at your last sentence, “Why do you hate me so much!? I'm here every day, doing my best. I follow all your instructions and yet, all you do is spit criticism at me! What do you gain by putting me down, huh!?”, his voice is loud, almost a yell, and his face is red with anger. “I’m just being realistic” “No, you’re being unnecessarily cruel. Why!?”. Your body tenses like his words hit you physically, and suddenly, your eyes fill with tears, your chin shakes and your breath becomes shorter. You try to speak, but your voice breaks, “I…”, you close your eyes. Taehyun’s expression and tone of voice soften, as if the tension and anger had never been there, “Yn?”.

You open your eyes, feeling the tears run down your face, “I’m tired of feeling like…”, you pauses to sob, avoiding Taehyu’s eyes, “... like I'm not enough. Like everything I do is wrong. Like I'm inadequate and can't fit in anywhere, no matter how hard I try”. Taehyun tilts his head, he never thought he’d ever see you like that— fragile, vulnerable. “Yn…” “Hyunjin was my boyfriend. Being around him was a constant reminder that I'm not good enough. That other girls are more beautiful and interesting than me. That other dancers have more technique and talent than I do. That my dreams are shallow and that I will never achieve them. He flirted with other people, he diminished and stepped on me. When I danced with other guys, he would have jealous explosions. So I decided to break up, but he continues to haunt me, just to turn my life into a nightmare. I... I can’t bear this feeling anymore”.

Taehyun approaches you, his heart aching to see you like that, “Did he ever hurt you?” “Not physically. But actions and words can hurt even more sometimes”. He nods, “If he bothers you again, you can call me, I’ll make him regret” “You, Mr. Sunshine, will make Hyunjin regret it?!” “Yes. You can mock me as much as you want, but I practiced boxing when I was younger and I can knock that guy down if I have to”. You sniff, “Why do you even care?” “I care about you. I can protect you, if you let me”, he grabs your hands, “You don’t have to go through this all by yourself”. You look at him, he carries so much joy and love in his big brown eyes, that it’s almost… contagious. You get rid of his hands and step back, crossing your arms again, “I’m sorry. For taking things out on you” “It’s okay” “I also think… you’re improving a lot” “For real!?” “Yes. But don’t think about settling down just because of it” “I won’t. Thank you” “No, thank you. For… you know, listening”. And then, you open a smile. There’s the smile he waited 2 long weeks to see— your beautiful, grateful smile. He smiles too before you ruin the moment and tell him to get into the first position again.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓂃⠀⠀˖

Taehyun's a bag of nerves, his knuckles are almost white from gripping hard on the shoulder strap of his bag as he makes his way to the dancing room. His stomach feels like it's going to explode from anxiety. He always feels like this whenever he knows he’ll have to dance with another person. And today he’ll dance with you. The fact that you're far more experienced— and that you don’t know about his block— only makes everything worse.

He steps in the room, you are already there as usual, stretching your legs on the barre. When you see him, you… get excited? Taehyun blinks his eyes in disbelief. You are smiling at him, you’re stepping away from the bars and bouncing with excitement. He’s unsure if it’s actually you.

“Taehyun, finally!” “Someone is excited today” “Of course I’m! I love Pas de Deux. Don't you?”. He freezes. Should he tell you the truth or should he just play it cool and avoid ruining your good mood? Well, you’re going to find out eventually. And when it happens, your mood is going to be ruined anyway, so why not postpone it a little?”. He approaches you, faking enthusiasm, “Sure. Who doesn't, right?” “Right?”. You walk toward the speaker and press play, “Ok. Let 's start simple, with the lifts from the first act” “Got it”. As the music plays, you dance gracefully, your body and the melody blending into one— you’re not just playing Giselle, you’re Giselle. Just like the first time he saw you dancing a month ago, just like the ballerinas from that amphitheater in Seoul, 15 years ago.

As the tempo builds up, you prepare for the first lift. He feels like his heart will jump out of his chest. He tries to calm himself down, but it’s not enough to push the anxiety aside. “Come on, Taehyun, you can do it. It's just a simple, straight lift. Just grab her waist and then… lift”, he tells himself. He looks at you, it's time, you jump into his arms, completely surrender to the performance “1”. He straightens his posture, applying all the knowledge you have passed to him over the past weeks. “2”, he grabs your waist and lifts you high, your waistline aligning with the top of his head. “3. Hold still”, his arms burn and his legs tremble, but keeping his back aligned helps him be stable enough. “Good, you can put me down”, he gently lowers you to the ground, trying to hide his relief. Even though the execution was good, he felt stiff. You might not have noticed, lost in the music, but he did— it was almost like a statue was holding you. “Your posture was good, but you trembled a lot” “I know, sorry” “We can fix that later. Let's try the press lift from the second act now” “Shit”, he curses in his mind.

You position yourself in front of him, standing on one leg and raising the other up high. “Let's just work on your foundation first. Then we’ll incorporate it into the choreo”. He nods, placing one of his shaky hands on your waist and the other on your raised thigh, then he lifts you. Your eyes watch him in the mirror, he's struggling too much— there's no delicacy, no stability. His posture is off, the lift is uneven, the self consciousness takes control over his body. “Put your shoulders back, align your back”, he tries to do what you say, but his muscles are too tense from the anxiety, “Taehyun, focus! Engage your core”. He feels your body shaking above his head. There's no synchrony between you two, “That's enough, put me down”.

He lowers you down, but he lets go of you too soon, not giving you time enough to balance on the ballet shoe. He just takes his hands of you and steps back as quickly as possible.

Without his support, you lose balance and collapse on the floor. Taehyun turns around and runs to you as the sound of your fall hits his ears, “Yn! Oh my god. Shit! I’m so sorry”. He’s consumed by guilt. He should have told you from the start that his specialty is not dancing with the ballerinas— it’s dropping them. You sit down, reaching for your ankle, “Are you okay?” “My ankle hurts”. You look at Taehyun, he's clearly panicking, trying to figure out what he can do to fix the whole mess he created. You try to stand, but he stops you, “Lemme do it”. He slips your arm over his neck, lifts you by the thighs and carries you to the bench at the edge of the room. “Stay here. I’ll grab some ice”. You want to yell at him and tell him to go away. You want to say you can take care of yourself, that you don’t need him. But the look on his face— as if he wouldn't even be able to sleep tonight if you don't let him help—- convinces you to just nod and accept it.

A few minutes later, he comes back with a bag of ice and a bottle of water. “Here, I didn't know what you like to drink so I just got water”. Your fingers brush against his as you grab the bottle, and a small wave of electricity runs through your chest. What is this that he makes you feel? He kneels in front of you and gently presses the ice bag on your ankle. “I’m sorry again. I know that water and… frozen water don’t fix anything, so let me make it up to you. A coffee, a croissant, whatever you like”. You look at him, gripping on the bottle of water tightly, thinking about what to do. Your entire life has been dedicated to ballet. You never had many friends and you never went out too much. So an invitation like that, as simple and ordinary it seemed to be, feels strange to you.

Deep down, you like Taehyun. He’s sweet, he has a beautiful soul, and looks genuinely worried about you. So, hesitantly, you nod, “Sure. Let's grab something to drink”. His face lights up, “Really?” “Yes” “Okay! You can jump on my back, I’ll carry you”. You giggle, ”You don't have to do that” “Yes, I do” “I can walk” “Please. Let me take care of you” “Fine. But I’m walking home on my own” “Deal”.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓂃⠀⠀˖

You and Taehyun are sitting on stuffed chairs at a café by the riverbank of the Seine River. It’s late afternoon, and although the sky is beautiful there are rain clouds scattered across the entire city. You ordered your favorite hot drink, and Taehyun got his usual iced caramel macchiato and pain au chocolat, "How’s your ankle?" "Well, I think. I’ll survive", he nods, "Good". You change the subject, "Hey, Taehyun, can I try that?" "Sure”. You take a bite of the pastry, the taste of the dark chocolate pleasing your tongue. "Hum! Delicious. The chocolate isn’t too sweet" "This place It’s my favorite in the city. It reminds me of the ones I used to make back in Korea" "Do you know how to bake?" "Yes, my parents have a small bakery in Gangnam" "Really? And did you work there?" "I worked there for 3 years" "Wow. Are you that kind of family that passes down the business to their children for like 10 generations?".

He laughs, "Not really. My grandfather owned the bakery, but my parents never expected me to work with them. I was supposed to study law in college" "What made you change your mind?" "My dad suffered a car accident and passed away. So I started working there, you know, to help my mom”. Your jaw drops slightly, "I’m sorry" "It’s okay. It’s been 6 years already. I’m not grieving anymore" "Good. And how did you go from law to ballet?" "I always wanted to be a ballet dancer. Since I was… 8? I guess, and I watched Giselle with my mom for the first time" "Oh! That’s why you really want to be in the production" "Yes. But my father said it wasn’t something men should do". You choke on your drink, "Ugh, that’s sexist" "He just… grew up in a conservative family. I know it doesn't justify but... it was what he was taught, you know? He was a good man, a good father. He taught me how to be reliable, to take care of my family, and to treat a woman right. He went to every soccer match of mine and cheered like we were the national team. He loved me, and I loved him”. Taehyun pauses, “I love him. But emotions? He taught me how to hide my emotions, to never be vulnerable in front of others" "That’s why you can’t connect? Both with a dance partner and the dance itself?". He nods, "Look, you will never be able to perform if you don’t feel things while dancing"

"I know" "But I’ll help you" "How?" "I’ll think about something. But you’re going to dance as Albrecht. This is my commitment to you, Kang Taehyun" "Alright".

You both drink your coffee in silence for a few moments, till he breaks it, "How about you?" "Me?" "Yes, what’s your story?" "Nah, I’m boring" "I don’t think you are” "I’m just an only child from a couple of divorce lawyers who are divorced. I don’t have any friends, and I spent my whole life in dance studios” "When did you start dancing?" "I was 12. My mom thought it would be good for me to make new friends. But it did exactly the opposite. Inside the academies, the competition was so intense that it was almost impossible to make real friends. And outside of the dancing academies, I used to have some friends, but I spent so many hours in the studio that I almost couldn’t see them. And when we did, it felt like parts were missing. I felt like I didn’t belong to the group. I missed the heartbreaks, the college approvals, a new puppy… small but important things like that. So we grew apart with time".

You pause, taking a deep breath before continuing, "Ballet, it’s the only thing I feel like I have control in my life. The only place where I felt like I ever belonged. It even had the power to reunite my parents like two civilized people at my recitals. In ballet, I only depend on myself to make things work. Now, Hyunjin was the first person I grew close to in the past 10 years, and I also ruined it. So that’s me, a lonely girl who’s obsessed with ballet and control". Taehyun stares at you, choosing the following words carefully, "You didn’t ruin your relationship with Hyunjin. He ruined it. You just had enough courage to choose yourself over him and walk away" "Do you think it was courageous?" "Yes" "Thank you" "But you need to have more fun. And spend time with other people. Staying at the studio practicing alone will not be good for you” "Yeah, I know" "You will help me with my dancing, so I’ll help you to have more fun" "So, we’re like friends now?" "Yes. We’re friends now".

You smile, "Okay. So, tell me, my friend. What’s your favorite thing to do in Paris?" "Well, my friend, I like watching the sunset at the Trocadéro Square" "Oh! That sounds nice. Shall we do it now, Tae?". His lips part in disbelief, "Did you just give me a nickname?" "I guess so..." "So can I start calling you Ynninie from now on?" "Don’t you dare call me that". He laughs, squeezing his eyes shut, looking even more cute like that, "Let’s go. If we hurry, we can watch the sunset”.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓂃⠀⠀˖

The sun begins to set in Paris as you and Taehyun stand side by side, your shoulders lightly touching. The large orange and yellow Sun sinks into the sky towards the horizon, filling your eyes with a strong, warm light, “Wow. You were right, it’s beautiful” “I’m always right” .You look at him and roll your eyes, “Cocky” “Realistic”. You turn to him, about to say something when the LED lights around you suddenly turn on in a bright flash.

You look around, the illuminated marble floor makes it feel like a school dance. “Wow, it looks like a dance floor”. Taehyun also looks around, and when he looks back at you, his face is lighting up as if he just had the best idea in the world. “Ynninie, you’re a genius!”

“What?” “Let’s dance. I’ll try to feel the music, and you’ll try to have fun” .

He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling. You shift uncomfortably, the idea gets you on your nerves. “You want to dance… here?” “Yeah” “But there are people around. They’ll stare” “So what?”. He places his phone on the ground, and Eternally starts playing through the speaker.

‘제발 멈춰

매일 밤 꾸는 이 악몽’

“That’s just great! How exactly do you expect me to have fun with such a sentimental song?” “Trust me”. Taehyun steps closer, taking one of your hands in his while the other rests gently on your back, pulling you in. He looks even more handsome up close. Even though his natural scent stands out, of course, you trained all afternoon, you can still smell his cologne. You take a deep breath, savoring the woody fragrance with sandalwood hints coming from him—you silently hope the scent clings on your clothes.

“Wait, what are you doing?” “It’s a slow song, so we’re slow dancing”. You both start moving slowly, stepping on each other’s feet, which is driving you crazy. “Come on, your body is still stiff. Loosen up, technique doesn’t matter here”. His voice is full of energy and encouragement, but something is off—he doesn’t look you in the eyes. “Taehyun,” you call,

“Yeah?” “Look at me”. He chuckles, making his dimples show, “I am looking at you” “No. Look me in the eyes”. He shifts his gaze to the horizon, “I can’t”. You gently place a hand on his cheek, softening your voice, “Trust me”.

He takes a deep breath and gives it a chance. The moment his bright brown eyes meet yours, something… changes—for the first time, he’s not just seeing you. He's feeling you. He feels your uncertain steps trying to follow his lead, your tense body, your mind clouded with self-conscious thoughts— everything.

‘Don’t go breaking my heart

Don’t go’

He spins you, but your arms get tangled with his. You laugh, “Ah! This is a mess” “That’s how I like it”. You open your mouth to argue, but then, the song shifts abruptly.

‘I want to end this world’

Taehyun grins, suddenly stepping away from you to move his body in random, frantic motions, completely immersed in the melody—each note becoming one with him. You stay frozen in the place he left you, watching him without knowing what to do. “What the hell is happening?” “I told you to trust me. Don’t just stand there, move, have fun. C’mon!”. You watch his body shake in chaotic movements, not caring if people are watching or if he looks silly. You smile, first nodding your head shyly, then moving your arms back and forth, and soon, you get carried away completely. Before you even realize it, you’re jumping, kicking, spinning on the marble floor of the Trocadero Square, stumbling over your own feet, not worrying about posture or execution—you’re just… dancing for fun.

Taehyun watches you and smiles. You look so yourself, and he thinks he loves this version of you. Once again, the music shifts suddenly, and the sound of the guitar drags Taehyun's body toward yours again.

‘추억의 미로 속 잠긴 내 마음

구해줘 날’

He takes the waltz position again, and your feet continue to move carelessly across the black and white floor. You laugh, “What just happened?” “You had fun” “That was insanity”

“I’m proud of you”. Your eyes meet his, he’s still looking at you, but this time, he seems different— he’s vulnerable, he’s present. “I’m proud of you too”.

Suddenly, the sound of thunder echoes above your heads, and the rain begins to fall. For a moment, nothing else exists, your wet clothes, the Parisians going home from work, the Eiffel Tower, even the dark clouds above the French capital fade away—it’s just you and him.

The music continues, shifting between calm and chaos, until it finally ends, but Taehyun doesn’t let go of you, almost as if you were stuck on each other’s bodies like a tattoo. Both of you are soaked and breathless but he still manages to laugh, and you can’t help but do the same. “I haven’t had this much fun in years. Thank you” “No. Thank you” “What are you thanking me for?” “For letting me see you. Or better yet, for letting me feel you. I felt everything, thanks to you”.

You hold his gaze—there’s nothing left to say, your eyes say it all. Your hearts refuse to beat at a normal pace, adrenaline still running through your veins. He wets his lips, those you can’t stop staring at, and you realize— are you two about to… kiss? No, no. This can’t happen, it would be too much for one day. So you clear your throat and take a step back, “We should go before one of us catches a cold. Besides, it’s getting dark”. Taehyun runs a hand through his wet hair, clearly frustrated that you killed the mood, and looks up. The pink and orange sky from earlier is now a mix of dark blue and gray. He hadn't noticed the sky changing— time truly seemed to stop while you were dancing together.

“Yeah, you’re right. Are you heading to the train station?” “I am” “I’ll walk you there, if that’s okay” “Of course”. You both share his umbrella, walking in a comfortable silence, your fingers occasionally brushing against his, until you finally part ways at the entrance of the station. For the rest of the evening, you both carry a silly smile on your lips— what a great day to be in the city of love.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓂃⠀⠀˖

The auditions are just a week away. Now your focus is making sure Taehyun can do the lifts correctly and safely. You’re back in the dance studio. He stands in the center of the room while you stand at one end, ready to jump into his arms for a lift. "Remember, the most important thing isn’t showing strength, it’s showing connection and grace” "Got it” "Alright, let’s go”. You press play on the speaker and skip softly toward him. Taehyun fixes his posture, takes a deep breath, then grabs your waist and lifts you. The movement is light, steady, and well done. He gently lowers you back to the floor. You turn to him and hold up your hands for a high five, “That was great, Tae. Now let’s try the next one” "Okay”.

You do a soft arabesque, lifting one leg high, and spin to face him, "If you feel like you can’t hold me, just put me down gently”. He nods and places his hands on your waist, "Like this?". You adjust his hands a little higher, he swallows hard at your touch, "Hold a bit tighter” "Okay” "Now place your other hand on my left thigh” "Got it. Let’s do this”. He does a small plié to boost the movement and lifts you for a few seconds before setting you down gently. "That was way better than yesterday. At least it wasn’t shaky. Let’s try again, but use your core more” "Alright”. You repeat the steps from before. His hands find your waist again. He’s sweating, not because of the effort, but because you’re so close. He can feel your body warmth, smell your hair gel, the natural scent of your skin— you’re so close that it’s almost dizzying. He takes a breath in, tightens his core, and lifts you again. This time, he holds you up longer, more steady, "Wow! You improved a lot. And really quick. Let’s do it once more”

The two of you repeat the lift once. Then again, and again. Each time, he gets better. "Okay, now let’s add the turn. Watch your feet while doing it”. He nods and lifts you smoothly, rotating slightly as you float above his head in the air. When he puts you down, you pull him into a tight hug, tighter than you’ve ever hugged anyone before. "Ah, my little pupil. You’re my best creation”. He laughs and hugs you back, "So now I’m an invention?" "Something like that”. You step back and take a sip of water, "Should we call it a day? I’m so tired, and my right foot is killing me” "Yeah, let’s wrap it up”.

You sit on the floor and start untying your right ballet shoe. But Taehyun kneels down and stops you, looking you in the eyes, "Let me do it”. Your lips part slightly, surprised with the sudden proposal, "Your foot hurts from practicing so much because of me. So, let me help”. Your cheeks get warm. Why does he always make you feel like you’re on fire? "...Alright". His hands replace yours, warm against your cold fingers. He carefully unties the ribbons around your ankle, "Does it still hurt?" "Not really. It’s like nothing happened” "Good”. He smiles as his fingers lightly brush over your foot. His touch is so soft and gentle, almost… intimate. You close your eyes, focusing on fully feeling his touch. When he finally removes your shoe, he pauses. He knew ballet shoes can be painful, but seeing your swollen, bruised foot up close makes his chest tighten, "Does it always look like this?" "I’ve had worse days”. He nods, "I see”.

His hands run over your foot, sending a small shiver through your body. Then, his thumbs press gently into the arch, moving in slow circles, "Is this okay?". You nod, enjoying the massage. He moves his thumbs to the ball of your foot, pressing softly. "You’re really good at this” "Thanks. I used to massage my mom’s feet when she came home exhausted from work” "Did she make you do it?" "No. I just wanted to. She worked so hard to take care of me. So I wanted to do something for her too”. You smile, "You’re such a sweetheart. You know that, right?" "Yeah, I know”. He keeps massaging for a few more moments before gently placing your foot back on the wooden floor. “Thanks, that helped a lot” "It was nothing. Are you heading to the train station today?" "Yeah” "Wanna get some madeleines on the way? It’s on me” "Of course”. His face lights up, "Okay! Let me grab my bag, then we can go” "Alright”. You wonder as you watch him jog to get his bag. A guy who massages your feet, buys you madeleines, and walks you to the train station—even though he lives in the opposite direction— without you even having to ask…. Is he even real?

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓂃⠀⠀˖

Taehyun is convinced he must have a flower full of nectar blooming in his stomach because the butterflies don't leave him alone. The big day is finally here, and he couldn’t be more anxious. He walks back and forth, snapping his fingers as he murmurs the choreography sequence to himself. He’s driving Soojin crazy. “Dude, what do you have on your feet? A motor?” “I think I’m gonna throw up” “Man, relax. You and Yn practiced so much, it’s gonna be fine” “You think so?”. “Are you doubting my teaching skills, Kang Taehyun?”. It’s your voice. He turns around and sees you standing there, holding a cup of coffee with a straw. Immediately, he feels his body relax, “No, never”. You grin, “Here”, you extend the cup to him, “Drink this. Try to relax”

“You really wanna give him coffee?”, Soojin joins in the conversation. Taehyun looks at her, then at the cup in your hand, “She’s right. I’ll just get even more anxious” “It’s an iced caramel macchiato. Your favorite, isn’t it?”. He tilts his head— there’s no way you actually remembered that. He takes the cup from your hands, still a little suspicious, and takes a sip. The delicious mix of sweet from the caramel and bitter from the coffee makes an explosion of taste in his mouth, “So refreshing. Thank you”. You clear your throat and say almost like a whisper, “There’s a note” “Huh?” “There’s a note… on the back”. He turns the cup around and sees a small, but meaningful, message written in permanent marker:

‘I’d wish you luck, but you don’t need it. Your talent and effort have already guaranteed you the role. Do your best, and if that’s not enough, at least have fun.

— Your friend, Yn’

He looks at you, with his heart warm, and smiles, “This is really sweet. Thank you”. He steps forward and gives you a side hug. You tense up at his touch but when he pulls away, you miss the warmth of his body against yours. “Okay, okay. But don’t get used to it” “Too late. I’m already spoiled” “Well, that’s not my problem”. He rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his beverage. That cup is definitely going to end up as a souvenir in his room. “I’m gonna rush to the bathroom real quick before my turn”, you say. “I’ll go too,” Soojin adds, “Alright. Oh, and Yn, don’t take too long. My turn’s coming soon” “I wouldn’t miss it for the world”. He looks into your eyes and smiles. You smile back, and for a moment, it’s like you’ve both been transported back to Trocadero Square— when the rest of the world disappeared as you danced together. It had to be Soojin to grab your shoulders and drag you to the bathroom.

What neither of you noticed is that a pair of eyes had been watching you and Taehyun from distance. Hyunjin saw everything—the coffee, the note, your nervous reaction to Taehyun’s hug, the way you locked eyes, how you had to be literally pulled away from him—absolutely everything. And, of course, he didn’t like it. Obviously, he is willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you and Taehyun won’t dance together.

Inside the bathroom, you stare at yourself in the mirror after washing your hands. You may not have shown it in front of Taehyun, but you’re nervous too. Despite all the training and hours of repetition, the competition is fierce, and any mistake can be decisive. “Take a deep breath”, Soojin’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I’m trying” “You’re good. Probably the best I’ve ever seen in this academy. It’s gonna be okay”. She places her hand over yours, and you nod, “Thanks, Soojin” “You and Taehyun are friends now, right?” Yes, we are” “Well, good for you, you got a special offer” “An offer?” “Yeah, we're like a special offer, make one friend, get another for free”. You smile and pull her into a hug, “I’m glad I can count on you guys” “Me too”. She pulls away and shakes the water bottle, “I’m gonna go fill this up for Taehyun” “Okay, go ahead”. She leaves the bathroom, and you glance at yourself in the mirror one last time. You take a deep breath and murmur to yourself, “You got this, Yn”. You loosen your shoulders and walk toward the bathroom door, but when you grab the handle, you realize—it’s locked.

You turn the knob multiple times, trying to force it open, but nothing works. You loudly knock on the door and call for help when you hear footsteps approaching,“Soojin? Are you there?”

“Almost”. You take a step back, suddenly feeling dizzy, you recognize that voice. “The ‘jin’ at the end is right” “Hyunjin?!” “Bingo”. You sigh, hating the fact you’re going to have to beg for his help. But he’s your only option, so you swallow your pride and ask, “Can you help me with the door? It doesn’t open, and I need to get to the audition!”. He leans against the door, “I could help you, but…” “But what?! Didn’t you hear me? I’ll miss my audition if you don’t get me out of here now!” “That’s exactly why I can’t let you out”. You furrow your brows, trying to understand what the hell he means, then—it all makes sense. “You! You did this?!” “Yes, I did”. You grab the handle and shake it desperately, “Hyunjin, you psycho! Get me out of here now!” “Not happening, sweetheart”. He can’t see your face, but it’s red like a tomato, “Sweetheart?! I am not your sweetheart, you freak. Open this door now, or I’ll scream!”

“Go ahead. There’s no one around to hear you”.

You rest your forehead against the door, there’s a defeat tone in your voice, “Why?” “What was that?” “Why are you locking me in here? What do you get out of this?” “You, Yn, whether you want to admit it or not, you’re mine. And I’m not gonna let you be the Giselle to someone else’s Albrecht” “What?! You’re doing this because you’re jealous of Taehyun?” “I like that you’re smart, it saves me from having to explain things”. You decide to tease on him, “So you know he’s better than you, huh? You’re scared of him being Albrecht because you know he’s good”. Hyunjin clenches his jaw, “I was going to let you out after the auditions, but you know what? I don’t want to anymore”. He pulls away from the door, and you hear him walking away. You punch the door, imagining it’s his face, and scream furiously, “Ah! Hyunjin, you stupid asshole! I swear, I’ll kill you when I get out of here!”. Your knuckles start to bleed from how hard you’re hitting it. So, you stop. This is it. No one’s coming to save you this time. You lean against the door and silently pray that Taehyun gets the role, even without your support from the backstage.

Hyunjin smirks to himself as he walks back to the auditorium. His plan had worked— no one is taking you from him, not even some nosy newbie. But he didn’t count on Soojin, who had been hiding in the staircase the whole time, listening to everything. She peeks out into the hallway, watching Hyunjin walk away. Once he’s far enough, she rushes toward the bathroom, “Shit! Yn, you're still there?”. You lift your head, hope shining in your eyes, “Soojin?!” “Yeah, it’s me!” “You have to help me! Hyunjin locked me in here!” “I heard everything. Relax, girl, I got your back” “Do you have the key?” “No, but I have a hairpin”. She kneels down and pushes it into the lock, “Do you know how to do that?” “Well, I saw it in movies, so it must be easy”. She wiggles the pin around, but nothing happens. Then, she tries to pull the pin from the lock, “Shit” “What?” “Let’s just say… the pin is kinda…” “Kinda what, Soojin?” “Stuck in the lock” "Stuck?!" "I'm so sorry, Yn. But don't worry, I'll get help. Just stay there" "Seriously?" "My bad, I spoke without thinking” “Just go” “I'm going, I'm going!". You pinch the bridge of your nose and let out a deep sigh as you hear Soojin’s footsteps fading away.

Meanwhile, Taehyun stands at the entrance to the stage, tapping his fingers nervously on the plastic cup. "Where are those two?", he mutters to himself. Then, he spots Soojin running down the hallway toward him, "Taehyun!". She practically throws herself into his arms, completely out of breath, "Are you okay, Soojin?" "I'm fine… but Yn isn’t". Taehyun’s face goes pale, "What happened to Yn?". His voice is full of fear, “Did she get hurt? "No, no. Hyunjin locked her in the bathroom” "What?! Why?" "So she’d miss the audition" "No way…” "I tried to help, but I think I just made it worse. You need to get her out of there" "Yeah, but… is there still time?". The answer is no. As soon as he finishes his sentence, the assistant director calls his name, "Next up is Kang Taehyun". Soojin swallows hard, "What now, Tyun?".

Taehyun looks ahead to the stage—he’s one step closer to his dream. Then, he looks back to the hallway—he’s one step further from the girl of his dreams.

End of part 1.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓂃⠀⠀˖

Don't miss part 2, that's where all the action will be! Lemme know if you want to be tagged.

Tags: @xylatox, @hyunruhi

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#txt #tomorrow x together #txt imagine #txt fanfic #txt x you #txt x reader #tomorrow x together imagine #tomorrow x together fanfic #tomorrow x together x reader #kang taehyun #kang taehyun x reader #kang taehyun fluff #kang taehyun x you #kang taehyun smut #kang taehyun imagine #kang taehyun fanfic #txt smut #tomorrow x together smut

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